Author's note: Hey there!! And the overkill of exclamation marks were necessary because I am so excited to be able to get my creative juices flowing again! It was hard for me to write this chapter. Now that the Quantum of Solace trailers are out, I've been trying to crack out some good action scenes and a substantial plot so the result was an overdue chapter. I'm guessing there might be a few more chapters to go before any action can come out, but if you have any, ANY ideas for a great action scene - don't hesitate to PM me 'cos I need them! So when you're done reading, you know what to do - REVIEW!! (Evil laugh)

Chapter 4: Pouring Gasoline

Evelyn's heart stopped the moment he mentioned 'M'. A thousand questions ran through her mind: why did MI6 send another agent out to her station? Were they pulling her out of the operation? Most importantly: was he friend or foe? How was she to know for sure if he was the real deal? But she gathered her thoughts. She must be as cool and collected as possible, that was the way to do it, regardless on which side this James Bond belonged to.

She got to her feet with a graceful smile and so did he. "Come, Mr. Sandborn, and we'll talk at another place," she said. She was well aware of not only the pairs of human eyes fixed upon her but also the electronic ones. In Sorescu's kingdom, there was no way to escape being watched.

She kept her walk calm and steady and her voice low as she led him back to the grand ballroom. "Why are you here?" she asked.

"Six Drakepoint agents are dead. Are you aware of it?"

She drew a sharp breath as she readjusted her shawl. "Yes," she said quietly. "It was Sorescu who got them killed."

He halted. "Then you know that your life is in danger, what with you being in such close proximity to him. Has he suspected anything?"

"No, he loves me completely, so he keeps declaring every day, but he doesn't trust me. Not completely, I can tell. I know most of his 'business', he lets me keep record of his accounts. But there's something else he's been working on, something so secret and important that he can't tell me."

Bond allowed himself a crooked smile. "Not even to his wife of five years?"

She smiled questioningly back. "Isn't it the general rule that men don't share everything with their wives?"

"Only a married man would know that. And I'm not married."

"But surely you've been in love before?"

At that moment, his expression to one of stone, and he looked away at once. Evelyn knew she had touched a nerve. This was a man who had had his fingers burnt by either unrequited or betrayed love. A man who could no longer find space in his heart for a woman's love, no matter how deep and undivided. A man could be as friendly and good-natured as he could be cold and cruel. She cleared her throat. "Sorry," she said, and he merely shook his head.

She resumed talking. "He's booked some of his 'very good friends' to stay in the hotel for the whole week and he's got private meetings scheduled with them every day. Sadly, I don't think I'm invited. He never lets me know the nature of his dealings with them. But I do know this much. They're not ordinary men. They're not too wealthy, but they are influential. They've all got a common political vision and armies of men to back them up."

"Gangsters?"

"More like modern-day warlords," she replied with a dry smile. "Whoever stands in their way shall stand no more. That sort of thing. They're all hiding behind legitimate businesses of course, but there are drugs, prostitution and money laundering at play."

"What about Sorescu?" asked Bond. "What does he play with?"

"The safest and cleanest: real estate," she said with a laugh. "He's practically landlord of the whole city, both directly and indirectly. His men send other men down to catch those that don't pay the rent on time. And there are the hotels, of course. And the restaurants." Her eyes drifted to a troubled gaze. "They're planning something," she said as she looked directly at him. "When I was in the ballroom with them I could hear them mumbling. Something about delivering the change that they want, that people want. That change is good, good for them, and good for all." Even as she said it, she experienced the same shivers that ran down her back the moment she heard those words at the table. Bond's expression, however, did not change.

"Anyhow," she continued, "they've surrounded themselves with regional politicians, mostly left-wing ones except for Defense Minister Popescu, who is, of course, with the current administration. But he's known to have spoken openly against the government. His policies and theirs don't go down well with each other. As a result, the government cut down on his military funds recently and he's not happy about it. But he's a patriot, he is. He just loves his country a little too much."

"So it's a revolution? A military coup? A political upstage?"

She looked away with a sigh. She didn't know and he got the message.

"How do I get in?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Sorry?"

"You said that Sorescu was planning something with his friends. I want to know what it is, if it's big, bad and dirty."

"So how do you plan to do that? Crash in on their meetings? You're supposed to be an accountant, for God's sake. He won't even waste his time talking to you."

