The breakfast was not any more interesting than the evening meal had been. Leiter ate silently until Lena got up to fetch Bond more coffee, then raised one eyebrow.
“I believe I said you were to be strictly an observer”, he admonished his friend gently.
Bond didn’t bother to deny anything.
“These things happen, Felix”, he said, eating some cold toast.
“They frequently do, around you”.
After they had eaten as much as they could tolerate, they had started to head for their rooms when they were approached by a man in a cheap suit, with a hat ten years out of style on his crew cut head.
“Mr Bond and Mr Leiter, I believe. We would like to have a word with you”.
The man moved to one side to reveal two others, all so similar they could have come out of the same factory. They each had a hand in one pocket. Behind Bond was the open plan dining area, no chance of cover. He and Felix exchanged weary nods.
“All right”, said Bond.
“Bring your young lady friend too, of course”.
They were led to one of the small bedrooms and gestured inside. The guns were now not hidden, and with one pointing at Lena Bond allowed them to take his Walther from beneath his jacket. They were told to sit down, on the chairs and bed. The others remained standing, one at the door.
“Now, I expect you are wondering what this is all about”, said the man who had spoken first.
“Only a little”, said Bond. “I recognize your accent. Moscow, I believe”.
The man smiled.
“Very good, Mr Bond. My name is Dmitry. And we recognized both yourself and Mr Leiter and thought it might be a good idea to have a little conversation. But first, would you mind introducing the young lady to us?”
“The young lady is perfectly capable of introducing herself, thank you”, she said, “My name is Magdelena Matador”.
The three Russians glanced at each other in surprise.
“Matador?” said Dmitry. “It would be too much of a coincidence for you to be unrelated to General Matador – his daughter, perhaps?”
Lena nodded.
“So! Your presence here begins to make sense. I am guessing that you are seeking the young lady’s father?”
There wouldn’t be much point in lying about it. Leiter said, “Us, the American Army, and from what you’re saying I guess the Red Army as well?”
The three Russians laughed. Dmitry said, “I believe that twenty or thirty million Soviet soldiers on American soil might be so conspicuous that even your CIA or FBI might notice them. No, Mr Leiter, my friends and I are from the KGB. That is how we knew to recognise both Mr Bond – the scar is most distinctive – and yourself, owing to your unfortunate injuries”.
“Therefore it would appear that this time we are both chasing a common enemy, Dmitry”, said Bond.
“Yes, just so. And it is my proposal that we join forces. You have the General’s daughter, who might be useful in, shall we say, certain circumstances and we know where he and his men are”.
Dmitry was aware that speaking those words ensured that he was the centre of attention, and enjoyed his moment.
“If you know where he is”, said Leiter slowly, “why don’t you send in the Red Army you were telling us of just a moment ago?”
“Ah, do not think that we would not like doing exactly that”, said Dmitry, “but as I was saying their presence on American soil may cause some diplomatic tension, to say the least”.
“So he is still on American soil”, said Bond. “And you are thinking that if you tell the three of us then we can go there and, hopefully, bring him back to his senses, and his daughter being with us may be a powerful card to play there”.
The alternative to that was clear for all to see, but no-one would mention it out loud in front of his own family.
“Just so”, said Dmitry. “We have entered a new era of Anglo-Soviet co-operation”.
“So, let me see if I understand this, James”, said a bemused M, “you and your friends are going to work together with your opposite numbers to reach this rogue American. The opposition know his location, and you have a possible trump card in the form of his daughter. Is that right?”
“That’s the situation, sir. I don’t suppose you’ve managed to come up with anything that may help us?”
“Afraid not. It looks like your plan is our best option, James, much as I hate to admit it. Just keep me informed as best you can”.
Bond hung up the phone and returned to the room which had become the de facto headquarters for their unprecedented team.
“Your chief, he has given what you call the word?” asked Dmitry.
“He has. We go ahead. Now, Matador is on American soil, you said. Where are we going?” asked Bond.
Dmitry smiled.
“Hawaii”.
To Be Continued
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 30,966Chief of Staff
The De Havilland Comet landed smoothly at Honolulu International Airport. Bond’s party swept through customs after some words and a display of documents from Leiter and took two taxis to their chosen hotel. There were signs of building everywhere, and it seemed to Bond that sadly the beautiful island would be overwhelmed with hotels and other tourist attractions before too long.
They had booked rooms at the Royal and Bond was impressed by the elegant furnishings and styling. After half an hour to freshen up Bond met Leiter in the very pleasant bar and over the first vodka martini they began talking shop.
“Are you sure we can trust these Russians, James?” asked Felix. “I mean, they know who we are and that we’ve been working against them in the past, more than once”.
“I don’t see that we have any choice. Do you have any better ideas, Felix? We don’t know where Mad Mike is, they do”.
“I don’t, no. It just rubs the wrong way, I don’t have to like it”.
