M: Good morning, 007. Now, have you completed your task?
Bond: Yes, sir. I have gone through all the bank records, diary entries, text messages, WhatsApp logs, CCTV files, TransAtlantic air flights, written mail, postcards, graffiti on public toilets, and even the British Press right down to the Daily Mail.
M: And what did you find?
Bond: Not one shred of evidence that Mandelson is innocent. Plenty to suggest that he isn’t. Photographs of him with that man he said he doesn’t know and has stopped seeing and has never heard of and only knew slightly, for example.
M: I see. (Puffs his pipe.)
Bond: So, are you going to tell the Prime Minister then, sir?
M: Er, maybe….
Bond: Or the Foreign Secretary perhaps?
M: You never know.
Bond: Because it might be a good idea to talk to them before they make him Ambassador to the USA, don’t you think?
M: That will be all, 007, thank you very much.
20th April 2026
M’s Office
Miss Moneypenny: (On intercom.) 007’s here, sir.
M: Send him in. At once!
(James Bond enters. M doesn’t wave him to a seat.)
Bond: Good mor-
M: What the devil have you been doing, 007???!!!
Bond: Sorry, sir?
M: And well you should be! The Prime Minister is having to face the house today and tell them that we said Peter Mandelson was all right!
Bond: But sir, I definitely told you –
M: And that he had passed all the vetting!
Bond: Now sir, I –
M: Enough! You’re being sent abroad. You can be our man in Greenland. Oh, wait a minute, you can go to Venezuela! Ah, no, er….
James Bond sipped his Florida Cocktail and lazily watched the sun go down over the horizon in Ventura. The stars, so different from those he was used to, began to glimmer and twinkle as though anything could happen by their light.
“I did warn you”, said Leiter, sitting in the next chair and sipping his cocktail just a smidgen more quickly than Bond. “See why I made this my home?”
“That wasn’t difficult to figure out anyway”, said Bond, “you didn’t have to get me drunk to sell me on this place, Felix”.
“I’ve been trying to persuade you to join me here for years”, Leiter said. “Light me a cigarette, would you, James?”
Bond fished out two cigarettes and lit them, passing one to his friend. Felix could do many things one-handed but not drink and light a cigarette at the same time. His hook had its limits, and he wasn’t about to let go of his cocktail.
“And I could get used to these Chesterfields as well”, said Bond, “at least as long as I can’t get hold of the Morlands. How many varieties of Florida Cocktails did you say there were, Felix?”
“Depends on where you happen to be. Some say about twelve, others say more like twenty, but I think –“
He was interrupted by the telephone. With a curse, he passed Bond his drink and lifted the receiver, rolling his cigarette to the other side of his mouth. After a few minutes of monosyllables from Leiter, he put the phone down.
“Holiday’s over, James”, he said, “well, at least for me, that is. Every hear of a General called Michael Matador?”
“Mad Mike Matador? Yes, of course. Made his name in the Normandy landings. I believe he went to Korea later. Why, what’s happened to him?”
“That’s just it. He’s disappeared. Took a unit of five hundred men with him”.
“US Army Generals don’t just disappear”.
“Unless they want to. He and his men have gone. He sent a note to Washington, to the Secretary of Defense”.
“What did it say?” asked Bond.
“It said that he had a batch of Mustang missiles and he intended to use them”.
“Use them?”
“He doesn’t think America is doing enough to defend itself against the Reds so he’s going to take matters into his own hands. He doesn’t say what, but those Mustang babies have a range in the thousands of miles – it’s top secret exactly how far they can go. Apparently he could take out pretty much any capital city in the world, depending on where he is. And I’ve got to go find him – well, me and the rest of the CIA”.
Felix got carefully up. Having lost most of one leg in the shark attack that had taken his arm, his movements had to be careful, but Bond knew better than to offer his friend any assistance.
“You, the rest of the CIA, and me, you mean”, said Bond, getting to his own feet.
His uniform was perfectly ironed. A little starchy perhaps, but he preferred it that way. The medals he had justly earned over the course of two wars shone over his left breast, reflecting the sun sharply into the eyes of the five hundred men standing at attention before him in this strange locale. He was medium-sized and middle-aged, and still perfectly capable of knocking far bigger and much younger men through a wall should it be necessary which it had not been for a long time now.
General Michael Matador stood unbending as a redwood, looking out with satisfaction over his troops. He could have chosen to wear sunglasses but preferred to let them see his eyes. Volunteers to a man, his chest was bursting that they had chosen to be here with him. They all knew what they were in for if they failed, and it hadn’t caused them even one flicker of doubt. Even here, in this unfamiliar and imposing environment, they were his to command.
