“ … and he was never seen again”, finished Leiter.
“He jumped out of a plane and vanished?” said Bond.
“Right. In total darkness, by the way. And in freezing temperatures for which he wasn’t adequately dressed”.
“They looked for him, of course”, said Bond. It wasn’t a question.
“Of course. Men, dogs, helicopters, you name it. Not a trace. A reward was offered as well by the airlines. Zip. Nothing. Mr DB Cooper is at this time the most wanted man in America”.
“So Pinkertons are on the case now. That makes sense, but why did you come over to Paris? What was the connection?”
“Ah well”, said Felix, “we’re grasping at straws now. There’s a cabaret singer in Paris, you see, this Leonie Lacroix, and recently she’s been having money put in her account from a man named Dan Cooper”.
Bond looked sceptical. “It’s a common enough name”.
“Yes, but this has only started recently. I know it’s a weak connection but it’s all we’ve got. This guy, this Cooper, he’s as average as a man could be. Like I said, he’s not short, he’s not tall, he’s not fat, he’s not thin, he’s not young, he’s not old …. Here, look”.
Leiter reached into his pocket and produced a drawing.
“This is all we’ve got after talking to everyone who saw him. See what I mean? There’s a hundred guys like him walking down any main street in any city right now”.
“So Leonie Lacroix is the only lead you have”.
“That’s right. And the fact that somebody tried to blow me to a million little pieces makes me think that I’m on the right track, and that’s when I decided I could do with some help, and who else but my old pal James?”
Bond didn’t hesitate a second. “Of course I’ll help. I think I’ve got some leave coming, I’ll simply have to ask for it to start immediately”.
“Immediately?” growled M.
“Yes, sir, that’s right. I have some due and – “
“And you know the correct way to apply for it, 007”. M almost bit through his pipe stem. “However, never let it be said. Go see Miss Moneypenny and arrange the paperwork. I’m sure we can manage without you for a week or two”.
M lowered his head and started reading some document in front of him, or pretending to anyway. Bond swallowed a smile and went out.
“You want leave this suddenly, James? At this time of year?” asked Moneypenny, looking up at him sceptically. “Who’s the lucky lady?”
“I am wounded by your doubtfulness, Penny. The lucky lady is a man. You’ll have heard of my friend Felix Leiter?”
“Ah, so there’s still a chance for me”, she smiled as she signed the slip.
“Always, Moneypenny. Always”. His voice faded out the door.
Bond expertly threw the Aston Martin down a gear as he came out of a sharp bend on the A2 out of London, overtaking a dawdling Jaguar and three food trucks perhaps on their way to Dover as he and Leiter were.
“Do you go anywhere at under a hundred, James?” asked the more cautious Leiter.
“I don’t recall you being so careful, Felix, back when you had that Studillac”, said Bond.
“Hey, we all get older – except you, my friend, of course. So, your head honcho was all right with you coming along with me?”
“He doesn’t know – well, officially he doesn’t know and I think he prefers it that way. So, we’re heading for Paris then?”
“That’s right”, said Felix, “Like I told you, I was working there when I was rather rudely interrupted and decided I could use an extra pair of hands. Pun intended”. He held up the hook.
“You were planning to go see the cabaret singer Leonie Lacroix, since a man called Dan Cooper has been putting money into her account every month”.
“And that’s where we’re going to pick things up”.
The sight of Dover, nestling under those famous white cliffs, forced Bond to slow down and they joined the queue for a hovercraft. Those unusual craft had only been in commercial operation for a short while and were still something of a novelty.
“Shouldn’t be too long”, he told Felix.
“I heard that you guys and the French were planning on building a tunnel from here to Calais”.
“That’s been talked about for a long time. Maybe one day they might get round to it. Meantime the choice is ferry or hovercraft if you want to take your car”.
“I was under the impression that this hot rod”, Felix slapped the dashboard, “was government property – what we’d call a company car. You sure you can take it out of the country?”
Bond laughed. “There’s more than one of these DB5s around, Felix. This one is mine, the Service one is in London where Major Boothroyd and his crew are no doubt taking loving care of it at this very moment”.
“The registration number is the same, though”, said Felix.