One of the Russians came in and joined them. Leiter ordered more vodka martinis, much to the Russian’s confusion.
“What is this martini? I drink my vodka straight”.
“Give it a try … what is your name anyway?” asked Bond.
“Vladimir. And you are James and Felix, no?” smiled the KGB man.
One more drink and they were friends. It seemed that Vladimir had a young son back home, also called Vladimir.
“He is the, how do you say, apple of my eye”, the happy father said proudly. “I hope that he grows up to join the KGB just like me”.
Dmitry and the third Russian joined them, and more drinks were ordered.
“I hope you haven’t been boring our new friends about your son, Vladimir”, laughed Dmitry. “He says he will grow up to be head of the KGB, or maybe even the President”.
Vladimir laughed. It wasn’t the first time his colleagues had ragged him about his high ambitions for his son. Magdelena came up and joined them, asking for a glass of white wine.
“But enough of this”, said Dmitry. “We have little time and must make our plans. I will tell you where the young lady’s father is, and we will together make our plans on how to approach, da?”
Bond and Leiter nodded. Lena smiled tautly.
“Very well. He is on the Ku-u-i-po island. It is about forty kilometres from here, and is uninhabited – well, apart from the renegade Americans, of course”.
“And why is it uninhabited? Is it too small?” asked Bond.
“It is small”, said Leiter, “but it also has a volcano”.
“So do many of these islands”, said Dmitry. “This one is inactive, but it does not attract either tourists or inhabitants”.
Vladimir said, “It is only obvious that he will have the place guarded. We could not sail up on it, for example”.
“I have an idea about that”, said Lena. “Dmitry, is there perhaps a Russian ship in the area?”
Dmitry struggled for a moment, his instinctive tendencies to secrecy tormenting him before he sighed and spoke. “There is a ship called the St Petersburg not far away. It is thought by the West to be an ocean research vessel, but it is really under the command of the KGB. So, I can decide where it is to go. But you will never get it to the island without General Matador knowing about it”.
Lena smiled. “Don’t worry, it won’t have to”.
The waves were higher than Bond had anticipated by seeing them from the ship. They had to be, or Lena’s idea would not work.
She surfed effortlessly along the crest of the waves, with Bond only a few yards behind her. It gave him a very enjoyable view of her rear end, only scantily covered by her bikini bottom, as she flexed her muscles to keep in command of the board. There was still at least a mile to go, and so far they had seen no sign of any defences. The sun was blazing down and he could feel his skin burning, but that would have to be tolerated for the moment.
“Are you sure this crazy idea will work?” Leiter had asked, back on the St Petersburg.
“We don’t have any choice, Felix”, Bond said, stuffing some clothes into a water-resistant bag along with his gun. “Time is short, and we can’t go up to the front door and knock, now, can we?”
“Yeah, well, if you’re not back pretty damn quickly I’m going to take some measures of my own”. Leiter puffed on a cigarette.
The island of Ku-u-i-po loomed ahead, a white-sanded beach before the majestic volcano, coming up fast. They surfed up as far as they could before picking up their boards and running into the trees to cover them as much as possible and change into the clothes they had brought. The sun dried them off in an unsurprisingly short span of time. Without a word they headed through the trees towards the volcano, the only landmark on the otherwise uniform island, and their sweat ran like waterfalls down their bodies.
As they drew closer, Lena turned and murmured in Bond’s ear “I don’t see anybody. What do you think –“
A harsh voice on Bond’s right grated out of nowhere. “That’s far enough, bud”.
Two men in GI fatigues appeared from the undergrowth, sub-machine guns aimed at them. Bond held his hands up and surrendered his pistol after a rough search, and an only slightly less rough search of Magdelena. One of the men indicated with his gun toward the nearest face of the volcano.
“This way”.
They were led to a cave-like opening they hadn’t noticed before and pushed inside. The cave was lit by electric lamps every ten yards or so and they walked, stumbling over rocks and stones, until a further opening on the right. A wooden door had been attached there, and two more GIs stood on either side. After a nod, one of them knocked on the door and was answered by a barked “Yeah?” from within.
The door was opened and Bond and Lena were pushed in, followed by the GIs. The room was well-lit and a compact man in uniform stood in front of a desk covered with papers. He looked at them sharply.
“Lena! What the hell are you doing here?” he blurted, then seemed to remember that he was more than simply a concerned father but a General in front of his men. He visibly straightened his back and shoulders, and gave only a very restrained hug to his daughter as she ran into his arms.
“Oh Daddy”, she said, tears running down her face, “we were so worried about you! Mother has been crying herself to sleep, we just didn’t know where you had gone, and all these police and soldiers kept on asking and asking us”.
“I’m fine, Lena, I’m fine. You didn’t need to come all the way out here – and how did you find me, anyway?”
For the first time his eyes settled on Bond. There was a flash of understanding.