“Gentlemen, for me it is a matter of pride”, he began, “that you have chosen to be here with me on this mission, a mission more patriotic than any you have been asked to perform before. The fate of our great nation depends upon our success. The fate of all free nations on this planet Earth depends upon it. I know you won’t let me down”.
He paused a moment and looked forward. “Colonel Markham!”
One of the officers in the front rank took a step forward and saluted hard enough to bruise his temple. Like all of the assembled troops, the Colonel would follow Mad Mike to the ends of the Earth if so ordered. And again like all of the assembled troops, the Colonel would never call him by that sobriquet to his face.
“Sir!”
“Are the Mustangs in our possession?”
“Yes sir!”
“Do we possess the necessary equipment and technical knowledge to use them instantly should we decide it to be necessary?” Matador barked.
“Yes sir!”
The pantomime was strictly speaking unnecessary. Everyone knew the answers to the questions the General was asking; they would hardly have been here if the answers had been “no”. Everyone also knew that the questions had to be asked and answered as a matter of ritual. Partly it was the constant and repetitive establishment and re-establishment of lines of authority common to all armies everywhere. Partly it was re-assurance that they had the means to carry out their intentions and the knowledge necessary to use them. And partly it was because at this point in the career of everyone here in the Army such exchanges were part of the fabric of their life, and if they were not carried out then something would have been missing.
“Very well”, said the General. “Dismissed!”
The men went back to their tasks of clearing the ground of rocks and building the accommodation requirements.
To Be Continued
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 30,972Chief of Staff
It was a few years after the returning GIs had come back to their dreams of a forever wife, two or maybe three kids, this year’s model of Chevrolet or Ford or Chrysler in the driveway, and a house in suburbia with a wide front porch and a white picket fence but the Matador home in California filled that description almost perfectly. There was only one child though, a daughter in her twenties who opened the door and stared at Bond and Leiter silently.
“Miss Matador”, said Leiter, “please forgive us for disturbing you, but –“
“I don’t know why you’d be here”, she said contemptuously, “my father has gone missing, it’s not as if he went up in a flying saucer or something like that”.
Leiter and Bond both started. “What do – oh, right”, Felix said with sudden realisation. He took off his dark glasses and indicated for Bond to do the same. There was nothing they could do at present about their black suits.
“I’ll explain later, James”, Leiter said. “Miss Matador, I’m from the CIA and my name is Felix Leiter. This is my associate from Britain”.
Bond put out a hand. “Bond, James Bond”.
“Magdelena”, she said to Bond and Leiter as she took them through to meet her mother, “but call me Lena”. She was soothed by them taking off their glasses and giving their names. Those she had been worried about did not do that.
Bond noted her blonde hair and blue eyes, understandably troubled at the moment. She was tall and still lissom, wearing blue jeans and a white blouse that was uncomfortably tight. Uncomfortable for Bond, anyway.
Her mother was an older version of the same model, though her eyes were more than just troubled. She had clearly been weeping for days and was not looking forward to repeating the same story she had already told to various members of the law enforcement community and intelligence agencies.
“Please, Mrs Matador”, said Leiter, “I understand that you’ve been through this before but just try one more time. You might recall a detail you missed, and we’d much rather hear it from your own lips than read some report”.
“What is there to tell?” she said. “Everything was fine, Mike was behaving normally. He’d had some dinner and was watching the television with a drink, then suddenly he swore, turned the TV off, and ran to our room. He came back out five minutes later with a suitcase, kissed me and said he’d be away for a while, threw the suitcase in the car and headed off. That was the last I saw of him. It’s been weeks now”.
She burst into a fresh batch of tears, Lena comforting her as best she could.
“We thought at first he had gone to the fort where he’s stationed, maybe he was being sent overseas or something, it’s happened before”, explained Lena, “but then some men from there came looking for him. Then the police then the, I don’t know, I guess the FBI and then you two”.
“So we’ve told them everything”, said Mrs Matador, still weeping, “I don’t know what else we can tell you”.
“There’s nothing else we can tell you”, said Lena, “well, except maybe for …”
“Oh Lena, don’t bother the gentlemen with that”, said her mother, sounding more like what must have been her usual self.
“No, please, Lena, tell us”, said Bond, “everything’s important”.
“It’s just … well, there was this place we used to go when I was younger. He had a jeep, and we used to ride along the sand, laughing. There were army buildings close by. I used to love it when he took me there, and I think he did too”.