"Oh, he will. Just let me make a phone call first."

"What? Are you insane?" hissed M into the receiver. Fortunately, she was alone in her office and there was no one to witness the display of severe shock on her face, which was slowly contorting in fury. She jabbed a button on the phone and instantly Bond's voice echoed within the four walls of her personal professional space.

"Unfortunately, ma'am, I'm in a state of perfect mental health," he remarked. M hated the hint of self-confidence in his voice. She could almost imagine the smirk on his face as he said that, the kind of smirk that made people want to hurt him. Bad.

"You call using the name of the government in order to play in whatever tournament that Sorescu is organising, sane? Did you break your moral compass in the process of liaising with Foster?" M couldn't resist a smirk of her own. "You can never say no to beautiful women, do you, Bond?"

"It's not about her," he replied, his voice suddenly stony. "I'm doing this for my country. This is the surefire way to get in. A personal confirmation from the high-ranking government official who sent me on this mission is just the thing to get Sorescu to pay attention."

She sighed tiredly, feeling the anger dissipate from her jaws. "Very well, Bond, we'll draft a letter and fax it over by tonight."

"That's not quick enough. I'll call you and put you on speaker phone when the time's come."

"What?" she exclaimed. "Then what the hell am I supposed to say?"

"Just say that you're my superior and you sent me to liaise with the Romanian government. The British government is interested in investing money with the Ministry of Defense, having heard of the unfortunate snip in their budget, but we're only going to invest a reasonable amount for a good reason, of course."

"How clever of you, Bond," she replied with as much sarcasm as she could muster, "Tell me, has it ever crossed your mind that a businessman like Sorescu will dismiss that sort of excuse, especially when you're not supposed to know about what he's been up to?"

"Sorry, my remiss. I'll pitch it to Popescu straight then. He'll pass it on to Sorescu for sure."

"Fine. And what am I expected to hear in return?"

"From what I've heard, a revolution or rebellion of sorts."

"You mean Sorescu's on a reformation mission? How is he going to do that?"

"You said it yourself, he's got chums all over Europe. And he's close to the Minister of Defense. It's not impossible if he's got political and military backing as well as legal immunity."

M massaged her temple. She smelt danger. Danger in the form of James Bond. "Listen to me, Bond. I'll play pretend along with you but I'm having the conversation recorded. Once we've managed to get a clear idea of what this is all about, I want you to come back to headquarters."

"What about Foster?"

M's lips tightened. "She's to stay, or they'll be on their toes and everyone's life will be hell, including yours. Did I make myself clear enough to not be misunderstood, Bond? If you do anything to jeopardise this mission, I swear I'll – "

He hung up on her.

Sorescu stole another glance at his watch. She had been gone for almost an hour. What was she doing? He paid no attention to the jokes tossed around the table where he sat. He was a bit tired of listening to plain, small talk and compliments about how good the food was, how fine the wine and how entertaining was this performer and that. They were the best of men, no doubt, and who shared his views and aspirations, but for the moment all he wanted to see and talk to and touch was his Emilia.

Then he spotted her face and slender figure entering the ballroom, and his lungs allowed him to breathe again. He smiled with relief as he caught her eye. She smiled back, and he beamed. He always loved it when she smiled; it made him feel so loved and complete. Behind her, however, walked a man whose face he thought he recognised. Wasn't he the last-minute luggage that Woodwick man had brought along with him? What was his name? He wasn't even important enough for Sorescu to remember it.

He noticed that the man was following her, his Emilia, and he felt a sudden seed of anger rising up in him, causing his fists to clench and his jaw to set. He knew he had no reason to doubt her loyalty; he was absolutely sure and confident that she loved him and him alone, but somehow seeing her with another man, even though they were both making their way towards him, made him feel inexplicably jealous. He was handsome, Sorescu noted, in a very disciplined yet lethal way, but Sorescu, who definitely made more money than him, was surely better than him in every way. He studied the way the man walked, confident and professional and yet sharp as a knife. Did Emilia see anything in him that she liked? That she desired after? Was there something in him that he, Sorescu, could not offer? Before he had gotten to know that man, he was already disliking him for an affair that he did not commit with his wife.

