The British Isles make up an archipelago off the western coast of Europe with two fairly large islands and many smaller ones. The largest of these is called Great Britain and consists of England, Scotland, and Wales. Together with Northern Ireland and many of the small islands this is called the United Kingdom, which was formerly the basis of the British Empire which once had components in all parts of the world and still has a few today. And at the heart of all this lies Buckingham Palace, the official residence of the reigning sovereign.
All of this went through M’s mind as his limousine drove through the famous gates of the Palace and up to where he would be received. This was hardly his first visit here. He had been rather nervous on the occasion of his knighthood and when he was to be awarded various other medals, less so when he had been obliged to present a report on certain matters concerning his department and its activities. This, however, was the first time he had arrived here in anger.
An equerry led him at a stately pace to a waiting area to leave his coat and hat, and from there to the King’s study. King Charles was seated behind a desk M recognised as having been used by his mother before him. He stood to wave M to a seat as the equerry withdrew being perfectly well aware that whatever matters were to be discussed were not to be overheard.
“Sir Miles, I must first of all express my gratitude to you and your department”, said The King as he sat.
“Your gratitude, Your Majesty?” said M through pursed lips.
“Of course. As I understand it, your man Bond – and my family has been in his debt before, of course, although he has thus far refused to accept any token of our gratitude – was able to find my lost brother and free him from the captivity he was being held in by pirates, no doubt with the intention of demanding a ransom from this House”.
“That is certainly the case, sir”, said M, controlling his urge to find one of his pipes and begin smoking it in this of all rooms, “although no ransom demand had been made when Commander Bond located and freed your brother”.
“Indeed, indeed, although one cannot help but consider that such a demand would be imminent and we are deeply appreciative that matters did not come to such an unfortunate conclusion”.
M took a deep breath. “Matters might have been more rapidly dealt with if my agent, and indeed my department, had been given accurate and truthful information at the start of their involvement”.
The King’s head came up sharply. “I trust, Sir Miles, that you are not implying any criticism of the Palace?”
“My department was informed that the brother of an Arab sheikh had gone missing, and we acted accordingly. We were not told the truth, that the younger brother of The King himself was missing, possibly kidnapped. That, Your Majesty, is information which I consider we were required to possess before making our plans and acting on them”.
“Sir Miles, I believe that I as King have the right to disburse information relating to my family as I see fit and I am disappointed that you have come here to speak with me in this manner”.
M glowered across the desk, looking The King straight in the eye. “Your Majesty, I had the privilege of serving your mother Queen Elizabeth before you and we had many conversations both in this room and elsewhere on various sensitive and important matters. She gave me direct orders; she told me much information; she received my reports intelligently and honourably. One thing she did not ever do was lie to me”.
King Charles’ eyes widened in shock. “Admiral, if you are suggesting –“
“I am not suggesting anything, sir. You told me that an Arab sheikh’s brother was missing when in fact it was your own brother. You can surely see that this directly affects the members of Your Majesty’s Secret Service in their planning and actions. More times than I can make count of my staff, and I make particular mention of Commander Bond, have put their life and limb into direct danger in that service. For your beloved mother any one of us would have crawled a mile over broken glass. The least we can expect from you, our sovereign, is honesty”.
The King swallowed. It had been a few years since anyone had spoken to him like this. He tried to speak once or twice, then succeeded.
“You cannot help but have been aware that my brother has not had his troubles to seek of late. Yes, an argument can be made that these troubles were of his own making, but I see it as my role, both as The King and as his elder brother, to prevent these troubles from being any worse than they already are. This is why I sent him out of the country. I sent him far away on one of the more discreet Royal boats without immediate temptations in order to try and allow the current frenzy of the media to die down. However, I see now that this was not the wisest course of action to take”.
The King paused a moment for thought. M relaxed his gaze a little, allowing understanding to creep in.
“So … so, Sir Miles, I offer my apology to you and your department. I have been in error, although my intentions were good, and I regret that”.
James Bond and Oleg Abramovitch had become firm friends, and Pavel and Andrey were like brothers. Usually they talked about almost anything, laughing at whatever took their fancy, aided by copious amounts of alcohol to drink. Here there was no drink, other than the bottles of water they had been advised to carry, and the four men sat impassively staring out of the windows of their vehicle at the strange landscape surrounding them.
The roads were good but overgrown with vegetation, and the buildings looked down through empty windows with no sign of life. It reminded Bond of something, now what was it …? Yes, Tarkovsky’s film Stalker. Not in the exact details but in the atmosphere all around.
There was some movement ahead, perhaps a pack of dogs. No, realised Bond as they drew closer and the pack slunk into the trees. Not dogs – wolves. They could feel the eyes glaring as they drove past.
Andrey looked down at the gadget in his hand and murmured to Pavel, who took the next turning to his right. The buildings faded away and their road drove through trees until ahead they could see a massive grid of wires towering above. Pavel pulled their vehicle to a stop before one of the buildings below.
“We’re here”, said Abramovitch.
To Be Continued...
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 31,103Chief of Staff
It was unusual for Bond to find someone else already waiting in M’s office when he entered. He was pleasantly surprised to find it was Oleg Abramovitch, the Russian with whom he had shared some recent adventures.
“Sit down, 007”, said M, “you’ll have heard about Tomahawk missiles, I take it?”
“Tomahawk? Of course, sir”, said Bond, “it’s an American Cruise missile. Can be used land-to-land or land-to-ship. They have a conspicuously long range which is continually being extended and –“
“All right, all right”, grunted M, waving his pipe. “Did you know that the Ukrainians have been asking the Americans for a supply of them?”
“I did, sir, but as far as I know their requests have been refused”.
“Most certainly they have been refused”, said Abramovitch, “the first thing Ukraine would do with such missiles is fire them upon Russia. Moscow itself is not out of range for these weapons. I am certain we all know what the result of actions like that would be”.
