Bond followed down a corridor and to a locked door. Crowley produced a key and opened it, then led the way in accompanied by Ingrid. All four of the guards brought up the rear, in case Bond had any thoughts of resisting.
It was cold, colder than the ground floor of the mansion had been. The stairs went up, taking a break on small landings every now and then, a lot further than Bond had anticipated. At the top was another locked door, this one clearly older than the one at ground level. The key Crowley brought out this time was massive and rusted, and the door creaked as it was opened.
Bond walked into a circular room, taking up the entire top floor of the tower. Oaken tables with flasks containing liquids he could only guess at were against the stone walls. Some of them were connected by thin glass pipes. Now and then an electrical transformer of some kind separated them.
Between the tables were larger electrical machines, with levers and meters covering almost all their surfaces. These machines were active; they hummed quietly but steadily, and the indicators on their meters flickered back and forth.
In the centre of the room were two long trolleys, of the sort that were used in operating theatres. A form lay on each, covered by heavy sheets. Crowley stood beside them, like an actor taking centre stage, with Ingrid at his side.
Bond could sense the guards’ uneasiness and understood that this was the first time they had been allowed up into the tower. They looked at each other shiftily, beginning to wonder if they really wanted to be here.
Their misgivings were apparent to more than Bond. Crowley laughed, saying, “It’s all right, gentlemen. Nothing to be alarmed about”.
“So you say, Lord Summerisle. I think there’s a lot to be alarmed about. Care to enlighten us?”
“Of course, Mr Bond. That is why we are here and you are not already dead. I want you to see what is being carried out here as the first steps in creating an indestructible army which will overrun first this country and then the world, led by myself and the beautiful Ingrid Blücher”.
From outside Bond thought he heard the faint sound of horses whinnying in fright.
“All that I told you is true. The evidence is right here in front of us”.
Crowley theatrically pulled back one of the sheets. On the trolley lay a gigantic figure in dark clothing with huge boots. The eyes were closed as if asleep, and the skin had a faint but definite greenish tinge.
“Yes, Mr Bond, this is “The Green Man” who was seen here all those years ago and has since passed into local folklore”, Crowley said.
The locals pulled back towards the door they had entered by. Crowley smiled at their discomfort.
“Nothing to worry about, gentlemen, he is in a dormant condition”, said Ingrid.
“He looks dead to me”, said Bond.
“Still you do not see”, Crowley shook his head. “He's alive. He's indestructible. Frankenstein's creation is man's challenge to the laws of life and death, an area in which I possess much experience as you may remember. Ingrid and I have proved his indestructability – we have shot him with bullets, stabbed him with swords, and still he lives”.
Bond wondered for a moment how the creature would have felt about that, but Crowley was still talking.
“The answer is beyond electricity, though that powers the process. Victor all those years ago was obliged to seek the power of lightning – see above you, Mr Bond”.
Bond looked up at a large skylight which could be opened by pulleys and ropes. The trolleys were also attached to ropes and could be raised at will.
“However, we in this century have the benefit of electrical power – in this case from our own generator at the rear of the building – as I shall demonstrate”.
He walked to one of the large transformers. There were three levers protruding, each with it’s own meter above it.
“Now, watch. All of you!”
He pulled one lever. The background hum grew stronger, and light flickered at what looked like a Tesla coil. The lights in the room dimmed. Crowley looked at his watch, clearly timing the interval, then pulled the second lever.
This time the humming became crackling. Beams of light flew across the room, being emitted by one device then received by another. Time seemed to stop, then with a loud groan the huge figure moved one hand.
It’s alive, thought Bond. Crowley cackled loudly, then stood by the levers as Ingrid helped the creature to it’s feet. It towered over her, and the faint green skin seemed to pulse with life. The skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips.
One of the locals pointed in terror.
“The Green Man!” he yelled. “The Green Man!”
His companions began to shout as Crowley tried to calm them down. “It is all right, please do not fear!” he said loudly but was ignored as his henchmen threw open the door and ran downstairs, almost tripping over each other in their terror.
The green figure looked first at Bond then Crowley. His recognition of Crowley and Ingrid was clear, and he obviously did not know Bond at all. Bond could only surmise that while he had been lying there enduring whatever painful procedures and invasions those two had inflicted upon his supine form, he had retained enough consciousness to be aware of them and recognise them now. Frankenstein’s creation walked to Crowley and easily took him in one hand while reaching for the third lever with the other.
“Get away from that lever!” a terrified Crowley yelled, all composure forsaken. “You’ll blow us all to atoms!”
