The four glasses clinked followed by the four men throwing their heads back and drinking the vodka straight down before laughing and ordering more. James Bond and Oleg Abramovitch chatted away in English while their comrades, who Bond had learned were called Pavel and Andrey spoke in Russian. Abramovitch was the designated interpreter for the group.
“I like this place, James” said Abramovitch, “although I think it must be even better at night, da?”
“I haven’t been here for a long time, but I think you’re right”, said Bond. He looked around at the chairs, the dance area, the small stage which was currently empty. His memories were mixed, but that wasn’t the fault of the Bang Bang Club. It had been called something different back then, too.
Their seaplane had landed safely in the beautiful harbour where Bond’s diplomatic passport had cut through a lot of red tape and managed to get them securely berthed before finding a hotel then going out to see the sights of Nassau. As Bond had expected, this had consisted of one bar after another – not entirely unreasonable when one considered what the four of them had been through recently courtesy of Hurricane Melissa and the denizens of Crab Key.
Bond shook his head when the call for more vodka went up. “I have to go and call my chief very soon”.
“Take another drink, my friend”, said Abramovitch loudly before one of his train-like chuckles.
“Not right now. I’ll have to do some explaining with me charging everything to his department, not to mention that he’ll know by now where I’m using my passport. The last he heard I was in Havana”.
Back in the hotel Bond headed directly for his rather well-appointed room, ignoring the minibar before calling Universal Export and asking for the managing director. He was pleased to hear Miss Moneypenny’s familiar voice come down the line to him, reminding him that there was another world to this, one not full of stolen Stuzis, seaplanes, and slaughter. He was careful not to use her name on this open line.
“Hello, Universal Export?”
“Hello, there. Would that be the Managing Director’s office, please?”
“You know it is, you rascal. I’ve been worried sick about you getting hurt in that terrible storm they’ve had over there. You could at least have given me a call!”
“Day or night, would that be?”
“Preferably at night, I work during the day or haven’t you noticed?”
“Much as I’d like to continue this line of conversation”, he said, knowing that she would hear the smile in his voice, “I really need to talk to our Managing Director. Catch up with you later?”
“I’ve heard that before”, she shot back before clicking him through.
“Yes?”
“Hello, sir, it’s your nephew calling from the Caribbean”.
“Glad to hear you’re all right, James. Last I heard you had taken a flight from Havana into the teeth of the most terrible storm they’ve had there in years. The news has been full of the aftermath”.
There was an undercurrent of rebuke in the Old Man’s voice.
“I’ll explain more fully later, sir, but I got involved with the family of a rather negative medical gentleman I knew from the past”.
“A rather negative … Oh, I see. And would that have been on the same piece of real estate as this gentleman owned?”
“The very same, sir. I hadn’t intended to visit there but the exceptional weather forced my hand”.
“I’m looking forward to hearing more about this from you in person, a lot more”. M sounded very interested. “I take it this had to do with certain activity in that exact area which our cousins have been investigating?”
“I believe it might, sir, but at the moment I’ve ended up in Nassau”.
“So I see from the hotel charges that have begun to cross my desk”.
“That’s very fast. I thought you might have been able to trace my passport as well”.
“Indeed I have”, said M, “and I hope you haven’t lost sight of your main reason for being in that area in the first place”.
“You mean that chap you were hoping would be joining our team? Yes, he and I are in direct contact and he’ll be coming back with me. He’s also bringing a couple of his friends to join us”.
M humphed. “That explains the bill for four rooms. Was this expensive hotel the only one available?”
“I think so, sir. Anyway, I didn’t want to go all over the town comparing prices. My party would have attracted attention”.
“So I suppose you’ve left them in a bar, then? Won’t that attract attention?”
“A small bunch of foreigners won’t attract any attention in a bar here, sir. They would if they went around from hotel to hotel asking the rates. That would be very noticeable”.
M humphed again. “All right, Doub-, er James, we’ll leave that. Now, as it happens I have a job for you and your new friends in that vicinity. I believe you all arrived there in a seaplane, didn’t you?”
Bond didn’t waste any time wondering how M knew that. “We did”.
“I won’t say any more over this line. Expect a visitor in the morning”.
The line went dead. Bond sat in thought for a moment, then went back to join Abramovitch and his friends.
To Be Continued
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 31,111Chief of Staff
James Bond had been told that vodka either doesn’t give hangovers or if it does only mild ones compared with other choices of drink. He wished whoever had said that was standing in front of him right now so he could disabuse them of that notion, but instead there were only Abramovitch, Andrey, and Pavel helping themselves to large mugs of black coffee in the hotel breakfast room.
Hellos were muttered before they all headed for a corner table where they could sit in silence, trying not to attract any attention or worse, conversation. None of them felt like helping themselves from the large range of delicious looking foods available or admiring the impressive views through the windows.
After a few minutes a tall red-headed woman strode into the room and marched straight to their table, attracting a few admiring glances on the way. She stopped and stood in front of the four men, causing them to painfully look up at her.
“Good morning, Colonel”, she addressed Abramovitch. “I hope you and your friends won’t mind if I take James here for a few moments?”
Abramovitch coughed slightly before speaking. “Please, do, Miss Wormold. I can assure you that the rest of us aren’t going anywhere”.
