Bond stirred his martini ideally with a plastic spoon. The bar around him
was deserted except for a few locals in the far corner betting on soccer
match. The bar tender kept shooting the strange man in front of him side
looks. Bond took the hint and sighing he stood up and pushed the remains of
rather expensive, though disgusting dinner to the bartender and left a few
coins on the table. The service after all had been very good. He was
wearing a black shirt and lightweight nondescript khaki trousers. The cool
night breeze felt good and refreshing on his face, after the smoky haze in
the bar. James felt just as at home in the night as he was in the day, his
keen eyes picked up and analyzed everything, thanks to long and habitual
surveillance training.
Inside the bar, one of the locals watching the soccer match watched Bond leave. It was lucky he had spotted him. He had just been going for a beer. There would be a reward for this. He grabbed the nearby pay phone. He suddenly needed to make a call.
The streets were pretty quiet though there was still some traffic on the road. Music and laughter spilled out from the nearby stores onto the sidewalk. This was a rather rich neighborhood. Slipping into the leather interior of his customized Lotus Esprint, Bond gunned the engine and did a backwards U-turn, accompanied by horns from behind. Bond grinned wickedly, he felt like blowing of some steam. The journey back to England had been uneventful; though tiring and he was due to report to M in the morning. Bond glanced in the rearview mirror and his eyes picked up a something in the traffic. His eyes focused in on the car's headlights in the mirror and the car suddenly darted behind a truck when Bond glanced over. That was odd thought Bond, but he dismissed it from his mind and concentrated on the heavy traffic. That would be a hell of a way to die for a secret agent thought Bond dryly. Killed in a car crash. The traffic thinned out as he left the small town. The road up ahead was straight and narrow, rows of long waving grass bordering each side. The car could not easily miss Bond. An indiscreet car, painted black with silver chrome and tainted windows, shoved into him. The car, going in the opposite direction, suddenly veered in front of Bond and crashed into the hood of the Lotus Esprint. Bond had long ago, slightly illegally, customized his car with a reinforced bumper in the front; kevlar coated tires and reinforced Platon windows that prevented them from cracking and shattering. Bond very much doubted that anything short of an anti-tank missile would have any serious affect upon the car. All the same, Bond was still thrown about inside the car. A similar black car that had evidently been trailing Bond pulled up beside the Lotus Esprint. Something near panic was rising in Bond, but he forced himself to remain calm. His mind began to whirl and tick like a super computer, analyzing everything. The drivers were used to driving on the right side. American maybe? What enemies did he have in America? The drivers were professionals, no doubt about that, and the cars. While not very noticeable, they where not the cheapest thing around. These hit men obviously had some funding. All this passed through his mind in seconds. Then Bond saw the window of the second car being rolled down. Bond was a professional and he knew what that meant. He threw the car into reverse, just as the German Mk-50 sub-machine gun poked through the window. The gun fired short controlled three shot bursts. Not blazing away and wasting ammo like an amateur would have done, but the shots simply pocked-marked the gravel where Bond had been a split second before. He turned around, doing a backward U-turn, heading back the way he'd just came. The other two cars sped after him. James gunned the engine some more, and felt the car come alive with the increase of speed. The engine began to hum as the speed picked up. James looked back, and saw the lead car spray a bust into the rear window. Thankfully it held. After years of surveillance training he automatically kept track of his route. It was a common rookie mistake to be so concentrated on tailing an enemy that you got lost in the city and forgot the way back to base. A dangerous mistake, especially in a hostile neighborhood. He knew the turn was just up here. Turning onto an abandoned piece of highway James watched the speed indicator rise up ninety, then ninety-five, then a hundred, then one-ten. Suddenly a warning sign appeared in front of him. He smashed through it and wooden splinters went everywhere. Bond saw the five yard gap in the highway bridge come up in front of him. Bond carefully surveyed the gap. Yes, he was pretty sure he could make it. All his life he had been a gambler. This was nothing different, except the stakes were a little bit higher. Panic bubbled up inside of him. Bond pushed aside the panic beginning to edge into his thoughts. To late to panic now he told himself. He knew he had to remain professionally calm if he was going to pull it off. His hands calmly, but firmly held the steering wheel. Its either leap or be shot, lets do this he told himself. He slammed down the gas and suddenly the pavement ran out in front and for a few short seconds he was powerless to do anything, the car's momentum propelling him through the air. A thrill of exhilaration shot up his spine. He landed on the road, his back wheels spinning for an instant, trying to grab some traction. He made a hard turn to the left to avoid swerving off of the road. Behind him the first car crashed into the three-lane highway below. The second car stopped, a man got out and fired a few rounds at Bond, but Bond had decided to go on.
