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Chapter Text

007 Gun Barrel Sequence

The small Cessna aircraft approached the abandoned airfield until  its pilot saw the gray half-demolished hangar. Although decades had passed, the letters on it were still visible.

“RAF Coastal Command,” the pilot read. “That’s the one,” he said and circled the abandoned airfield to vector his aircraft for the optimal landing approach. Decades ago, when the Second World War was still raging, the RAF had built a base of operations there to hunt and sink German u-boats.

When the war ended, the base lost most of its utility. The aircraft, the equipment and the personnel left the base and the buildings were left to slowly collapse. Today, it was only used for emergencies or for classified landings, like the one its pilot was attempting.

With calm and confident moves, the pilot vectored the aircraft with the main base airstrip and slowly pushed the throttle forward to descend. Everything went as expected and a few minutes later, the small Cessna passed next to the hangar and stopped in front of a small, black military van waiting for him. A uniformed trooper was inside it, sitting on the driver's seat. Another one was outside it, smoking a cigarette.

The pilot killed the engine, made a final check on the instrument panel, removed the pilot's helmet and googles, unbuckled his seat-belt, picked his briefcase up, carefully adjusted his tie, and opened the cockpit door. The moment he exited the plane, the uniformed man outside the car dropped his cigarette to the ground and approached him.

“Sergeant Johnson, sir,” the man said and performed a military salute.

“Commander Bond,” the pilot said and straightened his tie. “James Bond.”

“Welcome to Scotland Commander Bond,” Sergeant Johnson said. “Sergeant Abrams and I will drive you to the prison.”

After the brief introduction was over, the Sergeant gestured for Bond to turn. James Bond – code name 007 – nodded, put his briefcase on the ground and extended his arms.

“I understand you know the rules Commander,” the Sergeant said. Bond looked at Johnson and smiled.

“Yes, indeed,” Bond said with a smirk. “There is nothing better than a grown man patting another man between the legs.”

“I hate patting too sir,” the Sergeant said. “But at least nobody is watching.”

“I wonder what you do to people not on our side Sergeant,” Bond said. After two minutes of carefully searching his body, Johnson told 007 to lower his arms.

“We are all right sir,” he said when both were inside the car. “You carry no weapons and no hidden microphones.”

“I could have told you that myself Sergeant,” Bond said.

“You know the rules sir,” the Sergeant replied. “You are not allowed to carry weapons or recording devices in the prison. Now open the briefcase if you please.” Bond sighed but did as told.

Johnson examined the contents of the briefcase. There was a thick envelope with the letters SPECTRE typed on it, some pens for writing, some blank pieces of paper and an box of chocolates.

“That is going to be my breakfast,” Bond said, “after my visit here is over. It's harmless, unless you go on a diet.”

“Are you also going to offer to Mr. Blofeld?” the Sergeant asked.

“No, I am not that charitable,” Bond replied and walked towards the van.

“For safety reasons,” Johnson said, “you will sit at the back so as not to see the route we take. There are no windows back there but there is a light for you to read if you wish.”

“Very well Johnson,” Bond said and entered the back of the van.

A few seconds later, Sergeant Abrams started the engine and the van started its thirty minute ride to their destination: a secret prison in the Scottish Highlands. Bond tried to estimate where the van was heading but the road was full of twists and turns making impossible for him to understand the speed or the direction. Five minutes later, he abandoned the effort and opened his briefcase to read about SPECTRE to better prepare himself for the meeting.

The initials SPECTRE stood for Special Executive for Counter-intelligence, Terrorism, Revenge and Extortion. According to M, head of British MI-6 and 007's boss, it was the most dangerous organization on Earth if we excluded nuclear superpowers.

SPECTRE had been founded decades ago by a man named Ernst Stavro Blofeld. Starting from a small group of ruthless and dedicated criminals, it soon became strong and big enough to encompass the entire world.

SPECTRE specialized in a huge array of criminal activities ranging from smuggling and money laundering to kidnapping, assassination and acts of terrorism. In addition, they had formed many alliances with organized crime and international terrorist groups both to better finance themselves and to increase the scope and effectiveness of their operations.

Another area of SPECTRE activity was infiltration, having successfully placed their own people in many organized crime syndicates and terrorists groups. In such a way they could both influence the agendas of such groups and soften the competition against them. M had once estimated SPECTRE had successfully penetrated at least half the organized crime syndicates in Europe.

The worst kind of infiltration though was against organized states and especially their intelligence agencies. Using generous bribes, blackmail, threats or the simple promise for more influence and power, SPECTRE had turned many intelligence officers against their own countries. And unfortunately, the British intelligence agencies had been among their victims.

Three years ago, C, the head of British MI-5 and one of the most high ranking intelligence officers of the United Kingdom, was found to be on SPECTRE's payroll. His biggest act of treason had been his effort to provide them with full access to Nine Eyes, a classified program that combined intelligence data from Great Britain, South Africa, Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and four other countries.

In the end M and Q, the legendary gadgets genius, stopped C before he gave access to Nine Eyes to SPECTRE. But it had been a very close call and M had been forced to kill C in self-defense.

Bond's involvement with SPECTRE had been a bit more personal. As Blofeld himself had told him – while torturing him no less – he had always tried to harm him.

“It's been me James,” Blofeld had said during the tortures. “The architect of your pain.”

Fortunately, Bond escaped from the SPECTRE base he was held, damaged most of its buildings and returned to London relatively unharmed. Even better, the same same night M killed C, James Bond located and arrested Ernst Blofeld.

Blofeld's arrest had been a tremendous blow for SPECTRE. Apart from the deterioration in morale and operational capabilities the loss of the head of an organization always brings, it also provided the British and their allies with a prisoner with lots of information.

“They recruited someone as highly placed and highly visible as C,” M had said. “Now imagine how many more like C they have on their payroll worldwide.”

M was of course right. For three years, Blofeld kept feeding the British with valuable intel. Using the information, the British arrested a number of SPECTRE operatives within their ranks. In addition, they informed allied intelligence services for such agents which both helped their allies and improved the British prestige in the international intelligence community.

As a form of exchange, the British put Blofeld in a relatively comfortable secret prison in Scotland under the watchful eyes a group of SAS guards. He was the only prisoner there and his cell was relatively comfortable with a bed, a table, chairs, a private bathroom and lots of books to read.

Privately, Bond resented the lenient treatment the head of SPECTRE had received. He had been head of the worst criminal and terrorist organization the world had ever seen and yet he lived in relative comfort.

On a personal level, Bond disliked Blofeld. The man had a decades old grudge against him, he had kidnapped him, he had tortured him and last but not least he had kidnapped and nearly killed Madeleine Swann, a woman he loved.

Professionally though, agent 007 had a job to do and orders were orders. Bond had never seen or talked to Blofeld during the past three years, something he was not exactly sad for. But for some reason the head of SPECTRE had requested to see him and he had no option but to comply. Besides Blofeld had promised he would reveal information about an important SPECTRE operation and that is the kind of intelligence you never ignore.

There was one detail t hat troubled the British agent though. There was something he had heard...

Ernst Stavro Blofeld, the founder and head of SPECTRE and the most important prisoner in Great Britain, stood up from his bed and entered the shower. Ten minutes later, he exited it, shaved, wore clean underwear and a clean prison uniform and sat down on a small table on his cell to have breakfast.

“I love the British hospitality,” he told the two guards who entered his cell. Both were SAS soldiers, wore bulletproof vests and carried sidearms.

A few minutes later, he finished his omelet with bacon, drank his coffee and stood up. The two guards handcuffed him and escorted him to a small interrogation room. When they entered the room, they handcuffed Blofeld to a special table bolted on the floor and waited for the arrival of 007 and his escort.

“This is going to be a great day gentlemen,” Blofeld said.

While 007 was on his way to meet Blofeld, a huge truck was slowly moving on the highway. Suddenly, a bleep was heard. Upon hearing the noise, the man sitting next to the truck driver removed a specialized device that looked like a smarphone from one of his pockets and examined it.

“It's our infiltrator,” he told the driver. “We have a signal. Turn over here.”

“All right,” the driver said and made a left turn to a small, dusty road. “How long should I follow this direction?” The man checked the device.

“Keep following the road at your current speed for twenty minutes.” The driver nodded and did as ordered.

People who looked at the truck from a distance would suspect it belonged to one of the numerous whiskey distilleries Scotland is so famous for. After all, it had markings that belonged to a specific whiskey company. But they would be completely mistaken. There were no barrels of whiskey or pallets with bottles inside. Whoever opened the cargo area door would come across ten heavily armed men and two motorcycles!

Out of those ten men, two carried Barett 0.50 cal heavy sniper rifles, two carried Stinger anti-aircraft missiles and the rest were equipped with grenades and MP-5 sub-machine guns. Last but not least, all of them wore full body armor and helmets made of kevlar, a material capable of stopping most types of bullets.

“I hope our men are ready,” the driver said.

“Of course they are,” the other man replied. “And so are we. Soon Number One will be free.”

There was a phrase that just didn't fit, Bond thought.

“Are you also going to offer to Mr. Blofeld?” Sergeant Johnson had asked referring to the unopened box of chocolates he had seen inside 007's briefcase.

But of course, 007 thought. For starters, how did Johnson know the name of the prisoner? M had specifically told him the guards were not allowed to talk to the prisoner. In addition, the Blofeld's name had been kept a secret in the prison records.

In addition, Johnson hadn't called the prisoner Blofeld but... Mr. Blofeld. Why so much respect for someone responsible for so many deaths?

Granted, just because there are rules, that doesn't mean all people follow them all the time. After all, 007 had broken the rules on many occasions himself. But... Mr. Blofeld?

Bond's mind wandered in the past. A few years ago, he had been on an assignement to capture Mr. White, a high-ranking SPECTRE operative. Eventually, he had located him in Italy and had kidnapped him after shooting him on the leg. A lenghy and dangerous chase from a couple of SPECTRE operatives had followed but 007 successfully eliminated them and reached Siena, a picturesque city in central Italy, where MI-6 had established a secret base of operations.

Olivia Mansfield, the person who had been head of MI-6 back then (she also had the title of M), was waiting in Siena to personally interrogate Mr. White. For safety reasons, two of her bodyguards accompanied her. But that actually made things less safe because one of her two bodyguards turned out to be a SPECTRE infiltrator.