“No, just very similar. Merely coincidence”.
Leiter looked at his friend with interest. “These babies don’t come cheap, James. I didn’t know you had that kind of money”.
“It’s no secret. I gamble for money, you’d know something about that. I’ve never seen the point in having a lot of money in the bank when you die. I spend the winnings how I choose as often as I choose”.
Both of them enjoyed their drive through Northern France. One of the most beautiful areas of Europe, the sweet pastoral views caused them to relax and take in the landscape. It seemed too soon when they came to the outskirts of Paris and the roads became larger and busier.
Felix guided them to the arrondissement they needed, where they found a comfortable hotel and left the car in the accompanying garage. After one look at the hotel menu they went out to find a restaurant, not a difficult task in that city.
Over a delicious if rather wine heavy cassoulet Bond said, “Next we are going to the cabaret, I take it”.
“That’s right, it’s called La Fierté de Monte Carlo, the pride of Monte Carlo. A fancy name, but I’ve seen worse. Show starts in an hour.”
“All right. Better not have any more to drink right now, though, this meal has enough wine to do us for the next two days”.
The club had a gaudy awning and a stocky doorman (Bond thought, in other places they would have been called bouncers) either side of the steps leading down. They paid the necessarily inflated price for entrance then went in to pay out some equally inflated prices for watered down alcohol.
The room wasn’t packed, but busy enough. A low ceiling created an intimate atmosphere, aided by hidden lights within the walls. They went to a table facing the curtains that would soon open to reveal the entertainment, Bond carefully examining the floor before deeming it safe to sit down. Leiter gave a laugh at his caution.
“You don’t really think that our table would be pulled down through the floor? That’s the sort of thing that happens once in a lifetime”.
“You may be right about that, Felix, but you never know”, said Bond seriously.
“What’s the chances, James? I mean, it’s probably the same odds as another shark coming along and biting more bits of me off. Now just relax and enjoy the show. You’ll like it, she’s charming. I mean, foreign, but charming nonetheless”.
They were interrupted by the sound of soft minor chords coming from a piano as the curtains opened to reveal a small stage with the grand piano taking up a fair amount of it. There was a drummer, using brushes, on the other side and between them a double bass player plucked pizzicato. An upright microphone on a stand occupied centre stage. After about eight bars the spotlight went straight to stage left. A disembodied voice, deeply echoed, announced “Mesdames et messieurs, Mademoiselle Leonie Lacroix!” as the singer walked on.
Bond’s eyes were captivated by the singer’s beauty. She couldn’t have been more than thirty, he judged, and was perhaps five foot seven. Her hair was a fiery red, cascading down over her exposed shoulders and generous cleavage as she glided toward the microphone. Her long gold dress clung to every curve. In a smooth contralto she began to sing Cole Porter’s “What Is This Thing Called Love?”. During the second song Bond found himself thinking that a saxophone would complement the trio just perfectly, at which point a young man walked on carrying that very instrument and took a solo. Bond found himself enthralled by Leonie’s tone, her phrasing, as she moved through more modern songs including one by Burt Bacharach and Hal David which Bond was sure he recognised from somewhere and even one or two from The Beatles – he had gotten over his earlier distaste for their songs and now appreciated their talent.
Leiter and Bond joined in the enthusiastic applause and the cheers as she finished and walked off-stage.
“And now?” asked Bond.
“Now we go and have a little chat with the star of the show”, replied Felix.
To Be Continued
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 30,956Chief of Staff
Beautifully evocative - and at least 4 lovely nods & winks in there 🤣 really excellent 😁👏🏻
It was easy to find the room Leonie Lacroix was using. It didn’t have a star on it, that only happens in films, but her name was in gold capitals high up on the ageing wooden door. Leiter gave a brief knock.
“Oui?” came the voice from within.
“Madamoiselle Lacroix, could we have a word with you, please?” Leiter hoped that the use of English might intrigue her more than the French she would be used to from hopeful fans, or would-be compagnons.
The door opened. Close up she was no less glamourous than she had appeared from the audience, which is not a given thing. Her eyes were a sparkling green, contrasting sharply with the red hair and flawless skin.