“There are measures that can and would be taken against the Tomahawks”, said Bond, “but I see your point”.
M said, ”What is very concerning to the Ukrainian government is that six of these Tomahawk missiles have gone missing – been stolen, in fact. They were in an American outpost in Germany, ready to be transferred to the Ukraine for use once diplomatic matters had been settled, and they have been stolen from deep inside a heavily armed and defended air base, protected by US military personnel, at least six of whom were killed. A vehicle was used in the getaway but found later not too far distant – it had a tracker, which the thieves clearly knew about – and the missiles transferred to some other form of transport”.
“That is, beside being a very worrying matter, very impressive”, said Bond, “whoever it was clearly knew what they were doing and had nerves of steel”.
“Oh, we know who it was”, said M. “The CCTV cameras picked up some very good film and images. Look here”.
M passed over a handful of photographs.
“There were only four of them. Four men capable of inserting themselves into a secure outpost, killing the armed personnel, and escaping with some extremely serious munitions. Men of intelligence and great daring”.
”You forgot to add ruthlessness, Admiral”, said Abramovitch. “They are, or were, part of the Wagner Group. It was impossible to keep track of where everyone went after Prigozhin’s death. This band would not know where my men and I are, for example”.
He tapped one of the photographs, one which showed a bulky shaven-headed man not unlike himself.
“This is their leader, Major Makalov. Alexander Makalov”.
“I was fairly sure that they were Wagner men”, said M, “though we didn’t know their names”.
“I’ll give the others’ names to your secretary, Miss Rublevitch isn’t it, when we leave your office, Admiral”.
“Thank you”.
“Missiles like these will have trackers in them. It should be straightforward enough to find their location”, said Bond.
“And that has been done. They are in the Duga radar base near Luibech”, said M, with emphasis on the last word.
“Then someone should send in a heavily-armed battalion or two and get the missiles back. What’s the problem? Where is this Luibech?” asked Bond.
Abramovitch stared back at him. “You may say Luibech, but I and most of the world would call that location by another name”.
He looked at M, who nodded.
“And what would that be?” asked Bond.
Abramovitch looked away from M and toward Bond.
“Chernobyl”.
To Be Continued
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 31,103Chief of Staff
There was a moment’s silence as each man considered what they knew about the worst man-made catastrophe of modern times. The WHO were still calculating the human cost after forty years, and the financial loss ran into billions of rubles, dollars, whatever currency one picked. Entire towns had been evacuated, and an Exclusion Zone set up around the area preventing access.
“As I understand it”, said Bond slowly, “once one is inside the Exclusion Zone around the centre of the Chernobyl disaster there are places which are relatively safe to travel to and of course others that are not”.
“That used to be the case”, said M, “but after some further damage caused by the Russians during their, er, “Special Military Operation” – his eyes rolled- “the whole area was declared off-limits just as it was after the original disaster”.
“And of course Malakov would know this”, said Abramovitch, “and he would know that ordinary soldiers – you must remember, most of the Russian Army are conscripts, not recruits - would be very reluctant to go to this area and may possibly even mutiny if ordered to do so”.
“Malakov would also know that Zelenskyy would be more than reluctant to send any of his limited number of soldiers within that area”, said Bond.
“So from his point of view”, said M, “this Duga base would be a safe enough point for him to set up with the Tomahawk missiles and do whatever he is planning to do. Blackmail? Pay him some large sum or he will fire the missiles? Berlin is an easy, expensive target from there. Perhaps further, who knows?”
“So since a large armed force is out of the question, you’re sending Colonel Abramovitch and his two men there”, said Bond.
“They know the men involved. They know their methods. That is why Colonel Abramovitch will be in charge of this mission and you, 007, will be along on my behalf lending your experience and talents as necessary. Your flight to Kiev is already booked”.
Pavel and Andrey had fallen asleep during the flight. Bond and Abramovitch had attempted to do likewise but found themselves unable to close their eyes.
“So, you know this man Malakov well then, Oleg?” asked Bond.
“I ought to. He’s my brother”.
“I remember you telling me back when we were in Cuba about the special bond that develops between soldiers fighting together and –“
“Nyet, nyet”, said Abramovitch dismissively, “not that. He is my real brother – well, my half-brother, but that does not matter. Alexander Abramovitch Malakov. We were brought up together. He is a little younger than I, and did not join the army until after I had. We joined the Wagner Group together”.
“And now we are setting out to make war with him?” said Bond. “Does this not trouble you, Oleg?”
“Of course it troubles me. Did you ever have a brother, James?”
“No”, said Bond firmly, “never”.
“But it does not worry me that he is the enemy on our mission. We have our orders, and we will carry them out”.
President Volodymyr Zelenskyy was a short man of unremarkable appearance, but given who and what he represented his presence in a room could not be overlooked nor his words ignored by anyone with a shred of honour or decency. He shook hands with Bond and his Russian colleagues before speaking to them in reasonable English, with an interpreter ready to step in should it be necessary.
“Commander Bond”, he began, “your reputation precedes you and I hope that you can help us with the current situation. Colonel Abramovitch, Captains Volkov and Koslov, I am saddened that the Wagner Group advance on Moscow came to such an early end. I can assure you that I was watching the progress of that march with great interest”.
“I believe you, Mr President”, said Abramovitch with a slight smile, “I know we have always had your interest”.
Zelenskyy smiled ruefully back. “And sometimes I have wished that this was not the case, you will know. However, to our current problem. It would appear that a faction of your group has come into possession of certain munitions”.
“The Tomahawk missiles”, said Bond.
“Indeed, the Tomahawks. These have been acquired by four of the Colonel’s former comrades and are being held inside the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, at what was once the Duga radar base. What his purpose is, I do not know. It is possible he will make demands soon. It would be an act of madness to order planes to destroy him, the base, and the missiles in that area. The results would be unpredictable, since doing such an act is … “ - he conversed quickly with his interpreter - “unprecedented”.
