5.13am GMT.
Richard Hargreaves pondered over his future at the company. His figures were down for the third month in a row, and still plummeting. He stood at his study window on the first floor of his suburban townhouse. It was still dark outside. He had woken early again, and it disturbed him. It was happening with disturbing frequency.
He had meant to be getting on with some well overdue paper work, but headlights outside had caught his attention. A black cab was stopped in the middle of the street.
He watched as the door to number 39 opened, and the young woman that lived there stepped out, wheeling a suitcase behind her. She seemed to be wrestling with her set of keys, and he saw her remove one, and post it back through the letter box with a fixed look of determination on her face.
As she turned, she saw the light on at his window. Lifting a hand she waved at him.
He thought her name was Emily. She kept herself to herself, but seemed friendly enough. Hesitantly he waved back.
'What on earth are you doing up so early?' a sleep voice asked behind him.
He turned, and saw his wife Sandra standing there, wiping sleep from her eyes.
'Thinking,' he answered gruffly.
She paused, sensing there was something more. 'Come downstairs, and we'll have a coffee or something. Before you wake the children up.'
He nodded his agreement. Glancing out of the window he saw the red lights of the cab flicker on as it turned the corner at the end of the avenue.
5:14am. GMT.
'Was it Heathrow you wanted, love?'
'Please.'
'Off anywhere exciting?'
She gave a wicked, excited grin that he saw in his rear view mirror.
'I certainly hope so.'
7.39 am. GMT
M believed in self restraint. Which was why she was refusing to look at a clock, despite the fact that there were three in her office.
She opened the first file that lay on her desk commanding her attention.
She had been sitting there for an hour and a half. She had just over twenty minutes to wait, or so she thought. No, she wouldn't look.
Before she could change her mind, she jabbed the button for the intercom.
'Moneypenny? When Agent Kain gets here, send her in immediately.'
'Yes, sir.' Moneypenny's slightly tinny voice echoed in M's office.
Thank heavens for Moneypenny, M thought and not for the first time. No matter how strange the order, she always obeyed with out question.
It was time to work. Tapping her pen against the desk, she began to read.
7.57am. GMT.
For Daniel Abelman, it had been a productive morning already. His shares were all up, the FTSE was healthy, and he had converted a superb try yesterday morning at his rugby club.
The only bad thing had been Ashleigh's downright refusal to come and watch.
Damn it, so what if it was raining? It had never bothered her before.
'Your coffee, Mr. Abelman,' there was a knock at the door to his office.
He looked up and saw the pretty new temp standing there. She was slim, petite, with, gently curling chestnut hair that fell to her narrow shoulders. She smiled shyly, revealing a dimple in her left cheek.
'Thank you, Pippa,' he nodded at her. She flushed with evident pleasure at the fact he had remembered her name.
As she sauntered out, he shot a reluctant glance her way. Definitely pretty, and all too willing. If only all women could be like that. What was it with Ashleigh lately anyway? She hadn't returned his phone calls all week. Was this some sort of strange, playing hard to get woman thing? He wished she'd get over whatever it was.
He'd known her for nearly six years and she still confused the hell out of him.
Checking his emails, his eye fell onto one marked personal. To his surprise he saw it was from Ashleigh's home account. He checked the time and frowned, strange she would be sending it so late at night.
The words were there, but they didn't seem to be making sense.
A transfer, an office abroad, temporary at first, but with the option to become permanent. Too good an opportunity to pass up, flattered that she had been asked.
Could he please try to understand?
Her career was important to her. Would have liked to have made things work between them, but she couldn't let this slip by.
Apparently she 'felt terrible' about it all.
Well so did he. He scanned the email again.
She'd be in contact as soon as she could, but things could be difficult for a while.
In other words, he thought bitterly, don't hold your breath, Dan.
Coffee sloshed onto the desk as he slammed his cup down.
'The bitch,' he growled through gritted teeth.
