Chapter 8 – Something in the air

Forty five minutes later, Šlesinger and the British military attaché were briefed, and all the immediate arrangements were made. It was a few minutes after 21:00 when Bond went out of the British embassy with Sára, leading her to his rental car parked in a nearby alley. A few passers-by crossed their way: some businessmen hurrying home after a long day at work or a last drink at the pub, some couples arm in arm chatting cheerfully, just like they would have been only a few hours before... Bond's senses were alert, scanning the street for any suspect movement, paying attention to the dark porches along the pavement. It came from the street: soon after they had turned in the alley, a motorcycle with helmeted driver and passenger roared behind them. On an impulse and before he had even seen a gun, Bond swiftly dived to the floor with Sára, shielding her with his body while reaching for his Walther. At the very moment they hit the ground, the muffled sound of a silenced pistol resounded four times. Two sharp cracks from Bond's Walther answered immediately. The motorcycle swerved wildly as the passenger jerked and fell rolling on the asphalt, but continued its way full throttle.

- "You OK?"

- "Yes," Sára answered, panting.

- "Come one. Quick."

Bond rose to his feet and, seizing her by the hand, ran to the body lying on the street thirty yards from them. After some precautions to make sure the man was not armed, he knelt aside him and found him breathing with difficulty. Bond took the helmet visor off, revealing a sharp face hardened by agony. He didn't know the gunman, but he knew he would either pass out or more probably pass away in a handful of seconds.

- "What's your name?" he asked him

The man apparently tried to form words, but his lips only fluttered without a sound. With a supreme effort, he looked Bond in the eyes and managed to spit a single word before blood started to fill his throat. The spread-eagled body jerked again, and the breathing stopped for good. Bond searched him quickly, but as he expected there was no clue of the man's identity.

- "What did he say?" asked Sára in a toneless voice.

- "Mudak. It's a Russian word. He called me a bastard. Can't blame him, though... Come on, let's move now. The police will be there in minutes and I don't have time to explain this mess."

Taking firmly her hand again he took her to the car, less than fifty yards from there, and he drove away as fast as he could, but being careful to follow the traffic rules to avoid any stupid interference by the police.

- "Sára, they must have targeted your mobile phone. Open it, and take off the battery, then please do the same with mine."

She complied without saying a word, deadly pale and her hands shaking slightly, as Bond drove silently for a long time, ensuring they were not followed by any vehicle. When he was sure there was no visible tail on them, he spotted what he was looking for: a telephone booth on the side of the street. He parked the car in front of it, asked Sára to wait for him, and walked to the phone. After dialling some numbers, he finally heard the friendly voice of Stan Šlesinger, and briefed him quickly about the last events.

- "These people are pros, Stan, and they have technical means too. They must have intercepted Sára's phone call, when she told me some Mercurius files were forged, or they wouldn't have reacted this way. Now I need you to check on some things as soon as possible. What do you know about Maxim Fokin?"

- "Do you think he's involved?"

- "Well, the gunman I killed was Russian, and I've been given the opportunity to notice I'm a well-known face to Fokin and his outfit. It intrigued me, but now it seems to make sense..."

- "If you're right, James, it's not good news. His organization is very powerful. I'll check immediately with my contacts about the possible connections to Mercurius. What's your plan now?"

- "I was going to take Sára to her place, where a protection team is supposed to join us, but she wouldn't be safe there or in my hotel. After what happened, we can't come back to the embassy, so I'm going to take her to a quiet hotel for the night. By the way, I need you to contact Colonel Nigel Cowley, our military attaché here: tell him what happened, and that the protection team must join us as soon as possible at the Oppeln Hotel, and ask for Mr. Somerset at the reception."

- "Yes. I'll call him at once."

- "Thanks Stan. I'll call you soon."

- "Take care, James."

Less than half an hour later, Bond and Sára were led by an uniformed groom up the heavy carpeted staircase of the Oppeln Hotel. Bond had asked the receptionist for one of the quiet rooms on the second floor. In other circumstances, he appreciated the intimate charm of these rooms, with their carved wooden doors accessible only by a balcony corridor overlooking the gravelled inner courtyard, from which a wisteria wine came up to struggle with the wrought iron banister of the balcony. Tonight, he simply chose them because they were less exposed to a possible sniper attack. After tipping the groom, he carefully closed the door, drew the curtains and quickly inspected the room. Sára was standing motionless, her face terribly white as she was looking around her absent-mindedly. Bond came to her, took her hand and squeezed it briefly.

- "I'm sorry you've been involved."

She turned to him, snapping out of her thoughts, and looked at his face as if she had just noticed he was in the same room.

- "You don't have to be sorry. You saved my life..." Her sentence ended in a strangled voice, and he held her in his arms in silence. She took some time to pull herself together, then asked in a more assured tone: "Who are these people? Do you have any idea?"

- "Maybe... I think a Russian organisation is involved, but it's only a gut feeling at this point. What do you know about Maxim Fokin?"

She shrugged and sank in the sofa.

- "Never heard of him." She added, with a tired smirk: "But apparently he heard of me, and it didn't please him."

Bond smiled. Brave girl! He stepped to the mini-bar, poured two stiff vodkas and handed one to Sára, sitting beside her.

- "You should have a drink and get some rest."

- "Thanks." She drank her glass in two long gulps, and seemed to relax a little bit as the liquid was spreading in her body. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before getting up.

- "First, I really need a good, hot bath," she simply said before disappearing into the bathroom, and running the bath taps in full.

Bond finished his glass with relief, and went to the mini-bar to pour himself another vodka.

- "Care for another drink?"

His question was left unanswered, and he heard the dulled sound of Sára's body collapsing on the tiling. At the same moment, he felt his own body getting limp, and the bottle fell of his hand. In a split second, it dawned on him: a combat gas! They were being poisoned by something released in the ventilation shaft, or through a hole in the door and windows. Staggering, leaning on the wall, he managed to run the few yards to the door and opened it, trying to get some unspoiled air. On the balcony corridor, at the doorway, he found two men wearing gas masks. His sight was already getting blurry, and they seemed to him like nightmarish, deadly insects coming to him. Gathering his last strength, Bond leaped on the closest assailant in a desperate effort. His hands locked around the man's throat were too weakened to do any serious harm, but the weight of this dulled body wildly knocked against him put the man off balance. They went over the wrought iron banister of the balcony, but Bond was already unconscious when their bodies crashed together eight yards down on the gravel courtyard.