The creature looked at Ingrid, crouching in terror behind the second trolley, from whose sheeted figure some frizzy black hair streaked with white escaped, then at Bond.
“Go”, he said in a cavernous tenor, “you live”. Then turned to the other two. “You stay. We belong dead”.
Ingrid screamed as Bond dived down the staircase. He heard the first explosions begin before he was halfway down, and ran faster and harder than he thought possible.
He managed to fall out of the front door of the mansion as the tower came crumbling down.
THE END
Epilogue
Two months later
Willow came out from the bathroom, terror on her face. What would her father say? What would he do? And then another thought brought a smile to her lips. She felt sure in herself that this would be a girl, and as her mother had done she would name her … Willow.
It was as pure a case of nominative determinism as Cooper had ever seen. He couldn’t speak any Bulgarian so had no idea what the names might mean in these two’s native language – he had already titled them “Bear” and “Weasel” in his mind purely based on looks – but in English the names Stuj and Fallgi forced him to keep a straight face and not make them aware of what was going on in his mind. Fortunately he’d had quite a bit of practice at that.
“So”, he said, “are you sure that you are clear on what to do?”
Weasel answered. It was always he who did the talking for the two of them, Cooper had noted. He found himself reminded of Lennie and George from Steinbeck.
“Yes, Mr Cooper”, he said in his thickly-accented English, “we understand”.
He held up the two boxy cameras.
“We press the red button on this black camera, count three, then throw it at the man coming out from the casino. We then press the blue button on the other camera which will release a smokescreen and we make our way from the scene very quickly”.
Cooper nodded. “That’s right. Now, go”.
There were trees on either side of the road leading to the casino. Under cover of one, Stuj and Fallgi stood waiting.
“You know, Stuj”, said Bear slowly in his native tongue, “I’ve been thinking”.
“Ho”, laughed Weasel, “what a special day this is”.
“Oh, stop that. How about we press the blue button first to make the smoke and then we press the red button and throw the other camera at the target?”
Weasel, or Stuj, looked at his partner with new respect.
“For once, Fallgi, I think you might be on to something. The smoke will hide us more quickly that way. All right, that’s what we’ll do”.
The American came out from the casino, smoking a cigarette, and looked at the time on his watch which he wore on the left wrist. He barely took note of the two men under the tree, who seemed to be fiddling with some kind of camera, as he started to walk down the road towards his hotel.
The light startled him first before he was deafened by the noise and the blast pitched him to the ground. The air was full of smoke and small pieces of bloody meat. He struggled to get to his feet, hampered by the hook that was his right hand not being any use to gain leverage.
It took a few moments for others to come to his aid – the doorman from the casino, a passing gendarme. He thanked them for their help, brushing himself down, then headed back to the casino for a seat and a stiff drink.
“Oh, Monsieur”, said the barman, “are you the man that was blown up?”
“No”, said Felix Leiter, “I’m the guy that missed being blown up”.
He took his time to make sure he was recovered, knowing the street would be full of police, while deciding his next move.
Many thanks, CHB. That was inspired by a scene from the CR novel which never made it to a film.
Of Mice And Men is a book I was grumblingly obliged to read in school and it turned out to be well worth reading. I've seen it as a play and a film, too, and you won't be surprised to learn that I think Lon Chaney Jr is superb in the 1939 version.
Sir MilesThe Wrong Side Of The WardrobePosts: 30,932Chief of Staff
James Bond had very much enjoyed his breakfast, served the way he rather fussily liked it by his housekeeper May, when there was the sound of a letter arriving.
May looked up from clearing the dishes away. “The postman’s early today, Mr James”, she said.
Any break from routine demanded at least a cursory enquiry, so he put his cup down on her tray and stood up.
“I’ll get it, May”, he said, and headed for the door. There was one envelope lying on the carpet, his name but no address written on the front. Frowning, he went to the kitchen and picked up a long thin knife which he used to gently turn the envelope over. It was not sealed and clearly contained nothing other than a sheet of paper. He took it to his study and used the letter opener to gently pull it open and remove the message inside.
“James
Regent’s Park, now.
F”
Puzzled, he went to dress.
It was an uncharacteristically beautiful day for November and the park was very appealing. Even if he hadn’t an appointment there he might have felt inclined to go for a wander through it on his way to the office.
The park covered a lot of land and he wasn’t surprised to find his objective near the entrance Bond was most likely to use. The mop of straw-coloured hair was unmistakable, though the right hand was stuffed inside his jacket pocket to hide the hook. They both smiled with genuine pleasure at seeing one another.
“Hello, Felix”, said Bond, remembering to hold out his left hand which was seized in a firm, dry grip.