After the infiltrator shot and killed M's other bodyguard, he turned his weapon to M herself and 007. Both survived unharmed and 007 hunted him down and killed him after some struggle. Nevertheless, the distraction had allowed Mr. White to escape and made M extremely suspicious of her colleagues.

Could Johnson be a traitor just like that bodyguard in Siena? 007 had no reason to know but he decided to take some precautions just in case.

James Bond checked his briefcase. It looked like an ordinary one, the ones bureaucrats and businessmen have used to carry documents for decades. But in reality, this briefcase had been modified by none other than Q himself with some extra features.

For starters, the briefcase was bulletproof. Under the leather exterior Q had applied a thick layer of kevlar capable of stopping most types of bullets. In addition, Q had provided him with a specialized tear gas grenade hidden in the box of chocolates he was carrying inside the briefcase.

007 opened the box of chocolates and picked one to eat. When he opened it he found a small handwritten message there.

“A sweet gift... for a bitter gentleman.” the message wrote. He immediately recognized the handwriting of Moneypenny, M's personal aide and secretary.

“I love your sense of humor Moneypenny!” Bond told himself and ate the chocolate bar. Afterwards, he carefully pressed a button inside the box that activated a small electromagnet, another one that activated the tear gas grenade, and attached the box to a special spot on the briefcase.

There were two three-digit codes that unlocked the briefcase. If he inserted code 0-0-7, the briefcase would open without the tear gas getting activated. If on the other hand someone inserted code 0-0-6...

A few minutes later, the van stopped. Bond heard footsteps and someone opening the door from the outside. It was Sergeant Johnson.

“Welcome to the prison Mr. Bond,” he said. Fortunately, he did nothing suspicious and Bond exited the van unharmed. Two men in full body armor, wearing helmets and holding MP-5 submachine guns were there.

According to M's briefing, eight SAS troopers guarded the prison at any given time. Two of them were outside observing the surrounding area, two were outside Blofeld's cell at all times, two were guarding the entrance and the rest were on standby inside the prison.

“According to protocol,” Johnson said, “Sergeant Abraams and I we will escort you to see the prisoner and remain in the cell for the duration of the interrogation.”

“Very well,” 007 said, picking up his briefcase. “Let's go.”

About a kilometer away from the prison, the truck entered a small, abandoned warehouse. The driver killed the engine and he and the other man exited the driver's cabin and opened the cargo door.

Upon opening the door, the ten men inside exited the cargo area and provided the driver and the other man with bulletproof body armors, helmets, MP-5 sub-machine guns with loaded clips with bullets, hand grenades, and Glock pistol sidearms. In addition, they lowered the two motorcycles down.

“OK,” the group commander said. “Snipers, take positions. Remember, you will only fire when I give the signal.” The two men carrying the Barett sniper rifles nodded, and rode the two motorcycles to their designated areas of operation.

“So far so good,” the commander told his troops. “Our informant gave us solid intel.”

“With the money we pay him,” someone commented, “how could he not?” All men laughed, including the commander.

“OK people,” the commander said. “Let's repeat the plan. The moment the snipers are in position, we move forward on foot using the ground for concealment.” He went on to repeat the rest of the plan.

“Remember,” the commander said. “We only have ten minutes from the moment we open fire till SAS reinforcements arrive. Understood?”

“YES SIR,” all men replied in unison.

“Good,” the commander replied. Suddenly, he heard a bleep on his digital device. Five seconds later, he heard a second one.

“It's the signal,” the commander said. “Both our snipers are in position. Time to free Ernst Stavro Blofeld!”

Chapter Text

"Your authorization papers sir?" the sentry just outside the prison asked. Bond nodded and produced an envelope from one of his pockets. The sentry took it, opened it, read the text Moneypenny had written and M had signed and returned it to 007.

"You may proceed sir," the sentry said. "Blofeld is in the interrogation room." Bond thanked the sentry and waited for the armored prison entrance to open. Another armed SAS operative was there, waiting to escort him to the interrogation room.

Meanwhile, Johnson and Abrams entered the van and starting patrolling the area around the prison for added security. That was standard operating procedure whenever someone visited.

Laxness, 007 thought while walking towards Blofeld's cell. Johnson had searched him but hadn't asked for any authorization papers. The sentry had asked for papers but hadn't performed a second search. And 007 had noticed Johnson and Abrams only carried their sidearms and not sub-machine guns for additional firepower. And don't get me started about everyone knowing and openly saying the prisoner's name.

"Mr. Blofeld is inside and is waiting for you," the sentry said. That Mr. Blofeld again.

The sentry opened the interrogation room door. The two guards inside stood in attention the moment 007 entered, saluted the MI-6 agent and exited the room. What was to be discussed was not for their ears.

The moment the door closed, Ernst Stavro Blofeld raised his head and looked at James Bond. A thin smile crossed his lips.

"Good morning James," he said. "It's been a long time."

The group of SPECTRE operatives slowly reached the prison entrance undetected from Abrams and Johnson. That was thanks to their snipers who had spotted their van in advance.

"When the Sparrow arrives," the group commander told the snipers using his walkie-talkie, "hit the van."

"Roger Wolf One," both snipers said. Sparrow was the code name for a helicopter that would fly above the prison to distract the guards.

About one minute later, the sound of an approaching helicopter reached their ears. The ten operatives tensed and checked their equipments for the final time before the attack.

"On my signal," the commander said.

"So James," Blofeld said in mock pleasantry, "welcome to my humble place of existance. It isn't much but it is comfortable and I have a lot of free time."

"You missed the fact the British taxpayers pay for your accomodation," 007 countered.

"Actually James," Blofeld said. "I am a source of income for Her Majesty's Government. Do I need to remind you how much intel your country has given your allies about SPECTRE, information that I gave you? How much intel you received in return? How many millions would you have to spend otherwise?"

"Your intel is still unsatisfactory Blofeld," 007 said. "You have mostly given us low hanging fruit and expendables. Lo- level bureaucrats, secret agents one step from retirement, corrupt politicians in small countries..."

"What do you want James?" Blofeld asked. "Intel about our Quantum subdivision? Do you really want to open that can of worms James. Do you really want to expose those people?"

Quantum was a special subdivision of SPECTRE, specializing in recruiting powerful members of the society such as politicians, business executives, influential journalists and high-ranking bureaucrats. To do so they used many different tactics such as bribe, blackmail, assassination and everything in between. MI-6 suspected that some small countries were almost totally controlled by Quantum... but they still didn't know which ones.

M and 007 had debated the matter in the past. On the one hand, they could purge Great Britain from Quantum operatives. In addition, they could use the information either to help other countries expose the traitors among their ranks or as leverage. "Sure Mr/Mrs..., you can remain in place and keep your status and privileges but you now work for MI-6 and not SPECTRE and if you do as we say nobody will find out..."

On the other hand, did they have solid evidence against those people? And most of it, the moment they turned against some of them, the rest would unite themselves against MI-6, M, and 007. The situation required careful steps and evidence that could stand in court.

"You have a point here Blofeld," 007 said. "But I don't think you called me for chatting. So what do you want from me and my employers?"

"Oh James," the head of SPECTRE said in mock disappointment. "What happened to the English manners? No chit chat? No friendly banter? Just business? Where did the world of espionage go?"

For some reason, 007 was amused. He had used the same phrases against some Russian interrogators in St. Petersburg some years ago.

"So how is the lovely Madeleine Swann?" Blofeld asked. 007 suddenly became agitated.

"You kidnapped her twice and nearly killed her to spite me," he said. "I don't think you care that much for her."

"What is the matter, James?" Blofeld asked. "Did you break up?"

"She is dead," 007 said, glaring the man opposite him. "Supposedly, it was a car accident. But I don't believe in coincidences."

"I didn't do that James," Blofeld said. "I am isolated from the external world. Do you think I just opened my cell door, exited the prison, hitched a ride, located Mrs. Swann, and killed her making it look like an accident?"

"You could have ordered the attack," Bond said.

"But I didn't and I couldn't," Blofeld countered. "I don't have phone or e-mail here."

"Maybe some of your assosiates did it on their own initiative to retaliate for your capture," Bond said. "Or maybe you gave orders for that before I arrested you."

Both men stared at each other for a minute... until Blofeld broke the silence.

"I am sorry about your loss James," he said.

"I don't believe you. But anyway, I came here for work not chatting."

"OK James," Blofeld said. "Do you know what Operation Neptune is?"

"Operation Neptune?"

While James Bond and Blofeld were talking, a white helicopter with red crosses painted on it approached the secret prison. From a distance, it looked like a flying ambulance. In reality though...

"It's the Sparrow," the first sniper radioed.

"Correct," the second one said. "Your orders?"

"I'll hit the van's engine block. You get the driver."

"Roger that."

The vanwas slowly moving on the road around the prison. Inside it agents Johnson and Abrams observed the surrounding area... unaware that soon both of them would be dead in a few seconds.

When the van slowed down to a specific turn out of sight from the prison guards, the first sniper took a deep breath, steadied his aim and fired with his Barett sniper rifle.

The Barett is a very powerful and accurate rifle. In is so accurate that British and Canadian snipers have used it to kill enemies from distances more than two kilometers away. In addition, it is a very good anti-materiel rifle and its bullets can disable vehicle engine blocks especially when you use armor-piercing bullets like the ones the two SPECTRE snipers used.

From six hundred meters away, the armor-piercing bullet started its supersonic journey straight to the van's engine. After less than a second, it hit it, causing the van to slow down.

"Hey what happened?" Johnson asked. He hadn't heard the shot well because of the noise the helicopter was making.

"It must..." Abrams said. And these were his final words. The second sniper fired an armor-piercing bullet that penetrated the bulletproof windshield, his bulletproof vest, his body and the rear part of the van like paper.

"Abrams?!" Johnson said in shock. "What..." His mind never registered what had happened. The first sniper opened fire, ending Johnson's existence.

A few minutes later, the drivereless vehicle came to a stop on a ditch. Both snipers rode their motorcycles and approached it, careful not to be seen from the prison. Upon reaching the van, they confirmed Abrams and Johnson were both dead.

"Good," the first sniper said. "Now find the transmitter." The second sniper and checked the front right wheel. He found the hidden transmitter, picked it up and deactivated it.