“Madamoiselle, my name is Felix Leiter”. Felix produced a card identifying him as an operative of the Pinkerton Agency. “My friend and I would like to ask you a few questions. Please do not worry, you’ve done nothing wrong”.
She laughed. “If I had, I would be answering to a gendarme not some phony American with a badge he could have bought anywhere. And who are you there?”
“My name is Bond, James Bond. Can we come in, please?” said Bond with a pleasant smile. She gave him a careful look before nodding her head and inviting them in before firmly closing the door behind them.
She sat down on a trunk and eased off her high heeled shoes with a sigh of relief. When she stood again she had shrunk by a good five or six inches as she walked to the only proper chair in the room, the one in front of a mirror. She turned it to face them.
“So, Mr Leiter and Mr Bond, what would you like to know?”
Bond narrowed his eyes at the sound of her speaking voice.
“Your English is very good”, he said, “very good indeed”.
“Oh hell, you’d probably have figured it out soon anyway”, she said, her voice dramatically changing. “I’m from Paisley, my real name’s Sheila McConnachie”.
Leiter looked puzzled. “Paisley?”
“It’s near Glasgow, Felix. Sheila, call me James. I’m half-Scottish myself, the other half’s Swiss”.
The tension had gone out of the room, and everyone leaned back. Leonie ran her index finger under her hairline and raised the red wig, pulling it off to reveal shorter brown hair beneath. There was still a reddish tint to it, but far less dramatic. She laughed at Leiter’s goggle-eyed look.
“As you can guess”, she said, “that name wouldn’t look too good on a billboard in these parts so I changed it. Just stick to Leonie. Now, seriously, how can I help you? You’re not here trying to pick me up, I get a lot of those and I know”.
Felix leaned against the trunk she had earlier sat on. “We’re interested in a man called Dan Cooper. As we understand it, he’s a friend of yours”.
“A friend?” she replied, looking straight at him.
“Friendly enough for him to be sending you money regularly, maybe even paying your rent. Could you perhaps tell us where we could find him?”
Leonie did not even bat an eye. “I’m sorry, I have no idea. He was here a while ago and I do expect to see him back in Paris sooner or later but he doesn’t tell me when. I wish I could be of more help to you, gentlemen”.
“That’s all right”, said Bond, “thank you very much anyway”.
“No problem”. She looked up at Bond. “Are you staying long in Paris, Mr Bond?”
“Oh, James, please. It depends. I take it I could get in touch with you here?”
“Oh, yes, but here, please”. She pulled a small pink card out from somewhere. “That’s my phone number if you happen to be staying a little longer”. Their eyes met as Bond took the card.
Felix sighed. “Come on, James. Time to go”.
As they headed up the stairs, Leiter said “Do you believe her?”
“Not a word. How about you?”
“I think we should go to her place”, Felix said thoughtfully.
“Her place? But she’ll be here for some time yet”, said Bond.
“Exactly”.
Across the road from La Fierté de Monte Carlo a figure stood in the darkness of a doorway watching Bond and Leiter depart. A passing headlight showed a cat rubbing itself against his leg. So Leiter was back, thought Cooper. The bomb hadn’t dissuaded him, in fact he had returned with reinforcements. Two to deal with this time.
To Be Continued
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 30,956Chief of Staff
Leonie Lacroix’s flat was on the top floor of a recently modernised building with a good view of the Eiffel Tower. Bond wasn’t surprised to find that – most places in Paris at least claimed to have a view of that celebrated structure, although from some of them one had to crane one’s neck and peer around an obstacle. He was glad that the modernisation had included lifts – or elevators, as Leiter called them.
The flat itself was styled tastefully and not too cluttered. The door hadn’t proved much of an obstacle to experienced agents, and they had softly closed it behind them before beginning their search. Nothing too surprising – some money, the customary documents, a few keepsakes – until they found her passport, in her real name, in a drawer by the bedside with a surprise tucked inside it.
“Air ticket to Paris”, remarked Bond thoughtfully, showing it to Leiter.
“Paris?” said Felix, “but - ”
“The other Paris, the one on your side of the ocean. Paris, Texas. Change flights at JFK International. One way, too. And it’s for tomorrow – well, later today now”, said Bond.
