Chapter 1 - The Briefing
As the cold November wind whipped violently in the early morning hours, a tall and swarthy man steadily strolled down the London sidewalk as if nothing could possibly bother him. His finely crafted, Italian morning suit was of the utmost quality but, with the wind-pecked weather, a warm fur or suede suit and heavy coat with tailored trimming would've sufficed far better than the pristine gray attire.
Nevertheless, the wind whipped and twisted his clothes about his body but his expression was serene and undaunted. It was only when he passed the threshold of MI6 headquarters, his destination, that he was finally able to release a repressed shiver, humming low in his throat to make sure his vocal cords still worked properly.
James Bond, licensed to kill, former Commander in the Royal Navy and now a 00 agent for the highly prized British Secret Service, Bond was a man like no other. Debonair in attitude with dark good looks, he charmed women and men alike. To be in his presence was daunting, to speak with him was intimidating and to sleep with him was every woman's fantasy.
His superiors easily saw through his debonair façade but his playboy veneer worked for him. He was and always will be a man who worked hard for what he wanted, always refusing to take no for an answer, executing what he deemed was right and true, while mixing a little fun into the perils that encompassed his life.
Recently returning to London after taking a well-needed vacation at his luxurious chalet in Jamaica, Bond was anxious to continue work for her Majesty's government. Shaking the cold from his body as discreetly as possible, he hastily entered the familiarly spacious lobby of MI6, noticing many obvious associates scurrying about. It was indeed a busy morning.
Casually approaching a large elevator at the far end of the foyer, he checked his watch only to realize that he was a few minutes late for the briefing of his next mission. Rubbing his chilled nose with his thumb and index finger, he waited impatiently for the buzzer of the elevator to ring. He had been late before, not that it really bothered him, but he would never let his frequent tardiness compromise any job.
Stepping aside as several people exited the modern cage used for transcending floors, he and others rode the lift up in silence. Chuckling to himself as he thought about his last mission, he and an American CIA agent Zoë Nightshade, whom he had actually grown quite fond of, had infiltrated a terrorist outpost and, in effect, defeated the radical Chinese organization known as The Golden Eel, who were bent on starting World War III. He smiled to himself, as he was happy to be alive after what many of the most seasoned 00 agents considered an extremely dangerous assignment.
The elevator door shifted suddenly, immediately robbing Bond of his thoughts. He moved down a long, well lit corridor that led to M's office. As always before any new briefing, Bond was a little nervous, although he would never show it, as he considered it to be unprofessional. Swiftly entering the room that served as the reception area to M's office, he greeted the infamous secretary Moneypenny by blowing her a kiss.
"James!" A breathless sigh of excitement greeted him. "Good morning," the middle-aged buxom brunette pronounced with a smile, wiggling flirtatiously in her rolling chair behind her desk in the corner of the room.
"Ah, Moneypenny, darling. How are you?" Bond acknowledged with a bow.
"Just fine, 007. How was your holiday?"
"Splendid." He straightened his gray suit jacket and flashed Moneypenny a bright smile. "But superb, it would have been. If only you had been there to keep me company…" he drawled debonairly.
"Yes, I'm sure that would have been wonderful. If only you were sincere," she sighed earnestly. "You better go in. She's not happy that you're so late."
"She never is." Bond smiled urbanely before entering M's office.
Passing through the wooden door opposite of the one he had originally entered, and then another made of soundproof leather, he entered the office and found M behind her elaborate oak desk working.
"Thank you for finally showing up, Bond," she barked, staying focused on her work.
Not saying a word, Bond stepped forward, taking a seat in one of two visitor's chairs in front of M's desk. M was Bond's superior, Barbara Mawdsley, who certainly ran things tighter than her predecessor, Admiral Miles Messervey.
"How was your vacation, 007?" M wondered as her stern glare met Bond's. She could be no more than her early sixties, if not late fifties, and her pin-stripe attire helped camouflage her rotund figure. Her salt-and-pepper, stylish and short hair cut gave off the air of a confident woman.
"It was fine. Thank you, ma'am."
"I hope you are well rested. Now, stay quiet and pay attention," M uttered sternly, dismissing all pleasantries as she pointed a black remote control to the right wall of the office.
Instantly, a blue projection screen lowered from the ceiling. The image of a spy satellite and a list of various coordinates suddenly hovered in front of the wall. Bond looked on with great interest.
Standing from her desk and moving from out behind it, M continued. "A Russian terrorist named Orrin Armonov is the leader of a newly formed global criminal syndicate called the Iron Knights. By accessing coordinates from this Russian spy satellite, he was able to discover the location of a group of the world's largest and most powerful nuclear warheads. He has stolen all of them," M informed, pausing for a moment as she paced to the nearby buffet table to pour herself a bourbon.
Bond hung on her every word and was keen on hearing more. After a large gulp of the strong liquor, M turned off the projection screen and quickly continued the briefing.
