Charles Robinson delivered the butcher's bill as M paced her small makeshift office and wondered whether to act now, or leave it until much later. Pacing calmed her, made her feel like she was doing something. And anyway, sitting down caused her ribs to hurt far too much and she wasn't going to give Charles the satisfaction of knowing that. She already knew that he'd taken far too much pleasure in her being smacked to the deck by seventeen stone of pure muscle.
In her youth, she might have enjoyed that experience, but now she just desperately wanted a hot bath and a chance to assess the damage. Her ribs were a spectacular rainbow of bruises, and she'd hit the back of her head as she'd landed. That was now a dull ache that was threatening to become a full blown headache.
'We've had three reported fatalities so far, and one agent is on life support in ITU. Chances are fifty-fifty that he'll pull through but he requires major surgery, so a transporter has been scheduled to return him to the UK urgently. That transporter can also take the four criticals back. Seven further have minor injuries and expect to be back to duty in the near future. And we have one MIA...' Charles sighed, and M nodded quickly, hoping to stem any talk of that particular agent, she was still working on that plan of action.
'What about Le Loup's men?'
'They suffered far greater than we did,' Charles said with some degree of satisfaction. The bodies are in the process of being identified, but we suspect that most will never be. These aren't exactly men who operate in normal channels. '
'Any sign of Le Loup?'
'There are no eyewitness reports of him. Do you really think that he'd risk putting in an appearance?'
M smiled darkly. 'We can always hope that they might make a stupid mistake one day'.
'There's always that,' Charles sat back and put the small PDA he had been reading off down on the desk. He rapped his fingers lightly against the metal before speaking. 'You were right about Van Dien,' he said finally.
M raised a regal eyebrow but said nothing. Lowering herself gingerly into the unforgiving chair, she waited for Charles to continue.
'She was spotted in the melee. Bond apparently got close to her, but she escaped.
M nodded. 'I really must look into the screening methods we use,' she said lightly, 'that's another double agent we've let slip through the net.'
Charles respectfully remained silent. When M was flippant it meant that she was thinking things through far more deeply than first impressions implied.
'There are two people I want to talk to,' M said at last. 'The first is Bond. The second... well, James can help me get through to him.'
*
Bond had escaped fairly lightly from the situation, he thought to himself as he mentally reviewed the events of the day before. A few cuts and bruises from the odd direct punch and evasive manoeuvres and a flicker of guilt that sliced through his subconscious when his guard wasn't up. He knew that M would want a debrief of what had happened soon enough, and that this was simply the calm before the storm. He had been in this game for too long. Events followed a certain pattern every time. Le Loup was close to being tracked down. It was time for the final showdown. And for the first time in as long as he could remember, Bond didn't want to be a part of it. He wanted to be as far away as possible. Pride didn't allow him to actually verbalise these thoughts, but it was clear in his actions. He had avoided as many people as possible, in particular Robinson and M. Questions needed to be answered and Bond knew that there would be several about what had happened with Jasmin and Ashleigh. The problem was that all Bond knew was that he had watched the two women disappear down the corridor and knew that Ashleigh was out for blood. And that he had let her go after it.
There was a ripple of unrest through the makeshift base, and James had a feeling it was because of the missing agent. Ashleigh had simply vanished. Reports from the outside of the UN building had said that two women had been sighted heading down the mountain on skidoos. A guard had been found nursing a broken jaw who had said that a woman with short dark hair and wearing a white parka had forcibly taken his vehicle. He had no further information beyond a neat pattern of a boot print picked out on the lower half of his face in bruising.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to walk through the building towards M's office. He would take the bull by the horns and confront her first, before he could be summoned. Ashleigh was missing and part of him didn't give a shit. She had rushed headlong into this situation and for once he could actually find sympathy for Alec Trevelyan. He had wanted his wife to stay at home and wait the situation out and that was what Ashleigh should have done. Alec was right. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Instead James had helped and found himself questioning more and more he own loyalties and his own life and it was a distinctly unpleasant sensation. His goddaughter had been foolish, stubborn, pigheaded and above all, she had been wrong.