“James”, said Felix, “been too long”.
They headed for a bench not immediately obvious from the entrance.
“So, what’s all the mystery?” asked Bond. “You know my number, or you could have come to the office”.
“Not this time”, said Leiter, “I’m not working for the CIA at the moment. This is a Pinkerton’s job, and I don’t believe your government would be keen on helping private concerns”.
Bond raised an eyebrow. “On that topic, you never know. What’s the problem?”
“I just came back from Paris. There was a little incident while I was there, you might have picked up some news about it”.
“Outside the casino? You mean you were the man who was blown up?”
“No, I’m the guy that missed being blown up”. Felix gave a wry smile. “As I’ve been known to say before. We’ve had information back from the Deuxieme Bureau, it seems that they found enough bits of the two men who blew themselves up rather than blowing me up to tell that they were Bulgarian. Names were Georgi Stuj and Leni Fallgi. Apparently they had been carrying two gadgets of some kind, perhaps tape recorders or cameras, which were both packed with explosives. The Bureau are guessing that they were told one of them was to be thrown at me and the other was for some sort of diversion to let them make their escape. The thing is, both of the gadgets were filled with explosive so after blowing me up they would do the same to themselves, leaving no loose ends. Didn’t quite work out that way though”.
Bond let out a sigh. “You were lucky there, Felix. Now tell me – what were you doing there, anyway?”
“I was looking for a woman named Leonie Lacroix”.
“All right. Care to tell me why?”
It was Leiter’s turn to sigh. “I suppose I’d better go back to the beginning ….”
Comments
Chapter Six
Illustrations by Sonero
Bond followed down a corridor and to a locked door. Crowley produced a key and opened it, then led the way in accompanied by Ingrid. All four of the guards brought up the rear, in case Bond had any thoughts of resisting.
It was cold, colder than the ground floor of the mansion had been. The stairs went up, taking a break on small landings every now and then, a lot further than Bond had anticipated. At the top was another locked door, this one clearly older than the one at ground level. The key Crowley brought out this time was massive and rusted, and the door creaked as it was opened.
Bond walked into a circular room, taking up the entire top floor of the tower. Oaken tables with flasks containing liquids he could only guess at were against the stone walls. Some of them were connected by thin glass pipes. Now and then an electrical transformer of some kind separated them.
Between the tables were larger electrical machines, with levers and meters covering almost all their surfaces. These machines were active; they hummed quietly but steadily, and the indicators on their meters flickered back and forth.
In the centre of the room were two long trolleys, of the sort that were used in operating theatres. A form lay on each, covered by heavy sheets. Crowley stood beside them, like an actor taking centre stage, with Ingrid at his side.
Bond could sense the guards’ uneasiness and understood that this was the first time they had been allowed up into the tower. They looked at each other shiftily, beginning to wonder if they really wanted to be here.
Their misgivings were apparent to more than Bond. Crowley laughed, saying, “It’s all right, gentlemen. Nothing to be alarmed about”.
“So you say, Lord Summerisle. I think there’s a lot to be alarmed about. Care to enlighten us?”
“Of course, Mr Bond. That is why we are here and you are not already dead. I want you to see what is being carried out here as the first steps in creating an indestructible army which will overrun first this country and then the world, led by myself and the beautiful Ingrid Blücher”.
From outside Bond thought he heard the faint sound of horses whinnying in fright.
“All that I told you is true. The evidence is right here in front of us”.
Crowley theatrically pulled back one of the sheets. On the trolley lay a gigantic figure in dark clothing with huge boots. The eyes were closed as if asleep, and the skin had a faint but definite greenish tinge.
“Yes, Mr Bond, this is “The Green Man” who was seen here all those years ago and has since passed into local folklore”, Crowley said.
The locals pulled back towards the door they had entered by. Crowley smiled at their discomfort.
“Nothing to worry about, gentlemen, he is in a dormant condition”, said Ingrid.
“He looks dead to me”, said Bond.
“Still you do not see”, Crowley shook his head. “He's alive. He's indestructible. Frankenstein's creation is man's challenge to the laws of life and death, an area in which I possess much experience as you may remember. Ingrid and I have proved his indestructability – we have shot him with bullets, stabbed him with swords, and still he lives”.
Bond wondered for a moment how the creature would have felt about that, but Crowley was still talking.
“The answer is beyond electricity, though that powers the process. Victor all those years ago was obliged to seek the power of lightning – see above you, Mr Bond”.
Bond looked up at a large skylight which could be opened by pulleys and ropes. The trolleys were also attached to ropes and could be raised at will.