But... wouldn't he have done the same thing? Damn her, but Ashleigh had always been as ambitious as he had. Why hadn't she mentioned this before?
All top secret he supposed. She worked for a goddamn exporting agency, and yet she absolutely refused to discuss it. What the hell was she doing? Supplying terrorists?
She'd gone.
The realisation was beginning to sink in. Slowly he placed his head in his hands.
He had a horrible feeling he was actually going to miss her.
8.00am GMT.
M looked up at the clock.
Nothing.
Of course, there was always the remotest possibility that the clocks could be fast.
8.24am.
There could be no doubt now. There was no need to check the internal workings of the clocks.
There was a loud bang outside her office door, and M looked up in surprise.
'James! James, no!'
M took a deep breath, and walked to the door.
8:26am GMT.
'Let me go, Moneypenny,' Bond warned, placing his hands firmly on the redhead's shoulders. A pile of books lay scattered around his feet, swept off the desk in one violent action.
His cold blue eyes were boring into hers, his strong hands so close to embracing her, she could feel the heat coming from his body, the tension in his muscles, and she caught her breath, distracted by her own senses as they fought to take in every detail, if he were to just lean in now...
She suddenly remembered what she was supposed to be doing, and throwing her weight against him, she struggled to hold him back.
'James, you can't go in, not without M's express permission. James!'
His eyes were wild, and for a horrid second she thought he was going to lash out at her. 'James?' she whispered.
Her fright must have calmed him, because suddenly he stepped back.
'I must see her,'
'I'll have to ask her,'
'Then ask.'
'There's no need.' The door opened, and M stood there. She stepped back, and gestured inside. 'James.'
8:27am GMT
'Ashleigh's desk.'
'You wanted to see me about a piece of office furniture?'
'They're clearing it. Why?'
M paused. Outside the window she could see a barge sailing down the Thames.
'She no longer needs it, 007.'
It wasn't the comforting answer he wanted. His hands slammed down onto the desk. 'What the hell has happened to her? Where is she?' the blood rushed from his face. 'She's not...'
'No, James, she's not. She's fine.'
'Then where is she?'
M had never seen Bond like this before. There was an aura of panic around him, circumstances were slipping beyond his control, and one of the few people he cared about had vanished.
There was no need to prolong the agony. But there was also no need to mention Alec Trevelyan's name in relation to any of it.
8:42am GMT
James stepped from M's office with a grim look on his face. 'So she's gone?'
Moneypenny glanced up. 'It was her choice to take the assignment.'
'I thought she wanted 00 status.'
'She could never have coped with it, James. Hasn't she had enough death in her life without having a license to kill? She'll be happier doing this. Ashleigh knows what she is doing.'
James frowned. 'You knew, didn't you?'
She couldn't meet his eyes.
'Would you have told me?' He leant down and tipped her chin up so she was looking directly at him.
'No,' she murmured. 'It would have been against my orders.'
14:09pm, Local Time, Naples, Italy.
The blonde haired woman turned to her companion, and smiled. Under the table, hidden by the red and white checked table cloth, she nudged forward a briefcase until it bumped into the other woman's knee. She felt the case being tugged away, and knew the other woman had it. She flicked her platinum blonde hair back over her shoulder and picked up her coffee.
'You must be exhausted by your journey,' she said conversationally. 'Why don't you just relax, and then head out tomorrow night? We could meet about 1am? Its late, but it's the best time to get away from the city.'
'Sounds good to me,' Ashleigh smiled shyly back. She felt a trickle of sweat slip down between her shoulder blades, and sipped the mineral water in front of her gratefully. It was so warm, despite the month.
Her contact was a friendly American agent who had met her at this small café. James would have found her very interesting, and very friendly. She had been working in conjunction with MI6 for a few years now, and was Ashleigh's first point of contact here.
'You have everything you need. Tomorrow night, the usual place.'
'I'll be there.'
Soon. Not long to go now.