"Our man inside did a good job," the second sniper said. "It's good they were so lax."

"Yes, nobody had checked the van... as they should," the first sniper replied and radioed his commander. "Now let's take position for the attack."

"Strange," one of the two guards outside the prison said. "What is that chopper doing here?"

"I don't know Sergeant," the other man replied. "It has ambulance markings but it we are in the middle of nowhere. Could it be an ambush?”

“Who knows. Contact the van and...” He never finished the sentence. One of the snipers shot him dead. The other sentry soon died, the result of an armor piercing bullet from a second sniper.

“OK, everybody,” the commander said. “According to our infiltrator, the opposition inside the prison will be three troopers and one MI-6 agent who just came.”

“What the hell?” the soldier monitoring the security cameras said. He had just witnessed both his colleagues getting shot outside the prison. The next second, the guard saw ten heavily enemies armed approaching. But two seconds later, the camera signal was lost, the result of a sniper shot accurate shot.

There was only one thing the soldier could do. There was a small red button in front of him, a button he should only press for emergencies. Pressing it would send a distress signal to a nearby military base. Within ten minutes – at least in theory – two helicopters would reach the secret prison carrying a platoon of SAS reinforcements.

The moment the soldier pressed the button, a predetermined recorded message started playing: “Attention all personnel The prison is under attack! Remain locked in and on full alert!” It kept playing on a loop every thirty seconds.

The four remaining guards took position. Two of them took cover against the prison exit ready to repel potential invaders and the other two stood outside the interrogation room.

“How interesting,” Blofeld said in mock surprise upon hearing the emergency message. James Bond glared him, opened his briefcase and placed all documents inside it.

“That won't help you much 007,” Blofeld said.

Four SPECTRE operatives and the two snipers established a perimeter around the prison to defend against any incoming reinforcements and the rest approached the prison entrance. Two of them attached armor penetration bombs on the entrance door, activated them and took cover.

When the bombs blew up, the door locks were destroyed. Even worse, the explosions created two big holes and two SPECTRE operatives approached them and threw tear gas grenades through them.

Outside the interrogation room the moment of the explosions...

“What are you doing Jones?” the soldier said upon seeing his colleague threatening him with his gun.

“Drop your gun, remove your helmet and your sidearm and open the door Tom,” the other soldier ordered. “Or I kill you, take your keys and do it myself.”

“You won't get away with that!” Tom protested.

“I already have,” Jones replied. “Now do what I told you.” Reluctantly, Tom dropped his sub-machine gun and unlocked the door.

The moment the door opened, Bond immediately stood up and looked at the two people who entered the room. The one wore a helmet and carried an MP-5 gun with both hands. The other was unarmed, wore no helmet and had his hands on head.

“Excellent Mr. Jones,” Blofeld said. “Now tell your friend there to toss me the keys.” Jones pressed the barrel of his gun to Tom's head. The latter had no option but to comply.

“You will never get away from here you bastard!” Tom said. Blofeld looked him in mock sadness.

“No my friend, you won't,” Blofeld replied and looked at Jones. The traitorous guard nodded and fired once, killing Tom with a head-shot. Tom fell to the ground, his right arm falling on Bond's briefcase.

The next few seconds, Blofeld uncuffed himself from the table, stood up and walked towards the door.

“I think you know what R in SPECTRE means James,” Blofeld said.

“Revenge,” 007 said. “Is that why you asked to see me? After all, your escape would be easier without an additional enemy.”

“One of the reasons yes,” Blofeld said. “But not the only one.”

James Bond looked at the barrel of Jones' gun. He knew he had to play it very smart to get out of there alive...

The moment the tear gas grenades were fired, the two surviving SAS troopers tried to cover their faces as best they could and opened fire. Although the six SPECTRE troopers managed to open the door, they were pinned down and were unable to approach.

Unfortunately, the bad guys were ready for that too. A few seconds later, they threw a number of hand and concussion grenades, forcing the SAS to retreat.

“You know Blofeld,” Bond said, “it was not luck that helped me capture you. It was solid intel. Like the one I carry on the briefcase.”

“Let me guess,” Blofeld said. “There is a hidden transmitter in the briefcase, so you and your boss M can recapture me. Nice try James.”

“We captured you once Blofeld,” 007 said. “We can do it again.” Blofeld thought for a second.

“Perhaps you are right,” he said. “I can always take the documents and leave the briefcase behind. Open it.” Bond pretended to hesitate until Jones gestured for him with the barrel of his MP-5.

James Bond knew he only had one shot... but it was a good one. With slow and confident moves, he placed the briefcase on the table and entered a three-digit code...

...0-0-6... The next second, Bond took a deep breath and opened the briefcase.

Immediately, the tear gas canister was activated and filled the small interrogation room.

Both Blofeld and Jones were surprised by the gas, something Bond fully exploited. Still keeping his breath, he grabbed the gas canister, threw it to the floor, closed the briefcase, stood up, turned around, and ran towards Jones holding the briefcase on his chest.

Acting from instinct, Jones opened fire. But Bond had anticipated that. After years of training and field experience, 007 knew one thing about most armed adversaries: when you suddenly attack them at close range, they tend to fire at the center of your body mass. Jones was no exception to that rule and his bullets hit Bond's bulletproof briefcase. Leaving the MI-6 agent unharmed.

The next second, Bond – still holding his breath – kicked Jones between the legs. and used his briefcase to throw his sub-machine gun off target. Jones' second burst hit the wall causing no harm. Bond's next move was to drop the briefcase, hit Jones on the neck with a karate chop with his right hand and grab his MP-5 with the left hand.

The combination of the gas, the kick in the groin and the hit on the neck were enough. One second later, Bond had taken the traitor's gun, punched Jones and the face and exited the cell.

But where was Blofeld?

“It's me, don't fire!” Blofeld shouted to the six SPECTRE operatives. The tear gas had entered his lungs causing a lot of pain. Even worse for him, his eyes were watery from the exposure and he could barely see. Fortunately for him, the operatives obeyed his order and he exited the building without harm.

The moment he reached the exit, five of the operatives resumed fire and the sixth made a signal in the air. Immediately, the helicopter hovering above the prison started descending. At the same time, the operative unscrewed his water canteen and threw some water on Blofeld's eyes.

“What about our insider Number One?” the operative asked Blofeld.

“Jones?” Blofeld replied. “He is dead. Throw grenades.”

Holding Jones' MP-5, 007 approached the exit when a sudden burst of fire forced him to take cover behind an upturned table. A SAS soldier was there but he was of no help: he had taken a bullet between the eyes.

“What could possibly go worse?” 007 wondered. It was then that he saw the grenades coming.

There was just enough time for him to get cover behind an armored door. One, two, three, four, five explosions and then... nothing. No gunshots, no more grenades, only the sound of the helicopter could be heard. 007 rushed outside in a vain hope to recapture Blofeld.

James Bond exited the prison the moment Blofeld was entering the helicopter. The two SAS troopers shot by the SPECTRE snipers were still there although their weapons were missing. And it was at that moment that quick thinking saved 007's life.

The moment Bond saw the dead SAS troopers, he ducked for cover. He ducked so fast that both SPECTRE snipers missed him. The next second, the rest of the SPECTRE operatives opened fire as well but Bond used the steel entrance door for protection and escaped unharmed.

The enemies fired a steady stream of bullets, keeping 007 pinned down while Blofeld safely entered the helicopter. In theory, James could break cover and shoot the helicopter engine to stop it. After all, he had done so in London three years ago, shooting down Blofeld's helicopter – with a pistol! – and wounding him in the process. But he wasn't under enemy fire back then.

The noise of the helicopter became more and more distant. At the same time, the last surviving SAS trooper slowly approached the prison gate. He was holding his right arm, trying to stop the bleeding.

“They are gone sir,” the trooper told Bond. “I checked the cameras. The snipers, the ground troops and the chopper. We are safe.” 007 nodded.

“How is your arm?” Bond asked.

“It will be OK sir,” the trooper said. “By the way, the man you knocked out, Jones, is not going to talk.”

“How so?”

“He shot himself.”

“Down goes our only source of information,” 007 said. “Back to square one... again.”

The James Bond Theme!

Chapter Text

London 10 pm.

The small black helicopter slowly reached the outskirts of London. Inside it, a man was getting ready to parachute. He checked his backpack for one last time, covered his head with a full face mask and stood up from his seat.

“Just a minute Mr. Bond,” the man sitting next to him said. He was wearing a SAS battle uniform with captain's rank insignia and was holding a black rectangular leather box.

“What is this?” 007 asked.

“A special package for M from my boss,” the captain replied. “Do you have any room in your briefcase for it?”

“Don't worry Captain,” Bond said, opened his briefcase and put the box inside it. The officer noticed the bullets stuck on it.

“Nine millimeter,” the captain said. “And I count six. It's good your briefcase is bulletproof. Anyone of them could have killed you.”

“Thank God the Q-branch knows its job,” James Bond replied.

A few seconds later the helicopter stopped moving about one kilometer above river Thames. It was time for Bond to jump.

“Here we go,” the SAS Captain said. “As per instructions, I won't land the helicopter to keep your presence in London a secret.”

“Of course,” 007 said. “Besides, we the secret agents need to parachute from time to time. We can't let you the SAS have all the fun.”

“But of course Mr. Bond,” the Captain said with a smile.

The parachute 007 was wearing was a special one. It allowed him to silently glide for hundreds of meters undetected before landing. Using the lights of London as reference points, 007 navigated his parachute towards the MI-6 headquarters building.

Three minutes later, James Bond landed on the building terrace and removed the parachute and the protective clothes that covered his three-piece suit. Afterwards, he entered the building from a secret entrance and reached M's office. His boss was waiting for him.

“And who knows,” 007 told himself upon opening the door. “I might even find Moneypenny there.”

Although it was late, Moneypenny – M's secretary – was still in her office absorbed in her work. Blofeld's escape and the loss of SAS troopers had kept her and her boss busy till that hour.

“I hope you are OK James,” she told herself, still unaware whether James was alive when suddenly, the door in her office opened and...

“James!” she said and immediately stood up. The legendary MI-6 agent was in front of her.

“Good evening Moneypenny,” Bond said. “You behave as if you have seen a ghost.”

“I was afraid we had lost you James!”