Lance stopped firing after the Lotus Esprint had driven off. He got out his cellphone; the boss was not going to like this.
Inside the bar, one of the locals watching the soccer match watched Bond leave. It was lucky he had spotted him. He had just been going for a beer. There would be a reward for this. He grabbed the nearby pay phone. He suddenly needed to make a call.
The streets were pretty quiet though there was still some traffic on the road. Music and laughter spilled out from the nearby stores onto the sidewalk. This was a rather rich neighborhood. Slipping into the leather interior of his customized Lotus Esprint, Bond gunned the engine and did a backwards U-turn, accompanied by horns from behind. Bond grinned wickedly, he felt like blowing of some steam. The journey back to England had been uneventful; though tiring and he was due to report to M in the morning. Bond glanced in the rearview mirror and his eyes picked up a something in the traffic. His eyes focused in on the car's headlights in the mirror and the car suddenly darted behind a truck when Bond glanced over. That was odd thought Bond, but he dismissed it from his mind and concentrated on the heavy traffic. That would be a hell of a way to die for a secret agent thought Bond dryly. Killed in a car crash. The traffic thinned out as he left the small town. The road up ahead was straight and narrow, rows of long waving grass bordering each side. The car could not easily miss Bond. An indiscreet car, painted black with silver chrome and tainted windows, shoved into him. The car, going in the opposite direction, suddenly veered in front of Bond and crashed into the hood of the Lotus Esprint. Bond had long ago, slightly illegally, customized his car with a reinforced bumper in the front; kevlar coated tires and reinforced Platon windows that prevented them from cracking and shattering. Bond very much doubted that anything short of an anti-tank missile would have any serious affect upon the car. All the same, Bond was still thrown about inside the car. A similar black car that had evidently been trailing Bond pulled up beside the Lotus Esprint. Something near panic was rising in Bond, but he forced himself to remain calm. His mind began to whirl and tick like a super computer, analyzing everything. The drivers were used to driving on the right side. American maybe? What enemies did he have in America? The drivers were professionals, no doubt about that, and the cars. While not very noticeable, they where not the cheapest thing around. These hit men obviously had some funding. All this passed through his mind in seconds. Then Bond saw the window of the second car being rolled down. Bond was a professional and he knew what that meant. He threw the car into reverse, just as the German Mk-50 sub-machine gun poked through the window. The gun fired short controlled three shot bursts. Not blazing away and wasting ammo like an amateur would have done, but the shots simply pocked-marked the gravel where Bond had been a split second before. He turned around, doing a backward U-turn, heading back the way he'd just came. The other two cars sped after him. James gunned the engine some more, and felt the car come alive with the increase of speed. The engine began to hum as the speed picked up. James looked back, and saw the lead car spray a bust into the rear window. Thankfully it held. After years of surveillance training he automatically kept track of his route. It was a common rookie mistake to be so concentrated on tailing an enemy that you got lost in the city and forgot the way back to base. A dangerous mistake, especially in a hostile neighborhood. He knew the turn was just up here. Turning onto an abandoned piece of highway James watched the speed indicator rise up ninety, then ninety-five, then a hundred, then one-ten. Suddenly a warning sign appeared in front of him. He smashed through it and wooden splinters went everywhere. Bond saw the five yard gap in the highway bridge come up in front of him. Bond carefully surveyed the gap. Yes, he was pretty sure he could make it. All his life he had been a gambler. This was nothing different, except the stakes were a little bit higher. Panic bubbled up inside of him. Bond pushed aside the panic beginning to edge into his thoughts. To late to panic now he told himself. He knew he had to remain professionally calm if he was going to pull it off. His hands calmly, but firmly held the steering wheel. Its either leap or be shot, lets do this he told himself. He slammed down the gas and suddenly the pavement ran out in front and for a few short seconds he was powerless to do anything, the car's momentum propelling him through the air. A thrill of exhilaration shot up his spine. He landed on the road, his back wheels spinning for an instant, trying to grab some traction. He made a hard turn to the left to avoid swerving off of the road. Behind him the first car crashed into the three-lane highway below. The second car stopped, a man got out and fired a few rounds at Bond, but Bond had decided to go on.
Lance stopped firing after the Lotus Esprint had driven off. He got out his cellphone; the boss was not going to like this.