“So whatever she’s up to, she hasn’t been frank with us. Do you suppose that someone is flying with her? Or maybe she’s going to meet him there?”
“We don’t know. I think we should put it back, make sure we haven’t left any traces, and get straight out of here to the airport and see about getting tickets for ourselves”.
In the elevator, Leiter said, “What about your car? It’s in the hotel car park”.
“We’ll just have to leave it there, I’ll contact Mathis to take care of it”.
The elevator came to a smooth stop. For a second or two they waited for the doors to open before Bond’s eyes widened and he yelled, “Down, Felix! Down!”
He grabbed Felix by the good arm and pulled him down to the floor beside himself microseconds before a cacophony of bullets went through the doors into where they had been standing. Felix reached up with his hooked arm and hit the button for the basement. Bullets tore through his sleeve into the steel prosthesis before the carriage started lowering again. What sounded to them like two submachine guns emptied their magazines deafeningly for what seemed an eternity but could have been no more than a few seconds before suddenly cutting off. If their ears had still been working they would have heard two sets of feet running away.
Bond and Leiter waited another minute before cautiously climbing back to their feet and getting out of the carriage.
“Someone was expecting us”, said Bond.
“This Cooper guy, for sure”, said a shaken Leiter, looking at his ruined jacket.
“Come on, let’s get to the airport. You can buy another suit there”, said Bond.
Comments
It won't be long.
Yes, it's a fascinating story and I've always thought we've only been told part of it.
Chapter Four
“ … and he was never seen again”, finished Leiter.
“He jumped out of a plane and vanished?” said Bond.
“Right. In total darkness, by the way. And in freezing temperatures for which he wasn’t adequately dressed”.
“They looked for him, of course”, said Bond. It wasn’t a question.
“Of course. Men, dogs, helicopters, you name it. Not a trace. A reward was offered as well by the airlines. Zip. Nothing. Mr DB Cooper is at this time the most wanted man in America”.
“So Pinkertons are on the case now. That makes sense, but why did you come over to Paris? What was the connection?”
“Ah well”, said Felix, “we’re grasping at straws now. There’s a cabaret singer in Paris, you see, this Leonie Lacroix, and recently she’s been having money put in her account from a man named Dan Cooper”.
Bond looked sceptical. “It’s a common enough name”.
“Yes, but this has only started recently. I know it’s a weak connection but it’s all we’ve got. This guy, this Cooper, he’s as average as a man could be. Like I said, he’s not short, he’s not tall, he’s not fat, he’s not thin, he’s not young, he’s not old …. Here, look”.
Leiter reached into his pocket and produced a drawing.
“This is all we’ve got after talking to everyone who saw him. See what I mean? There’s a hundred guys like him walking down any main street in any city right now”.
“So Leonie Lacroix is the only lead you have”.
“That’s right. And the fact that somebody tried to blow me to a million little pieces makes me think that I’m on the right track, and that’s when I decided I could do with some help, and who else but my old pal James?”
Bond didn’t hesitate a second. “Of course I’ll help. I think I’ve got some leave coming, I’ll simply have to ask for it to start immediately”.
“Immediately?” growled M.
“Yes, sir, that’s right. I have some due and – “
“And you know the correct way to apply for it, 007”. M almost bit through his pipe stem. “However, never let it be said. Go see Miss Moneypenny and arrange the paperwork. I’m sure we can manage without you for a week or two”.
M lowered his head and started reading some document in front of him, or pretending to anyway. Bond swallowed a smile and went out.
“You want leave this suddenly, James? At this time of year?” asked Moneypenny, looking up at him sceptically. “Who’s the lucky lady?”
“I am wounded by your doubtfulness, Penny. The lucky lady is a man. You’ll have heard of my friend Felix Leiter?”
“Ah, so there’s still a chance for me”, she smiled as she signed the slip.
“Always, Moneypenny. Always”. His voice faded out the door.
To Be Continued
Great writing Barbel...
This is turning into a very unique Bond adventure.
Keep up great work...👍👍👏👏
@CoolHandBond Thank you for the kind appreciation.