“We the Scots are really hard to kill,” 007 replied. Despite his refined accent, Moneypenny knew Bond came from a place in Scotland's Highlands named Skyfall.

“And Mr. Briefcase here helped a lot,” 007 said and showed her the bulletproof briefcase with the bullets stuck on it. “He took six bullets for me and offered a tearful surprise to SPECTRE.”

“Yes, the tear gas inside the chocolate box,” Moneypenny said. “It was Q's idea. But at least he let me choose the chocolates.”

Bond was about to reply when the intercom buzzed. It was M.

“Has 007 arrived? Send him in.”

“Once more the duty calls Moneypenny,” 007 said. “Hopefully, we shall find a way around that mess.”

“Yes Alec, thanks for not playing by the book today,” M said on the phone the moment 007 entered. M gestured for him to seat.

“Yes, my agent is alive. In fact, he has just entered my office. A package? Oh, the usual. Good. And not a word to anyone. What do you mean disobeying orders Alec? I can't tell you on the phone... even in a secure connection like that but there is something big going on here... very big. OK, thanks Alec. Goodnight.”

“That was Colonel Alec Guinness, an old friend from SAS,” M said. 007 nodded. He knew about M's past. Before joining MI-6 and becoming M, Gareth Mallory had been an SAS officer.

During the Troubles – in Northern Ireland – Mallory had been posted there, fighting against the IRA. One day, a group of IRA operatives attacked a British outpost and Mallory who had been in the vicinity with his troops. interfered, successfully repelling the attack. However, IRA captured him during the attack and kept him as a prisoner for a month.

Among the troops Mallory had led that day was a young sergeant named Alec Guinness. Mallory had saved his life that day and Guinness owned him a life debt ever since.

“Guinness has been very helpful,” 007 said. “He kept everyone in the darkness about me and my whereabouts. Only he and his men know I returned to London.”

“Not exactly standard operating procedure 007,” M admitted. “But I had to break some rules to keep you safe from a second SPECTRE attack. Now, let's analyze what the hell happened up there.”

To prevent SPECTRE from locating Blofeld, the British had taken a number of precautions. For starters, the troopers who guarded the prison were transported with helicopter during the night to prevent them from determining the exact location of the prison.

In addition, the British Army had installed a specialized system in the prison that jammed all telecommunication signals. They did so for two reasons: to prevent someone from using a phone or internet connection to contact SPECTRE and to prevent signals from hidden transmitters that could pinpoint the prison's location.

As a final measure, the people who were to visit Blofeld were not provided with the exact location of the prison. Instead, they were to land on a nearby abandoned airfield where a van from the prison would be waiting for them.

Unfortunately, as time passed routine and boredom set in and that brought laxness. The security checks became mere formalities and not something was rigorously enforced.

In addition, the quality of the guards steadily deteriorated. In the beginning, the SAS provided their best troopers to guard the prison. But as time passed, they rotated them with less and less competent ones. Apparently, they thought the prison was safe and no high-quality troops were required there so they used the place to dump all the undesirable ones.

“A common tactic in all professions military, civilian, public or private,” 007 said. “They send the bad apples away to forget about them.”

“Indeed,” M replied. “Laxness combined with incompetence brought catastrophe. Now let's focus on the assault.”

“For the precise location, they only needed someone to visit the prison,” 007 said. “The moment he landed, the prison van would go to take him, getting outside the range of the jamming equipment. It's obvious that traitor Jones placed a hidden transmitter on the van...”

“... one the bored and careless guards didn't search for.” M said.

“The SPECTRE operatives simply followed signal and...” Bond said.

“Correct 007,” M said. “It just happened to be you. Granted, Blofeld wanted revenge because it was you who arrested him, but still... And since I didn't know how many infiltrators SPECTRE still has among our ranks I decided to break the rules and ask Guinness for help.”

“You did the right thing sir,” 007 said. “After all, they also needed the prison schematics to attack, which means they have additional infiltrators somewhere.”

“Alec is a man I completely trust,” M said. “And now, time to open the Guinness package.”

The “Guinness package” was not what Bond had expected. It was not a hard drive with digital data or an envelope with written information. It was... a bottle of the finest Scotch whiskey!

“During that IRA attack, an enemy tried to shoot Alec in the back,” M said while opening the bottle. “I had fired all of my bullets, I had no time to reload my gun and the enemy was too far away for me for hand-to-hand combat. So I did the only thing I could.”

“You placed yourself between Guinness and the enemy and took the bullet that was intended for him.”

“Yes,” M said. “I wore a bulletproof vest but the hit was still strong enough to knock me down. That was when they captured me.”

“That was a really bad moment M.”

“It was,” M said. “Fortunately, the IRA treated me well. They were afraid we would retaliate against the IRA operatives in our prisons if they did something wrong to me. In any case, one month later the IRA released me, the result of a prisoner exchange initiative.”

“I think there is a teaching moment here,” Bond said while sipping some Scotch.

“There is 007,” M said. “After the IRA released me, I searched and found more about the attack. I learned someone from the inside had betrayed us. That was when I decided to join MI-6: to help them eradicate the moles inside our intelligence community.”

“Like the Philby case,” 007 said.

“That's right. When I joined her Majesty's Secret Service there were still people who had met that traitor.”

M was referring to Kim Philby, a Cambridge graduate and a Communist sympathizer the Soviets had recruited before World War Two while he was still a student. After his graduation, he had joined the British intelligence secretly passing classified intel to the Soviets. And the worst part? The British hadn't suspected a thing for decades! They only realized Philby's treachery the day he defected to the Eastern Bloc with enough information to break the cover of dozens of British operatives.

“We lost our Middle East section that day,” M said, “and it took us decades to rebuild it. And don't get me started about the embarrassment. We became the laughingstock of both the Eastern and the Western block intelligence for decades.”

“At least we averted a bigger catastrophe when we stopped C three years ago.” Bond said, referring to the former head of MI-5 who had been a SPECTRE mole. “It's too bad you killed him sir, but you had no choice. It was either him or you.”

“That's right 007,” M said and poured him another glass of scotch.

The discussion between 007 and M went like that. Their next topic of discussion was Jones the traitor.

“They probably bribed him,” M said. “It will take some days to learn about his bank accounts but I am certain we will find millions there.”

“Too bad he killed himself,” 007 said. “He could have told us a lot.”

“SPECTRE has probably infiltrators that would assassinate him the moment we put him into custody exactly to keep him from talking. Jones chose to spare himself the agony. And speaking of infiltrators, you know what could that mean for you 007.”

“That Blofeld might use them to locate me and make another attempt on my life,” Bond said.

“That's right. It was you who captured Blofeld in the first place Bond,” M said. “And R in SPECTRE stands for Revenge.”

“What are the orders M?” Bond asked.

“You will lay low for a few days,” M said. “You won't go home and you won't visit you favorite places in London. I think something very big is going to happen very soon and I might need you to handle it.”

“Thank you sir but there are many skilled agents who...” M cut him short.

“There is only one field agent I completely trust though,” M said.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence sir.”

“I might need you at a moment's notice, therefore you will remain in London in a secret location. Moneypenny knows the details about it. Go and see her.”

“Hello again James,” Moneypenny said. “Ready for your new residence?”

“But of course Moneypenny,” he replied.

“Don't worry about clothes,” she said. “I bought some for you at M's orders. Clothes that a true bachelor like you should wear.”

James permitted himself a smile. Although the situation was grim – with seven dead SAS operatives and Blofeld free – they had to cheer up a little. It was the only way to counter the bad mood.

“I am so glad you take care of me Moneypenny.”

“Thank you Mr. Bond. Now, time for a tour in Great Britain's secret history.”

During the Cold War, it was not unusual for people from the Western Bloc to defect to the Eastern Bloc and vice versa. These people were of various nationalities: British, Russians, French, Germans from both East and West Germany... As for the background, that was even more diverse: military officers, secret agents, scientists, bureaucrats...

Her Majesty's Secret Service had its fair share of successes in the field. Although their reputation was bruised by the Philby affair, they still managed to recruit dozens of highly placed Eastern Bloc people.

Being a mole is a dangerous job. Apart from the moral implications betraying your country has, there is also the constant stress that someone will discover you are a traitor. If this happens, the consequences are severe, ranging from losing your job to facing the firing squad.

Eventually, your country will find out about your treason and your only chance of survival is to get out before they do so, like Philby did. For the country that recruited you, that means they have to arrange your escape until they find a new place of residence and a new identity for you. In the meantime, you remain hidden in a safe-house for days or weeks – or even months – while agents from your new country debrief you to learn every piece of information they can from you.

During the Cold War, MI-6 had established a number of such-safe houses in London. Such an arrangement offered the advantage of faster commute time, easier supervision, simpler logistics, lower operating costs and a friendly police force MI-6 could rely on.

When the Cold War ended, defections from both sides were greatly reduced. Most safe-houses were no longer needed and MI-6 sold to cut costs in an era of reduced budgets. However, MI-6 still retained a small number of them just in case. And only two people were authorized to know their addresses: M and his secretary.

“So James,” Moneypenny told 007 while driving, “soon we will be in the safe-house Karla stayed when George Smiley debriefed him.”

“George Smiley?” Bond said in amazement. Smiley was a legend in the British Intelligence. His career had spanned decades ranging from World War Two to the latter part of the Cold War and was accompanied with a long list list of accomplishments.

Smiley's crowning achievement had been Karla's defection. Karla was one of Soviet Union's top intelligence operatives – he was as highly placed as M was in Great Britain – and he had been Smiley's archenemy for years. One day though Smiley found something to blackmail him and coerce him into defection.

“Yes, that George Smiley,” she said. “M has actually met him once.”

“I will visit an historical place of her Majesty's Secret Service,” 007 said. Despite having a lot of professional experience himself, Bond was still awed.

“Don't expect much James,” she said. “There are no Cold War artifacts hidden in the closets. We only send one operative to clean once every six months and check for hidden microphones. By the way, there is no running water, electricity or a phone line anymore.”

“To save money and prove the place is really abandoned if someone checks the utility bills.”

“Correct James,” she said. “OK, here we go.” She stopped the car opposite a four-story building in the outskirts of London.

From a distance the building appeared almost abandoned. Only two apartments had their lights on. But that was the idea anyway. Buildings in such areas attracted less attention.