Richard Hargreaves pondered over his future at the company. His figures were down for the third month in a row, and still plummeting. He stood at his study window on the first floor of his suburban townhouse. It was still dark outside. He had woken early again, and it disturbed him. It was happening with disturbing frequency.
He had meant to be getting on with some well overdue paper work, but headlights outside had caught his attention. A black cab was stopped in the middle of the street.
He watched as the door to number 39 opened, and the young woman that lived there stepped out, wheeling a suitcase behind her. She seemed to be wrestling with her set of keys, and he saw her remove one, and post it back through the letter box with a fixed look of determination on her face.
As she turned, she saw the light on at his window. Lifting a hand she waved at him.
He thought her name was Emily. She kept herself to herself, but seemed friendly enough. Hesitantly he waved back.
'What on earth are you doing up so early?' a sleep voice asked behind him.
He turned, and saw his wife Sandra standing there, wiping sleep from her eyes.
'Thinking,' he answered gruffly.
She paused, sensing there was something more. 'Come downstairs, and we'll have a coffee or something. Before you wake the children up.'
He nodded his agreement. Glancing out of the window he saw the red lights of the cab flicker on as it turned the corner at the end of the avenue.
5:14am. GMT.
'Was it Heathrow you wanted, love?'
'Please.'
'Off anywhere exciting?'
She gave a wicked, excited grin that he saw in his rear view mirror.
'I certainly hope so.'
7.39 am. GMT
M believed in self restraint. Which was why she was refusing to look at a clock, despite the fact that there were three in her office.
She opened the first file that lay on her desk commanding her attention.
She had been sitting there for an hour and a half. She had just over twenty minutes to wait, or so she thought. No, she wouldn't look.
Before she could change her mind, she jabbed the button for the intercom.
'Moneypenny? When Agent Kain gets here, send her in immediately.'
'Yes, sir.' Moneypenny's slightly tinny voice echoed in M's office.
Thank heavens for Moneypenny, M thought and not for the first time. No matter how strange the order, she always obeyed with out question.
It was time to work. Tapping her pen against the desk, she began to read.
7.57am. GMT.
For Daniel Abelman, it had been a productive morning already. His shares were all up, the FTSE was healthy, and he had converted a superb try yesterday morning at his rugby club.
The only bad thing had been Ashleigh's downright refusal to come and watch.
Damn it, so what if it was raining? It had never bothered her before.
'Your coffee, Mr. Abelman,' there was a knock at the door to his office.
He looked up and saw the pretty new temp standing there. She was slim, petite, with, gently curling chestnut hair that fell to her narrow shoulders. She smiled shyly, revealing a dimple in her left cheek.
'Thank you, Pippa,' he nodded at her. She flushed with evident pleasure at the fact he had remembered her name.
As she sauntered out, he shot a reluctant glance her way. Definitely pretty, and all too willing. If only all women could be like that. What was it with Ashleigh lately anyway? She hadn't returned his phone calls all week. Was this some sort of strange, playing hard to get woman thing? He wished she'd get over whatever it was.
He'd known her for nearly six years and she still confused the hell out of him.
Checking his emails, his eye fell onto one marked personal. To his surprise he saw it was from Ashleigh's home account. He checked the time and frowned, strange she would be sending it so late at night.
The words were there, but they didn't seem to be making sense.
A transfer, an office abroad, temporary at first, but with the option to become permanent. Too good an opportunity to pass up, flattered that she had been asked.
Could he please try to understand?
Her career was important to her. Would have liked to have made things work between them, but she couldn't let this slip by.
Apparently she 'felt terrible' about it all.
Well so did he. He scanned the email again.
She'd be in contact as soon as she could, but things could be difficult for a while.
In other words, he thought bitterly, don't hold your breath, Dan.
Coffee sloshed onto the desk as he slammed his cup down.
'The bitch,' he growled through gritted teeth.