Bond stood and signalled with an arm. “This way, please, Maureen?”
In his room, Bond sat facing the door and waved Maureen to the bed which she pointedly ignored and leaned against the minibar.
“So, what is it that’s so important M wouldn’t tell me over the phone?” asked Bond.
“James, you know that relations between the Arab countries and the Western nations are always a difficult matter”, she began.
“Of course”.
“The younger brother of one of the more important sheikhs is here in the Caribbean on a pleasure cruise. Or perhaps I should say, was”.
“He’s gone missing?”
“His whole yacht and crew have gone missing. Nothing’s been heard from them for the last two days. Britain still has some presence and influence here, and it would be an enormous political gain if we were to find the yacht and, of course, the brother quickly”.
“Preferably alive and well”.
“That’s the idea. M knows that your Russian friends have a seaplane which would be invaluable in a search which is to be carried out quickly and discreetly, not with warships blundering around alerting everyone, friend or foe, that something is going on”.
“All right”, said Bond thoughtfully, “I’ll ask Abramovitch if he and his friends are willing to help, but I’m sure they’ll agree”.
“I thought you’d say that”, smiled Maureen. “I’ll get back to our local office and tell M on a secure line”.
“Just one more thing before you go, though. Where was the yacht last heard from?”
“I’ll find you the exact details”, said Maureen, “but it was somewhere east of here in Nassau”.
Bond’s head jerked up. “East of here? You know what that is?”
The water shone like a mirror below them, reflecting the cloudless sky and a small black bird-like shape that was their plane. Abramovitch held a meter in his hand, telling Pavel to go left or right according to what the meter was indicating.
“The watch our target was wearing had a homer in it”, Maureen had said earlier. “I don’t know if he knew that, but I think it’s clear that his brother didn’t have much confidence in him and wanted to know where he could be found at all times”.
“And I for one am glad that has come in useful now”, said Bond, “I didn’t fancy combing all over these waters, beautiful as they are, looking for a yacht. The words “needle” and “haystack” leap to mind”.
After no more than two hours the meter had led their plane to set down beside an imposing luxury yacht lying still on the crystal-clear water with the sun baking down on them. It was apparently named the Glory Hope and registered in Panama. Bond tried hailing them, with no success, before throwing out a line to the nearest ladder.
Bond and Maureen took the port side, Abramovitch and Andrey the starboard with Pavel remaining in their plane. There were signs of a battle or at least a struggle; bullet holes marked the otherwise perfect veneer of the woodwork and Bond at one point picked up a jackknife lying on the deck but they found no signs of any crew or passengers, alive or dead. They were on the point of heading below when a shout from Abramovitch sent them hurrying in that direction.
A man lay on the deck, blood showing through his tee-shirt. Maureen was about to say that he was dead when the man groaned and shifted slightly.
“We must get him to a hospital”, said Abramovitch, “he will die lying here”.
“I think his enemies thought that he already had”, said Bond.
Abramovitch spoke rapidly to Andrey who went running back to their plane. “Did you see the bullet holes, James?” he asked.
“I did. Not as many as I would have thought. I don’t think they expected to be boarded – perhaps they thought they were helping a boat in distress- and it was done by people who knew what they were doing”.
Maureen nodded. “Pirates”.
Andrey had returned with the collapsible stretcher carried by the seaplane. As gently as they could, Bond and Abramovitch lifted the wounded man onto it and they tied him down using the stretcher’s binders before all of them managed, with some struggling, to get their burden down into the plane.
“He’s taking up a lot of space”, said Abramovitch, “the space that you two would have been sitting in. Do you think you’ll be all right here while we take him back to Nassau and get him to a hospital? We’ll use the time to refill then come back for you”.
Bond and Maureen made eye contact then Bond said, “Yes, of course, Oleg. We’ll continue searching this pleasure cruiser and see what we can find”.
It was an hour later. Bond rolled off Maureen, both of them smiling in contentment, and lay on his back with one arm behind his head. That was the arm he would have used to hold a cigarette, he thought with bitter sweetness. Oh well, perhaps he wouldn’t even have been here if he hadn’t given them up. For all he knew, he might have dropped dead after a game of golf a long time ago.
“Penny for them”, teased Maureen.
Bond smiled into her eyes. He had always found tall red-headed women hard to resist.
“I was just thinking what a sumptuous passion wagon this boat is. These sheets, those curtains … they haven’t spared any expense putting this dreamboat”, he smiled, “together, have they?”
“Yes, someone with money to burn owns this. But we have to get back on our feet again, you know that, James”.
He sighed. She was right. They got up, washed in the splendid en-suite, and dressed before putting the bed back to its previous state and continuing their pleasurably interrupted tour of the Glory Hope.
In the next bedroom they found some high quality clothing suited to a man of Bond’s size if not his taste (“Too formal” was his verdict) and the watch containing the homer which had brought them here.
“A pity he wasn’t still wearing it”, said Maureen.
“Let’s see… hmmm, it’s a Rolex. Nothing but the best for these boys”. He turned it over to find an inscription on the back. “Yours always, brothers must cling together no matter what”.
There had been nothing else of interest in the other bedrooms or the galley and they found themselves in the first of the two massive staterooms. Bond looked around, again noting the vast amount of money that had been spent.