“The room has soundproofing,” she said. “None of the neighbors will hear you.”

“Good,” Bond said. “That means I can snore loudly.” The joke had the desired effect. Moneypenny burst into laughter.

“I really needed that James,” she said. James smiled as well.

“It was a sad day for Britain Moneypenny. We have to cheer up a little to keep our sanity.”

While 007 and Moneypenny were talking, a seaplane landed on an isolated fjord in Greenland, too far away from civilization for anyone to notice.

“We have reached our destination Number One,” a well-built man said. He had been the one who had led the attack against the prison earlier that day.

“Excellent Emilio,” Ernst Blofeld said. “You did a superb job.”

Emilio Largo, SPECTRE Number Two, smiled. It had taken a lot of time and effort for him to organize the operation that had freed his boss.

“Thank you Number One,” Largo said. “It all became possible thanks to Number Three. She provided us with solid intel.”

“Good,” Blofeld said and looked at the window outside him. There was an old and rusty freighter outside, barely visible in the night. It looked abandoned... but in reality it was one of the many secret locations SPECTRE had around the world.

“Your suite in the freighter is ready and your personal chef is waiting for you Number One,” Largo said.

“Very well Emilio,” Blofeld said, while the sailplane slowly came to a stop next to the freighter. “But you know what I mostly want.”

“Yes, Number One,” Largo said. “You can order a teleconference with the station chiefs of SPECTRE as soon as you enter the freighter.”

“I will do exactly that,” Blofeld said. “It is time to launch our most ambitious project.”

“Yes, Operation Neptune,” Largo said. “We literally go for the nuclear option here.”

Chapter Text

London, 1 a.m.

"Goodnight James," Moneypenny said. "Stay safe. We nearly lost you just a few hours ago."

"That's my intention," Bond said. "Goodnight Moneypenny." Being a gentleman, he opened the apartment door for her.

Using a specialized night vision binocular, James observed her while approaching her car. Fortunately, there were no suspicious cars of pedestrians following her. She was safe.

"I really need a drink," he told himself. Despite having drunk two glasses of excellent scotch whiskey in M's office, 007 needed some more. He had come too close to death to remain emotionless. To his good fortune, he found an unopened bottle of scotch in one of the kitchen closets.

"To our fallen soldiers," 007 said.

The SAS soldiers who had lost their lives had been careless and incompetent and they probably shouldn't have been accepted in such an elite unit as the SAS. Nevertheless, they were his own people and they had the same goal with him, M, Q, and Moneypenny: to keep Great Britain safe from all threats.

Soon Bond's mind wandered to the things he always thought when he was alone in the dark: to the women he had met and slept with, to the life and job he had chosen to live...

His eyes fell on the suitcase Moneypenny had bought him. He smiled. Both the suitcase and its contents were expertly tailored to his tastes. Lois Moneypenny knew him as well as he knew himself. Only someone who deeply cares about you can do that, Bond thought.

The feeling was mutual, Bond had to admit. He deeply cared about Moneypenny and whoever tried to harm her would have to pass through him first. Sometimes Bond wondered if he and she would ever...

But no! James Bond was a secret agent who travelled around the world, conducting all kinds of dangerous missions. On the other hand, Moneypenny was the type of woman who goes to her office job every morning, works till the evening and returns to her apartment with her cats and her significant other... if there is such a man.

What would Moneypenny do? Wait for him like the faithful wife, while he was away most of the time in an exotic place bedding gorgeous ladies? Granted, he wasn't regretting his successes with women (no man ever regrets that) but how could he return to her and pretend nothing happened? She would never forgive him and he would never forgive himself for making her sad.

That was why his relationship with Madeleinne Swann hadn't worked either. Both had tried their best for one year but despite the mutual respect and love and the sacrifices both were willing to make, the relationship couldn't work. In the end, they had decided to part their ways.

It was after they had said goodbye when that truck had swerved out of course and hit the car Madeleinne was driving. Her car had fallen into a lake and it had taken days for the divers to find it.

Supposedly, what had happened was an accident. But Bond knew it wasn't. He knew exactly who had done it and why. He even knew who had driven the truck that had hit Madeleinne's car.

"At least I know it wasn't you Blofeld," Bond told himself. "You have committed so many crimes but you haven't done that one."

Twenty hours later in Greenland...

"The salmon is excellent Pierre," Ernst Blofeld told his personal chef. "The prison cooks are no match for you, that's certain." Pierre bowed in acknowledgement.

Sitting opposite him, Emilio Largo looked at his watch.

"In twenty minutes Number One." Blofeld nodded, stood up and checked his elegant three-piece suit against a mirror.

"I hadn't worn a suit in three years," he said. "OK Pierre, bring us coffee. We have a meeting to attend."

Ten minutes later, Ernst Blofeld entered a big, dark room. In the middle of it, there was a luxurious desk and around it, huge monitors were hanging from the walls. Most of them had names above them: Asia, Africa, Europe, China, Oceania...

Blofeld sat on the elegant chair behind the desk and took a deep breath. For three years, he had imagined, he had anticipated, he had desired that moment... the moment he would be back in charge. And that moment had just come.

The head of SPECTRE pushed a button on the desk. Immediately, nine of the monitors were activated. Nine different people from nine different locations in the world appeared.

"Good evening everybody," Blofeld said.

"Welcome back Number One," a woman in one of the monitors said. All nine of the men and women in the monitors – and Largo inside the room – applauded their leader.

"All right everyone," Blofeld said when the clapping had stopped. "Thank you for the warm welcome. Let's get to business now." Blofeld cleared his thought and started talking.

"As you can observe," Blofeld said, "we are fewer people in this conference compared with the one in Rome three years ago. And there is a good reason for that."

"What reason Number One?" Number Ten asked.

"Let's face reality ladies and gentlemen," Blofeld said. "All organizations get corrupted after some time and SPECTRE is no exception. As time passes, some people become complacent, others selfish and others simply stop caring.

This is what happened with us. Yes, we had many successes and yes we have moved like a spectre around the world. Yes, we control industries and crime syndicates in five continents and yes we have infiltrated dozens of law enforcement organizations.

However, many of our members became dead wood within SPECTRE. They no longer tried to do their duties, no longer took precautions to avoid getting caught and some of them even tried to embezzl funds from us.

When the British captured me, I saw an opportunity, the opportunity to hit two birds with one stone. On the one hand, I would provide the British and their allies with names of people to arrest. That would keep them happy, keep me alive in relative safety and make them complacent believing they were weakening SPECTRE.

At the same time, I only betrayed those who had already betrayed SPECTRE's ideals, the people we would have eliminated anyway, the dead wood, the people who held us back.

You ladies and gentlemen are the survivors, the people I trust, the people SPECTRE needs, the people who will lead our organization to an even brighter future."

A round of applause followed Blofeld's words.

"Thanks again," Blofeld said. "Now, time to get to business. I want status reports from everyone here. Number Eleven?" A short, blond man cleared his throat and started talking.

"Australia and New Zealand are traditional allies of the British and share a lot of intelligence with them. Both countries were among the first who received lists of SPECTE operatives among their ranks. Unfortunately, the people arrested betrayed more operatives as an exchange for lighter prison sentences. We are trying to recruit people among their intelligence agencies but the job is far from finished."

"That was to be expected," Blofeld said. "Number Ten?" A middle-aged man looked at Blofeld.

"Japan, South Korea, Singapore, Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, Myanmar have limited cooperation in intelligence affairs with the British. That shielded our operatives to a degree. We have reinforced our links with organized crime in Japan and we have increased our drug production in Indochina. In all, we have a forty percent increase in profitability compared to three years ago."

"Excellent Number Ten. Number Nine?"

"China and Hong Kong have been troublesome. The Chinese government has increased their efforts to combat corruption. As a result, many of the state officials we have bribed are now in prison. We maintain our handsome profits from drug sales and real estate money laundering schemes but we need more time to improve things."

"That's not related to the British MI-6 but it is still a source of concern. Carry on Number Nine. Number Eight?"

"India and Pakistan are a virgin market for electronics and pirated software. There are also many talented programmers who can create everything we need. It is both a good source of income for us and a good way to upgrade our telecommunication systems ensuring better privacy."

"Interesting. Keep it that way. Number Seven?"

"Much to our surprize, the former Soviet Union republics – especially Russia – have received a lot of intel from the British. We have lost a lot of operatives there. Nevertheless, we were well established there and we have bounced back. As we speak, two thirds of Russian vodka exports are controlled by SPECTRE shadow companies."

"Very well Number Seven. Number Six?"

"Despite the Brexit, there is very close cooperation between the British and the rest of Europe. Also the European Central Bank has established very strong anti-money laundering rules that still prevent us from bribing polititians and state officials. We have also lost all of our operatives in Greece."

"How so?"

"We underestimated the Greek Police and its anti-terrorism and financial crime units."

"That was a big mistake Number Six. But I underestimated our opponents myself, so I sympathize. Since Number Twelve who previously controlled Middle East was exposed, that Sector is headless. You and Number Seven will share it using geographical criteria."

"Yes Number One," Number Six said.

"I can take the eastern half," Number Seven said. "Number Six can control the western part."

"Good," Blofeld said. "Do it that way. Number Five?"

"In average, Africa has remained steady. We had some losses in West Africa but we compensated for them in East Africa and we are steadily gaining the lost ground in West Africa though."

"Fine. Number Four?"

"We have expanded our control with drug cartel in South America. Our profits have doubled. We also have access to narco submarine technology now, a technology drug producers use to smuggle drugs in USA.”

"Excellent. Narco submarines will be ideal for Operation Neptune, our most ambitious project so far. But more about that later.”

“We have created a specialized narco submarine at Number Two's request,” Number Four said.

“Very well,” Blofeld said. “Let's go to Number Three now.” All eyes turned to look at her.

Number Three had deactivated the camera on her computer to conceal her face. In addition, she was wearing a mask, a hat and sunglasses just in case. Only a handful of people in SPECTRE knew her true identity and for good reason.

“As global head of intelligence operations,” Number Three said, “we suffered serious setbacks during the past three years. The worst of them actually happened in Great Britain, my own country.”

“Update us Number One,” M ordered.

“It all started three years ago with your arrest Number One and the loss of C.”