But... wouldn't he have done the same thing? Damn her, but Ashleigh had always been as ambitious as he had. Why hadn't she mentioned this before?
All top secret he supposed. She worked for a goddamn exporting agency, and yet she absolutely refused to discuss it. What the hell was she doing? Supplying terrorists?
She'd gone.
The realisation was beginning to sink in. Slowly he placed his head in his hands.
He had a horrible feeling he was actually going to miss her.
8.00am GMT.
M looked up at the clock.
Nothing.
Of course, there was always the remotest possibility that the clocks could be fast.
8.24am.
There could be no doubt now. There was no need to check the internal workings of the clocks.
There was a loud bang outside her office door, and M looked up in surprise.
'James! James, no!'
M took a deep breath, and walked to the door.
8:26am GMT.
'Let me go, Moneypenny,' Bond warned, placing his hands firmly on the redhead's shoulders. A pile of books lay scattered around his feet, swept off the desk in one violent action.
His cold blue eyes were boring into hers, his strong hands so close to embracing her, she could feel the heat coming from his body, the tension in his muscles, and she caught her breath, distracted by her own senses as they fought to take in every detail, if he were to just lean in now...
She suddenly remembered what she was supposed to be doing, and throwing her weight against him, she struggled to hold him back.
'James, you can't go in, not without M's express permission. James!'
His eyes were wild, and for a horrid second she thought he was going to lash out at her. 'James?' she whispered.
Her fright must have calmed him, because suddenly he stepped back.
'I must see her,'
'I'll have to ask her,'
'Then ask.'
'There's no need.' The door opened, and M stood there. She stepped back, and gestured inside. 'James.'
8:27am GMT
'Ashleigh's desk.'
'You wanted to see me about a piece of office furniture?'
'They're clearing it. Why?'
M paused. Outside the window she could see a barge sailing down the Thames.
'She no longer needs it, 007.'
It wasn't the comforting answer he wanted. His hands slammed down onto the desk. 'What the hell has happened to her? Where is she?' the blood rushed from his face. 'She's not...'
'No, James, she's not. She's fine.'
'Then where is she?'
M had never seen Bond like this before. There was an aura of panic around him, circumstances were slipping beyond his control, and one of the few people he cared about had vanished.
There was no need to prolong the agony. But there was also no need to mention Alec Trevelyan's name in relation to any of it.
8:42am GMT
James stepped from M's office with a grim look on his face. 'So she's gone?'
Moneypenny glanced up. 'It was her choice to take the assignment.'
'I thought she wanted 00 status.'
'She could never have coped with it, James. Hasn't she had enough death in her life without having a license to kill? She'll be happier doing this. Ashleigh knows what she is doing.'
James frowned. 'You knew, didn't you?'
She couldn't meet his eyes.
'Would you have told me?' He leant down and tipped her chin up so she was looking directly at him.
'No,' she murmured. 'It would have been against my orders.'
14:09pm, Local Time, Naples, Italy.
The blonde haired woman turned to her companion, and smiled. Under the table, hidden by the red and white checked table cloth, she nudged forward a briefcase until it bumped into the other woman's knee. She felt the case being tugged away, and knew the other woman had it. She flicked her platinum blonde hair back over her shoulder and picked up her coffee.
'You must be exhausted by your journey,' she said conversationally. 'Why don't you just relax, and then head out tomorrow night? We could meet about 1am? Its late, but it's the best time to get away from the city.'
'Sounds good to me,' Ashleigh smiled shyly back. She felt a trickle of sweat slip down between her shoulder blades, and sipped the mineral water in front of her gratefully. It was so warm, despite the month.
Her contact was a friendly American agent who had met her at this small café. James would have found her very interesting, and very friendly. She had been working in conjunction with MI6 for a few years now, and was Ashleigh's first point of contact here.
'You have everything you need. Tomorrow night, the usual place.'
'I'll be there.'
Soon. Not long to go now.