“This one is like the boardroom of a number one company”, said Maureen. “Look at that those drapes along that wall- pure velvet”.
“I wonder what they’re hiding”, mused Bond. “Can’t be a window in that position”.
“Well, go on, have a look. It’s what we’re here for”, laughed Maureen.
Bond found a cord and pulled it. The drapes opened and the two of them stared at what had been revealed before turning to each other and shaking their heads.
“It can’t be”, said Bond. “It simply can’t”.
To Be Continued
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 31,111Chief of Staff
Bond smiled into her eyes. He had always found tall red-headed women hard to resist.
At last, I finally have something in common with James Bond 🤣
“So this isn’t an Arab yacht at all”, said Maureen.
“We should have realised just from the name- the Glory Hope. Does “Land Of Hope And Glory” ring any bells?”
Before she could answer a succession of clanging noises came from the port side followed by the sounds of feet, lots of them.
“More pirates?”
“Or the same ones back again”, said Bond, his mind racing. He calculated ten or twelve men were aboard and his gun didn’t have ten or twelve shots. Go down fighting, taking Maureen with him, or hope for a better chance later?
That decision was instantly taken out of his hands by the stateroom being filled with young men energetically waving an assortment of guns and knives. Bond carefully laid down his Walther on the table before him and slowly raised his hands, nudging Maureen to do likewise.
The one Bond supposed to be the leader had shouted in their faces for what seemed like an hour. Bond guessed the language was Portuguese, in which he had no prowess. He had tried English, French, and German to receive scornful looks and more of whatever the leader was speaking only louder.
Eventually both of their hands were tied behind their backs and they were led roughly to the middle-sized boat which had sailed up beside them. That answered one question, anyway, thought Bond as he clumsily clambered aboard; why he had not heard them approach. They were told by signs to lie down near the aft and the boat unlinked itself and took off.
Darkness had fallen with the nearly immediate way it does around the equator when they reached their destination- wherever that was. They were ordered to their feet and then to land. Bond noted an assortment of dwellings, both temporary and more permanent, as well as more boats and a helicopter not far away. They were pushed into one of the stone buildings and the door was shut and locked behind them.
There was no light inside, and their eyes took time adjusting to the almost complete darkness.
“Where are we, James?” Maureen’s voice quivered. Bond knew it was best that he should not show any part what he was feeling in front of her. Fear is more contagious than any pandemic or illness.
“An island, I expect. We weren’t at sea long enough to have reached South America, so we’re still in the Caribbean somewhere”.
There was movement in a corner of the room. Bond could just make out a figure struggling to its feet.
“Hello? Who are you?” said a polite English voice.
“We’ve been picked up by the same people I expect picked you up as well”, said Bond. “That is, if you’re from the yacht Glory Hope”.
“I am, or at least was”, the voice said ruefully, “they boarded us and took the crew away or killed them, I don’t know how many died. They tied me up and put a hood over my head then brought me here. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Three days? Four? It might be longer”.
Bond was grappling to recall where he knew that voice from. He’d definitely heard it before, although not for a few years. Upper class, English. Sounding very worn out, which wasn’t surprising.
“Who are you two?” the voice said, “you sound English but not quite”.
Bond would have laughed had their current predicament not been utterly humourless. “Someone might think I sound English, but they would be wrong. My name’s Bond, James Bond, and I work for the Ministry Of Defence as does my friend Maureen here. We were sent to find you”.
There was a laugh. “Well you’ve succeeded in that, at least. Who sent you? My brother, perhaps?”
“Your brother?” asked Maureen, “you don’t sound like an Arab”.
“He isn’t”, said Bond. “We were told a pack of lies. You saw the crest on the yacht, you saw the inscription on the watch. I’ve been trying to remember where I know that voice from, and you should know it too”.
Their eyes had adjusted as fully to the near-darkness as they were going to. They could see a grey-haired man in his mid-60s of about Bond’s height standing close to them. His clothes were creased and soiled by his recent treatment but they were evidently of the most expensive varieties available. The man looked calmly back at them, his hands tied as theirs were.
“Oh my God”, said Maureen, “it’s Prince –“
“Not any more it isn’t”, said Bond. “Good evening, Mr Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor. We’re here to rescue you”.
“I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, Mr Bond. We’d have got round to that eventually”.
“And our captors, whoever they are, they know who you are and they’re holding you to ransom?”
“I honestly don’t know. They don’t speak one blasted word of English and I can’t speak whatever it is they’re talking. I don’t see anyone or anything except a few times when they’ve opened the door and thrown in some food”.
“Have you any idea how many of them there are? I counted about twelve but there would have been others left here while they were out on their boat”.
“Yes, I counted about the same. Perhaps twenty altogether”.
Bond thought for a few moments.
“And they are well-armed, too. We have nothing in our favour except the element of surprise”.
“Surprise?” said Maureen. “As in what?”
“As in this”, said Bond.
He held his hands in front of his body, pulling away at the last few tendrils of rope. His fellow captors looked on wide-eyed. Bond gave a thin smile then produced the jackknife he had picked up earlier.
“Overconfidence on their part”, he said. “Because I surrendered my gun easily they didn’t think I might have had another weapon on me. It was in my back pocket and I’ve been getting it open then cutting my ropes while we’ve been speaking. Here, turn around, both of you”.