“Did you tell this to the others who came here asking, the soldiers and police maybe?” asked Leiter.
“No, I… I didn’t. It didn’t seem important”, she said.
“It isn’t important, Lena” said her mother.
Lena persisted, and Bond could hear twenty years of being told that what she thought wasn’t important in her tone. “It might be, Mother, let’s allow Mr Leiter and Mr Bond to decide for themselves”.
“If you’d tell us where this place is, Miss Matador, we can go and check it out”, said Leiter, keen to avoid any domestic disputes.
“You’d never find it – I’m coming with you, to show you”, said Lena firmly.
“Now, Lena -”
“No, Mother. I’m going”.
Bond and Leiter looked at each other. It didn’t seem they had much of a choice.
In the car, Lena became more relaxed and inquisitive. The car had been specially adapted to allow Leiter to drive, a pleasure he was not prepared to give up.
“What’s with the hook, Mr Leiter?” she asked brightly. ” Were you a pirate before you joined the CIA?”
Felix laughed, unoffended. “I disagreed with something that ate me, that’s all I’m going to tell you”.
“And you, Mr Bond -”, she began.
“Just Felix and James, please. We’re on your side, you know”.
“All right, James. That’s some accent you’ve got there. It sounds English, but there’s something else underneath”.
It was Bond’s turn to laugh. “No fooling you, is there? My father was a Scot and my mother came from Switzerland, but I don’t usually contradict someone who thinks I’m English although there are some people who can get very silly about that. I’ve spent most of my life there”.
“I’ve never been to England. My father said -” she broke off for a moment – “my father says he’ll make sure to take me there one time”.
“Make sure you get about a bit. There’s a lot more to it than London”.
“Much as I hate to interrupt”, said Felix, “but exactly where are we going to?”
“Don’t worry, we’ve got a good bit to go yet”, she said.
“Now Felix”, Bond asked, “what was that with the dark glasses? Why did we have to take them off?”
Both Lena and Felix laughed.
“Will you tell him or will I?” said Felix.
“I’ll do it. Now, James, you’ll know that there have been a lot of sightings of flying saucers and the like in the last ten years or so?”
“Yes, I’d heard that”.
“Pretty much ever since the Roswell incident”, said Lena, “do you know anything about that?”
“I can’t say I do”, said Bond, looking away out of the window to meet no-one’s eyes, “but I have heard what everyone has heard. A crashed flying saucer, wasn’t it?” He managed to keep his face perfectly straight.
“That’s right. And since then there have been lots of people claiming that they’ve seen flying saucers or lights in the sky, or even been abducted and examined, what they call “probed”. Anyway –“
“Probed?” asked Leiter innocently.
“Hey, quiet, you know exactly what I mean. Anyway, some of these people claim that they were visited afterwards by men who are starting to be called “the men in black”. There’s usually two of them, they wear black suits and don’t take off their dark glasses when they’re talking to people, even indoors. Well, when I opened the door to you two this morning it was the first thing that I thought of, that you were the men in black, because that was exactly what you looked like!”
“Might be an idea”, mused Leiter, “I wonder what the pay grade is?”
“Take the next left”, Lena said, ignoring him.
Southern California is not short on beaches, and this one was long and straight. As Lena had said, there were a few Army buildings just where the sand met the trees. They parked and looked out on the endless blue of the Pacific,
“I can see why you liked it here”, said Bond.
“I still do”, she said, running down to the water. Once they were on their own, Felix grabbed Bond’s arm.
“Roswell. Really?”
“I just can’t say, Felix”.
Leiter gave him a sarcastic glare and started off towards one of the buildings, his limp less noticeable on the uneven sandy surface. Bond gave him a moment, then followed.
Standard army issue, both of them thought, as they searched through barracks and offices. Not a speck out of place. Too clean, though. It looked like it had been evacuated not long ago. Tyre tracks still showed outside, again standard army issue. Men had come here, stayed a while, then moved on elsewhere. A lot of men.
“Five hundred?” asked Bond.
“Maybe”, said Leiter. “We can’t tell where they came from but more importantly we can’t tell where they were going when they left. Come on, let’s find a motel”.
To Be Continued
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 30,972Chief of Staff
“The Managing Director, please. It’s his nephew James”.
“Hold on one moment….”
A different voice came on the line, bringing a smile to Bond’s face.
“James! I’m glad to hear from you!”
“And I’m glad to hear your voice, Moneypenny. A welcome breath of home here on the other side of the world”.
He could hear the smile, he didn’t have to see it. “You never say those things when you’re here, James”.