He wondered if he would ever see her again and deep down he knew the answer. Because he knew where she was. And he would have to give M that information. Jasmin had tried to protect her own interests even at the very end and in return for his protection, she had given him the co-ordinates to Le Loup's base.
There was one weapon in his own arsenal that M didn't have access to, and at this thought, James slipped his hand into his pocket and fingered his mobile phone. A quick phone call. Even a text message would do. A few words. And Alec could use that information however he wished.
If he didn't already know.
'Bond?'
James glanced round, Charles was standing in the corridor, supporting himself still on crutches. 'The Boss would like to see you.'
James smiled as pleasantly as he could. 'After you, Charles.'
*
'Sit down, Bond,' M said, not unkindly. She gestured at the empty chair and watched as James lowered his tall frame into it, fastidiously adjusting his suit jacket as he did so. M paused, allowing the tension in the room to become almost palpable, then turned to Charles. 'Perhaps you'd be so good as to leave us for a few moments, Charles.'
Charles frowned but he struggled to his feet and left the room without, at least, a verbal protest.
M sat back and James saw that she was in pain. It was almost imperceptible, but it was there in the stilted and careful way she moved. She wasn't a young woman; he realised and thought how well she managed to disguise the fact. She looked tired too.
'I didn't want to discuss this with Charles in the room,' she said, speaking slowly, precisely and James knew that intimacy came hard for her. She was expected to be impersonal towards her agents, prepared to send them to their deaths at a moment's notice, but deep down, she struggled with those decisions. For some reason, she cared about him, no matter how much that emotion infuriated her. 'But I thought that you should know. It's very likely that Jasmin Van Dien is dead.'
'Again?' James said, but against his will his eyes closed slowly, briefly against the sudden hurt that flared inside him.
'Again,' M said softly. 'We found a large amount of blood in a group of trees about two miles from the UN. There were several discharged bullets found in the ground nearby. They were from Ashleigh's weapon. We're running the blood against Jasmin's file, but it was heavily diluted by the snow. We should have a report soon.'
'No body?'
'The imprints in the snow show there was one. There are several different tracks leading to and from the site. At least they had the decency to take her body,' M said carefully.
'And Ashleigh?'
'Our missing agent. As you already knew, James,' M hesitated. 'You were seen.'
'Sir?'
'With Van Dien. During the attack.'
'Sir.' There seemed no point in denying it. Yet also little point in confirming.
'Did you speak to her?'
'Yes.'
'And?'
There was true conflict on James's face for a few moments. Then he reached over, and snatched M's fountain pen and a scrap of paper. He scribbled the series of numbers down, and then pushed them towards her. 'She tried to ask for my protection,' he said in explanation.
'But you couldn't protect her from Ashleigh?' M asked, reaching down and staring at the paper.
'No,' Bond said with a crack in his voice. 'I promised her...' he swallowed. 'I promised her too much.'
M glanced sharply up. She wondered which woman he was referring to.
'I have a favour to ask you,' she said finally.
'Ask,' Bond said.
'I want to contact Alec,' she said quickly.
Bond's eyes narrowed. 'Now?'
'Soon.' M nodded. So far Bond hadn't disagreed which was more than she could have hoped for. She could have tracked Alec down, but that would take time and time was something she didn't want to waste. By asking James, she could keep this between them. 'His wife is missing, don't you think that he has a right to know?'
'What makes you think that he doesn't already know?' James asked. But he didn't say no.
*
Alec was nervous. He hadn't seen Le Loup for some time, and he had a feeling that he was being kept out of the loop. The events at the UN had unnerved him deeply.
He had done as Merkalov had asked, had found himself aiming a weapon directly at the one woman he respected on this planet.
No matter what side he was on, or what side she was fighting for, she had given him hope and a third chance at life.
And so he had followed orders as best as he could for his daughter's life and out of respect for his target, he had taken advantage of the chaos to aim slightly off centre.
He hoped to God that M would never know how close she came to death at his hands. He had seen her hair ruffle slightly as the bullet had missed by millimetres and then that heavy had intervened, slamming the petite woman to the ground. Watching her frantically wriggle under the massive bulk had managed to bring a smile to his lips even as he had turned to run.