“And we already know that a large armed force will not be sent in”, said Abramovitch, “which is why this small force, equal to his own, is going in”.
“This is so”, said the President. “Now you will be taken from here to the start of the Exclusion Zone where your transport awaits. I wish you good luck”.
To Be Continued
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 31,103Chief of Staff
“Of course it troubles me. Did you ever have a brother, James?”
“We’re here”, Abramovich had said. Bond and the Russians emerged in the shadow of the massive Duga grid, some five hundred feet in length and over two thousand feet high, with the top invisible as the daylight began to fail. Bond felt as if they were insignificant ants crawling around a house, unnoticed by anyone within.
Their torches beamed out and they entered the first of the buildings before them. A storehouse of some kind, with nothing of any interest within.
The second, larger, building was next but before reaching that they found what they had came for. A huge missile launcher with an array of six long shafts of death, each more than twenty feet long, aimed skyward with a control panel at the base. For a moment Bond wondered why this was not being guarded, then realised that there was no-one here to guard it against. Nobody in their right mind would come here, he thought ruefully, and how could they take it away?
Abramovitch had walked up to a door on the second building and indicated that Bond should take the other side while Pavel knelt and opened it. Inside was dim. By torchlight Bond found a light switch then turned it on.
Chairs and a table stood at one side, littered with cards and full ashtrays. Empty bottles had been thrown into a corner in front of a dartboard but all their eyes were drawn by a young woman hung by her bound hands from a hook in the ceiling. She was naked and her body covered with bruises. Her eyes were closed.
Bond swore and got out a knife. He reached up to cut the rope holding her and then heard a groan.
“Oleg- she’s alive!” he said as he laid her on the floor and looked for a blanket, a towel, something to cover her.
“We are not on a rescue mission, James”, hissed Abramovitch as he headed for a door at the back of the room.
“We can’t leave her here like this, she’ll die” argued Bond.
Abramovitch growled, “Andrey, take her back to the car, find a blanket, then stay with her”.
Andrey picked the girl up and headed back. Abramovitch glared at Bond. “Now come on, over here, let’s do what we came for”.
He stood to one side of the door only to be struck hard as it was kicked open, causing him to fall back. Bond and Pavel were instantly held at the point of two submachine guns while two other men grabbed Abramovitch and took his weapons before doing the same to them. All three were forced into chairs. One of their assailants stood in front of them, and Bond recognised him from the photographs of the raid on the US base. He noticed that the recognition was mutual.
“Mr Bond, I did not expect to see you here”, said Malakov In English, presumably for Bond’s benefit, “I do not see what business this is of the British Government”.
“We like to keep involved”, said Bond.
“An old habit of your nation, I know, interfering inside countries that have nothing to do with them. Oleg, my brother, I am less surprised to see you. Did you volunteer for this mission?”
“I did not”, said Abramovitch, staring at the other calmly while blood dripped from his nose, “but I would have had I been asked”.
“We noticed your little collection of Tomahawk missiles on the way in”, said Bond. “I suppose that they’re aimed at Berlin, or perhaps Paris. How many millions are you intending to demand to take them down?”
“Millions, Mr Bond?” said Malakov, amused by the notion. “You would seem to have, what is it you say in English, the wrong end of the tree?”
“Stick”, said Bond, “not the whole tree. Well, what is it you want? Pardons for you and your men?”
“We do not want anything. Those missiles are not directed towards any of the European capitals – they could reach London as well, you may not have known this – other than that of our own Motherland where they will be blamed on the Americans”.
“You’re going to fire them at Moscow?” demanded Abramovitch. “Why do you want to do this?”
“You know why, my Oleg. This is not today the Russia we were born into, that is not our capital, and the army is not our army that you and I joined so many years ago”.
“Then do what I did! Defect! I am working for the British now, you and your men can join us. They will make you welcome”.
“Just like you and your two men… where is the other one?” Malakov demanded, realisation coming into his eyes.
“There was only Pavel Volkov here. He came along with Bond and myself” said Abramovich.
“Where Volkov goes, Koslov goes too”, said Malkov. He fired off a string of rapid Russian to one of his men, bearded and tall. The man nodded and headed out the door to the outside. Bond and Abramovitch did not glance at each other but the same thought was going through both their minds.
The tall man came back in, wiping his knife on a cloth. Pavel stared at him as if he could not believe what he was seeing. Malakov asked a question and the other replied. Even Bond’s limited Russian was enough to understand what mertvyy meant. Pavel leapt up as if on a spring and grabbed the barrel of the rifle held by the man standing nearest him. Malakov and the tall man reached for their weapons but Bond and Abramovitch were on them, quick as the wolves that no doubt were outside.
A brash burst of gunfire from the guard at the door which, in his reluctance to hit any of his own people, went over their heads as Bond snapped the neck of the man who had murdered Andrey and swivelled to help his companions. Pavel had wrenched the rifle from his antagonist and shot the guard at the door with a quick burst before hitting his own man with the butt of the rifle and sending him crashing to the floor then leaping on top of him. They wrestled together for possession of a knife that one or the other had suddenly produced. Bond dived over to help Pavel, but was too late to stop the knife lacerating his throat. Not too late, though, to grab it and take care of the other man.
Malakov broke free from Abramovitch’s clutches and ran for the door, drawing a vicious looking knife of his own as he did so. The two of them burst through to the outside, Malakov heading for the Tomahawk controls while Abramovitch grabbed for his throat before Malakov whirled round and slashed out with his knife.
Abramovitch shuddered as the knife pierced him, again and again, but his hands stayed firm on his brother’s throat. Bond pounded towards them, saving his breath from useless yells, but was never going to get there in time. The two Russians fell dying on to the control board and the Tomahawks shot upwards instantly. Bond fell to his knees shuddering as he stared at Abramovitch’s lifeless eyes, then his head jerked upwards.