It took only seconds for them all to be free. There followed some necessary wrist-rubbing, especially on the part of the captive formerly known as Prince who had been there much longer than the other two. Bond used the time to examine the door and the lock as much as he could from this side.
“Mr Mountbatten- Windsor”, he began before being interrupted.
“Oh call me Andrew for God’s sake” said the disgraced ex-Royal, “I’m hardly in a position to stand on ceremony – not that I’ll be doing much of that in the future, anyway”.
“All right, er, Andrew”, said Bond, though using the name sounded strange in his mouth, “when they opened the door to give you food did you see any sign of guards outside? One or two, maybe?”
“Didn’t see a thing. I was lying in darkness then the light from the door blinded me. Sorry”.
“It’s okay. Now, do you know roughly how long it’ll be until they give you more food?”
“It should be soon, unless they’ve changed the times owing to having two extra prisoners”.
At that came the sound of footsteps approaching and keys rattling. Bond pointed for his companions to get back then stood beside the door, knife in hand.
The door creaked open and a man entered, keys in one hand and a tray in the other. Bond seized him round the mouth and severed his jugular while praying that one of the others would catch the tray before it made a God-awful clattering sound on the ground. Maureen managed, and laid it down just as Bond lowered the now-deceased guard as quietly as he could before diving out of the door with his knife in hand ready to fight and kill.
There was no-one there. There were sounds coming from one of the stone buildings about three metres away but nobody was visible. He turned back to the guard and searched him. One ancient pistol which he claimed, nothing else bar the keys.
“Get out of there, both of you”, he whispered harshly while dragging the dead man inside what had been their cell.
He closed the door then locked it with the keys before tossing them far away into the undergrowth. He thought for a second then passed the knife to Andrew. He expected the former Royal to look at it in horror but instead Andrew nodded and held the knife comfortably.
“I was a Commando, you know, Mr Bond”, he said quietly.
“Of course you were- Falklands War, wasn’t it?” said Bond, and Andrew nodded.
“Not that you’d know it these days. There used to be plaques with my name on them there, but they’ve taken them all down. Of course, that’s not the only –“
“Perhaps you can tell us later. Now let’s get over here and I hope you can recall more from those times”.
Using the shadows, Bond led them to where the helicopter was standing. Amateurs, he thought. No fence, no guards around it.
“You were a helicopter pilot, I believe?” whispered Bond.
“Well, yes, but that was a long time ago. This will be a different model, probably more modern, I don’t know if I –“
“We’re about to find out. You two go first, I’ll cover you with this pathetic little gun if there’s any need”.
The others ran, crouched, for the helicopter. Nothing happened. Bond quickly joined them as Andrew sat in the pilot’s position. Maureen looked around and found a rifle while Andrew looked over the console.
“Can you do it?” said Bond.
“I think so, but there’s no starter. I don’t see how to start the thing!”
“That’s one thing that has changed. Look down, look at your feet”.
Andrew looked down. There was a black bulge beside his left foot.
“That? Are you sure?”
“Just press it!”
The rotors gave a sigh, then the engine coughed. The rotors began to spin faster as a man with a rifle appeared out of nowhere and began shooting. Bond managed to put him down with his second shot, but others ran up toward them. Maureen succeeded in hitting one or two of them but they kept coming.
“Take off! Take off!” Bond yelled.
Andrew was on the verge of panic. “I have to go through all the pre-flight routines! I have to make sure that –“
“Just do it! Do it now!”
The helicopter lurched up and forward, knocking over one of the men running towards them. Bond crouched to avoid the incoming shots and even managed to fire a few bullets back at them before the ancient pistol would do no more. He threw it down to the ground, and was glad to see he managed to hit the one he had earlier guessed to be the leader on the forehead, knocking him out cold. The helicopter flew through the night sky, more surely as its pilot remembered his old skills.
Maureen flung her arms around Bond’s neck.
“You did it, James! We’re free!” she yelled over the noise.
“We’re in a better position than we were half an hour ago, that’s true”, said Bond, “but we’re not home yet”.
He looked at the console then to Andrew.
“Do we have any idea where we are?”
“That we do. We even have a full tank, so I believe we can reach a friendly port safely”. He sighed. “It’s good to know I can do some things correctly”.
Comments
Such a great story…well written and planned out…nice little echoes in there too - marvellous 👏🏻
Thank you very much, Sir M.
Now, I'll be unavailable for a short while. I'm going to Moscow.
To Russia With Love?
To Ayrshire with Bass 🤭
Excellent story.
Thank you @Barbel for this very well written adventure.
Keep it up.
Bravo.
Russia or Idaho?
Hi guys, I'm back. No, @Westward_Drift neither of those. @Sir Miles got it right- Moscow, Ayrshire, where I've spent a pleasant couple of days.
Thank you @Sonero very much.
Now, I have a question to ask:
That story seemed to be very popular, so ....
Sequel?
I think that’s a great idea…🙂
Whether it’s a sequel to Melissa or another return to the location of one of Bond’s past adventures, it’s a great idea!
BROTHERS
2025
Nassau
“Cheers!”
“Za zdorovye!”