“However, we in this century have the benefit of electrical power – in this case from our own generator at the rear of the building – as I shall demonstrate”.
He walked to one of the large transformers. There were three levers protruding, each with it’s own meter above it.
“Now, watch. All of you!”
He pulled one lever. The background hum grew stronger, and light flickered at what looked like a Tesla coil. The lights in the room dimmed. Crowley looked at his watch, clearly timing the interval, then pulled the second lever.
This time the humming became crackling. Beams of light flew across the room, being emitted by one device then received by another. Time seemed to stop, then with a loud groan the huge figure moved one hand.
It’s alive, thought Bond. Crowley cackled loudly, then stood by the levers as Ingrid helped the creature to it’s feet. It towered over her, and the faint green skin seemed to pulse with life. The skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips.
One of the locals pointed in terror.
“The Green Man!” he yelled. “The Green Man!”
His companions began to shout as Crowley tried to calm them down. “It is all right, please do not fear!” he said loudly but was ignored as his henchmen threw open the door and ran downstairs, almost tripping over each other in their terror.
The green figure looked first at Bond then Crowley. His recognition of Crowley and Ingrid was clear, and he obviously did not know Bond at all. Bond could only surmise that while he had been lying there enduring whatever painful procedures and invasions those two had inflicted upon his supine form, he had retained enough consciousness to be aware of them and recognise them now. Frankenstein’s creation walked to Crowley and easily took him in one hand while reaching for the third lever with the other.
“Get away from that lever!” a terrified Crowley yelled, all composure forsaken. “You’ll blow us all to atoms!”
The creature looked at Ingrid, crouching in terror behind the second trolley, from whose sheeted figure some frizzy black hair streaked with white escaped, then at Bond.
“Go”, he said in a cavernous tenor, “you live”. Then turned to the other two. “You stay. We belong dead”.
Ingrid screamed as Bond dived down the staircase. He heard the first explosions begin before he was halfway down, and ran faster and harder than he thought possible.
He managed to fall out of the front door of the mansion as the tower came crumbling down.
THE END
Epilogue
Two months later
Willow came out from the bathroom, terror on her face. What would her father say? What would he do? And then another thought brought a smile to her lips. She felt sure in herself that this would be a girl, and as her mother had done she would name her … Willow.
Barbel...
👏👏👏👏👏
Bravo!
Thank you, Sonero. And thank you also for the illustrations
You are most welcome Barbel.
What a fabulous crossover story…loved that…and Willow Bond 😮🤣
Thanks, Sir Miles. I hope @chrisno1 forgives me for the ending, I don't plan to be coming back to that again.
@Barbel Super story, great ending.
@Sonero Another comic masterpiece 😂
Thank you for the kind words @CoolHandBond.
The inspiration for this absurd comic strip came from this passage in the novel.
Dr. No is an avid stamp collector.
Thanks CHB, and Sonero that is crazy! 😅😅😅
Thank you @Barbel for the kind words.
The comic strips referred to above now have their own dedicated thread at
https://www.ajb007.co.uk/discussion/57487/imaginary-comic-strips#latest
And very good it is too 👍🏻
Illustration by Sonero
RETOUR A PARIS
1972
Paris
Chapter One
It was as pure a case of nominative determinism as Cooper had ever seen. He couldn’t speak any Bulgarian so had no idea what the names might mean in these two’s native language – he had already titled them “Bear” and “Weasel” in his mind purely based on looks – but in English the names Stuj and Fallgi forced him to keep a straight face and not make them aware of what was going on in his mind. Fortunately he’d had quite a bit of practice at that.
“So”, he said, “are you sure that you are clear on what to do?”
Weasel answered. It was always he who did the talking for the two of them, Cooper had noted. He found himself reminded of Lennie and George from Steinbeck.
“Yes, Mr Cooper”, he said in his thickly-accented English, “we understand”.
He held up the two boxy cameras.
“We press the red button on this black camera, count three, then throw it at the man coming out from the casino. We then press the blue button on the other camera which will release a smokescreen and we make our way from the scene very quickly”.
Cooper nodded. “That’s right. Now, go”.
There were trees on either side of the road leading to the casino. Under cover of one, Stuj and Fallgi stood waiting.
“You know, Stuj”, said Bear slowly in his native tongue, “I’ve been thinking”.
“Ho”, laughed Weasel, “what a special day this is”.
“Oh, stop that. How about we press the blue button first to make the smoke and then we press the red button and throw the other camera at the target?”
Weasel, or Stuj, looked at his partner with new respect.