“Ah, right. I know who you are. You’re British Secret Service, aren’t you? Captain James Bond, isn’t it?”
“Commander, actually, General”.
“Whatever, some limey Naval rank anyway. You found out I was here, didn’t you, and brought my little girl with you, hoping to make some sort of deal”.
Bond nodded.
“Something like that”.
“Surely you haven’t come to negotiate. Your pitiful little island hasn’t even been threatened”.
“General, I’m here because a young woman needs her father and her mother needs a husband”, said Bond. “You walked out on them and didn’t tell them why, then you start threatening the American government, saying that you might start World War Three if they don’t listen to –“
“What?” cried Lena.
Too late, Bond thought, I could have handled that a lot better.
“You’re going to do what, Daddy? Tell me that isn’t true!”
“Now, Lena, you have to understand – “
“Tell me what you’re going to do! Tell me now!”
The General sighed. Six torturers with carpet beaters and red-hot irons wouldn’t have been able to make him talk. One daughter could.
“Listen, you remember the night I left, don’t you?” he said.
“Of course I do. You were watching the television then you just jumped up and packed a bag and – “
“Honey, it’s what I was watching on the television. You don’t remember?”
“No, of course not. Was it important?”
He looked at her sadly.
“I was watching the news, Lena. The Russkis had just successfully launched a satellite into space. They call it the Sputnik. They’re using it to watch us, every one of us. They can see where our ships are with it, they can watch our army movements, track our aircraft. Don’t you see? It’s the ultimate weapon!”
Bond tried to interrupt as calmly as he could. “General, that just isn’t so. Sputnik can’t do any of those things. Maybe in twenty or thirty years we will have satellites that can do what you are concerned about, but not now. It’s –“
“Silence! You don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve got to deal with it and we’ve got to deal with it now before they launch any other of these weapons and take away our military advantage. Don’t you see?”
Bond said, “General, that’s simply not how Sputnik works. It doesn’t have cameras or any other observational equipment. I grant you, those will arrive later but in all probability it’ll be NASA that will lead the way with that”.
General Matador shook his head. “You’ve swallowed their propaganda, boy. Come with me. I’ll show you”.
He stiffly headed for the door and indicated for Bond and Lena to follow, with the guards in attendance. He took the opposite direction from the way they had come in, leading them further inside.
After a short time they reached another door, again with two soldiers on guard. They saluted, then stood back as the General opened the door and waved Bond inside.
And more kind words from me, @Sonero - perfectly timed and beautiful.
Thank you, everyone.
Sir Miles, I can see what you mean though I was actually channelling General Midwinter from Len Deighton's "Billion Dollar Brain", but there's a case that Deighton was thinking of Buck Turgidson when he created Midwinter.
James Bond stood still. It took quite a while for him to take it all in; the massive sight was incredible. A dormant volcano seen from the inside, scaffolding everywhere. The walls towered over them in a vast circle, leaving a huge hole above. A helicopter sat on its pad, ready to be used. And was that a monorail he could see? He couldn’t be certain, but surely not.
Men moved efficiently around, either on foot or in jeeps, moving items from one place to another. There were what could only be accommodation buildings, dwarfed inside the huge formation, and canisters of fuel marked "Lox" on trolleys. In the centre on a raised platform stood a gantry, with an array of tall missiles attached and aiming to the sky – presumably the Mustangs. If this had been a film set, Bond thought, it deserved an Academy Award.
Lena gasped. “Father, what have you done?”
“This is not what I have done, Lena”, he said with a sharp look, “this is what the US Government have forced me into doing. I warned them about the Russkis and their space satellites, I told them what their Sputnik would do, but did they listen? They said the same as Mr Bond here, they said it was harmless. They had been too influenced by the peacemakers, the doves, the ones who listened to the Reds and their fine words. But I know the truth, and I am going to act on it!”
Bond said, “Look, General, I know that you’re – “
“Mad?” came the yelled reply. “You think I don’t know that’s what they call me? “Mad Mike”, they all say. My own men say it, too, but they say it with respect and they understand that I’m mad at the system, at what our pussy-footing politicians have allowed to happen to all of us!” He stood agitatedly at the controls for the missiles, all lit and ready to go, it seemed, set on the raised platform. A high shield stood between the controls and the missiles themselves.
“All right, tell us then. What are you going to do? Start World War Three, perhaps? Are you going to fire one of those Mustangs at Moscow, or somewhere else?” Bond looked straight at General Matador, daring him to reply.
“You don’t understand, Mr Bond”, came the calm reply. “I’m not going to fire them at anywhere. Anywhere on Earth, that is”.
It took Bond a moment to grasp Matador’s meaning. “You can’t mean it. I don’t think you could do it even if you wanted to”.
“It can be done, Mr Bond. These Mustang missiles have a sufficient range to take them into space. I intend to shoot down Sputnik before the Russkis can use it against us”.