The chemtrails of the missiles were heading east when the night sky startlingly burst into light. Like a fireworks show, he could see a blinding display of explosions followed not long after by the sound reaching down to ground level as the Tomahawks were wiped from existence.
Bond drove through the darkness as fast as he thought safe. From the rear he could hear the girl moaning, every bump in the road making her moans louder. How far had he come? He should have checked the odometer before starting. How far was there to go? He had no idea but all he could do was keep going, keep going.
The lights reflected red in the eyes of the nocturnal animals hastening out of his path. He could see parts of buildings before those vanished, leaving him driving through a tunnel of trees with no end. He wiped his eyes, sweating despite the glacial temperatures causing him to see the steam of his own breath inside the cab.
The light was huge and sudden. Bond hit the brakes and skidded to a halt in front of a searchlight that blinded him to his surroundings. The door was jerked open and strong arms reached in, pulling him out and to his feet where more hands roughly patted him down in a thorough search for any weapons. His clothes were stripped off his shivering body and he was first hosed down with freezing water then scrubbed down with towels before being handed a gown to put on. He saw the towels being burned along with the clothes he had been wearing. In a moment of grim humour, he thought that it was just as well that Major Boothroyd hadn’t provided him with any of the usual toys.
Bond was pushed towards a smaller light, his eyes blinking hard. He was surrounded by men in uniform and his Ukrainian was nowhere near good enough to demand what the hell they thought they were doing. He was being pushed toward a man who stood calmly near the light, armed soldiers all around him. Bond’s eyes had adjusted well enough for him to now see that it wouldn’t matter a damn whether he could speak Ukrainian like a native or not. The soldiers were Russian, and the unmistakable man patiently waiting for him was Vladimir Vladimirovitch Putin.
The President of Russia smiled and spoke pleasantly to Bond, his words translated by a man off to the right. Bond noticed that this was a different translator from the last time he had spoken with Putin, and wondered idly if his predecessor had fallen from a window or was perhaps only resting in a gulag.
“Hello, Mr Bond. It is pleasant to see you again. I take it you are surprised to see me here?”
“More than surprised, Mr President. I had been expecting to meet a President soon, just not you”.
President Putin laughed.
“Indeed, I understand you”.
Bond took a deep breath before interrupting perhaps the most powerful man on the planet. “I apologise for breaking in, sir, but there is a girl in the back of my vehicle who I believe requires medical attention. Could this perhaps be arranged?”
Putin showed no trace of annoyance, and spoke a few quick words to two of the soldiers who instantly ran off.
“Now, Mr Bond, do you know where we are standing?”
“Somewhere between Chernobyl and Kiev, that is all I understand”.
“We are just outside the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone. That is why your clothing has been destroyed and your body cleansed”.
“I have had such an experience before, Mr President”.
“My men will provide you with some more appropriate clothes after our talk has concluded although I assure you that the risk is low. I take it you noticed the Tomahawk missiles being destroyed?”
“Yes, I did”.
“We, of course, knew exactly where they were being held but were not about to venture to the Duga in large numbers and retrieve them. The possibility of being ambushed by Ukrainian terrorists plus the danger from the radiation made that a risk we were not prepared to take. I was sure that our defence mechanisms, especially with them being on full alert in this area, would easily be able to take care of the missiles as in fact they did. Of course, I did not know earlier that you and some defectors from the Wagner Group would be sent there also. By any chance, did you happen to hear what the intended target for the Tomahawks would have been?”
“Moscow, Mr President”.
“Of course. There was the possibility that such an attack would be blamed on the Americans, this must have been in the mind of their leader”.
“Yes, he mentioned that, sir”.
Putin gave one of his half-smiles.
“It is always sad when those who are not equipped for the task attempt to meddle in geopolitics. Have all the Wagner renegades been killed?”
“Yes”, said Bond. He saw no point in denying it. “Either by me or by each other”.
“Then I shall be on my way. Our paths have crossed a few times, now, Commander, and never to either of our harms. I trust this happy state of affairs shall continue”.
The Russian President turned and swiftly walked away, towards what Bond could now see was a helicopter to the side of the road. Wordlessly one of the soldiers thrust a bundle of clothing at Bond then turned away to follow his master.
Bond drove through the night, the light from the Russians diminishing behind him. He was sure they would have disappeared before dawn, probably over the border to Belarus.
He found his mind turning to Oleg Abramovitch. Bond had few friends, and he hadn’t known Abramovitch long, but he would miss this one just the same. He could hear his steam train of a chuckle, and the gruff voice ordering more vodka. In the distance he could see the lights of a town growing near and his mind closed that memory off in that section where there were so many others.
The End
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 31,103Chief of Staff
Comments
Great action, up to the minute details, lovely stuff, Barbel, can’t wait for the next instalment 😁👏
Alas, the next instalment is the last but I am very happy you've enjoyed this story.
And Sir Miles, if you thought that was a left turn above ....
Nice action and good details…good story…another left turn? We are turning 180? 🤭
We are indeed, and thanks.
Part Six
The British Isles make up an archipelago off the western coast of Europe with two fairly large islands and many smaller ones. The largest of these is called Great Britain and consists of England, Scotland, and Wales. Together with Northern Ireland and many of the small islands this is called the United Kingdom, which was formerly the basis of the British Empire which once had components in all parts of the world and still has a few today. And at the heart of all this lies Buckingham Palace, the official residence of the reigning sovereign.
All of this went through M’s mind as his limousine drove through the famous gates of the Palace and up to where he would be received. This was hardly his first visit here. He had been rather nervous on the occasion of his knighthood and when he was to be awarded various other medals, less so when he had been obliged to present a report on certain matters concerning his department and its activities. This, however, was the first time he had arrived here in anger.