“Then I will as soon as I get back. Dinner for two?”
“Only if you promise to behave yourself”.
“Who, me? I am nothing but a gentleman and you know it”.
“Oh, I know what you are and it’s nothing like a gentleman, I’m afraid.
“How afraid?” he asked.
“Not enough to stop. Now, hold on, I’ll put you through”.
M’s voice came down the line, and Bond could practically smell the pungent pipe smoke.
“Hello, James? Thought you were on holiday”.
“I was, sir, but I got caught up with helping our cousins. You’ll recall my associate Felix Leiter, of course?”
“Leiter? Thought that he’d taken early retirement after losing track of an important part or two”. Bond could hear the sound of a match being struck.
“Indeed, sir, but they call him back from time to time. I’m sure you’ve heard of a senior member of our cousins’ military wing going freelance, along with some important consignments”.
“I have indeed. In fact, if you had been here at Head Office I would have considered sending you out there to see what you could find. I can tell you that his, er, employer has heard from him again. He is giving them till next week to take action against their opposites or he will take action on their behalf and they can face the consequences”.
“Then it’s fortunate I’m on the spot. We seem to have struck a bit of a brick wall, though, and I was hoping you might be able to offer us some advice”.
M humphed. “I’ll see what I can do. Call me back in six hours”.
The line went dead.
The motel food was uninteresting but inoffensive. Bond chewed his way through a sufficiently defrosted steak while Felix threw half his hamburger away uneaten and Lena picked at her salad.
“So, what do we do?” said a disgruntled Leiter.
“We wait”, said Bond. “We don’t know where the General is. At the moment most of the US military are out looking for him and his men, and I don’t think the three of us can add much to that. My chief is going to try some contacts and I’ve to call him back tomorrow. So, as I said, we wait”.
“As it happens, I agree”, said Felix, “but right now I’m bushed. It’s been a long day and I’m going to catch up on some sleep. If you take my advice, you will too”.
Leiter pushed away from the table and headed away.
“I like your friend”, said Magdelena Matador, “he’s a good man. Will you tell me what happened to his arm?”
“And one of his legs, as well. No, I won’t tell you but I will say that the man responsible died shortly afterwards”.
Bond could still hear The Robber’s short scream as he landed in the water where the shark was.
“You mean, you killed him”, she said.
Bond looked towards the bar and stood up.
“I’m going to have a drink before going to bed. Would you care to join me?”
She pushed her chair back and they walked to the bar together.
“Yes, I think so. You’re not going to tell me any more, are you, James?”
“I’m not. Now, what would you like?”
Lena gave up her line of enquiry and started another.
“Scotch. On the rocks. So, what kind of work do you do, anyway?”
Bond ordered the drink for her and a Scotch, neat, for himself.
“I work for the British Government. I happened to be on holiday here, visiting my old friend Felix, when he got called in to help find your father. I offered to help, unofficially. I talked to my chief just there before we ate and he made it official. Now, your turn. What do you do, Lena?”
“Oh, nothing interesting. I’m a biologist, specialising in sea life”.
“Now, that is interesting. I imagine it would take you around the world?” asked Bond.
“Oh, yes. I was in Australia last year ….”
Half an hour later he walked her to her door.
“Well, I’ll see you in the morning, then, Le –“ he began, but was interrupted by her putting her arms around him and presenting a warm, passionate kiss. When they broke for air, she opened her room door, took him by the hand, and pulled him in.
To Be Continued
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 30,972Chief of Staff
Comments
Time for a trilogy, methinks 🤔 very good fun
Thanks for the praise, chrisno1. There's no doubt Crowley will be back but not immediately; I have something else in mind.
Really enjoyable yarn 😁
Looking forward to more 🍸
More there will be, and thank you.
I’m liking this new foe for Bond. A trilogy would be nice, but a decalogy would be better 😁
I'm glad you're liking my crazy ramblings. I'm sure we'll get to at least a trilogy, but as I said above not immediately.
2024
M’s office.
Miss Moneypenny: (On intercom.) 007’s here, sir.
M: Send him in.
(James Bond enters, M waves him to a seat.)
Bond: Good morning, sir.
M: Good morning, 007. Now, have you completed your task?
Bond: Yes, sir. I have gone through all the bank records, diary entries, text messages, WhatsApp logs, CCTV files, TransAtlantic air flights, written mail, postcards, graffiti on public toilets, and even the British Press right down to the Daily Mail.
M: And what did you find?
Bond: Not one shred of evidence that Mandelson is innocent. Plenty to suggest that he isn’t. Photographs of him with that man he said he doesn’t know and has stopped seeing and has never heard of and only knew slightly, for example.