“Right,” Blofeld said. “C would have given our organization access to the Nine Eyes program. We would have full access to classified intelligence data from nine countries. What happened there?”

“Gareth Mallory, the head of MI-6, killed C,” Number Three said. “In addition, Q, MI-6's most capable scientist and technician, prevented the Nine Eyes from being launched.”

“Fortunately,” Blofeld said, “we had a contingency plan ready.”

“Correct Number One,” Number Three said. “The moment C died, I was promoted to take his place and reestablish our spy networks.”

“What results did we have so far?” Blofeld asked.

“I protected most of our assets in Great Britain and abroad,” she replied. “I only let the dead wood as you called them to take the hit. We lost dozens of operatives globally but most of them were unreliable and were people you chose to expose anyway. On the plus side, we have recruited new people and we have access to lots of classified data we previously didn't have.”

“Well done Number Three. Number Two?”

“In North America, my area of responsibility, things are looking good. Although we lost many business ventures and links with organized crime after MI-6 provided the CIA and the FBI with intelligence, we formed new ones. We have covered two thirds of our losses and we will cover the rest within one year.”

“How about our operational arm?” Blofeld asked. “That is still your area or responsibility along with Number Three.”

“The operational arm of SPECTRE remains strong,” Largo said. “Our aircraft, ships and land units remain in pristine condition and we have expanded our capabilities with the addition of submarines. They are not as sophisticates as the ones world navies have but they are suitable for the tasks we need them.

In addition, we can always rely on some corrupt politicians in undeveloped countries who would lend their Special Forces for the right price.”

“Very well Number Two. Now it is time to focus on the future. Number Three, Number Two, tell us about Operation Neptune.”

Largo and Number Three spent the next fifteen minutes outlining the purposes of the operation, the plan to achieve them and what each and everyone in the group and should do for the operation to succeed.

“To conclude,” Largo said, “when Operation Neptune succeeds, SPECTRE will be a nuclear power.”

“Excellent,” Blofeld said. “As head of SPECTE, I authorize the operation.”

There was no more topics for discussion, so Blofeld ended the meeting. One by one, the SPECTRE section heads said goodbye and ended their connections... except Number Three Blofeld needed to talk to.

“All right Number Three,” Blofeld said. “It's just you, me, and Number Two.”

Number Three activated the web camera on her computer. A good looking and well-dressed woman in her early fifties appeared in front of them. During the meeting she had worn a mask, a hat and sunglasses to fully conceal her face in case the camera was accidentally activated. But since Largo and Blofeld already knew her identity she had no reason to remain concealed.

“Time to ask the question I didn't want the rest to hear,” Blofeld said. “How many of the people who attended this meeting are reliable?”

“All of them Number One,” she replied. “I have carefully monitored them all, without their knowledge and consent of course. Except Number Two of course who I report to and I already considered reliable.”

“Yes,” Blofeld said. “Emilio Largo is someone I can always rely on.”

“Thank you, Number One,” Largo said.

“Another question,” Blofeld asked. “Before my escape, James Bond said something about Madeleine Swann. What do you know about it?”

“Madeleine Swann,” Number Three said. “Mr. White's daughter.”

“Yes, Mr. White the traitor,” Largo said. “We had considered capturing her to learn which of our secrets Mr. White was still hiding.”

“We captured her in North Africa along with Bond,” Blofeld said. “But she and Bond escaped and injured me in the process. I lost my eyesight for one year. Fortunately the eye surgeons fixed it. That was the only good part of my captivity.”

“According to our sources,” Number Three said, “Bond rented an apartment with Swann and took one year of unpaid leave from MI-6 to be with her. He also found a job as a security consultant in the private sector. But one year later Swann died.”

“Bond told me that a few minutes before my escape,” Blofeld said. “He claims SPECTRE is responsible. Are we?”

“No Number One,” Number Three said. “We know Swann died when a truck hit her car and threw it to a lake. But they never found the driver. It was either an accident or someone from her past or Bond's past wanted revenge.”

“Understood,” Blofeld said. “What about Bond?”

“I know Bond survived our attack in the prison without injuries,” she said. “But his whereabouts are currently unknown. We know that M has contacts within the Special Forces community. He probably used them to hid him somewhere.”

“I see,” Blofeld said. “Since Bond destroyed our base in North Africa and captured me, SPECTRE should take his revenge on him. Find him Number Three and when you do so... have him killed!”

A few days later... in Scotland...

The convoy consisting of two three-axle trucks, two six-wheeled armored vehicles, two Humvee jeeps and one attack helicopter for air support reached the Highlands Corner, a big but remote Royal Air Force base in Scotland. Upon reaching the main gate, the sentries verified the convoy was expected and let it enter and head for the base ammunition depot.

The moment the convoy stopped, a young RAF Lieutenant exited one of the trucks and headed to the depot entrance. The Captain responsible for the depot safety was there to meet him.

“Good evening Mr. Huxley,” the Captain said. “I see you brought us more things to guard... of the nuclear kind.”

“They are mock nukes,” Lieutenant Huxley said. “We are just doing a drill. We treat them as are the real thing as part of the drill. That's why you see that chopper above us.”

“Let me guess,” the officer said. “We are going to load them in one of these beautiful C-130s we purchased from our former colony and drop them in the Atlantic.”

“Something like that,” the Lieutenant said. The other officer nodded and signed the document that confirmed the transfer had taken place. The Lieutenant gestured for the two trucks to approach a stationary crane that would put the fake nukes inside an empty depot compartment.

One hour later, the process was over. The Lieutenant thanked the other officer and checked his watch. In ten minutes his shift would be over and he would be on his way home.

Fifteen minutes later, Lieutenant Huxley exited Highlands Corner. But instead of going straight home, he stopped along the way to make an important phone call.

“Hello?” the female voice said.

“Good evening Number Three,” Huxley said. “The package is in place.”

“Did they suspect the switch?” she asked.

“It will be too late when they do,” he replied.

“Excellent,” she said.

Chapter Text

he Cold War was a very dangerous period. For decades, the armies of the Eastern and the Western Block faced each other with the finger on the trigger. For decades, millions of soldiers and officers, tens of thousands of tanks and aircraft, thousands of surface ships and submarines were ready and waiting for the order to open fire.

Things became more complicated when the United States and - a few years later - the Soviet Union developed the nuclear bomb, the most powerful and devastating weapon humanity has ever seen.

It is not enough to have nuclear weapons though. If your opponent launches a first strike and destoys your arsenal before you have a chance to use it, your weapons are as good as nonexistent.

An obvious solution is to create a lot of weapons to always have enough to retaliate against an enemy first strike, something both superpowers did. But despite its benefits such a solution is very expensive and leaves you with a large number of weapons to guard. What if enemy saboteurs activate them? What if terrorists or SPECTRE steal them?

It is much smarter, safer and cheaper to develop advanced systems that would survive an enemy first strike. And that was how the Nuclear Triad concept was developed.

The Nuclear Triad encompassed the aerial, the land and the naval assets each superpower could use to launch nuclear weapons. For the air, the strategic bomber was developed. For the land it was the Intercontinental Ballistic Missile. For the sea the nuclear powered ballistic submarine entered service.

Even if your opponents attacked first, they had to fully neutralize all of your sea, air and land assets to ensure you would be unable to retaliate. Since your assets are dispersed though, your opponents can never destroy them all, therefore you can always retaliate, therefore your opponents will be destroyed a few hours after they attack you. The idea of both sides dying in a nuclear exchange soon took its official name: Mutually Assured Destruction.

Its logic of Mutual Assured Destruction was not lost on SPECTRE. In essence, Operation Neptune was their attempt to create their own version of it. But since they had no nuclear weapons themselves, they had to steal them from somewhere...

Apart from the USA and the Soviet Union, five more countries officially owned nuclear weapons: China, France, the Great Britain, India, and Pakistan. Their arsenals were much smaller than the ones the two nuclear superpowers had but they still played their role.

Great Britain in particular had an interesting role to play: it was both a maritime nation with a strategically close position to Soviet Union, a member of NATO and part of the Western Block. For that reason, the British focused on two types of nuclear delivery systems for maximum effect: strategic bombers like the Avro Vulcan and submarines. For decades the Royal Navy and the Royal Air Force drilled for a variety of scenarios, ranging from a massive Soviet attack to amphibious landings where RAF would bomb the enemy transports before they reached their beaches.

Such drills continued even after the Cold War ended: British submarines still launched training missiles and RAF bombers still dropped dummy nukes on land or sea targets. The Cold War was over but it could always restart so you'd better be prepared just in case.

And a C-130 bomber in a RAF base was about to perform one such drill...

"All right Lieutenant Huxley," his commanding officer said. "Tell us about the drill."

"Yes sir," Huxley said. "According to the drill scenario, part of our navy is under attack by a an enemy fleet in the North Atlantic. Our navy is outnumbered at least four to one."

"Since the enemies outnumber us," the officer asked, "what will they do?"

"They will divide forces and try to surround us," Huxley said. "Half their fleet will attack from the north and the rest from the south."

"And how is RAF going to help the Royal Navy?"

"We are going to load four nukes on a C-130," Huxley replied. "The C-130 will fly above the enemy fleet and drop two bombs on the southern portion of their fleet and two on the northern one."

"What about enemy aircraft?" a RAF Captain asked. He was the man who would pilot the C-130.

"According to the scenario," Huxley replied, "the enemy fleet has no aerial support. They are too far away from their land bases and they have no aircraft carriers in their fleet."

"And how about anti-air craft defenses?"

"Supposedly they have left their bases days ago and they have spent most of their ammo. They only have heat-seeking missiles and anti-aircraft gun ammo left. Our C-130 is supposed to fly high to avoid the guns, drop some flares to distract the missiles, drop the dummy nukes and go."

"Will there be a real fleet down there? Or is it just coordinates on a map?"

"Just coordinates Captain," Huxley replied. "You will have to imagine there are warships down there. The only Royal Navy warship in the vicinity is HMS Trafalgar. It will retrieve the dummy nukes one day after you drop them."

While the briefing was underway, a luxurious yacht was on her way from a fjord in Greenland to a predetermined spot in the Atlantic. It was Disco Volante, one ot the many ships SPECTRE used for their illegal operations.