The four glasses clinked followed by the four men throwing their heads back and drinking the vodka straight down before laughing and ordering more. James Bond and Oleg Abramovitch chatted away in English while their comrades, who Bond had learned were called Pavel and Andrey spoke in Russian. Abramovitch was the designated interpreter for the group.
“I like this place, James” said Abramovitch, “although I think it must be even better at night, da?”
“I haven’t been here for a long time, but I think you’re right”, said Bond. He looked around at the chairs, the dance area, the small stage which was currently empty. His memories were mixed, but that wasn’t the fault of the Bang Bang Club. It had been called something different back then, too.
Their seaplane had landed safely in the beautiful harbour where Bond’s diplomatic passport had cut through a lot of red tape and managed to get them securely berthed before finding a hotel then going out to see the sights of Nassau. As Bond had expected, this had consisted of one bar after another – not entirely unreasonable when one considered what the four of them had been through recently courtesy of Hurricane Melissa and the denizens of Crab Key.
Bond shook his head when the call for more vodka went up. “I have to go and call my chief very soon”.
“Take another drink, my friend”, said Abramovitch loudly before one of his train-like chuckles.
“Not right now. I’ll have to do some explaining with me charging everything to his department, not to mention that he’ll know by now where I’m using my passport. The last he heard I was in Havana”.
Back in the hotel Bond headed directly for his rather well-appointed room, ignoring the minibar before calling Universal Export and asking for the managing director. He was pleased to hear Miss Moneypenny’s familiar voice come down the line to him, reminding him that there was another world to this, one not full of stolen Stuzis, seaplanes, and slaughter. He was careful not to use her name on this open line.
“Hello, Universal Export?”
“Hello, there. Would that be the Managing Director’s office, please?”
“You know it is, you rascal. I’ve been worried sick about you getting hurt in that terrible storm they’ve had over there. You could at least have given me a call!”
“Day or night, would that be?”
“Preferably at night, I work during the day or haven’t you noticed?”
“Much as I’d like to continue this line of conversation”, he said, knowing that she would hear the smile in his voice, “I really need to talk to our Managing Director. Catch up with you later?”
“I’ve heard that before”, she shot back before clicking him through.
“Yes?”
“Hello, sir, it’s your nephew calling from the Caribbean”.
“Glad to hear you’re all right, James. Last I heard you had taken a flight from Havana into the teeth of the most terrible storm they’ve had there in years. The news has been full of the aftermath”.
There was an undercurrent of rebuke in the Old Man’s voice.
“I’ll explain more fully later, sir, but I got involved with the family of a rather negative medical gentleman I knew from the past”.
“A rather negative … Oh, I see. And would that have been on the same piece of real estate as this gentleman owned?”
“The very same, sir. I hadn’t intended to visit there but the exceptional weather forced my hand”.
“I’m looking forward to hearing more about this from you in person, a lot more”. M sounded very interested. “I take it this had to do with certain activity in that exact area which our cousins have been investigating?”
“I believe it might, sir, but at the moment I’ve ended up in Nassau”.
“So I see from the hotel charges that have begun to cross my desk”.
“That’s very fast. I thought you might have been able to trace my passport as well”.
“Indeed I have”, said M, “and I hope you haven’t lost sight of your main reason for being in that area in the first place”.
“You mean that chap you were hoping would be joining our team? Yes, he and I are in direct contact and he’ll be coming back with me. He’s also bringing a couple of his friends to join us”.
M humphed. “That explains the bill for four rooms. Was this expensive hotel the only one available?”
“I think so, sir. Anyway, I didn’t want to go all over the town comparing prices. My party would have attracted attention”.
“So I suppose you’ve left them in a bar, then? Won’t that attract attention?”
“A small bunch of foreigners won’t attract any attention in a bar here, sir. They would if they went around from hotel to hotel asking the rates. That would be very noticeable”.
M humphed again. “All right, Doub-, er James, we’ll leave that. Now, as it happens I have a job for you and your new friends in that vicinity. I believe you all arrived there in a seaplane, didn’t you?”
Bond didn’t waste any time wondering how M knew that. “We did”.
“I won’t say any more over this line. Expect a visitor in the morning”.
The line went dead. Bond sat in thought for a moment, then went back to join Abramovitch and his friends.
To Be Continued
Cracking start 👏🏻
A good first instalment 🍸
Thanks, guys, Part Two soon.
Part Two
James Bond had been told that vodka either doesn’t give hangovers or if it does only mild ones compared with other choices of drink. He wished whoever had said that was standing in front of him right now so he could disabuse them of that notion, but instead there were only Abramovitch, Andrey, and Pavel helping themselves to large mugs of black coffee in the hotel breakfast room.
Hellos were muttered before they all headed for a corner table where they could sit in silence, trying not to attract any attention or worse, conversation. None of them felt like helping themselves from the large range of delicious looking foods available or admiring the impressive views through the windows.
After a few minutes a tall red-headed woman strode into the room and marched straight to their table, attracting a few admiring glances on the way. She stopped and stood in front of the four men, causing them to painfully look up at her.
“Good morning, Colonel”, she addressed Abramovitch. “I hope you and your friends won’t mind if I take James here for a few moments?”
Abramovitch coughed slightly before speaking. “Please, do, Miss Wormold. I can assure you that the rest of us aren’t going anywhere”.
