Inside the white, padded chamber, Bond turns his head toward the window so that he can see Bunt watching him intently. "I feel a bit choked," He says to her. His voice sounds dull and utterly apart from the world, as if he were alone inside an ice cave.

Through the window of the chamber, he sees Bunt mouth the words, "Sorry. I cannot hear you, 007." That is all Bond needs to know. With his hands tied behind his back, he is nevertheless able to reach his cufflinks and twist them clockwise. Looking out through his window, he can see Bunt's face turn into a portrait of agony as she bends over and covers her ears. Simultaneously, the Commando/Guards let go of Bond's arms. He twists the cufflinks counter-clockwise to shut down the ear-shattering sonic effect and pulls his head out of the chamber. He rolls onto his back on the floor and gets his legs through the loop of his arms so that his wrists, still bound with a cord, are now in front of his body.

Standing up straight, he surveys the scene. Bunt, Glaublick, the Surgical Nurse, and the Commando/Guards are collapsed on the floor, motionless and still covering their ears. He makes a mental note that The Commando was sent away on an errand but has not returned. He notices, too, that the Surgical Nurse no longer wears those white ear muffs she had on earlier.

Bond sees Crystal on her feet, her ears wrapped in Q's special muffs as she helps poor Dr. Morewood to his feet. "Clever girl," says Bond out loud before realizing that neither she nor anyone else can hear him. As he watches her half-carry Morewood toward the elevators, Bond reaches into his hip pocket where Crystal had the sense to leave his cigarette lighter. He manages to get it out and then, setting his bound wrists on top of the chamber where they just tried to freeze his head, he manages to maneuver the laser-lighter until it is aimed at the cord around his wrists.

"As the Americans say, 'Here goes nothing'," and, so saying, Bond turns on the laser, which instantly burns through the cord. Unfortunately, it is so precise that it only burns a small hole through the middle of the cord, so that he is forced to make a second attempt at burning the cord before he can get through enough of the thickness. He is then able to snap the cord by forcefully pulling his wrists apart.

Satisfied with this work, Bond looks up and notices that there is a fresh little hole in the window onto Blofeld's head.

"Oops," says Bond.

"James!" calls Crystal. He turns to see her standing with her arms around Morewood in the threshold of the elevator, jamming its doors open with their bodies and evidently holding it for him. Crystal has removed the ear muffs now.

"Go on! Get out of here!" Bond shouts as he waves her off. "Save Dr. Morewood!" She hesitates, but then drags Morewood inside and stands looking anxiously toward Bond as the doors slide shut and the elevator begins its ascent.

Bond turns back around only to be confronted by The Commando in the red-hooded hazmat suit. He is coming toward Bond fast from the cold operating room corridor and is soon upon him. The Commando draws a small samurai sword. Bond shoots the sleeves of his Tux to produce a sai from each sleeve. The pair of straight, long knives with long, parallel guards snicker-snack into their proper positions. The two men circle each other and make a few parries. Then Bond asks, "How did you withstand that earsplitting blast?"

The Commando opens one side of his hood with one hand to reveal that he has on the white earmuffs that he must have gotten from the Surgical Nurse before he went on his errand to the operating room.

"You must've been a Boy Guide," says Bond. "Always prepared."

They clash, and each dodges one of the other's blows.

"'Boy Scout', Limey," says The Commando. "We call 'em 'Boy Scouts'."

"Sorry, Yank," says Bond, as he blocks The Commando's sword with both sai, but he then leaves one sai to foul up the sword while drawing the other sai free and stabbing The Commando in the heart.

Turning away from The Commando's supine body, Bond comes face-to-face with the muzzle of his own pistol, now in the hands of Irma Bunt. Her facial expression is distressed and she still bleeds from the ears, but she is working her mouth into a snarl.

"You son of a bitch! What have you done to my Ernst?" she cries, starting out angry on the exclamation, but then unable to keep her voice from breaking pitifully on the question.

Bond looks at the hole he made through the window that covers Blofeld's head. "Sorry, Irma. I didn't look before I lit up. Seems I must've put a thousand degree hole not only through his window, but right through his head, as well."

"What?!" screams Bunt, still directing Bond's Walther, point blank, toward his chest.

"Never mind," says Bond. "You can't hear me."

Irma screws her face into an angry scowl and pulls the trigger. Or tries to. Nothing happens, not even a click. Her eyes take on a puzzled cast as she looks intently at the useless gun.

"Right," says Bond. "I didn't load a cartridge into the firing chamber. You'll have to work the action before you can shoot."

Bunt looks up at him. "What!?"

"Here, let me show you." Bond grabs her wrist with one hand and deftly twists the pistol out of her grip with his other. He then slides the action back and forth before pointing it at her. She rolls her eyes, realizing her mistake.

Over her shoulder, Bond sees the elevator open. It disgorges Special Agent McNee with his .38 revolver, Bennett with a .44, and half a dozen of the blue-blazered Security Guards, all armed with submachineguns. Meeting no resistance, they spread out and take control of the huge room. Bennett comes over to Bond and Bunt and looks them over.

"I can't believe it," Bennett says, "but it's just like Crystal described it." He puts his weapon into a military style holster on a garrison belt, a rig that he was not wearing earlier in the day, and puts Bunt in handcuffs. "I can't say I understand it," he adds. "Can you help me fill out the paper work?"

Bond now relaxes and puts his Walther back in its shoulder holster. "It's really quite simple," Bond tells him. "Your downstairs neighbors were having a much rowdier party than you were. I had to come tell them to keep it down."

McNee comes up to join them.

"How's Felix?" asks Bond.

"Oh, him," says McNee. "That bastard's going to outlive all of us. He'll be fine after a couple of weeks just sitting on his brains." He turns to Bennett. "Don't worry about your paper work, I'll help you out as much as I can, but I'm going to have to interrogate all these people, either here or back at the ranch."

"You're going to find it difficult to sort anything out from them for the next few hours," says Bond. "Most of them are stone deaf."

Up in the main lobby, Bond barely gets off the elevator before Crystal throws her arms around his neck.

"James, I'm so glad you're in one piece," she says through tears.

"It's not the first time I've nearly lost my head," he says.

She backs up a step and slugs him in the arm. "You know, your jokes are not as funny as you think they are."

"I know. I've been told it's a defense mechanism."

McNee comes up to Bond and Crystal. "You two have been through enough, tonight. I'll need to debrief you, but why don't you both get some shut eye, and we'll go over it tomorrow?"

"Sounds good to me," says Bond, not taking his eyes off of Crystal's.

A minute later, out in the lot, Crystal starts walking toward her '64 VW Bug.

"That's what you drive?" asks Bond.

"I have to live on a secretary's salary," she says. Then she adds, "I did live on such a salary. Now, thanks to you, I'm out of work."

"I might be able to make it up to you."

"I might be interested. What are you offering?"

"A ride in a '66 Mustang."

"Show off," she says.

Bond walks over and picks her up, sweeping her off her feet. "We could come back for your car tomorrow."

"I might just leave it here and never come back," she says and gives him a long kiss. He carries her to the Mustang and puts her into the passenger seat, then he climbs behind the wheel and drives down the long driveway to the freeway and speeds away.

"Western Eyes" by Portishead plays as the credits roll up against the background of a starry night sky.

The End