M: I see. (Puffs his pipe.)
Bond: So, are you going to tell the Prime Minister then, sir?
M: Er, maybe….
Bond: Or the Foreign Secretary perhaps?
M: You never know.
Bond: Because it might be a good idea to talk to them before they make him Ambassador to the USA, don’t you think?
M: That will be all, 007, thank you very much.
20th April 2026
M’s Office
Miss Moneypenny: (On intercom.) 007’s here, sir.
M: Send him in. At once!
(James Bond enters. M doesn’t wave him to a seat.)
Bond: Good mor-
M: What the devil have you been doing, 007???!!!
Bond: Sorry, sir?
M: And well you should be! The Prime Minister is having to face the house today and tell them that we said Peter Mandelson was all right!
Bond: But sir, I definitely told you –
M: And that he had passed all the vetting!
Bond: Now sir, I –
M: Enough! You’re being sent abroad. You can be our man in Greenland. Oh, wait a minute, you can go to Venezuela! Ah, no, er….
😁😂🤣 Excellent. Poor Bond, the PM will throw anyone under the bus. Oh, just noticed, we haven’t seen Frederick Gray for a long time!
Ah yes, I should have fitted him in there. Too late now. 😒
🤣🤣🤣
Glad you liked that. I'm now thinking about a way to include Freddie in a current events story, as I should have done above.
But meanwhile a new story starts very soon.
Illustration by @Sonero
Ooohhhh 👏🏻
This looks terrific! Plaudits once again to @Sonero you are visualising Barbel’s prose to a great effect.
Thank you for the kind words @CoolHandBond .
Here we go then, guys.
(I had a lot of fun slipping in quotes this time, some are more obvious than others, so I hope you have fun spotting them)
SHOOT DOWN THE MOON
1957
Chapter 1
“You know, a man could get used to this”.
James Bond sipped his Florida Cocktail and lazily watched the sun go down over the horizon in Ventura. The stars, so different from those he was used to, began to glimmer and twinkle as though anything could happen by their light.
“I did warn you”, said Leiter, sitting in the next chair and sipping his cocktail just a smidgen more quickly than Bond. “See why I made this my home?”
“That wasn’t difficult to figure out anyway”, said Bond, “you didn’t have to get me drunk to sell me on this place, Felix”.
“I’ve been trying to persuade you to join me here for years”, Leiter said. “Light me a cigarette, would you, James?”
Bond fished out two cigarettes and lit them, passing one to his friend. Felix could do many things one-handed but not drink and light a cigarette at the same time. His hook had its limits, and he wasn’t about to let go of his cocktail.
“And I could get used to these Chesterfields as well”, said Bond, “at least as long as I can’t get hold of the Morlands. How many varieties of Florida Cocktails did you say there were, Felix?”
“Depends on where you happen to be. Some say about twelve, others say more like twenty, but I think –“
He was interrupted by the telephone. With a curse, he passed Bond his drink and lifted the receiver, rolling his cigarette to the other side of his mouth. After a few minutes of monosyllables from Leiter, he put the phone down.
“Holiday’s over, James”, he said, “well, at least for me, that is. Every hear of a General called Michael Matador?”
“Mad Mike Matador? Yes, of course. Made his name in the Normandy landings. I believe he went to Korea later. Why, what’s happened to him?”
“That’s just it. He’s disappeared. Took a unit of five hundred men with him”.
“US Army Generals don’t just disappear”.
“Unless they want to. He and his men have gone. He sent a note to Washington, to the Secretary of Defense”.
“What did it say?” asked Bond.
“It said that he had a batch of Mustang missiles and he intended to use them”.
“Use them?”
“He doesn’t think America is doing enough to defend itself against the Reds so he’s going to take matters into his own hands. He doesn’t say what, but those Mustang babies have a range in the thousands of miles – it’s top secret exactly how far they can go. Apparently he could take out pretty much any capital city in the world, depending on where he is. And I’ve got to go find him – well, me and the rest of the CIA”.
Felix got carefully up. Having lost most of one leg in the shark attack that had taken his arm, his movements had to be careful, but Bond knew better than to offer his friend any assistance.
“You, the rest of the CIA, and me, you mean”, said Bond, getting to his own feet.
“You’re not involved”.
“You are, which means I am, too”.
“All right, but strictly as an observer”.
“But of course”, said Bond.
To Be Continued
Mad Mike Matador. - just love it 😁
I’ve spotted at least one quote do far.