This is very enjoyable - keep it coming!
I am really looking forward to how this plays out - no pressure 🤭🤣
Thank you all very much, guys. Next chapter coming soon.
Chapter Five
Bond expertly threw the Aston Martin down a gear as he came out of a sharp bend on the A2 out of London, overtaking a dawdling Jaguar and three food trucks perhaps on their way to Dover as he and Leiter were.
“Do you go anywhere at under a hundred, James?” asked the more cautious Leiter.
“I don’t recall you being so careful, Felix, back when you had that Studillac”, said Bond.
“Hey, we all get older – except you, my friend, of course. So, your head honcho was all right with you coming along with me?”
“He doesn’t know – well, officially he doesn’t know and I think he prefers it that way. So, we’re heading for Paris then?”
“That’s right”, said Felix, “Like I told you, I was working there when I was rather rudely interrupted and decided I could use an extra pair of hands. Pun intended”. He held up the hook.
“You were planning to go see the cabaret singer Leonie Lacroix, since a man called Dan Cooper has been putting money into her account every month”.
“And that’s where we’re going to pick things up”.
The sight of Dover, nestling under those famous white cliffs, forced Bond to slow down and they joined the queue for a hovercraft. Those unusual craft had only been in commercial operation for a short while and were still something of a novelty.
“Shouldn’t be too long”, he told Felix.
“I heard that you guys and the French were planning on building a tunnel from here to Calais”.
“That’s been talked about for a long time. Maybe one day they might get round to it. Meantime the choice is ferry or hovercraft if you want to take your car”.
“I was under the impression that this hot rod”, Felix slapped the dashboard, “was government property – what we’d call a company car. You sure you can take it out of the country?”
Bond laughed. “There’s more than one of these DB5s around, Felix. This one is mine, the Service one is in London where Major Boothroyd and his crew are no doubt taking loving care of it at this very moment”.
“The registration number is the same, though”, said Felix.
“No, just very similar. Merely coincidence”.
Leiter looked at his friend with interest. “These babies don’t come cheap, James. I didn’t know you had that kind of money”.
“It’s no secret. I gamble for money, you’d know something about that. I’ve never seen the point in having a lot of money in the bank when you die. I spend the winnings how I choose as often as I choose”.
Both of them enjoyed their drive through Northern France. One of the most beautiful areas of Europe, the sweet pastoral views caused them to relax and take in the landscape. It seemed too soon when they came to the outskirts of Paris and the roads became larger and busier.
Felix guided them to the arrondissement they needed, where they found a comfortable hotel and left the car in the accompanying garage. After one look at the hotel menu they went out to find a restaurant, not a difficult task in that city.
Over a delicious if rather wine heavy cassoulet Bond said, “Next we are going to the cabaret, I take it”.
“That’s right, it’s called La Fierté de Monte Carlo, the pride of Monte Carlo. A fancy name, but I’ve seen worse. Show starts in an hour.”
“All right. Better not have any more to drink right now, though, this meal has enough wine to do us for the next two days”.
The club had a gaudy awning and a stocky doorman (Bond thought, in other places they would have been called bouncers) either side of the steps leading down. They paid the necessarily inflated price for entrance then went in to pay out some equally inflated prices for watered down alcohol.
The room wasn’t packed, but busy enough. A low ceiling created an intimate atmosphere, aided by hidden lights within the walls. They went to a table facing the curtains that would soon open to reveal the entertainment, Bond carefully examining the floor before deeming it safe to sit down. Leiter gave a laugh at his caution.
“You don’t really think that our table would be pulled down through the floor? That’s the sort of thing that happens once in a lifetime”.
“You may be right about that, Felix, but you never know”, said Bond seriously.
“What’s the chances, James? I mean, it’s probably the same odds as another shark coming along and biting more bits of me off. Now just relax and enjoy the show. You’ll like it, she’s charming. I mean, foreign, but charming nonetheless”.