"Those coordinates were classified Russian information. We believe the Iron Knights are heading a terrorist plot called Operation Forever. The details of this operation are sketchy but we think Armonov is planning to sell these warheads to someone in the Middle East. The Russians have asked for our help in recovering them and eliminating Armonov. The Iron Knights headquarters are somewhere outside of St. Petersburg but we believe they run a chemical weapons bazaar somewhere just inside the Ural Mountains. You must find this place and destroy it."
"Will there be a contact man?" Bond inquired. He usually had a colleague with missions like this.
"Your partner in this assignment is a Russian agent named Yuri Zorrovski. He's the best they have. A car will be sent for you when you arrive in Russia. You are to rendezvous tonight at the Taleon Imperial Hotel in St. Petersburg. See what you can find. Make no mistake, 007, I want Armonov found."
"Of course, M, of course. But," he ventured to say as he reclined in his leather-back chair, "how do we know the warheads haven't already been sold?"
"Because the warheads were reported missing two days ago from a military base on the outskirts of Moscow. It takes a while to move them, especially if Armonov wants to get them to the Iron Knights bazaar without suspicion. Any more questions?"
"When does my plane leave?" Bond smiled his charming smile and straightened in his chair, feet firmly planted on the speckled gray carpet.
"You're booked on the Heathrow flight 602. It leaves in six hours. Pack your bags in a hurry," M ordered as stern as ever. "And don't be late."
"Thank you, ma'am," Bond said with a grin and a nod of his head. He got up to leave the office.
"Bond." M stopped him in his tracks. "Come back to her Majesty's Secret Service in one piece," M demanded sincerely, and with a brief sigh.
Bond half turned and nodded once more to the woman he greatly admired. "I'll return," he promised, and with that, he exited the office.
Moneypenny sat waiting as he returned to the reception area. He closed the wooden door firmly shut behind him. "Well, James, here's your passport and the mission dossier. Don't forget to visit Q. He's got some items for you." She batted her thick eyelashes up at him.
"Moneypenny, you're a dream," Bond declared, giving her a hug before taking the items and walking out of the place en route to Q branch.
"Hello, Bond," Q, the Quartermaster of MI6's tech-savvy branch greeted, as he and Bond walked the long length of the messy department. Q was an aged man with wispy white hair and a genuine smile that made his pale blue eyes glow. A genius when it came to conceiving off-the-wall ideas and making them a reality, he was the one man Bond could always turn to for a tool to get him out of tough situations.
"I've got you a new wrist watch," Q stated a moment later. "As you requested and up to your specifications, it is the new model from Omega, the Seamaster Diver 300m." He handed Bond the shiny silver timepiece from inside his white lab coat pocket.
"I always wanted one of these," Bond joked, mounting the watch to his wrist.
"Pay attention, 007," Q quickly instructed as he fidgeted with what appeared to be an average-size ballpoint pen. "Now, three clicks emits a highly intensified laser beam out the front like this." Q clicked the device three times and suddenly a red beam shot out from where the ink should be ejected. "It is sufficient enough to cut locks, glass and all lower-grade metals." Q paused as Bond eyed the black-colored pen. "Right, now four clicks will turn this pen into a powerful bomb with a ten second release time. As usual 007, use this for whatever you require." Q handed the pen to Bond.
"Exploding ink pens… What will they think of next," Bond chuckled to himself.
"Moving on," Q said, growing annoyed with Bond's quips. "Now, over here we have for you a new set of skis." They bypassed various test subjects and other scientists in the midst of experimentations. Q picked up one of two long rimmed poles in both hands. "When the handles of each pole is rotated to the left ninety degrees, they release a heavy fog, acting as a smoke screen," Q instructed before releasing the fog.
"Is that all it does?" Bond laughed as he swiped at the grayish-white fog surrounding him and Q. He picked up the second pole to examine the black rubber handle.
"Will you ever grow up, 007?" He snatched the pole from the agent's hand, replacing them both along the off-white painted wall of the laboratory. Q moved on as Bond followed closely behind. "Your Lotus Esprit has been rebuilt with a new paint job and is in the garage. Try not to destroy it, yet again. As expected, it has all the usual refinements and is stocked with your stealth equipment. For this mission, it will be delivered to you in St. Petersburg when you require it. Just give the keys to the people at the airline, and before you ask," Q held up his hand, "the car does have a full tank of gasoline. Is there anything else you require?" Q asked then asked, slowly his steady pace.
"No, I believe I'm… Oh yes, I'll need a new weapon," Bond suddenly remembered.
"Quite right," Q acknowledged, strolling a few more steps before pulling a fresh Walther PPK off of a wall shelf, handing it to Bond.
Bond quickly armed himself, placing the gun inside the shoulder holster underneath his jacket. Now equipped with everything he needed, he waved a farewell hand to Q and immediately took his leave. Strutting down the hall to reach the end of the laboratory, in the direction of the adjacent garage, he pressed a few numbers into an electronic touch pad device and waited until the large, metal garage door opened and moved slowly into the ceiling.
Q watched as his favorite 00 Agent turned the corner and walked out of sight. "Good luck, 007," Q finally stated with a smile before getting back to work.