Bond saw a glint of red begin in the General’s eyes, the glint of fanaticism he had seen too often before, more often than he had wanted to. Talking would do no good, he knew, but he had to try.
The General said, “I want to bring it down on Moscow if I can, though of course I can’t guarantee that, sending a fiery death to come crashing down from the skies on the centre of their evil”.
“If you do that then everyone on Earth will be the ones dying in a fiery death”, said Bond. “The USSR will open fire on the West. This is absolute madness. We know where it will end. NATO will counter-attack with nuclear weapons”.
“For that, Mr Bond, I will accept the judgement of posterity”.
“But Daddy” cried Lena, “you can’t –“
A burst of machine-gun fire cut her off. Startled, they turned to see dozens of men on ropes rappelling down from the opening on top, firing at the ones below and being fired at in turn. Felix, thought Bond, he had to have sent for help.
Any semblance of organisation broke down as both sides fired and ducked for cover. Bond pulled Lena down, their guards being more concerned with trying to dispose of the intruders, then went for General Matador.
The General was lunging for the control panel. Bond dived into him, sending him flying. It was too late. The General fell at the bottom of the protective screen towards the missiles as a light came on above the button marked (1) that Matador had pressed and the sound of a powerful motor and screeching exhaust filled the air. Bond rolled over and took Lena off the platform as the Mustang took off for the sky, heading straight through the volcano’s aperture.
A loud scream came from above them. Bond looked up and saw General Matador, his clothing burning from the fiery exhaust of the missile. Worse – his skin was turning black and peeling off. There was no time to help him, if indeed he could be helped. Flames had poured out at the bottom of the screen- someone had not made sure it joined the flooring exactly. Bond leapt up and ran, keeping away from the now dissipating scorching heat, to the control panel, to press the button marked (2). He could only hope that the co-ordinates entered were the same for both Mustangs and pray that the second one caught up with the first as it shot up into the sky, as he ran to the back of the platform away from the flames and what was left of Matador. Cruelly, he was still alive. If Bond's gun hadn’t been taken away, he would have shot him for mercy’s sake.
Lena came up beside him, looking down with something close to panic at the burning, writhing marionette that had been her father. Then she looked at Bond with horror in her eyes, backing away from him.
To Be Concluded
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 30,966Chief of Staff
The first two paragraphs have a somewhat familiar ring to them 😁
The beach had changed since Bond had last seen it. US helicopters had landed, temporary bases had been set up. Those of Matador’s men who had survived were being corralled in small groups, waiting for transport ships to arrive.
Felix Leiter found where he was easily and cheerfully threw his good arm round Bond’s shoulders.
“You lucked out again, Number 000”, he laughed. “Did you know I’d be sending the marines in if you didn’t get back to me?”
“I guessed”, said Bond.
“And Lena?” asked Leiter. “Is she okay?”
Bond pointed to a sad, lonely figure sitting a good distance away from him.
“See for yourself”, he said. “She just saw her father die a horrible death”.
“I’ve been in and seen it”, said Felix grimly, “looks to me like whoever attached the screen did a half-assed job, and the exhaust from the Mustangs could get through”.
“I know, and she blames me for it”.
“Oh. James, I’m sorry to hear that and –“
“Skip it, Felix. Just tell me. Matador sent a missile up to destroy Sputnik. I sent one up after it, hoping that the two missiles would meet before getting to it”.
“And you lucked out again. That is exactly what happened, or so I have been told by the experts. A Mustang missile was fired from right here towards Sputnik but was destroyed by a second one before it got there. The Russians have made the expected noises about that, but they’ll calm down soon enough once Dmitry and his boys report back and tell them the score”.
Bond relaxed, slightly.
“Now go talk to that young lady over there, James. She needs to understand what this is all about and how it could have been a whole lot worse”, said Leiter.
Bond nodded at his friend and began walking towards Magdelena.
Comments
I'm very happy you're liking it, guys. Next chapter very soon.
Chapter Five
The breakfast was not any more interesting than the evening meal had been. Leiter ate silently until Lena got up to fetch Bond more coffee, then raised one eyebrow.
“I believe I said you were to be strictly an observer”, he admonished his friend gently.
Bond didn’t bother to deny anything.
“These things happen, Felix”, he said, eating some cold toast.
“They frequently do, around you”.
After they had eaten as much as they could tolerate, they had started to head for their rooms when they were approached by a man in a cheap suit, with a hat ten years out of style on his crew cut head.
“Mr Bond and Mr Leiter, I believe. We would like to have a word with you”.
The man moved to one side to reveal two others, all so similar they could have come out of the same factory. They each had a hand in one pocket. Behind Bond was the open plan dining area, no chance of cover. He and Felix exchanged weary nods.
“All right”, said Bond.
“Bring your young lady friend too, of course”.