Bond stood and signalled with an arm. “This way, please, Maureen?”
In his room, Bond sat facing the door and waved Maureen to the bed which she pointedly ignored and leaned against the minibar.
“So, what is it that’s so important M wouldn’t tell me over the phone?” asked Bond.
“James, you know that relations between the Arab countries and the Western nations are always a difficult matter”, she began.
“Of course”.
“The younger brother of one of the more important sheikhs is here in the Caribbean on a pleasure cruise. Or perhaps I should say, was”.
“He’s gone missing?”
“His whole yacht and crew have gone missing. Nothing’s been heard from them for the last two days. Britain still has some presence and influence here, and it would be an enormous political gain if we were to find the yacht and, of course, the brother quickly”.
“Preferably alive and well”.
“That’s the idea. M knows that your Russian friends have a seaplane which would be invaluable in a search which is to be carried out quickly and discreetly, not with warships blundering around alerting everyone, friend or foe, that something is going on”.
“All right”, said Bond thoughtfully, “I’ll ask Abramovitch if he and his friends are willing to help, but I’m sure they’ll agree”.
“I thought you’d say that”, smiled Maureen. “I’ll get back to our local office and tell M on a secure line”.
“Just one more thing before you go, though. Where was the yacht last heard from?”
“I’ll find you the exact details”, said Maureen, “but it was somewhere east of here in Nassau”.
Bond’s head jerked up. “East of here? You know what that is?”
Maureen shook her head.
“That’s the Bermuda Triangle”.
To be Continued
Another great instalment 👏
Maureen Wormold - keeping it in the family? Our Woman in Nassau? 😁
It's better than that, CHB - look back to when she first appears in "Melissa" ....
Gotta love a tall red-headed woman…I mean I HAVE to…I married one 🤣
Looking forward to more 🍸
I'd love to say that's just a coincidence but we all know there's no such thing.
My memory is getting worse 🤣
Part Three
The water shone like a mirror below them, reflecting the cloudless sky and a small black bird-like shape that was their plane. Abramovitch held a meter in his hand, telling Pavel to go left or right according to what the meter was indicating.
“The watch our target was wearing had a homer in it”, Maureen had said earlier. “I don’t know if he knew that, but I think it’s clear that his brother didn’t have much confidence in him and wanted to know where he could be found at all times”.
“And I for one am glad that has come in useful now”, said Bond, “I didn’t fancy combing all over these waters, beautiful as they are, looking for a yacht. The words “needle” and “haystack” leap to mind”.
After no more than two hours the meter had led their plane to set down beside an imposing luxury yacht lying still on the crystal-clear water with the sun baking down on them. It was apparently named the Glory Hope and registered in Panama. Bond tried hailing them, with no success, before throwing out a line to the nearest ladder.
Bond and Maureen took the port side, Abramovitch and Andrey the starboard with Pavel remaining in their plane. There were signs of a battle or at least a struggle; bullet holes marked the otherwise perfect veneer of the woodwork and Bond at one point picked up a jackknife lying on the deck but they found no signs of any crew or passengers, alive or dead. They were on the point of heading below when a shout from Abramovitch sent them hurrying in that direction.
A man lay on the deck, blood showing through his tee-shirt. Maureen was about to say that he was dead when the man groaned and shifted slightly.
“We must get him to a hospital”, said Abramovitch, “he will die lying here”.
“I think his enemies thought that he already had”, said Bond.
Abramovitch spoke rapidly to Andrey who went running back to their plane. “Did you see the bullet holes, James?” he asked.
“I did. Not as many as I would have thought. I don’t think they expected to be boarded – perhaps they thought they were helping a boat in distress- and it was done by people who knew what they were doing”.
Maureen nodded. “Pirates”.
Andrey had returned with the collapsible stretcher carried by the seaplane. As gently as they could, Bond and Abramovitch lifted the wounded man onto it and they tied him down using the stretcher’s binders before all of them managed, with some struggling, to get their burden down into the plane.
“He’s taking up a lot of space”, said Abramovitch, “the space that you two would have been sitting in. Do you think you’ll be all right here while we take him back to Nassau and get him to a hospital? We’ll use the time to refill then come back for you”.
Bond and Maureen made eye contact then Bond said, “Yes, of course, Oleg. We’ll continue searching this pleasure cruiser and see what we can find”.
It was an hour later. Bond rolled off Maureen, both of them smiling in contentment, and lay on his back with one arm behind his head. That was the arm he would have used to hold a cigarette, he thought with bitter sweetness. Oh well, perhaps he wouldn’t even have been here if he hadn’t given them up. For all he knew, he might have dropped dead after a game of golf a long time ago.
“Penny for them”, teased Maureen.
Bond smiled into her eyes. He had always found tall red-headed women hard to resist.
“I was just thinking what a sumptuous passion wagon this boat is. These sheets, those curtains … they haven’t spared any expense putting this dreamboat”, he smiled, “together, have they?”
“Yes, someone with money to burn owns this. But we have to get back on our feet again, you know that, James”.
He sighed. She was right. They got up, washed in the splendid en-suite, and dressed before putting the bed back to its previous state and continuing their pleasurably interrupted tour of the Glory Hope.