An equerry led him at a stately pace to a waiting area to leave his coat and hat, and from there to the King’s study. King Charles was seated behind a desk M recognised as having been used by his mother before him. He stood to wave M to a seat as the equerry withdrew being perfectly well aware that whatever matters were to be discussed were not to be overheard.
“Sir Miles, I must first of all express my gratitude to you and your department”, said The King as he sat.
“Your gratitude, Your Majesty?” said M through pursed lips.
“Of course. As I understand it, your man Bond – and my family has been in his debt before, of course, although he has thus far refused to accept any token of our gratitude – was able to find my lost brother and free him from the captivity he was being held in by pirates, no doubt with the intention of demanding a ransom from this House”.
“That is certainly the case, sir”, said M, controlling his urge to find one of his pipes and begin smoking it in this of all rooms, “although no ransom demand had been made when Commander Bond located and freed your brother”.
“Indeed, indeed, although one cannot help but consider that such a demand would be imminent and we are deeply appreciative that matters did not come to such an unfortunate conclusion”.
M took a deep breath. “Matters might have been more rapidly dealt with if my agent, and indeed my department, had been given accurate and truthful information at the start of their involvement”.
The King’s head came up sharply. “I trust, Sir Miles, that you are not implying any criticism of the Palace?”
“My department was informed that the brother of an Arab sheikh had gone missing, and we acted accordingly. We were not told the truth, that the younger brother of The King himself was missing, possibly kidnapped. That, Your Majesty, is information which I consider we were required to possess before making our plans and acting on them”.
“Sir Miles, I believe that I as King have the right to disburse information relating to my family as I see fit and I am disappointed that you have come here to speak with me in this manner”.
M glowered across the desk, looking The King straight in the eye. “Your Majesty, I had the privilege of serving your mother Queen Elizabeth before you and we had many conversations both in this room and elsewhere on various sensitive and important matters. She gave me direct orders; she told me much information; she received my reports intelligently and honourably. One thing she did not ever do was lie to me”.
King Charles’ eyes widened in shock. “Admiral, if you are suggesting –“
“I am not suggesting anything, sir. You told me that an Arab sheikh’s brother was missing when in fact it was your own brother. You can surely see that this directly affects the members of Your Majesty’s Secret Service in their planning and actions. More times than I can make count of my staff, and I make particular mention of Commander Bond, have put their life and limb into direct danger in that service. For your beloved mother any one of us would have crawled a mile over broken glass. The least we can expect from you, our sovereign, is honesty”.
The King swallowed. It had been a few years since anyone had spoken to him like this. He tried to speak once or twice, then succeeded.
“You cannot help but have been aware that my brother has not had his troubles to seek of late. Yes, an argument can be made that these troubles were of his own making, but I see it as my role, both as The King and as his elder brother, to prevent these troubles from being any worse than they already are. This is why I sent him out of the country. I sent him far away on one of the more discreet Royal boats without immediate temptations in order to try and allow the current frenzy of the media to die down. However, I see now that this was not the wisest course of action to take”.
The King paused a moment for thought. M relaxed his gaze a little, allowing understanding to creep in.
“So … so, Sir Miles, I offer my apology to you and your department. I have been in error, although my intentions were good, and I regret that”.
Their eyes met.
“I am sorry”, said The King.
THE END
Gosh, I could see Bernard Lee’s M clearly in this great adventure. Very enjoyable, thank you, Barbel.
My pleasure, glad you liked it.
I concur…that was definitely who came through loud and clear 🙂
Another excellent tale 🍸
Much appreciated. And yes to both of you, I was definitely thinking about Bernard Lee saying M's lines.
TOMAHAWK
Chapter 1
There was no chatter.
James Bond and Oleg Abramovitch had become firm friends, and Pavel and Andrey were like brothers. Usually they talked about almost anything, laughing at whatever took their fancy, aided by copious amounts of alcohol to drink. Here there was no drink, other than the bottles of water they had been advised to carry, and the four men sat impassively staring out of the windows of their vehicle at the strange landscape surrounding them.
The roads were good but overgrown with vegetation, and the buildings looked down through empty windows with no sign of life. It reminded Bond of something, now what was it …? Yes, Tarkovsky’s film Stalker. Not in the exact details but in the atmosphere all around.
There was some movement ahead, perhaps a pack of dogs. No, realised Bond as they drew closer and the pack slunk into the trees. Not dogs – wolves. They could feel the eyes glaring as they drove past.
Andrey looked down at the gadget in his hand and murmured to Pavel, who took the next turning to his right. The buildings faded away and their road drove through trees until ahead they could see a massive grid of wires towering above. Pavel pulled their vehicle to a stop before one of the buildings below.
“We’re here”, said Abramovitch.
To Be Continued...
👏🏻
Good start 🍸
Very atmospheric ....
Thank you, gentlemen, and I see you've seen that film as well N24. That image is a good one.
Chapter 2
It was unusual for Bond to find someone else already waiting in M’s office when he entered. He was pleasantly surprised to find it was Oleg Abramovitch, the Russian with whom he had shared some recent adventures.
“Sit down, 007”, said M, “you’ll have heard about Tomahawk missiles, I take it?”
“Tomahawk? Of course, sir”, said Bond, “it’s an American Cruise missile. Can be used land-to-land or land-to-ship. They have a conspicuously long range which is continually being extended and –“
“All right, all right”, grunted M, waving his pipe. “Did you know that the Ukrainians have been asking the Americans for a supply of them?”
“I did, sir, but as far as I know their requests have been refused”.
“Most certainly they have been refused”, said Abramovitch, “the first thing Ukraine would do with such missiles is fire them upon Russia. Moscow itself is not out of range for these weapons. I am certain we all know what the result of actions like that would be”.