They hadn't seen him. But he had seen her.
He had never seen Ashleigh as an agent. Even when they had first met, he had only seen the aftermath. In the fight, she had been cool, calm and lethal. A devastatingly accurate shot, she had killed at least twice that he had seen. For a few moments, they had once more been in the same room and he had hardened his heart long enough to escape. For their daughter's sake.
Now rumours abounded. He had heard it said that Jasmin was dead and he felt curious pity at that. She had been poorly used, and completely unable to control her own destiny. Yet at the same time, she had set out on that path. It was a gamble she had willingly took and now she had paid the highest price for that risk.
Merkalov had promised that he could see Natasha if he had assassinated M. Now he wondered if his failure meant that he would not get to hold his daughter in his arms. He wondered even if M had died would Merkalov have kept his promise?
The memory of his daughter was fading and that scared him. He had tried to keep her so separate from the rest of his life and though he had wanted to keep a photo of her with him at all times, like normal fathers did, fear of capture, of discovery had meant that he had resisted the urge. Now he could only summon her image to his mind and he was frightened, because that image became less clear every time. He could remember individual features, but he couldn't remember the way her eyes, her hair, her mouth, her nose all added up into her face. Sometimes when he tried to remember what she looked like he found himself remembering Ashleigh's face instead and he fought to push it away. He couldn't focus on Ash. He had to push her to one side. She needed to survive on her own. He needed her to prove that she could survive on her own.
The insistent vibration snapped him out of reverie. The mobile phone he kept on his person at all times was ringing, a steady silent pulse against his chest. Carefully glancing around, checking he was alone, a habit learnt through too much paranoia, he answered to the one person he knew it would be.
'James?'
'We know where he is,' James said carefully, there was no emotion in his voice. 'Are you at the place?'
'I'm not sure,' he laughed bitterly. 'I presume so, though perhaps in a separate area from him.'
'M wants to see you.'
'Impossible.'
'Make it possible.'
'You don't know what you're asking,' Alec allowed a small sigh to escape him.
'You don't know how determined M is,' James allowed a small trace of humour into his voice.
'I can well imagine,' Alec rubbed his temples. Under his fingers he felt the rough texture of his scars and flinched. The surrealness of the moment hit him at that point and he felt his knees threaten to collapse from beneath him. 'So what now?'
'We attack,' James said simply.
'When?'
'I'm not sure. M is very quiet on that subject. You know the way she works. She won't make a single move until she's analysed every single possible strategy.'
'It's one of her strengths,' Alec said softly and he meant it. M's reputation as a brilliant tactician was well deserved.
'It's also one of her weaknesses. Every second we wait is a second we lose. A second in which we could be tracking Le Loup.'
'I'll do my best to keep him occupied,' Alec said in a low, convincing voice. He meant every word and hoped that James would understand that promise.
'Anything else you can do?' the question was asked lightly enough, but there was a distinctly keen desire beneath the words.
Alec paused. 'I have my limits...'
'It's time to show your true colours, Janus,' James said darkly. 'Show us which way you truly face. To the past? Or to the future? What side are you on?'
'My daughter's,' Alec said simply. 'I have to do whatever I can to protect her. Please remember that. My daughter in involved. If there is one thing about me you can believe, it's that I love my daughter and I want her back. Safely.'
'And her mother?'
'Can handle herself. As I saw.'
There was a lightness to Alec's tone that made James hesitate. And he realised that Alec didn't know.
Things were suddenly even more complicated. The devil sitting on James's shoulder was telling him that he should disclose that vital snippet that Alec's wife was last seen beating seven shades out of a guard, and that the last evidence of her whereabouts was several bullets and a large pool of blood. Yet somehow, some misguided sense of loyalty meant that he couldn't bring himself to form the words. He pressed his fingers to his temple, and closed his eyes. Could it be that he was thawing towards Alec Trevelyan?
'M wants to talk to you,' James managed to say finally.
'In one hour's time,' Alec replied, then there was nothing but the irritating buzz of a disconnected line.