But still he held himself together. Sorescu stood and managed a smile when Emilia came and greeted him with a kiss on his cheek. "My dear, where have you been? You could not imagine how worried we all were," said Sorescu to his wife, but his throat was tight. He had meant to sound cool, as if he noticed nothing, but his emotions had gotten the better of him. Sorescu was good at hiding his emotions; it helped him succeed in business and all his dealings, but with Emilia, that skill chose to hide itself away instead. He hated it sometimes, hated that a woman could have so much power over him, but most of the time he merely reveled in her presence, in her love. He would not have it any other way.

"I went to the bathroom," she said with an apologetic smile. "But on my way back I was approached by this man," she nudged her head slightly in the other man's direction. "His name is David Sandborn and he wishes to speak to Minister Popescu."

Both Sorescu and the Defense Minister, who was seated beside him and in the middle of enjoying a glass of wine, looked surprised, especially Popescu. Though he was a man of substantial power, Popescu was not so popular or approachable. And in any case, the day was supposed to belong to Sorescu. And he was aware that everyone at the table was listening. It was humiliating. But Sorescu kept the smile fixed on his face. He would remember this Sandborn's face for a long, long time.

Oh he would.

Popescu merely laughed. "I'm afraid you will have to wait another day, sir. As you can see today is a day of merriment and I plan to enjoy myself with my good friend, Mikhail Sorescu. Congratulate him today and I shall speak to you when my secretary can find the time." He turned back to the rest of the table and Sorescu followed suit, allowing himself to eye Sandborn as he put a hand on Emilia and gently coax her to return to her seat.

But he was not ready to give up just yet. Sandborn took a step forward and said, "I do wish I could do that but I am entrusted with an important mission and aim to accomplish it by the end of this day. My employers cannot wait a day longer."

Popescu allowed himself a smile. "My, my, the younger you get, the more hasty, eh? Who are your employers? If it is that urgent I shall contact them myself the moment I return to the office."

Sorescu clicked his tongue with impatience. This man's persistence was spoiling his mood and his day. He stood once more and looked him in the eye. Sandborn did not flinch, staring at him with equal intent with his cold blue eyes. Sorescu gave him a dry smile. "Come now, you heard Minister Popescu yourself, did you not? He is a busy man and this is a place for good cheer. I am afraid that I shall have to ask you to leave, but do not worry, you will still be allowed to stay on as a guest of Mr. Woodwick. I will even throw in free lifetime membership for our gym and spa facilities. That sounds good, doesn't it, Mr. Sandborn?"

Sandborn nodded amicably and Sorescu's shoulders felt much lighter. "That does sound attractive," said Sandborn pleasantly, "If I were not with the British government I would accept the offer right away."

"The British government?" said Popescu abruptly. Conversation and movement at the table came to a standstill once more as everyone fixed their eyes on Sandborn, who merely nodded and replied, "Yes, Minister Popescu. They are the employers I was talking about. And as you can see, such important and official matters cannot be put off as lightly as you made it to be."

"Yes, yes," replied Popescu, who set his glass of wine down. "You should have said so earlier, sir, and I will gladly make the time. Come, come, sit next to me – you don't mind, do you Beatrix – and we'll talk."

"Thank you, sir," said Sandborn. Sorescu had no choice but to call a waiter to fetch a chair for him, his limbs felt as if they were made of lead as he did so. At least Emiliana offered him some solace by holding his hand when he sat and smiling sympathetically. He drew a deep breath and drank from the radiance of her beauty. It calmed his nerves down at once, so much so that he could even afford a smile at Sandborn as he sat next to him.

"How about some wine and food as well for the man, eh, Mikhail?" said Popescu, and Sorescu obliged him with another call to the waiter. "What would you have, Mr. Sandborn?"

"I'll just have the wine, thanks. I do have a confession to make, though. My name isn't David Sandborn."

"Oh?" said Popescu, raising an eyebrow as both his and Sorescu's eyes met. Sorescu glanced at Emiliana. Had she not made the background check and shown it to him? But his wife's eyes were trained on the other man, and they danced with a strange light. Sorescu suddenly felt uneasy in her presence. Was she – was she hiding something from him?

"Then what is your name?" asked Sorescu dryly.

"Bond," he replied, as the wine arrived and he took the glass in his hand, "James Bond."

I've ended two chapters in a row with "Bond, James Bond" and I feel just guilty! But there was no other way... As always, if you have an opinion about what I've written (or even if you decided that you just like it) - REVIEW!! :D