They were interrupted by the sound of soft minor chords coming from a piano as the curtains opened to reveal a small stage with the grand piano taking up a fair amount of it. There was a drummer, using brushes, on the other side and between them a double bass player plucked pizzicato. An upright microphone on a stand occupied centre stage. After about eight bars the spotlight went straight to stage left. A disembodied voice, deeply echoed, announced “Mesdames et messieurs, Mademoiselle Leonie Lacroix!” as the singer walked on.
Bond’s eyes were captivated by the singer’s beauty. She couldn’t have been more than thirty, he judged, and was perhaps five foot seven. Her hair was a fiery red, cascading down over her exposed shoulders and generous cleavage as she glided toward the microphone. Her long gold dress clung to every curve. In a smooth contralto she began to sing Cole Porter’s “What Is This Thing Called Love?”. During the second song Bond found himself thinking that a saxophone would complement the trio just perfectly, at which point a young man walked on carrying that very instrument and took a solo. Bond found himself enthralled by Leonie’s tone, her phrasing, as she moved through more modern songs including one by Burt Bacharach and Hal David which Bond was sure he recognised from somewhere and even one or two from The Beatles – he had gotten over his earlier distaste for their songs and now appreciated their talent.
Leiter and Bond joined in the enthusiastic applause and the cheers as she finished and walked off-stage.
“And now?” asked Bond.
“Now we go and have a little chat with the star of the show”, replied Felix.
To Be Continued
Beautifully evocative - and at least 4 lovely nods & winks in there 🤣 really excellent 😁👏🏻
Much appreciated, Sir Miles.
Lots to enjoy in this chapter and as Sir Miles says, plenty of nods and winks 👏
An Aston Martin overtaking a Jaguar? As if, indeed! 🤣
😃 and if it hadn't been set when it was, that Jag would have been full of books.
Chapter Six
It was easy to find the room Leonie Lacroix was using. It didn’t have a star on it, that only happens in films, but her name was in gold capitals high up on the ageing wooden door. Leiter gave a brief knock.
“Oui?” came the voice from within.
“Madamoiselle Lacroix, could we have a word with you, please?” Leiter hoped that the use of English might intrigue her more than the French she would be used to from hopeful fans, or would-be compagnons.
The door opened. Close up she was no less glamourous than she had appeared from the audience, which is not a given thing. Her eyes were a sparkling green, contrasting sharply with the red hair and flawless skin.
“Madamoiselle, my name is Felix Leiter”. Felix produced a card identifying him as an operative of the Pinkerton Agency. “My friend and I would like to ask you a few questions. Please do not worry, you’ve done nothing wrong”.
She laughed. “If I had, I would be answering to a gendarme not some phony American with a badge he could have bought anywhere. And who are you there?”
“My name is Bond, James Bond. Can we come in, please?” said Bond with a pleasant smile. She gave him a careful look before nodding her head and inviting them in before firmly closing the door behind them.
She sat down on a trunk and eased off her high heeled shoes with a sigh of relief. When she stood again she had shrunk by a good five or six inches as she walked to the only proper chair in the room, the one in front of a mirror. She turned it to face them.
“So, Mr Leiter and Mr Bond, what would you like to know?”
Bond narrowed his eyes at the sound of her speaking voice.
“Your English is very good”, he said, “very good indeed”.
“Oh hell, you’d probably have figured it out soon anyway”, she said, her voice dramatically changing. “I’m from Paisley, my real name’s Sheila McConnachie”.
Leiter looked puzzled. “Paisley?”
“It’s near Glasgow, Felix. Sheila, call me James. I’m half-Scottish myself, the other half’s Swiss”.
The tension had gone out of the room, and everyone leaned back. Leonie ran her index finger under her hairline and raised the red wig, pulling it off to reveal shorter brown hair beneath. There was still a reddish tint to it, but far less dramatic. She laughed at Leiter’s goggle-eyed look.
“As you can guess”, she said, “that name wouldn’t look too good on a billboard in these parts so I changed it. Just stick to Leonie. Now, seriously, how can I help you? You’re not here trying to pick me up, I get a lot of those and I know”.
Felix leaned against the trunk she had earlier sat on. “We’re interested in a man called Dan Cooper. As we understand it, he’s a friend of yours”.
“A friend?” she replied, looking straight at him.