They were led to one of the small bedrooms and gestured inside. The guns were now not hidden, and with one pointing at Lena Bond allowed them to take his Walther from beneath his jacket. They were told to sit down, on the chairs and bed. The others remained standing, one at the door.
“Now, I expect you are wondering what this is all about”, said the man who had spoken first.
“Only a little”, said Bond. “I recognize your accent. Moscow, I believe”.
The man smiled.
“Very good, Mr Bond. My name is Dmitry. And we recognized both yourself and Mr Leiter and thought it might be a good idea to have a little conversation. But first, would you mind introducing the young lady to us?”
“The young lady is perfectly capable of introducing herself, thank you”, she said, “My name is Magdelena Matador”.
The three Russians glanced at each other in surprise.
“Matador?” said Dmitry. “It would be too much of a coincidence for you to be unrelated to General Matador – his daughter, perhaps?”
Lena nodded.
“So! Your presence here begins to make sense. I am guessing that you are seeking the young lady’s father?”
There wouldn’t be much point in lying about it. Leiter said, “Us, the American Army, and from what you’re saying I guess the Red Army as well?”
The three Russians laughed. Dmitry said, “I believe that twenty or thirty million Soviet soldiers on American soil might be so conspicuous that even your CIA or FBI might notice them. No, Mr Leiter, my friends and I are from the KGB. That is how we knew to recognise both Mr Bond – the scar is most distinctive – and yourself, owing to your unfortunate injuries”.
“Therefore it would appear that this time we are both chasing a common enemy, Dmitry”, said Bond.
“Yes, just so. And it is my proposal that we join forces. You have the General’s daughter, who might be useful in, shall we say, certain circumstances and we know where he and his men are”.
Dmitry was aware that speaking those words ensured that he was the centre of attention, and enjoyed his moment.
“If you know where he is”, said Leiter slowly, “why don’t you send in the Red Army you were telling us of just a moment ago?”
“Ah, do not think that we would not like doing exactly that”, said Dmitry, “but as I was saying their presence on American soil may cause some diplomatic tension, to say the least”.
“So he is still on American soil”, said Bond. “And you are thinking that if you tell the three of us then we can go there and, hopefully, bring him back to his senses, and his daughter being with us may be a powerful card to play there”.
The alternative to that was clear for all to see, but no-one would mention it out loud in front of his own family.
“Just so”, said Dmitry. “We have entered a new era of Anglo-Soviet co-operation”.
“So, let me see if I understand this, James”, said a bemused M, “you and your friends are going to work together with your opposite numbers to reach this rogue American. The opposition know his location, and you have a possible trump card in the form of his daughter. Is that right?”
“That’s the situation, sir. I don’t suppose you’ve managed to come up with anything that may help us?”
“Afraid not. It looks like your plan is our best option, James, much as I hate to admit it. Just keep me informed as best you can”.
Bond hung up the phone and returned to the room which had become the de facto headquarters for their unprecedented team.
“Your chief, he has given what you call the word?” asked Dmitry.
“He has. We go ahead. Now, Matador is on American soil, you said. Where are we going?” asked Bond.
Dmitry smiled.
“Hawaii”.
To Be Continued
Again, nice plot building 👏🏻
Thanks, Sir M, I hope to build it up even more in a chapter or two.
It’s coming along very nicely 👏
Just building up, as said above, a little at a time.
Chapter Six
The De Havilland Comet landed smoothly at Honolulu International Airport. Bond’s party swept through customs after some words and a display of documents from Leiter and took two taxis to their chosen hotel. There were signs of building everywhere, and it seemed to Bond that sadly the beautiful island would be overwhelmed with hotels and other tourist attractions before too long.
They had booked rooms at the Royal and Bond was impressed by the elegant furnishings and styling. After half an hour to freshen up Bond met Leiter in the very pleasant bar and over the first vodka martini they began talking shop.
“Are you sure we can trust these Russians, James?” asked Felix. “I mean, they know who we are and that we’ve been working against them in the past, more than once”.
“I don’t see that we have any choice. Do you have any better ideas, Felix? We don’t know where Mad Mike is, they do”.
“I don’t, no. It just rubs the wrong way, I don’t have to like it”.
One of the Russians came in and joined them. Leiter ordered more vodka martinis, much to the Russian’s confusion.
“What is this martini? I drink my vodka straight”.
“Give it a try … what is your name anyway?” asked Bond.
“Vladimir. And you are James and Felix, no?” smiled the KGB man.
One more drink and they were friends. It seemed that Vladimir had a young son back home, also called Vladimir.
“He is the, how do you say, apple of my eye”, the happy father said proudly. “I hope that he grows up to join the KGB just like me”.
Dmitry and the third Russian joined them, and more drinks were ordered.
“I hope you haven’t been boring our new friends about your son, Vladimir”, laughed Dmitry. “He says he will grow up to be head of the KGB, or maybe even the President”.