“There are measures that can and would be taken against the Tomahawks”, said Bond, “but I see your point”.
M said, ”What is very concerning to the Ukrainian government is that six of these Tomahawk missiles have gone missing – been stolen, in fact. They were in an American outpost in Germany, ready to be transferred to the Ukraine for use once diplomatic matters had been settled, and they have been stolen from deep inside a heavily armed and defended air base, protected by US military personnel, at least six of whom were killed. A vehicle was used in the getaway but found later not too far distant – it had a tracker, which the thieves clearly knew about – and the missiles transferred to some other form of transport”.
“That is, beside being a very worrying matter, very impressive”, said Bond, “whoever it was clearly knew what they were doing and had nerves of steel”.
“Oh, we know who it was”, said M. “The CCTV cameras picked up some very good film and images. Look here”.
M passed over a handful of photographs.
“There were only four of them. Four men capable of inserting themselves into a secure outpost, killing the armed personnel, and escaping with some extremely serious munitions. Men of intelligence and great daring”.
”You forgot to add ruthlessness, Admiral”, said Abramovitch. “They are, or were, part of the Wagner Group. It was impossible to keep track of where everyone went after Prigozhin’s death. This band would not know where my men and I are, for example”.
He tapped one of the photographs, one which showed a bulky shaven-headed man not unlike himself.
“This is their leader, Major Makalov. Alexander Makalov”.
“I was fairly sure that they were Wagner men”, said M, “though we didn’t know their names”.
“I’ll give the others’ names to your secretary, Miss Rublevitch isn’t it, when we leave your office, Admiral”.
“Thank you”.
“Missiles like these will have trackers in them. It should be straightforward enough to find their location”, said Bond.
“And that has been done. They are in the Duga radar base near Luibech”, said M, with emphasis on the last word.
“Then someone should send in a heavily-armed battalion or two and get the missiles back. What’s the problem? Where is this Luibech?” asked Bond.
Abramovitch stared back at him. “You may say Luibech, but I and most of the world would call that location by another name”.
He looked at M, who nodded.
“And what would that be?” asked Bond.
Abramovitch looked away from M and toward Bond.
“Chernobyl”.
To Be Continued
Oohhh….this is building into a cracker 😁👏🏻
Glad you're enjoying it, Sir M.
Chapter 3
There was a moment’s silence as each man considered what they knew about the worst man-made catastrophe of modern times. The WHO were still calculating the human cost after forty years, and the financial loss ran into billions of rubles, dollars, whatever currency one picked. Entire towns had been evacuated, and an Exclusion Zone set up around the area preventing access.
“As I understand it”, said Bond slowly, “once one is inside the Exclusion Zone around the centre of the Chernobyl disaster there are places which are relatively safe to travel to and of course others that are not”.
“That used to be the case”, said M, “but after some further damage caused by the Russians during their, er, “Special Military Operation” – his eyes rolled- “the whole area was declared off-limits just as it was after the original disaster”.
“And of course Malakov would know this”, said Abramovitch, “and he would know that ordinary soldiers – you must remember, most of the Russian Army are conscripts, not recruits - would be very reluctant to go to this area and may possibly even mutiny if ordered to do so”.
“Malakov would also know that Zelenskyy would be more than reluctant to send any of his limited number of soldiers within that area”, said Bond.
“So from his point of view”, said M, “this Duga base would be a safe enough point for him to set up with the Tomahawk missiles and do whatever he is planning to do. Blackmail? Pay him some large sum or he will fire the missiles? Berlin is an easy, expensive target from there. Perhaps further, who knows?”
“So since a large armed force is out of the question, you’re sending Colonel Abramovitch and his two men there”, said Bond.
“They know the men involved. They know their methods. That is why Colonel Abramovitch will be in charge of this mission and you, 007, will be along on my behalf lending your experience and talents as necessary. Your flight to Kiev is already booked”.
Pavel and Andrey had fallen asleep during the flight. Bond and Abramovitch had attempted to do likewise but found themselves unable to close their eyes.
“So, you know this man Malakov well then, Oleg?” asked Bond.
“I ought to. He’s my brother”.
“I remember you telling me back when we were in Cuba about the special bond that develops between soldiers fighting together and –“
“Nyet, nyet”, said Abramovitch dismissively, “not that. He is my real brother – well, my half-brother, but that does not matter. Alexander Abramovitch Malakov. We were brought up together. He is a little younger than I, and did not join the army until after I had. We joined the Wagner Group together”.
“And now we are setting out to make war with him?” said Bond. “Does this not trouble you, Oleg?”
“Of course it troubles me. Did you ever have a brother, James?”
“No”, said Bond firmly, “never”.
“But it does not worry me that he is the enemy on our mission. We have our orders, and we will carry them out”.
President Volodymyr Zelenskyy was a short man of unremarkable appearance, but given who and what he represented his presence in a room could not be overlooked nor his words ignored by anyone with a shred of honour or decency. He shook hands with Bond and his Russian colleagues before speaking to them in reasonable English, with an interpreter ready to step in should it be necessary.
“Commander Bond”, he began, “your reputation precedes you and I hope that you can help us with the current situation. Colonel Abramovitch, Captains Volkov and Koslov, I am saddened that the Wagner Group advance on Moscow came to such an early end. I can assure you that I was watching the progress of that march with great interest”.
“I believe you, Mr President”, said Abramovitch with a slight smile, “I know we have always had your interest”.
Zelenskyy smiled ruefully back. “And sometimes I have wished that this was not the case, you will know. However, to our current problem. It would appear that a faction of your group has come into possession of certain munitions”.
“The Tomahawk missiles”, said Bond.
“Indeed, the Tomahawks. These have been acquired by four of the Colonel’s former comrades and are being held inside the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, at what was once the Duga radar base. What his purpose is, I do not know. It is possible he will make demands soon. It would be an act of madness to order planes to destroy him, the base, and the missiles in that area. The results would be unpredictable, since doing such an act is … “ - he conversed quickly with his interpreter - “unprecedented”.