“Friendly enough for him to be sending you money regularly, maybe even paying your rent. Could you perhaps tell us where we could find him?”
Leonie did not even bat an eye. “I’m sorry, I have no idea. He was here a while ago and I do expect to see him back in Paris sooner or later but he doesn’t tell me when. I wish I could be of more help to you, gentlemen”.
“That’s all right”, said Bond, “thank you very much anyway”.
“No problem”. She looked up at Bond. “Are you staying long in Paris, Mr Bond?”
“Oh, James, please. It depends. I take it I could get in touch with you here?”
“Oh, yes, but here, please”. She pulled a small pink card out from somewhere. “That’s my phone number if you happen to be staying a little longer”. Their eyes met as Bond took the card.
Felix sighed. “Come on, James. Time to go”.
As they headed up the stairs, Leiter said “Do you believe her?”
“Not a word. How about you?”
“I think we should go to her place”, Felix said thoughtfully.
“Her place? But she’ll be here for some time yet”, said Bond.
“Exactly”.
Across the road from La Fierté de Monte Carlo a figure stood in the darkness of a doorway watching Bond and Leiter depart. A passing headlight showed a cat rubbing itself against his leg. So Leiter was back, thought Cooper. The bomb hadn’t dissuaded him, in fact he had returned with reinforcements. Two to deal with this time.
To Be Continued
Another wonderful chapter 👏🏻
Sheila McConnachie from Paisley - she must be an ex, Barbel 😁
Lovely stuff, very enjoyable.
I'm saying nothing about that 🤐
Glad you're enjoying this, guys, last chapter coming up. Of Part One, that is.
You had me worried for a second, I hope there are many parts!
Alas, I don't have any control over that. I'm at the mercy of my muse.
Chapter Seven
Leonie Lacroix’s flat was on the top floor of a recently modernised building with a good view of the Eiffel Tower. Bond wasn’t surprised to find that – most places in Paris at least claimed to have a view of that celebrated structure, although from some of them one had to crane one’s neck and peer around an obstacle. He was glad that the modernisation had included lifts – or elevators, as Leiter called them.
The flat itself was styled tastefully and not too cluttered. The door hadn’t proved much of an obstacle to experienced agents, and they had softly closed it behind them before beginning their search. Nothing too surprising – some money, the customary documents, a few keepsakes – until they found her passport, in her real name, in a drawer by the bedside with a surprise tucked inside it.
“Air ticket to Paris”, remarked Bond thoughtfully, showing it to Leiter.
“Paris?” said Felix, “but - ”
“The other Paris, the one on your side of the ocean. Paris, Texas. Change flights at JFK International. One way, too. And it’s for tomorrow – well, later today now”, said Bond.
“So whatever she’s up to, she hasn’t been frank with us. Do you suppose that someone is flying with her? Or maybe she’s going to meet him there?”
“We don’t know. I think we should put it back, make sure we haven’t left any traces, and get straight out of here to the airport and see about getting tickets for ourselves”.
In the elevator, Leiter said, “What about your car? It’s in the hotel car park”.
“We’ll just have to leave it there, I’ll contact Mathis to take care of it”.
The elevator came to a smooth stop. For a second or two they waited for the doors to open before Bond’s eyes widened and he yelled, “Down, Felix! Down!”
He grabbed Felix by the good arm and pulled him down to the floor beside himself microseconds before a cacophony of bullets went through the doors into where they had been standing. Felix reached up with his hooked arm and hit the button for the basement. Bullets tore through his sleeve into the steel prosthesis before the carriage started lowering again. What sounded to them like two submachine guns emptied their magazines deafeningly for what seemed an eternity but could have been no more than a few seconds before suddenly cutting off. If their ears had still been working they would have heard two sets of feet running away.
Bond and Leiter waited another minute before cautiously climbing back to their feet and getting out of the carriage.
“Someone was expecting us”, said Bond.
“This Cooper guy, for sure”, said a shaken Leiter, looking at his ruined jacket.
“Come on, let’s get to the airport. You can buy another suit there”, said Bond.
To Be Continued
End of Part One
Good view of the Eiffel Tower 🤣 the staple movie shot is now in the written form 😁
Excellent stuff 🍸