Vladimir laughed. It wasn’t the first time his colleagues had ragged him about his high ambitions for his son. Magdelena came up and joined them, asking for a glass of white wine.
“But enough of this”, said Dmitry. “We have little time and must make our plans. I will tell you where the young lady’s father is, and we will together make our plans on how to approach, da?”
Bond and Leiter nodded. Lena smiled tautly.
“Very well. He is on the Ku-u-i-po island. It is about forty kilometres from here, and is uninhabited – well, apart from the renegade Americans, of course”.
“And why is it uninhabited? Is it too small?” asked Bond.
“It is small”, said Leiter, “but it also has a volcano”.
“So do many of these islands”, said Dmitry. “This one is inactive, but it does not attract either tourists or inhabitants”.
Vladimir said, “It is only obvious that he will have the place guarded. We could not sail up on it, for example”.
“I have an idea about that”, said Lena. “Dmitry, is there perhaps a Russian ship in the area?”
Dmitry struggled for a moment, his instinctive tendencies to secrecy tormenting him before he sighed and spoke. “There is a ship called the St Petersburg not far away. It is thought by the West to be an ocean research vessel, but it is really under the command of the KGB. So, I can decide where it is to go. But you will never get it to the island without General Matador knowing about it”.
Lena smiled. “Don’t worry, it won’t have to”.
The waves were higher than Bond had anticipated by seeing them from the ship. They had to be, or Lena’s idea would not work.
She surfed effortlessly along the crest of the waves, with Bond only a few yards behind her. It gave him a very enjoyable view of her rear end, only scantily covered by her bikini bottom, as she flexed her muscles to keep in command of the board. There was still at least a mile to go, and so far they had seen no sign of any defences. The sun was blazing down and he could feel his skin burning, but that would have to be tolerated for the moment.
“Are you sure this crazy idea will work?” Leiter had asked, back on the St Petersburg.
“We don’t have any choice, Felix”, Bond said, stuffing some clothes into a water-resistant bag along with his gun. “Time is short, and we can’t go up to the front door and knock, now, can we?”
“Yeah, well, if you’re not back pretty damn quickly I’m going to take some measures of my own”. Leiter puffed on a cigarette.
The island of Ku-u-i-po loomed ahead, a white-sanded beach before the majestic volcano, coming up fast. They surfed up as far as they could before picking up their boards and running into the trees to cover them as much as possible and change into the clothes they had brought. The sun dried them off in an unsurprisingly short span of time. Without a word they headed through the trees towards the volcano, the only landmark on the otherwise uniform island, and their sweat ran like waterfalls down their bodies.
As they drew closer, Lena turned and murmured in Bond’s ear “I don’t see anybody. What do you think –“
A harsh voice on Bond’s right grated out of nowhere. “That’s far enough, bud”.
Two men in GI fatigues appeared from the undergrowth, sub-machine guns aimed at them. Bond held his hands up and surrendered his pistol after a rough search, and an only slightly less rough search of Magdelena. One of the men indicated with his gun toward the nearest face of the volcano.
“This way”.
They were led to a cave-like opening they hadn’t noticed before and pushed inside. The cave was lit by electric lamps every ten yards or so and they walked, stumbling over rocks and stones, until a further opening on the right. A wooden door had been attached there, and two more GIs stood on either side. After a nod, one of them knocked on the door and was answered by a barked “Yeah?” from within.
The door was opened and Bond and Lena were pushed in, followed by the GIs. The room was well-lit and a compact man in uniform stood in front of a desk covered with papers. He looked at them sharply.
“Hello, Father”, said Lena.
To Be Continued
Easter eggs galore 🍸
😀 warned you!
Ku-u-i-po Island.
Hmm...now where have I heard that name..?
Great story Barbel...
Keep up the great work.
Many thanks, Sonero! 😄
Nice work spotting that reference - I didn't know you were a fellow Elvis fan, I expected @chrisno1 to get that one.
I got it. I'm just too busy. Got a lotta livin to do...
Young Vladimir 🤭
That was one I didn’t get 😂
See, it pays to be an Elvis fan!
That's all right ....
😁 Glad you liked that, Sir M!
Chapter Seven
The General lost his composure for a moment.
“Lena! What the hell are you doing here?” he blurted, then seemed to remember that he was more than simply a concerned father but a General in front of his men. He visibly straightened his back and shoulders, and gave only a very restrained hug to his daughter as she ran into his arms.
“Oh Daddy”, she said, tears running down her face, “we were so worried about you! Mother has been crying herself to sleep, we just didn’t know where you had gone, and all these police and soldiers kept on asking and asking us”.
“I’m fine, Lena, I’m fine. You didn’t need to come all the way out here – and how did you find me, anyway?”
For the first time his eyes settled on Bond. There was a flash of understanding.
