Chapter One
"Hold Onto Your Mouse!"
"Mr. Bond, you're due in a meeting with M right now."
James looked over at Moneypenny, and nodded as he walked in. His black suit whipped by and into the main office and the woman behind the desk stood at his entrance.
"Welcome back, James. I've got good news and bad news for you so have a seat." She gestured to the chair in front of her and watched him sit.
M began slowly, letting information sink in. "James, we've received an e-mail. It came to my personal address precisely at noon today with no return address. No one else here has looked at it. My eyes were the first to read it.
"Here it is. You are the only other person besides me who will see this."
She slid a piece of paper across the desk. James picked it up. Simply typed and printed on a computer, it read as thus:
"I have copied the List of Casualties. Wait for further correspondence."
James read it over twice before realizing what it meant. Someone had gotten a hold on the secret list of all the innocent people that had been killed either on purpose or by accident in the line of an agent's duty. They had somehow copied it, and now held it, probably dangling it over the precipice of selling it to every family that had been told some lie about how their loved one had died. If this happened, it meant lawsuits, counter-suits, and probably the end of MI6's good reputation, not to mention its existence.
James slid it back over the desk, silent.
"You know what this means, James. Someone is going to hold this list and blackmail us. It is imperative that you recover it. If they sport it all over the world, the agents who have committed these crimes are as good as convicted. Including you, 007."
James sat, thinking.
"I know you prefer to work alone or recruit your own partner, but I intervened this time and got you someone. You can't do a thing when you're on a computer and everyone in this building knows it, so I sent for an expert."
"But M, I don't need-…" he started to protest.
"Forget it, James, there's no reason to whine. You'll be accepting her help whether you like it or not, and that's from both me and her."
"It is a woman?"
"Yes." M picked up a manila file and opened it, scanning a profile page that seemed rather short.
"Her name's Devon Hunt, and she's from the States. She's been convicted more than once of computer scandals and other misdemeanors and now resides in maximum-security prison near Washington D.C. Her specialty seems to be hack jobs and manipulating the system, though it's not her only talent."
James leaned over and looked at the picture: a young woman, with long, dark brown hair in a ponytail. Her deep brown eyes seemed almost black, and she wore a black tank top and service tag.
"She isn't bound by the regular dress code, I see?" James commented.
"She's pulled a few strings and does online favors for certain privileges. After all, she's in for seventy years with no chance of parole."
"And what does she get in exchange for doing Her Majesty such a favor?"
M smirked. "She helps in this case, and we set her free."
"I see. Perfect motivation. Do we have a plan of attack on how we "spring her" - as they say in America?"
"Parliament has agreed to sign a decree bringing Devon here to England as a prisoner and releasing her on good behavior. Lots of technical mumbo-jumbo I'm sure you're not interested in hearing, Mr. Bond. Suffice to say we'll get her here legally."
James smiled. He looked down again at the file.
"What is this! Is this right?"
M looked at what he was pointing at.
"Oh yes. I forgot to mention; she's only 19, so I'd keep my distance if I were you. She's not the type you're after."
He looked flabbergasted. 'You paired me with a teenager!"
"Bond, she's the best there is. She's hacked into the CIA before to change her record, and it took three months and a chance notice to realize what she had done. If her paperwork had been thrown out at the proper time of the Statute of Limitations, no one would have noticed at all."
He sighed. "I suppose she could be alright. She's young, at any rate."
James stood outside MI6 headquarters with M and a dozen other agents. He observed his wristwatch and noticed that the "delivery truck" was six minutes late.
"Shouldn't they be here by now?" he asked.
"Patience is a virtue, Mr. Bond. Here they are now."
M gestured to a black van pulling up. The windows were tinted and hid the driver from view, and the back doors sprang open. Four heavily armed agents sprung out, pointing their guns at three figures descending from the trunk.
Two agents were escorting the girl, bound by the hands. Her shackles were welded together and were attached to a pair of long rods, held by the escorts.
"Ah, here she is now. Devon Hunt, welcome to England."
The girl looked up, a sullen expression on her face. She shot daggers out of her eyes at everyone, and gave a small smirk.
"Nice to be here."