“And we already know that a large armed force will not be sent in”, said Abramovitch, “which is why this small force, equal to his own, is going in”.
“This is so”, said the President. “Now you will be taken from here to the start of the Exclusion Zone where your transport awaits. I wish you good luck”.
To Be Continued
“Of course it troubles me. Did you ever have a brother, James?”
“No”, said Bond firmly, “never”.
Well I, for one, am glad we got that sorted 🤭
Looking forward to more 😁
More very soon.
At the end, as a sort of "deleted scene", I might post the first version of that exchange.
Chapter 4
“We’re here”, Abramovich had said. Bond and the Russians emerged in the shadow of the massive Duga grid, some five hundred feet in length and over two thousand feet high, with the top invisible as the daylight began to fail. Bond felt as if they were insignificant ants crawling around a house, unnoticed by anyone within.
Their torches beamed out and they entered the first of the buildings before them. A storehouse of some kind, with nothing of any interest within.
The second, larger, building was next but before reaching that they found what they had came for. A huge missile launcher with an array of six long shafts of death, each more than twenty feet long, aimed skyward with a control panel at the base. For a moment Bond wondered why this was not being guarded, then realised that there was no-one here to guard it against. Nobody in their right mind would come here, he thought ruefully, and how could they take it away?
Abramovitch had walked up to a door on the second building and indicated that Bond should take the other side while Pavel knelt and opened it. Inside was dim. By torchlight Bond found a light switch then turned it on.
Chairs and a table stood at one side, littered with cards and full ashtrays. Empty bottles had been thrown into a corner in front of a dartboard but all their eyes were drawn by a young woman hung by her bound hands from a hook in the ceiling. She was naked and her body covered with bruises. Her eyes were closed.
Bond swore and got out a knife. He reached up to cut the rope holding her and then heard a groan.
“Oleg- she’s alive!” he said as he laid her on the floor and looked for a blanket, a towel, something to cover her.
“We are not on a rescue mission, James”, hissed Abramovitch as he headed for a door at the back of the room.
“We can’t leave her here like this, she’ll die” argued Bond.
Abramovitch growled, “Andrey, take her back to the car, find a blanket, then stay with her”.
Andrey picked the girl up and headed back. Abramovitch glared at Bond. “Now come on, over here, let’s do what we came for”.
He stood to one side of the door only to be struck hard as it was kicked open, causing him to fall back. Bond and Pavel were instantly held at the point of two submachine guns while two other men grabbed Abramovitch and took his weapons before doing the same to them. All three were forced into chairs. One of their assailants stood in front of them, and Bond recognised him from the photographs of the raid on the US base. He noticed that the recognition was mutual.
“Mr Bond, I did not expect to see you here”, said Malakov In English, presumably for Bond’s benefit, “I do not see what business this is of the British Government”.
“We like to keep involved”, said Bond.
“An old habit of your nation, I know, interfering inside countries that have nothing to do with them. Oleg, my brother, I am less surprised to see you. Did you volunteer for this mission?”
“I did not”, said Abramovitch, staring at the other calmly while blood dripped from his nose, “but I would have had I been asked”.
“We noticed your little collection of Tomahawk missiles on the way in”, said Bond. “I suppose that they’re aimed at Berlin, or perhaps Paris. How many millions are you intending to demand to take them down?”
“Millions, Mr Bond?” said Malakov, amused by the notion. “You would seem to have, what is it you say in English, the wrong end of the tree?”
“Stick”, said Bond, “not the whole tree. Well, what is it you want? Pardons for you and your men?”
“We do not want anything. Those missiles are not directed towards any of the European capitals – they could reach London as well, you may not have known this – other than that of our own Motherland where they will be blamed on the Americans”.
“You’re going to fire them at Moscow?” demanded Abramovitch. “Why do you want to do this?”
“You know why, my Oleg. This is not today the Russia we were born into, that is not our capital, and the army is not our army that you and I joined so many years ago”.
“Then do what I did! Defect! I am working for the British now, you and your men can join us. They will make you welcome”.
“Just like you and your two men… where is the other one?” Malakov demanded, realisation coming into his eyes.
“There was only Pavel Volkov here. He came along with Bond and myself” said Abramovich.
“Where Volkov goes, Koslov goes too”, said Malkov. He fired off a string of rapid Russian to one of his men, bearded and tall. The man nodded and headed out the door to the outside. Bond and Abramovitch did not glance at each other but the same thought was going through both their minds.
The tall man came back in, wiping his knife on a cloth. Pavel stared at him as if he could not believe what he was seeing. Malakov asked a question and the other replied. Even Bond’s limited Russian was enough to understand what mertvyy meant. Pavel leapt up as if on a spring and grabbed the barrel of the rifle held by the man standing nearest him. Malakov and the tall man reached for their weapons but Bond and Abramovitch were on them, quick as the wolves that no doubt were outside.
A brash burst of gunfire from the guard at the door which, in his reluctance to hit any of his own people, went over their heads as Bond snapped the neck of the man who had murdered Andrey and swivelled to help his companions. Pavel had wrenched the rifle from his antagonist and shot the guard at the door with a quick burst before hitting his own man with the butt of the rifle and sending him crashing to the floor then leaping on top of him. They wrestled together for possession of a knife that one or the other had suddenly produced. Bond dived over to help Pavel, but was too late to stop the knife lacerating his throat. Not too late, though, to grab it and take care of the other man.
Malakov broke free from Abramovitch’s clutches and ran for the door, drawing a vicious looking knife of his own as he did so. The two of them burst through to the outside, Malakov heading for the Tomahawk controls while Abramovitch grabbed for his throat before Malakov whirled round and slashed out with his knife.