“Ah, right. I know who you are. You’re British Secret Service, aren’t you? Captain James Bond, isn’t it?”
“Commander, actually, General”.
“Whatever, some limey Naval rank anyway. You found out I was here, didn’t you, and brought my little girl with you, hoping to make some sort of deal”.
Bond nodded.
“Something like that”.
“Surely you haven’t come to negotiate. Your pitiful little island hasn’t even been threatened”.
“General, I’m here because a young woman needs her father and her mother needs a husband”, said Bond. “You walked out on them and didn’t tell them why, then you start threatening the American government, saying that you might start World War Three if they don’t listen to –“
“What?” cried Lena.
Too late, Bond thought, I could have handled that a lot better.
“You’re going to do what, Daddy? Tell me that isn’t true!”
“Now, Lena, you have to understand – “
“Tell me what you’re going to do! Tell me now!”
The General sighed. Six torturers with carpet beaters and red-hot irons wouldn’t have been able to make him talk. One daughter could.
“Listen, you remember the night I left, don’t you?” he said.
“Of course I do. You were watching the television then you just jumped up and packed a bag and – “
“Honey, it’s what I was watching on the television. You don’t remember?”
“No, of course not. Was it important?”
He looked at her sadly.
“I was watching the news, Lena. The Russkis had just successfully launched a satellite into space. They call it the Sputnik. They’re using it to watch us, every one of us. They can see where our ships are with it, they can watch our army movements, track our aircraft. Don’t you see? It’s the ultimate weapon!”
Bond tried to interrupt as calmly as he could. “General, that just isn’t so. Sputnik can’t do any of those things. Maybe in twenty or thirty years we will have satellites that can do what you are concerned about, but not now. It’s –“
“Silence! You don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve got to deal with it and we’ve got to deal with it now before they launch any other of these weapons and take away our military advantage. Don’t you see?”
Bond said, “General, that’s simply not how Sputnik works. It doesn’t have cameras or any other observational equipment. I grant you, those will arrive later but in all probability it’ll be NASA that will lead the way with that”.
General Matador shook his head. “You’ve swallowed their propaganda, boy. Come with me. I’ll show you”.
He stiffly headed for the door and indicated for Bond and Lena to follow, with the guards in attendance. He took the opposite direction from the way they had come in, leading them further inside.
After a short time they reached another door, again with two soldiers on guard. They saluted, then stood back as the General opened the door and waved Bond inside.
To Be Continued
I hope this doesn’t end soon 👏
Excellent again 👏🏻
It’s probably just me, but I’m getting slight General ‘Buck’ Turgidson vibes from General Mike Matador….👀
“Surely you haven’t come to negotiate. Your pitiful little island hasn’t even been threatened”
I got this one 🤗
Barbel...keep up the great work.
This is a fantastic story.
@Sonero Another superb illustration 👏
Thank you for the kind words @CoolHandBond .
And more kind words from me, @Sonero - perfectly timed and beautiful.
Thank you, everyone.
Sir Miles, I can see what you mean though I was actually channelling General Midwinter from Len Deighton's "Billion Dollar Brain", but there's a case that Deighton was thinking of Buck Turgidson when he created Midwinter.
Chapter Eight
James Bond stood still. It took quite a while for him to take it all in; the massive sight was incredible. A dormant volcano seen from the inside, scaffolding everywhere. The walls towered over them in a vast circle, leaving a huge hole above. A helicopter sat on its pad, ready to be used. And was that a monorail he could see? He couldn’t be certain, but surely not.
Men moved efficiently around, either on foot or in jeeps, moving items from one place to another. There were what could only be accommodation buildings, dwarfed inside the huge formation, and canisters of fuel marked "Lox" on trolleys. In the centre on a raised platform stood a gantry, with an array of tall missiles attached and aiming to the sky – presumably the Mustangs. If this had been a film set, Bond thought, it deserved an Academy Award.
Lena gasped. “Father, what have you done?”
“This is not what I have done, Lena”, he said with a sharp look, “this is what the US Government have forced me into doing. I warned them about the Russkis and their space satellites, I told them what their Sputnik would do, but did they listen? They said the same as Mr Bond here, they said it was harmless. They had been too influenced by the peacemakers, the doves, the ones who listened to the Reds and their fine words. But I know the truth, and I am going to act on it!”
Bond said, “Look, General, I know that you’re – “
“Mad?” came the yelled reply. “You think I don’t know that’s what they call me? “Mad Mike”, they all say. My own men say it, too, but they say it with respect and they understand that I’m mad at the system, at what our pussy-footing politicians have allowed to happen to all of us!” He stood agitatedly at the controls for the missiles, all lit and ready to go, it seemed, set on the raised platform. A high shield stood between the controls and the missiles themselves.