In the next bedroom they found some high quality clothing suited to a man of Bond’s size if not his taste (“Too formal” was his verdict) and the watch containing the homer which had brought them here.
“A pity he wasn’t still wearing it”, said Maureen.
“Let’s see… hmmm, it’s a Rolex. Nothing but the best for these boys”. He turned it over to find an inscription on the back. “Yours always, brothers must cling together no matter what”.
There had been nothing else of interest in the other bedrooms or the galley and they found themselves in the first of the two massive staterooms. Bond looked around, again noting the vast amount of money that had been spent.
“This one is like the boardroom of a number one company”, said Maureen. “Look at that those drapes along that wall- pure velvet”.
“I wonder what they’re hiding”, mused Bond. “Can’t be a window in that position”.
“Well, go on, have a look. It’s what we’re here for”, laughed Maureen.
Bond found a cord and pulled it. The drapes opened and the two of them stared at what had been revealed before turning to each other and shaking their heads.
“It can’t be”, said Bond. “It simply can’t”.
To Be Continued
Bond smiled into her eyes. He had always found tall red-headed women hard to resist.
At last, I finally have something in common with James Bond 🤣
This is shaping up to be another cracker 😃
I knew you'd like that! 😀
Another marvellous tale 👏
I'm pleased you like it so far, cos now is where it's gonna get strange ....
Part Four
“So this isn’t an Arab yacht at all”, said Maureen.
“We should have realised just from the name- the Glory Hope. Does “Land Of Hope And Glory” ring any bells?”
Before she could answer a succession of clanging noises came from the port side followed by the sounds of feet, lots of them.
“More pirates?”
“Or the same ones back again”, said Bond, his mind racing. He calculated ten or twelve men were aboard and his gun didn’t have ten or twelve shots. Go down fighting, taking Maureen with him, or hope for a better chance later?
That decision was instantly taken out of his hands by the stateroom being filled with young men energetically waving an assortment of guns and knives. Bond carefully laid down his Walther on the table before him and slowly raised his hands, nudging Maureen to do likewise.
The one Bond supposed to be the leader had shouted in their faces for what seemed like an hour. Bond guessed the language was Portuguese, in which he had no prowess. He had tried English, French, and German to receive scornful looks and more of whatever the leader was speaking only louder.
Eventually both of their hands were tied behind their backs and they were led roughly to the middle-sized boat which had sailed up beside them. That answered one question, anyway, thought Bond as he clumsily clambered aboard; why he had not heard them approach. They were told by signs to lie down near the aft and the boat unlinked itself and took off.
Darkness had fallen with the nearly immediate way it does around the equator when they reached their destination- wherever that was. They were ordered to their feet and then to land. Bond noted an assortment of dwellings, both temporary and more permanent, as well as more boats and a helicopter not far away. They were pushed into one of the stone buildings and the door was shut and locked behind them.
There was no light inside, and their eyes took time adjusting to the almost complete darkness.
“Where are we, James?” Maureen’s voice quivered. Bond knew it was best that he should not show any part what he was feeling in front of her. Fear is more contagious than any pandemic or illness.
“An island, I expect. We weren’t at sea long enough to have reached South America, so we’re still in the Caribbean somewhere”.
There was movement in a corner of the room. Bond could just make out a figure struggling to its feet.
“Hello? Who are you?” said a polite English voice.
“We’ve been picked up by the same people I expect picked you up as well”, said Bond. “That is, if you’re from the yacht Glory Hope”.
“I am, or at least was”, the voice said ruefully, “they boarded us and took the crew away or killed them, I don’t know how many died. They tied me up and put a hood over my head then brought me here. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Three days? Four? It might be longer”.
Bond was grappling to recall where he knew that voice from. He’d definitely heard it before, although not for a few years. Upper class, English. Sounding very worn out, which wasn’t surprising.
“Who are you two?” the voice said, “you sound English but not quite”.
Bond would have laughed had their current predicament not been utterly humourless. “Someone might think I sound English, but they would be wrong. My name’s Bond, James Bond, and I work for the Ministry Of Defence as does my friend Maureen here. We were sent to find you”.
There was a laugh. “Well you’ve succeeded in that, at least. Who sent you? My brother, perhaps?”
“Your brother?” asked Maureen, “you don’t sound like an Arab”.
“He isn’t”, said Bond. “We were told a pack of lies. You saw the crest on the yacht, you saw the inscription on the watch. I’ve been trying to remember where I know that voice from, and you should know it too”.
Their eyes had adjusted as fully to the near-darkness as they were going to. They could see a grey-haired man in his mid-60s of about Bond’s height standing close to them. His clothes were creased and soiled by his recent treatment but they were evidently of the most expensive varieties available. The man looked calmly back at them, his hands tied as theirs were.
“Oh my God”, said Maureen, “it’s Prince –“
“Not any more it isn’t”, said Bond. “Good evening, Mr Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor. We’re here to rescue you”.
To Be Continued
Andrew. Brilliant! I’m enjoying this very much 🍸
Thanks, that's good to hear.
Wow - THAT’S a left turn 😮
Great stuff 👏🏻
Thanks, Sir M, happy you're enjoying it.
Part Five
Andrew shook his head ruefully.
“I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, Mr Bond. We’d have got round to that eventually”.