Looking forward to see how this plays…😁
More very soon, and thanks.
Chapter Two
His uniform was perfectly ironed. A little starchy perhaps, but he preferred it that way. The medals he had justly earned over the course of two wars shone over his left breast, reflecting the sun sharply into the eyes of the five hundred men standing at attention before him in this strange locale. He was medium-sized and middle-aged, and still perfectly capable of knocking far bigger and much younger men through a wall should it be necessary which it had not been for a long time now.
General Michael Matador stood unbending as a redwood, looking out with satisfaction over his troops. He could have chosen to wear sunglasses but preferred to let them see his eyes. Volunteers to a man, his chest was bursting that they had chosen to be here with him. They all knew what they were in for if they failed, and it hadn’t caused them even one flicker of doubt. Even here, in this unfamiliar and imposing environment, they were his to command.
“Gentlemen, for me it is a matter of pride”, he began, “that you have chosen to be here with me on this mission, a mission more patriotic than any you have been asked to perform before. The fate of our great nation depends upon our success. The fate of all free nations on this planet Earth depends upon it. I know you won’t let me down”.
He paused a moment and looked forward. “Colonel Markham!”
One of the officers in the front rank took a step forward and saluted hard enough to bruise his temple. Like all of the assembled troops, the Colonel would follow Mad Mike to the ends of the Earth if so ordered. And again like all of the assembled troops, the Colonel would never call him by that sobriquet to his face.
“Sir!”
“Are the Mustangs in our possession?”
“Yes sir!”
“Do we possess the necessary equipment and technical knowledge to use them instantly should we decide it to be necessary?” Matador barked.
“Yes sir!”
The pantomime was strictly speaking unnecessary. Everyone knew the answers to the questions the General was asking; they would hardly have been here if the answers had been “no”. Everyone also knew that the questions had to be asked and answered as a matter of ritual. Partly it was the constant and repetitive establishment and re-establishment of lines of authority common to all armies everywhere. Partly it was re-assurance that they had the means to carry out their intentions and the knowledge necessary to use them. And partly it was because at this point in the career of everyone here in the Army such exchanges were part of the fabric of their life, and if they were not carried out then something would have been missing.
“Very well”, said the General. “Dismissed!”
The men went back to their tasks of clearing the ground of rocks and building the accommodation requirements.
To Be Continued
Colonel Markham…nice mash up 😁
Great stuff 😁
Matador - like Patton gone rogue 😁
Thank you, guys. A longer chapter on its way.
Chapter Three
It was a few years after the returning GIs had come back to their dreams of a forever wife, two or maybe three kids, this year’s model of Chevrolet or Ford or Chrysler in the driveway, and a house in suburbia with a wide front porch and a white picket fence but the Matador home in California filled that description almost perfectly. There was only one child though, a daughter in her twenties who opened the door and stared at Bond and Leiter silently.
“Miss Matador”, said Leiter, “please forgive us for disturbing you, but –“
“I don’t know why you’d be here”, she said contemptuously, “my father has gone missing, it’s not as if he went up in a flying saucer or something like that”.
Leiter and Bond both started. “What do – oh, right”, Felix said with sudden realisation. He took off his dark glasses and indicated for Bond to do the same. There was nothing they could do at present about their black suits.
“I’ll explain later, James”, Leiter said. “Miss Matador, I’m from the CIA and my name is Felix Leiter. This is my associate from Britain”.
Bond put out a hand. “Bond, James Bond”.
“Magdelena”, she said to Bond and Leiter as she took them through to meet her mother, “but call me Lena”. She was soothed by them taking off their glasses and giving their names. Those she had been worried about did not do that.
Bond noted her blonde hair and blue eyes, understandably troubled at the moment. She was tall and still lissom, wearing blue jeans and a white blouse that was uncomfortably tight. Uncomfortable for Bond, anyway.
Her mother was an older version of the same model, though her eyes were more than just troubled. She had clearly been weeping for days and was not looking forward to repeating the same story she had already told to various members of the law enforcement community and intelligence agencies.
“Please, Mrs Matador”, said Leiter, “I understand that you’ve been through this before but just try one more time. You might recall a detail you missed, and we’d much rather hear it from your own lips than read some report”.
“What is there to tell?” she said. “Everything was fine, Mike was behaving normally. He’d had some dinner and was watching the television with a drink, then suddenly he swore, turned the TV off, and ran to our room. He came back out five minutes later with a suitcase, kissed me and said he’d be away for a while, threw the suitcase in the car and headed off. That was the last I saw of him. It’s been weeks now”.