“All right, tell us then. What are you going to do? Start World War Three, perhaps? Are you going to fire one of those Mustangs at Moscow, or somewhere else?” Bond looked straight at General Matador, daring him to reply.
“You don’t understand, Mr Bond”, came the calm reply. “I’m not going to fire them at anywhere. Anywhere on Earth, that is”.
It took Bond a moment to grasp Matador’s meaning. “You can’t mean it. I don’t think you could do it even if you wanted to”.
“It can be done, Mr Bond. These Mustang missiles have a sufficient range to take them into space. I intend to shoot down Sputnik before the Russkis can use it against us”.
Bond saw a glint of red begin in the General’s eyes, the glint of fanaticism he had seen too often before, more often than he had wanted to. Talking would do no good, he knew, but he had to try.
The General said, “I want to bring it down on Moscow if I can, though of course I can’t guarantee that, sending a fiery death to come crashing down from the skies on the centre of their evil”.
“If you do that then everyone on Earth will be the ones dying in a fiery death”, said Bond. “The USSR will open fire on the West. This is absolute madness. We know where it will end. NATO will counter-attack with nuclear weapons”.
“For that, Mr Bond, I will accept the judgement of posterity”.
“But Daddy” cried Lena, “you can’t –“
A burst of machine-gun fire cut her off. Startled, they turned to see dozens of men on ropes rappelling down from the opening on top, firing at the ones below and being fired at in turn. Felix, thought Bond, he had to have sent for help.
Any semblance of organisation broke down as both sides fired and ducked for cover. Bond pulled Lena down, their guards being more concerned with trying to dispose of the intruders, then went for General Matador.
The General was lunging for the control panel. Bond dived into him, sending him flying. It was too late. The General fell at the bottom of the protective screen towards the missiles as a light came on above the button marked (1) that Matador had pressed and the sound of a powerful motor and screeching exhaust filled the air. Bond rolled over and took Lena off the platform as the Mustang took off for the sky, heading straight through the volcano’s aperture.
A loud scream came from above them. Bond looked up and saw General Matador, his clothing burning from the fiery exhaust of the missile. Worse – his skin was turning black and peeling off. There was no time to help him, if indeed he could be helped. Flames had poured out at the bottom of the screen- someone had not made sure it joined the flooring exactly. Bond leapt up and ran, keeping away from the now dissipating scorching heat, to the control panel, to press the button marked (2). He could only hope that the co-ordinates entered were the same for both Mustangs and pray that the second one caught up with the first as it shot up into the sky, as he ran to the back of the platform away from the flames and what was left of Matador. Cruelly, he was still alive. If Bond's gun hadn’t been taken away, he would have shot him for mercy’s sake.
Lena came up beside him, looking down with something close to panic at the burning, writhing marionette that had been her father. Then she looked at Bond with horror in her eyes, backing away from him.
To Be Concluded
The first two paragraphs have a somewhat familiar ring to them 😁
That's me trying something different in that a reference isn't in the dialogue.
“This is absolute madness. We know where it will end. NATO will counter-attack with nuclear weapons”.
These references you slip in are very well placed 😁👏
I'm enjoying that aspect, but will definitely cut down on it in the next story.
Epilogue
The beach had changed since Bond had last seen it. US helicopters had landed, temporary bases had been set up. Those of Matador’s men who had survived were being corralled in small groups, waiting for transport ships to arrive.
Felix Leiter found where he was easily and cheerfully threw his good arm round Bond’s shoulders.
“You lucked out again, Number 000”, he laughed. “Did you know I’d be sending the marines in if you didn’t get back to me?”
“I guessed”, said Bond.
“And Lena?” asked Leiter. “Is she okay?”
Bond pointed to a sad, lonely figure sitting a good distance away from him.
“See for yourself”, he said. “She just saw her father die a horrible death”.
“I’ve been in and seen it”, said Felix grimly, “looks to me like whoever attached the screen did a half-assed job, and the exhaust from the Mustangs could get through”.
“I know, and she blames me for it”.
“Oh. James, I’m sorry to hear that and –“
“Skip it, Felix. Just tell me. Matador sent a missile up to destroy Sputnik. I sent one up after it, hoping that the two missiles would meet before getting to it”.
“And you lucked out again. That is exactly what happened, or so I have been told by the experts. A Mustang missile was fired from right here towards Sputnik but was destroyed by a second one before it got there. The Russians have made the expected noises about that, but they’ll calm down soon enough once Dmitry and his boys report back and tell them the score”.
Bond relaxed, slightly.
“Now go talk to that young lady over there, James. She needs to understand what this is all about and how it could have been a whole lot worse”, said Leiter.
Bond nodded at his friend and began walking towards Magdelena.
THE END
Another great James Bond story Barbel.
I can easily see a John Drake adventure based on your story for season 1 of Danger Man / Secret Agent.
Bravo!
Thank you, Sonero, and of course many thanks for your artwork.