Abramovitch shuddered as the knife pierced him, again and again, but his hands stayed firm on his brother’s throat. Bond pounded towards them, saving his breath from useless yells, but was never going to get there in time. The two Russians fell dying on to the control board and the Tomahawks shot upwards instantly. Bond fell to his knees shuddering as he stared at Abramovitch’s lifeless eyes, then his head jerked upwards.
The chemtrails of the missiles were heading east when the night sky startlingly burst into light. Like a fireworks show, he could see a blinding display of explosions followed not long after by the sound reaching down to ground level as the Tomahawks were wiped from existence.
To Be Concluded Tomorrow
Just caught up with this after a couple of days travelling…excellent and can’t wait for the conclusion 🍸
Thanks, CHB. 😀
Concluding already 😞
This is good stuff 👏🏻
Alas, yes, but I am very happy that you enjoyed it.
Chapter 5
Bond drove through the darkness as fast as he thought safe. From the rear he could hear the girl moaning, every bump in the road making her moans louder. How far had he come? He should have checked the odometer before starting. How far was there to go? He had no idea but all he could do was keep going, keep going.
The lights reflected red in the eyes of the nocturnal animals hastening out of his path. He could see parts of buildings before those vanished, leaving him driving through a tunnel of trees with no end. He wiped his eyes, sweating despite the glacial temperatures causing him to see the steam of his own breath inside the cab.
The light was huge and sudden. Bond hit the brakes and skidded to a halt in front of a searchlight that blinded him to his surroundings. The door was jerked open and strong arms reached in, pulling him out and to his feet where more hands roughly patted him down in a thorough search for any weapons. His clothes were stripped off his shivering body and he was first hosed down with freezing water then scrubbed down with towels before being handed a gown to put on. He saw the towels being burned along with the clothes he had been wearing. In a moment of grim humour, he thought that it was just as well that Major Boothroyd hadn’t provided him with any of the usual toys.
Bond was pushed towards a smaller light, his eyes blinking hard. He was surrounded by men in uniform and his Ukrainian was nowhere near good enough to demand what the hell they thought they were doing. He was being pushed toward a man who stood calmly near the light, armed soldiers all around him. Bond’s eyes had adjusted well enough for him to now see that it wouldn’t matter a damn whether he could speak Ukrainian like a native or not. The soldiers were Russian, and the unmistakable man patiently waiting for him was Vladimir Vladimirovitch Putin.
The President of Russia smiled and spoke pleasantly to Bond, his words translated by a man off to the right. Bond noticed that this was a different translator from the last time he had spoken with Putin, and wondered idly if his predecessor had fallen from a window or was perhaps only resting in a gulag.
“Hello, Mr Bond. It is pleasant to see you again. I take it you are surprised to see me here?”
“More than surprised, Mr President. I had been expecting to meet a President soon, just not you”.
President Putin laughed.
“Indeed, I understand you”.
Bond took a deep breath before interrupting perhaps the most powerful man on the planet. “I apologise for breaking in, sir, but there is a girl in the back of my vehicle who I believe requires medical attention. Could this perhaps be arranged?”
Putin showed no trace of annoyance, and spoke a few quick words to two of the soldiers who instantly ran off.
“Now, Mr Bond, do you know where we are standing?”
“Somewhere between Chernobyl and Kiev, that is all I understand”.
“We are just outside the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone. That is why your clothing has been destroyed and your body cleansed”.
“I have had such an experience before, Mr President”.
“My men will provide you with some more appropriate clothes after our talk has concluded although I assure you that the risk is low. I take it you noticed the Tomahawk missiles being destroyed?”
“Yes, I did”.
“We, of course, knew exactly where they were being held but were not about to venture to the Duga in large numbers and retrieve them. The possibility of being ambushed by Ukrainian terrorists plus the danger from the radiation made that a risk we were not prepared to take. I was sure that our defence mechanisms, especially with them being on full alert in this area, would easily be able to take care of the missiles as in fact they did. Of course, I did not know earlier that you and some defectors from the Wagner Group would be sent there also. By any chance, did you happen to hear what the intended target for the Tomahawks would have been?”
“Moscow, Mr President”.
“Of course. There was the possibility that such an attack would be blamed on the Americans, this must have been in the mind of their leader”.
“Yes, he mentioned that, sir”.
Putin gave one of his half-smiles.
“It is always sad when those who are not equipped for the task attempt to meddle in geopolitics. Have all the Wagner renegades been killed?”
“Yes”, said Bond. He saw no point in denying it. “Either by me or by each other”.
“Then I shall be on my way. Our paths have crossed a few times, now, Commander, and never to either of our harms. I trust this happy state of affairs shall continue”.
The Russian President turned and swiftly walked away, towards what Bond could now see was a helicopter to the side of the road. Wordlessly one of the soldiers thrust a bundle of clothing at Bond then turned away to follow his master.
Bond drove through the night, the light from the Russians diminishing behind him. He was sure they would have disappeared before dawn, probably over the border to Belarus.
He found his mind turning to Oleg Abramovitch. Bond had few friends, and he hadn’t known Abramovitch long, but he would miss this one just the same. He could hear his steam train of a chuckle, and the gruff voice ordering more vodka. In the distance he could see the lights of a town growing near and his mind closed that memory off in that section where there were so many others.
The End
Another good addition, thanks 🍸👏🏻
Very good 🍸
Thanks, guys.
Here's the first draft...
“Of course it troubles me. Did you ever have a brother, James?”
“No”, said Bond firmly, “never. Not a half-brother either, or a stepbrother, or an adopted brother”.
“What about a fos-“
“NO”, said Bond, waking up Pavel and Andrey, “not a f*cking foster brother either. Stupid idea”.
“Okay, okay”, said Abramovitch. “Jeez… “
🤣🤣🤣🤣