She burst into a fresh batch of tears, Lena comforting her as best she could.
“We thought at first he had gone to the fort where he’s stationed, maybe he was being sent overseas or something, it’s happened before”, explained Lena, “but then some men from there came looking for him. Then the police then the, I don’t know, I guess the FBI and then you two”.
“So we’ve told them everything”, said Mrs Matador, still weeping, “I don’t know what else we can tell you”.
“There’s nothing else we can tell you”, said Lena, “well, except maybe for …”
“Oh Lena, don’t bother the gentlemen with that”, said her mother, sounding more like what must have been her usual self.
“No, please, Lena, tell us”, said Bond, “everything’s important”.
“It’s just … well, there was this place we used to go when I was younger. He had a jeep, and we used to ride along the sand, laughing. There were army buildings close by. I used to love it when he took me there, and I think he did too”.
“Did you tell this to the others who came here asking, the soldiers and police maybe?” asked Leiter.
“No, I… I didn’t. It didn’t seem important”, she said.
“It isn’t important, Lena” said her mother.
Lena persisted, and Bond could hear twenty years of being told that what she thought wasn’t important in her tone. “It might be, Mother, let’s allow Mr Leiter and Mr Bond to decide for themselves”.
“If you’d tell us where this place is, Miss Matador, we can go and check it out”, said Leiter, keen to avoid any domestic disputes.
“You’d never find it – I’m coming with you, to show you”, said Lena firmly.
“Now, Lena -”
“No, Mother. I’m going”.
Bond and Leiter looked at each other. It didn’t seem they had much of a choice.
In the car, Lena became more relaxed and inquisitive. The car had been specially adapted to allow Leiter to drive, a pleasure he was not prepared to give up.
“What’s with the hook, Mr Leiter?” she asked brightly. ” Were you a pirate before you joined the CIA?”
Felix laughed, unoffended. “I disagreed with something that ate me, that’s all I’m going to tell you”.
“And you, Mr Bond -”, she began.
“Just Felix and James, please. We’re on your side, you know”.
“All right, James. That’s some accent you’ve got there. It sounds English, but there’s something else underneath”.
It was Bond’s turn to laugh. “No fooling you, is there? My father was a Scot and my mother came from Switzerland, but I don’t usually contradict someone who thinks I’m English although there are some people who can get very silly about that. I’ve spent most of my life there”.
“I’ve never been to England. My father said -” she broke off for a moment – “my father says he’ll make sure to take me there one time”.
“Make sure you get about a bit. There’s a lot more to it than London”.
“Much as I hate to interrupt”, said Felix, “but exactly where are we going to?”
“Don’t worry, we’ve got a good bit to go yet”, she said.
“Now Felix”, Bond asked, “what was that with the dark glasses? Why did we have to take them off?”
Both Lena and Felix laughed.
“Will you tell him or will I?” said Felix.
“I’ll do it. Now, James, you’ll know that there have been a lot of sightings of flying saucers and the like in the last ten years or so?”
“Yes, I’d heard that”.
“Pretty much ever since the Roswell incident”, said Lena, “do you know anything about that?”
“I can’t say I do”, said Bond, looking away out of the window to meet no-one’s eyes, “but I have heard what everyone has heard. A crashed flying saucer, wasn’t it?” He managed to keep his face perfectly straight.
“That’s right. And since then there have been lots of people claiming that they’ve seen flying saucers or lights in the sky, or even been abducted and examined, what they call “probed”. Anyway –“
“Probed?” asked Leiter innocently.
“Hey, quiet, you know exactly what I mean. Anyway, some of these people claim that they were visited afterwards by men who are starting to be called “the men in black”. There’s usually two of them, they wear black suits and don’t take off their dark glasses when they’re talking to people, even indoors. Well, when I opened the door to you two this morning it was the first thing that I thought of, that you were the men in black, because that was exactly what you looked like!”
“Might be an idea”, mused Leiter, “I wonder what the pay grade is?”
“Take the next left”, Lena said, ignoring him.
Southern California is not short on beaches, and this one was long and straight. As Lena had said, there were a few Army buildings just where the sand met the trees. They parked and looked out on the endless blue of the Pacific,
“I can see why you liked it here”, said Bond.
“I still do”, she said, running down to the water. Once they were on their own, Felix grabbed Bond’s arm.
“Roswell. Really?”
“I just can’t say, Felix”.
Leiter gave him a sarcastic glare and started off towards one of the buildings, his limp less noticeable on the uneven sandy surface. Bond gave him a moment, then followed.