“And our captors, whoever they are, they know who you are and they’re holding you to ransom?”
“I honestly don’t know. They don’t speak one blasted word of English and I can’t speak whatever it is they’re talking. I don’t see anyone or anything except a few times when they’ve opened the door and thrown in some food”.
“Have you any idea how many of them there are? I counted about twelve but there would have been others left here while they were out on their boat”.
“Yes, I counted about the same. Perhaps twenty altogether”.
Bond thought for a few moments.
“And they are well-armed, too. We have nothing in our favour except the element of surprise”.
“Surprise?” said Maureen. “As in what?”
“As in this”, said Bond.
He held his hands in front of his body, pulling away at the last few tendrils of rope. His fellow captors looked on wide-eyed. Bond gave a thin smile then produced the jackknife he had picked up earlier.
“Overconfidence on their part”, he said. “Because I surrendered my gun easily they didn’t think I might have had another weapon on me. It was in my back pocket and I’ve been getting it open then cutting my ropes while we’ve been speaking. Here, turn around, both of you”.
It took only seconds for them all to be free. There followed some necessary wrist-rubbing, especially on the part of the captive formerly known as Prince who had been there much longer than the other two. Bond used the time to examine the door and the lock as much as he could from this side.
“Mr Mountbatten- Windsor”, he began before being interrupted.
“Oh call me Andrew for God’s sake” said the disgraced ex-Royal, “I’m hardly in a position to stand on ceremony – not that I’ll be doing much of that in the future, anyway”.
“All right, er, Andrew”, said Bond, though using the name sounded strange in his mouth, “when they opened the door to give you food did you see any sign of guards outside? One or two, maybe?”
“Didn’t see a thing. I was lying in darkness then the light from the door blinded me. Sorry”.
“It’s okay. Now, do you know roughly how long it’ll be until they give you more food?”
“It should be soon, unless they’ve changed the times owing to having two extra prisoners”.
At that came the sound of footsteps approaching and keys rattling. Bond pointed for his companions to get back then stood beside the door, knife in hand.
The door creaked open and a man entered, keys in one hand and a tray in the other. Bond seized him round the mouth and severed his jugular while praying that one of the others would catch the tray before it made a God-awful clattering sound on the ground. Maureen managed, and laid it down just as Bond lowered the now-deceased guard as quietly as he could before diving out of the door with his knife in hand ready to fight and kill.
There was no-one there. There were sounds coming from one of the stone buildings about three metres away but nobody was visible. He turned back to the guard and searched him. One ancient pistol which he claimed, nothing else bar the keys.
“Get out of there, both of you”, he whispered harshly while dragging the dead man inside what had been their cell.
He closed the door then locked it with the keys before tossing them far away into the undergrowth. He thought for a second then passed the knife to Andrew. He expected the former Royal to look at it in horror but instead Andrew nodded and held the knife comfortably.
“I was a Commando, you know, Mr Bond”, he said quietly.
“Of course you were- Falklands War, wasn’t it?” said Bond, and Andrew nodded.
“Not that you’d know it these days. There used to be plaques with my name on them there, but they’ve taken them all down. Of course, that’s not the only –“
“Perhaps you can tell us later. Now let’s get over here and I hope you can recall more from those times”.
Using the shadows, Bond led them to where the helicopter was standing. Amateurs, he thought. No fence, no guards around it.
“You were a helicopter pilot, I believe?” whispered Bond.
“Well, yes, but that was a long time ago. This will be a different model, probably more modern, I don’t know if I –“
“We’re about to find out. You two go first, I’ll cover you with this pathetic little gun if there’s any need”.
The others ran, crouched, for the helicopter. Nothing happened. Bond quickly joined them as Andrew sat in the pilot’s position. Maureen looked around and found a rifle while Andrew looked over the console.
“Can you do it?” said Bond.
“I think so, but there’s no starter. I don’t see how to start the thing!”
“That’s one thing that has changed. Look down, look at your feet”.
Andrew looked down. There was a black bulge beside his left foot.
“That? Are you sure?”
“Just press it!”
The rotors gave a sigh, then the engine coughed. The rotors began to spin faster as a man with a rifle appeared out of nowhere and began shooting. Bond managed to put him down with his second shot, but others ran up toward them. Maureen succeeded in hitting one or two of them but they kept coming.
“Take off! Take off!” Bond yelled.
Andrew was on the verge of panic. “I have to go through all the pre-flight routines! I have to make sure that –“
“Just do it! Do it now!”
The helicopter lurched up and forward, knocking over one of the men running towards them. Bond crouched to avoid the incoming shots and even managed to fire a few bullets back at them before the ancient pistol would do no more. He threw it down to the ground, and was glad to see he managed to hit the one he had earlier guessed to be the leader on the forehead, knocking him out cold. The helicopter flew through the night sky, more surely as its pilot remembered his old skills.
Maureen flung her arms around Bond’s neck.
“You did it, James! We’re free!” she yelled over the noise.
“We’re in a better position than we were half an hour ago, that’s true”, said Bond, “but we’re not home yet”.
He looked at the console then to Andrew.
“Do we have any idea where we are?”
“That we do. We even have a full tank, so I believe we can reach a friendly port safely”. He sighed. “It’s good to know I can do some things correctly”.
To Be Continued