“For once, Fallgi, I think you might be on to something. The smoke will hide us more quickly that way. All right, that’s what we’ll do”.
The American came out from the casino, smoking a cigarette, and looked at the time on his watch which he wore on the left wrist. He barely took note of the two men under the tree, who seemed to be fiddling with some kind of camera, as he started to walk down the road towards his hotel.
The light startled him first before he was deafened by the noise and the blast pitched him to the ground. The air was full of smoke and small pieces of bloody meat. He struggled to get to his feet, hampered by the hook that was his right hand not being any use to gain leverage.
It took a few moments for others to come to his aid – the doorman from the casino, a passing gendarme. He thanked them for their help, brushing himself down, then headed back to the casino for a seat and a stiff drink.
“Oh, Monsieur”, said the barman, “are you the man that was blown up?”
“No”, said Felix Leiter, “I’m the guy that missed being blown up”.
He took his time to make sure he was recovered, knowing the street would be full of police, while deciding his next move.
To Be Continued
Stooge and Fallguy 😂😂🤣 and then Of Mice And Men, what a contrast 😁
Great start @Barbel i’m looking forward to where this goes.
Many thanks, CHB. That was inspired by a scene from the CR novel which never made it to a film.
Of Mice And Men is a book I was grumblingly obliged to read in school and it turned out to be well worth reading. I've seen it as a play and a film, too, and you won't be surprised to learn that I think Lon Chaney Jr is superb in the 1939 version.
Oohhh…great start 😁
Much appreciated, Sir M.
Great work Barbel.
Looking forward to reading Chapter Two.
Thanks, Sonero - and of course thanks for your illustrations!
Illustration by Sonero
Chapter Two
James Bond had very much enjoyed his breakfast, served the way he rather fussily liked it by his housekeeper May, when there was the sound of a letter arriving.
May looked up from clearing the dishes away. “The postman’s early today, Mr James”, she said.
Any break from routine demanded at least a cursory enquiry, so he put his cup down on her tray and stood up.
“I’ll get it, May”, he said, and headed for the door. There was one envelope lying on the carpet, his name but no address written on the front. Frowning, he went to the kitchen and picked up a long thin knife which he used to gently turn the envelope over. It was not sealed and clearly contained nothing other than a sheet of paper. He took it to his study and used the letter opener to gently pull it open and remove the message inside.
“James
Regent’s Park, now.
F”
Puzzled, he went to dress.
It was an uncharacteristically beautiful day for November and the park was very appealing. Even if he hadn’t an appointment there he might have felt inclined to go for a wander through it on his way to the office.
The park covered a lot of land and he wasn’t surprised to find his objective near the entrance Bond was most likely to use. The mop of straw-coloured hair was unmistakable, though the right hand was stuffed inside his jacket pocket to hide the hook. They both smiled with genuine pleasure at seeing one another.
“Hello, Felix”, said Bond, remembering to hold out his left hand which was seized in a firm, dry grip.
“James”, said Felix, “been too long”.
They headed for a bench not immediately obvious from the entrance.
“So, what’s all the mystery?” asked Bond. “You know my number, or you could have come to the office”.
“Not this time”, said Leiter, “I’m not working for the CIA at the moment. This is a Pinkerton’s job, and I don’t believe your government would be keen on helping private concerns”.
Bond raised an eyebrow. “On that topic, you never know. What’s the problem?”
“I just came back from Paris. There was a little incident while I was there, you might have picked up some news about it”.
“Outside the casino? You mean you were the man who was blown up?”
“No, I’m the guy that missed being blown up”. Felix gave a wry smile. “As I’ve been known to say before. We’ve had information back from the Deuxieme Bureau, it seems that they found enough bits of the two men who blew themselves up rather than blowing me up to tell that they were Bulgarian. Names were Georgi Stuj and Leni Fallgi. Apparently they had been carrying two gadgets of some kind, perhaps tape recorders or cameras, which were both packed with explosives. The Bureau are guessing that they were told one of them was to be thrown at me and the other was for some sort of diversion to let them make their escape. The thing is, both of the gadgets were filled with explosive so after blowing me up they would do the same to themselves, leaving no loose ends. Didn’t quite work out that way though”.
Bond let out a sigh. “You were lucky there, Felix. Now tell me – what were you doing there, anyway?”
“I was looking for a woman named Leonie Lacroix”.
“All right. Care to tell me why?”
It was Leiter’s turn to sigh. “I suppose I’d better go back to the beginning ….”
To Be Continued
This is excellent, Barbel, very much in Fleming’s style.
Nice illustration too @Sonero