"How much time till we reach our destination?" Emilio Largo asked. He was standing on the bridge, observing the horizon with his binoculars.

"Five hours Number Two," a SPECTRE operative sitting next to him replied.

"Good," Largo said. "We'll be gone before the Royal Navy approaches."

One hour later, Lieutenant Huxley observed the C-130 engines slowly coming to life. Three minutes later, the plane started moving on the runway. It kept going faster and faster until it took off.

Huxley checked his watch. In about twenty minutes, his shift for the day would end. And then...

Forty minutes later, Huxley was outside a small pub having changed into jeans, a sweater, sport shoes and a thin black coat. After parking his car, the officer entered the pub, sat on a quiet table on a corner and ordered a glass of homemade beer and some sausages.

Huxley took a deep breath and started contemplating all the things he had done in the past few days.

Switching the dummy nukes with real ones had been very easy. He only needed to change some labels in the armory, something illegal but easy to accomplish because noone was paying attention. Afterwards, the armory personnel loaded the real nukes to the convoy for the RAF base without suspecting a thing.

For obvious security reasons, whenever dummy nukes exited the armory, you were supposed to verify they weren't real ones. For that reason, you had to make a test: two officers equipped with radiation counters should approach the bombs and examine them. If there was no radiation, the two officers would sign a report stating all was in order. But if the bombs emitted ratiation, the process would stop immediately and the armory would close.

In reality though, only one officer examined the bombs. The other simpy signed he had done so, sometimes even days later. When the real nukes exited the armory, Huxley volunteered to check them, turned the radiation counter off, 'examined' the bombs, signed they were OK and that was it. The switch was complete and it would take days until someone noticed.

Huxley didn't know whether that laxness was a result of routine, boredom, complacency or understaffing and he didn't care. He had done the job SPECTRE had paid him to do and that was all he cared about. Nevertheless, he could only marvel at the simplicity of the operation and how easily he had penetrated such a supposedly safe system.

There was only one additional thing Huxley needed to do to complete the job: he needed to inform SPECTRE about the switch. But for some seconds he hesitated to do so.

Granted, he had switched dummy nukes with real ones but they were still inside that C-130. Huxley could still contact RAF and tell them he had made a mistake or find another excuse. His bosses would reprimand him but that would be all. The C-130 would return to the base, the real nukes would return to their armory and the RAF would reschedule the exercise for another day. It would be a nuisance for the British but nothing more than that.

Afterwards, he could phone SPECTRE the RAF had somehow found out about the switch, return the money they had already given him and remain silent. SPECTRE wouldn't kill him in order not to attract unwanted attention and Huxley would be a lightly punished but still loyal member of Royal Air Force.

On the other hand, if he continued with his plan he would become a traitor. A wealthy one but a traitor still.

Taking a deep breath and sipping some beer, Huxley made his decision. He drank the rest of the beer, stood up and headed for a payphone in the back to call a specific number he had memorized days ago.

"Hello?" the familiar female voice at the other end of the line said.

"Neptune is airborne," Huxley said. These were the code words indicating he had done his part.

"Excellent," the woman replied. "Your gift is waiting for you. You know where and when."

"I' ll be there," Huxley said and hung up.

He had done it. He had betrayed his country for a vast sum of money. He went back to his table, ordered a second beer and contemplated how his new life would be.

Emilio Largo, SPECTRE Number Two, looked at his satellite phone. It had just rung once to indicate a message for him.

Largo's phone was a specialized model not commercially sold, created by some of the finest scientists and technicians his organization had recruited over the years. It was an upgraded version compared to the ones you could find on the market. It was so designed that nobody could trace his calls. Even if someone did, they would pinpoint his location somewhere in the Amazon jungle, thousands of kilometers away from the North Atlantic.

"NEPTUNE IS AIRBORNE." That was Number Three's message. He smiled. Their time had come.

Largo stood up and pocketed the phone. The sun was setting as he exited, something he found very symbolic. In his eyes, shadow and darkness were the natural environment for SPECTRE.

Largo had been one of the first people to join SPECTRE when Ernst Stavro Blofeld had founded it decades ago. The organization had greatly expanded since then and only the interference from that MI-6 agent Bond had reversed the trend. But now, things would improve again...

After some hours and while night had already fallen, the C-130 reached its destination. The co-pilot checked the radar to confirm everything was alright.

Predictably the radar showed nothing. Nevertheless, the co-pilot had a sense of humor and wanted to have some fun.

"I see ten Royal Navy warships sir," he said in mock formality. "They are all wooden with all sails on."

"Tell me my trusted co-pilot," the pilot said, deciding to take part in the joke, "do you see the flagship of our glorious Admiral Nelson?"

"Yes sir I do," the co-pilot replied. "But I also... see another thing," he continued in mock anxiety.

"Let me guess," the pilot asked. "The French are attacking!"

"Yes sir. Fifty enemy warships from the north and..." The co-pilot paused to give emphasis, “another fifty from the south. They must have allied with the Spaniards! And they all have anti-aircraft guns and heat seeking missiles!”

"Don't worry Admiral Nelson," the pilot said in a proud voice. "RAF is here to help you. All right, my glorious co-pilot, let's nuke the enemy." The co-pilot nodded and took position in the cockpit.

A few minutes later the C-130 was above the imaginary French fleet. The aircraft descended, fired some flares to simulate an attempt to confuse enemy heat-seeking missiles and dropped two bombs in quick succession. As per the instructions, the nukes fell from the aircraft, their parachutes opened, the floats attached to them also opened and they gently touched the sea surface.

"The French are gone," the co-pilot said. "Time to attack the Spaniards."

Six minutes later, the C-130 'attacked' the second enemy fleet. Once more the attack was a 'success'.

"All clear sir," the co-pilot said. "We sunk both fleets. I think it's time to radio HMS Trafalgar. And one more thing...”

“What is it?”

"Don't tell Franch and Spain. They are our allies in NATO."

"I'll keep it a secret," the pilot said with a smile. But had he known he had just dropped four nukes for SPECREE to steal he would forget to smile for years.

HMS Trafalgar was one of the oldest and most distinguished Royal Navy destroyers. She had taken part in the Falklands War, the First Gulf War in 1991, the Second Gulf War in 2003 and in many other conflicts. Currently, she was taking part in drills not far away from the area the C-130 had dropped the nukes.

According to the exercise, HMS Trafalgar was to approach the area the supposed dummy nukes were dropped and retrieve them. The idea was to simulate the recovery of sensitive lost equipment before enemies took it first. To assist recovery, all four dummy nukes were equipped with homing beacons to help the two helicopters onboard the ship locate them.

Unfortunately, it was not only Trafalgar that could detect the signal the beacons transmitted...

"A British warship is approaching the areas with the nukes Number Two," the Disco Volante captain said.

"How much time till they reach it?" Largo asked.

"If they maintain current speed and direction... eight hours," the captain replied.

"How far are we from the nukes ourselves?" Largo asked.

"Ten miles from both groups sir."

"Stop Disco Volante. Prepare to launch the Shark," Largo ordered.

Many decades ago, the drug cartels in South America made an interesting discovery. There was a big a big and wealthy country to their north named United States of America their local organized crime hadn't saturated with drugs. It was too great an opportunity cartels to miss... and too great an opportunity for SPECTRE to ignore what the cartels were planning.

Soon, the cartels started systematic efforts to establish themselves in the United States. They either formed alliances with the local organized crime or established their own criminal networks. To succeed, they used a variety of tactics ranging from bribing and offering generous deals local criminals to killing enemy mob bosses and law enforcement officers who stood in their way.

The US authorities didn't remain idle though. The US Congress voted anti-drug laws and increased financing to their law enforcement agencies. They also signed international agreements with Latin America countries to reduce drug production and distribution.

The drug cartels didn't remain idle themselves. They established lots of hideouts in the United States and they tried new ways to smuggle their deadly product in the country.

In the beginning, the cartels moved their product from land using tunnels in the border between Mexico and the US. Soon however, Mexico and USA cooperated to monitor the borders. In addition, the Mexican authorities – with some US cooperation – became very active in dealing with drug distribution networks inside their country, reducing the use of Mexico as a drug smuggling route.

The cartels' next step was to use speedboats. Speedboats were very hydrodynamic and had strong engines to move very fast and evade the US Coast Guard vessels. After a few years though, the Coast Guard developed anti-speedboat tactics and the cartels had to abandon that idea as well.

The next step was to small aircraft that landed on airstripps in the middle of nowhere. This time the United States Air Force was involed. Using AWACS flying radars and jet fighters, they shot down many drug smuggling aircraft.

In the end, the drug cartels used specialized sea vehicles, called narco submarines. Although they were called submarines, most of them couldn't dive but had to keep a small part of their structure on the surface like the tip of an iceberg. A better term for them would be semi-submersibles. Techicalities aside, such vessels were very effective and they were capable of carrying many tonnes of cargo for thousands of miles without resupply. They were also very hard to detect.

SPECTRE had maintained close ties with the drug cartels for years. Apart from the obvious reasons – a share in drug profits and influence to corrupt politicians – Blofeld had a lot of interest in their tactics as well. How could SPECTRE use aircraft, speedboats, illegal routes and semi-submersibles for other purposes? How could they combine the cartels' tactics with nuclear terrorism?

After two hours of stealth sailing, the SPECTRE semi-submersible homed on the first nuke. Originally, it had been used for drug trade but SPECTRE soon purchased it from a drug cartel they had a strategic alliance with. It was perfect for the task at hand. Two dummy nukes were strapped on it, all looking like the ones the C-130 had dropped.

"Let's go," Largo said. Wearing a diver's uniform, he and two SPECTRE operators exited the submarine from a hatch at its bottom and swam to the surface. One of them was holding the end of a steel cable that extended from the submarine's interior and was connected to a winch.

With careful moves, Largo and his men approached one of the nukes and removed the parachute and the transmitter attached on it. Afterwards, the man holding the steel cable tied it around the nuke's tail.

The next part of the operation was to let the nuke sink and let the steel cable and the specialized winch pull it inside the submersible. To do so, one of Largo's henchmen pierced the nuke floats with a knife and let it sink. Five minutes later, it was safely inside the submersible.

"OK, let's float our nuke," Largo said. One of his henchmen swam to the submarine, approached one of the dummy nukes and pulled a cord. Immediately, an air pump filled its floats with compressed air. When they were full, the henchman unstrapped it from the submarine's body and the bomb floated on the quiet Atlantic waters.

