Death of a Henchman
Dead, off the coast of Istanbul. It had been an ignominious end.
Maurice Womasa, aka Mr Bullion, aka The Bull, had known he was doomed from the moment he failed to kill his former employer. He had been stupid enough to screw up a simple bomb plot... but smart enough to wear a bullet-proof (and Bull-proof) vest before meeting Zukovsky.
He lay at Maiden's Tower, playing dead with a skill born of long cowardice, until Bond, Zukovsky and everyone else was safely out of the way. Then he left them to kill each other, and quietly took a plane back to Azerbaijan, his adopted home. The airline he used showed no surprise at a man with bullet-holes in his clothing, and a body encrusted with gold.
Ten years later, in a new millennium, there was even more gold, on his hands, around his neck and in his mouth. Bull's fortunes had changed. He had made more contingency arrangements, including bribing Zukovsky's lawyer to forge a will leaving the Baku casino and considerable millions from the caviar factory to "my dear and trusted assistant, Mr Bullion". Anyone who might have contested it took one look at Bull and changed their mind.
Bull had renamed it The Bullion Club, added a gourmet restaurant downstairs and other services upstairs, which offered suitable discretion. There were now far more beautiful girls and far fewer sleazy henchmen... except of course, the one who was running things. Baku's fortunes had been in the ascendant as well. It was now a popular international venue for cultural and sporting events, and Bull had several signed celebrity photos decorating his walls.
He sat in the rear office that had once been Zukovsky's, which was now far more opulent, and in even worse taste. Bull had a golden throne behind his mahogany desk. He had long ago set aside the scruffy tracksuits of his earlier years for well-made suits and over-bright ties, with a golden tie-pin, naturally.
He checked the calendar on his phone. He had an audition scheduled for this morning. He interviewed all the hostesses personally... and there was a practical. MeToo hadn't made it to The Bullion Club. Every girl on the books had had his hand up her skirt or down her pants, and the audition had continued from there. With all the gold he wore, it was a particularly uncomfortable experience, especially since he liked to bite.
Bull decided, yet again, that killing him had been the best thing Zukovsky had ever done.
An old-fashioned intercom buzzed on the desk. Bull had bought it for its traditional look. He liked to be the boss. He pressed the button.
"Show her in."
He was looking forward to filling another vacancy.
The girl who entered ticked all his boxes, straight away. Immensely tall, long blonde hair, and stunningly good-looking. She wore a white suit that showed confidence, but not presumption. Bull gave her a sweet smile that lit up the room.
"Come in, my dear. Sit down, Miss..." He checked his phone again. "The agency never gave me your name."
"Nora," the girl said. The name disappointed Bull. It sounded like an old woman's name. Her accent was odd, too. The name sounded more like Naw-a. Still, with looks like that, she could call herself what she liked.
She sat in front of the desk, and Bull came and sat on the edge of it. He got straight down to business. He wanted to make the verbal bit as brief as possible.
"So... what experience can you offer to Mr Bullion?"
"I've worked in places like this from Miami to Tokyo," Nawa said. "I grew up everywhere. My father was once in your line of work. My mother was a technician. They had many projects. Happily retired, now."
Bull nodded, approvingly.
"A friend of yours asked to be remembered to you, as well. Mr James Bond."
A scowl flickered across Bull's face. Nawa smiled.
"Don't worry, he isn't here." She got up, took a look around the office. "I like this place. I can see myself, here."
Her confidence was annoying Bull, now. He wanted compliance. He felt she was mocking him.
"I see you here, too. Working under me."
Nawa smiled. She had a wide and very pretty smile.
"You've done outstandingly well, Mr Bullion. This is clearly a thriving business. I feel this is where I could go places."
"No reason why not." Bull came nearer to her. "If you allow me to go places, too."
He had all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but Nawa seemed to get the message. She moved seductively from the chair to a nearby sofa, and let him come and sit beside her.
Bull liked girls with long, clean, shiny hair...and hers looked beautiful. He began there, running his hands through it, over the top of her head and down towards her neck.
"All my girls have professional names. I think I'll call you Goldilocks."
He gasped, as the wig slipped away and down her back onto the sofa. He found himself holding a completely bald head. Nawa didn't seem embarrassed. She laughed.
"So you've discovered my secret. How about finding out what lies beneath?"
Bull became aware that the top of her head was covered with small, metal contacts...
He gave a yell, as a powerful force flowed through his hands. He tried to remove them, but they were attached to her scalp, stuck fast. Nawa was still laughing.
"A powerful magnetic force. Especially adapted to encompass all metals... even gold."
Bull's wealth was holding him in place. He tried to scream for help, but it froze in his throat as he saw Nawa's steely blue eyes. She smiled.
"You won't have heard of me. But in the circles where you moved, you might have heard of my father. He's known as Jaws. Now..."
Another surge of energy flowed through Bull, an electrical current this time. His hands were suddenly released, and he fell back, semi-stunned, upon the sofa.
Still bald, still menacing, Nawa leaned in towards him. Her own, pretty teeth were hidden as metal ones slid into view from her jaws. They were razor-sharp.
"You're not the only one with a mouthful of metal, Mr Bullion."
She lowered them towards his neck.
Bull's body was found the next morning, in a garbage truck several miles from the club. And, two days later, another lawyer was bribed to forge another will. It left the club, and Bull's considerable fortune, to the woman known as Nawa. Within weeks, all the other women had been fired, replaced by handsome young men. The club, and its restaurant, were renamed again.
The Big Bite.