Standard army issue, both of them thought, as they searched through barracks and offices. Not a speck out of place. Too clean, though. It looked like it had been evacuated not long ago. Tyre tracks still showed outside, again standard army issue. Men had come here, stayed a while, then moved on elsewhere. A lot of men.
“Five hundred?” asked Bond.
“Maybe”, said Leiter. “We can’t tell where they came from but more importantly we can’t tell where they were going when they left. Come on, let’s find a motel”.
To Be Continued
Lots of lovely little touches in there 😁
This is beautifully written, I’m captivated. Especially good are the references to both Fleming and Barbel past stories. 👏
Many thanks, gents, next chapter along soon....
Chapter Four
“Universal Exports?”
“The Managing Director, please. It’s his nephew James”.
“Hold on one moment….”
A different voice came on the line, bringing a smile to Bond’s face.
“James! I’m glad to hear from you!”
“And I’m glad to hear your voice, Moneypenny. A welcome breath of home here on the other side of the world”.
He could hear the smile, he didn’t have to see it. “You never say those things when you’re here, James”.
“Then I will as soon as I get back. Dinner for two?”
“Only if you promise to behave yourself”.
“Who, me? I am nothing but a gentleman and you know it”.
“Oh, I know what you are and it’s nothing like a gentleman, I’m afraid.
“How afraid?” he asked.
“Not enough to stop. Now, hold on, I’ll put you through”.
M’s voice came down the line, and Bond could practically smell the pungent pipe smoke.
“Hello, James? Thought you were on holiday”.
“I was, sir, but I got caught up with helping our cousins. You’ll recall my associate Felix Leiter, of course?”
“Leiter? Thought that he’d taken early retirement after losing track of an important part or two”. Bond could hear the sound of a match being struck.
“Indeed, sir, but they call him back from time to time. I’m sure you’ve heard of a senior member of our cousins’ military wing going freelance, along with some important consignments”.
“I have indeed. In fact, if you had been here at Head Office I would have considered sending you out there to see what you could find. I can tell you that his, er, employer has heard from him again. He is giving them till next week to take action against their opposites or he will take action on their behalf and they can face the consequences”.
“Then it’s fortunate I’m on the spot. We seem to have struck a bit of a brick wall, though, and I was hoping you might be able to offer us some advice”.
M humphed. “I’ll see what I can do. Call me back in six hours”.
The line went dead.
The motel food was uninteresting but inoffensive. Bond chewed his way through a sufficiently defrosted steak while Felix threw half his hamburger away uneaten and Lena picked at her salad.
“So, what do we do?” said a disgruntled Leiter.
“We wait”, said Bond. “We don’t know where the General is. At the moment most of the US military are out looking for him and his men, and I don’t think the three of us can add much to that. My chief is going to try some contacts and I’ve to call him back tomorrow. So, as I said, we wait”.
“As it happens, I agree”, said Felix, “but right now I’m bushed. It’s been a long day and I’m going to catch up on some sleep. If you take my advice, you will too”.
Leiter pushed away from the table and headed away.
“I like your friend”, said Magdelena Matador, “he’s a good man. Will you tell me what happened to his arm?”
“And one of his legs, as well. No, I won’t tell you but I will say that the man responsible died shortly afterwards”.
Bond could still hear The Robber’s short scream as he landed in the water where the shark was.
“You mean, you killed him”, she said.
Bond looked towards the bar and stood up.
“I’m going to have a drink before going to bed. Would you care to join me?”
She pushed her chair back and they walked to the bar together.
“Yes, I think so. You’re not going to tell me any more, are you, James?”
“I’m not. Now, what would you like?”
Lena gave up her line of enquiry and started another.
“Scotch. On the rocks. So, what kind of work do you do, anyway?”
Bond ordered the drink for her and a Scotch, neat, for himself.
“I work for the British Government. I happened to be on holiday here, visiting my old friend Felix, when he got called in to help find your father. I offered to help, unofficially. I talked to my chief just there before we ate and he made it official. Now, your turn. What do you do, Lena?”
“Oh, nothing interesting. I’m a biologist, specialising in sea life”.
“Now, that is interesting. I imagine it would take you around the world?” asked Bond.
“Oh, yes. I was in Australia last year ….”
Half an hour later he walked her to her door.
“Well, I’ll see you in the morning, then, Le –“ he began, but was interrupted by her putting her arms around him and presenting a warm, passionate kiss. When they broke for air, she opened her room door, took him by the hand, and pulled him in.
To Be Continued
All coming together nicely…interesting story 😁
Nicely paced, lots of character building, very good. Lucky James 😁