"Good," Largo said. The next minutes, his henchmen attached the parachute and the transmitter the stolen British nuke originally had. Largo made a final inspection to their job and when he was satisfied he ordered them back to the submarine. Hopefully, it would take the British days to find out about the switch.

"How much distance till the next nuke?" he asked the crew member who had remained inside the submarine.

"Three miles Number Two," came the reply.

"Good," Largo said. "Move there at six knots."

Ninety minutes later, Largo and his henchemen had replaced the second real nuke with one of their dummy ones and reached Disco Volante. There they received two more dummy nukes to replace the real ones with them. Three hours later all British nukes were inside Disco Volante.

"Inform Number One for our success," Largo said upon reaching the bridge. "I'll be in my cabin for a shower. Have a glass of champagne for me when I exit!"

Chapter Text

Inside the safe-house James Bond was sitting on the floor, his back laying on the wall. Next to him there was an old telephone, two lit candles and an old but well-maintained book. It was a biography of Admiral Horatio Nelson, Britain's most distinguished officer.

007 looked at his watch. It was ten pm. Time to make a phone call.

Although MI-6 had never connected the phone line with the telephone network, the line was not completely inactive. It was connected to a particular number only safehouses had access to. Whenever someone called it, an automated answering machine deep inside the MI-6 building answered.

The purpose of the phone line was twofold. One, it could record messages from the people inside the safe-house, a very useful feature for interrogators who could dictate the confessions of Eastern Block defectors. Moreover, the people inside the house could phone at specific hours and listen to prerecorded instructions.

The second purpose of the line was to contact the people inside safe-houses in case of emergencies. After all, during the Cold War mobile phones didn't exist and even when they were invented afterwards, MI-6 forbade their use in safe-houses. Mobile phones could be hacked to reveal a person's location or to illegally record conversations without their owners' notice and consent.

007 picked the phone from its cradle and called the seven-digit number he had memorized. After ringing twice, the answering machine answered with a prerecorded message for him.

"Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright." The message was repeated twice and the line went dead.

Bond put the phone back to the cradle. The message was clear: stay where you are, things remain calm.

"Funny they used a line from a Christmas carol Admiral," Bond said. "Anyway, since our kingdom didn't need our assistance, let's see how you defeated the French."

The next morning, a car stopped on a deserted dirt road somewhere in Cornwall. A good looking woman in her early fifties, wearing a simple but elegant pantsuit exited it. She was Barbara Simmons, head of MI-5...

... and SPECTRE Number Three.

A well-built man in his early thirties who stood next to a motorcycle was waiting for her. He was holding something that looked like a long briefcase in his right arm.

The woman approached the man. The moment she was close, he put the briefcase on the ground and hugged her. The next moment they kissed each other on the lips.

"I missed you Hans," the woman said with a smile. "Where had you been?"

"The usual things Barbara," Max replied. "Killing people and helping Number One escape."

"Yes," she said. "I've learned the details from Number Two. You killed the van driver and that SAS trooper on the door."

"I missed that MI-6 agent though," he said. "He ducked too fast for me to hit. He had a sort of sixth sense or something."

"We are talking about James Bond here," she said. "He is a legend."

"I'd love to put a bullet on his head," Max said. "But where is he?"

"Even I as head of MI-5 don't know. M has hidden him somewhere."

"Too bad," Max said. "Now, why did you call me here?"

"There is a big SPECTRE operation underway," she told him and gently kissed him on his lips. "I can't tell you more yet but let's say we had inside help."

"Let me guess Barbara. We want me to silence that inside help... permanently." Barbara gave him another kiss.

"Exactly Max. I'll meet him in fifteen minutes. Follow me, find a good spot to hide and wait. Don't kill him immediately though. I want to talk to him first. Just wait for my signal."

Barbara Simmons stopped her car in another deserted dirt road, a few kilometers away from the place she had met Max. A man was there standing next to his car. Unlike Barbara's sleek and elegant car, his was old and rusty.

"Hello my friend," she said when she exited the car. She noticed the man wasn't shaved and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Hi," Lieutenant Huxley said. "I haven't slept in two days. What I did..."

"You did nothing wrong Huxley," she said. "You were ambitious and you wanted more from life, just like us."

"Where is my money?" he asked. Simmons was about to reply when he suddenly drew a pistol.

"Calm down," she said. "You don't need that."

"I don't trust you," he said. "Turn around. I need to search you." Barbara was not exactly thrilled but the sight of the gun was quite convincing and she complied.

From the elevated and hidden position Max had found, he observed the interaction. He had Huxley on his sights ready to kill him the moment he did something stupid. He nearly pulled the trigger when Huxley drew his pistol but he remembered Barbara's orders and held his fire.

One minute later Max saw Huxley stopped searching Barbara, apparently satisfied Number Three carried no weapons or hidden microphones. A few seconds later both Huxley and Simmons reached the trunk of her car. Barbara opened it, took a suitcase from inside it and gently put it on the ground.

"Here we are Mr. Huxley," she said. "One million pounds in fifty-pound notes and one million euros in fifty-euro notes as you requested. You are a rich man."

"Turn around, I need to count them."

"We have counted them already," she said. She hoped he wouldn't count them one by one.

"Both hands on the car hood. Now!" She hesitated but he gestured her with his gun. Once more she had no choice but to comply.

From his sniping position, Max could see Simmons's face and the annoyed expression on it. Huxley couldn't see that because her back was turned on him. That also made Huxley miss her silently moving her lips.

Max however saw Barbara's moving lips. As a sniper, he was trained in lip reading because it was an excellent way to understand enemy conversations from a distance without having to get close. Barbara's message to him was short and very clear.

"Shoot him two minutes after I leave. Make him suffer." Max smiled.

"OK Barbara."

"OK," Huxley said after almost thirty minutes. "I have counted the money. You have kept your part of your deal."

"We always do Mr. Huxley," Simmons said, hiding her annoyance. "But have you fully kept yours?"

"Of course," he replied. "I switched the nukes as we had agreed."

"I already know about that," she said. "But what about the part where you don't tell anything to anyone? Have you talked to anyone?"

"If I had talked to anyone before the switch, they would have captured me," he said. "I also haven't talked to anyone after that. I slept in the car, I avoided talking to people and I only grabbed something to eat in gas stations."

"And what about the RAF?" she asked. "Won't they look for you?"

"I took two weeks of leave," he replied. "Until they find out I am gone, I will be out of the country."

"Very well then," Simmons said. "You have kept your part of the deal and that concludes our business. Now for security reasons," she continued, "I will leave first and I will ask you to wait for five minutes before you do so. All right?"

"All right," he said. Simmons nodded, entered her car and gunned the engine while Huxley started counting for five minutes.

He never finished counting. Two minutes later, Max opened fire and shot his right leg. He could have killed Huxley with a single headshot but he decided to fire all ten bullets the rifle magazine had.

Twenty minutes later, Max was in the rendezvous point. He had the suitcase with the money with him.

"He suffered. A lot." he told Simmons. "Arms, legs, the gut twice and two headshots for good measure."

"Good job Max," she said. "I had to take the day off to deal with him. Fortunately, we have some time before I return to London. And I know a good and discreet hotel nearby."

"Lead the way Barbara," Max said with a smile.

Apart from her onboard weapons systems, HMS Trafalgar also had helicopters, very useful for aerial patrol around her, search and rescue, anti-submarine warfare, and fire control for the ship's cannons and missile systems. In addition, the helicopters could lift objects from the sea, something they had done with the four dummy nukes a few days ago.

To protect the helicopters from enemy fire and the harsh Atlantic weather, the ship had a protected hangar as part of the deck. The four retrieved 'nukes' were stored there next to the choppers and the technicians who maintained them.

Three days had passed since HMS Trafalgar had retrieved the 'nukes'. In two more days, the destroyer would be in Scapa Flow, one of the biggest Royal Navy bases.

What nobody onboard suspected was that inside one of the dummy nukes...

Years before Blofeld was captured, he had decided SPECTRE should obtain nuclear weapons. For that reason, he had assigned a group of trusted advisors, that had included Emilio Largo and Barbara Simmons, to examine their options.

After some analysis, the group reached its conclusions. Option one was to develop their own weapons, option two to steal weapons ready to use and option three was a combination of the other two.

Blofeld discarded option one. Developing nuclear weapons had enormous costs that SPECTRE could not afford. In addition, it required massive infrastructure and hundreds of people to work on it, people SPECTRE had to recruit somewhere.

"We will bankrupt ourselves," Blofeld had said, "and then one of the people we recruited will talk. You can't guarantee the silence of so many people."

Option two was more promising. SPECTRE only needed to steal a small number of activated nuclear weapons. Unfortunately for them, such weapons were well-guarded and all attempts they made led to failure.

That left option three. After the Cold War ended, the nuclear powers deactivated and stored many nuclear weapons. On their own, such weapons were harmless because they lacked the specialized detonators that activated them, making them less useful. On the other hand, since everyone considered such weapons harmless, the security measures around them were relatively lax making them an easier target for SPECTRE.

The downside of that plan was that it still required some infrastructure: someone had to buy or create those detonators and specialized personnel needed to apply them to the nukes. But such infrastructure was much simpler, cheaper and easier to obtain and only required a handful of specialists and small amounts of time to succeed.

Two setbacks delayed the implementation of the plan. The first one was that Mr. White, a high-ranking member of SPECTRE involved with the plan, decided to abandon them. Blofeld had him killed – ironically using radiation poisoning – and gave more authority to Largo.

The second delay came the night Bond arrested Blofeld. For security reasons, only a handful of people inside SPECTRE knew about the plan and Blofeld had the final say on it, making its progress much slower.

Despite the setbacks, the plan progressed. Largo secured a secret location to work on the nukes, obtained narco submarines and found the necessary materials for the detonators. Simmons recruited Huxley and a number of scientists to work with Largo. But it was only when Blofeld escaped when the plan was finally put into motion.

Emilio Largo looked at the big merchant ship sailing in front of Disco Volante. It was slow, it needed two tugboats to safely maneuver inside the canal and constant attention not to hit the canal walls. In contrast, Disco Volante could safely maneuver on her own. It was much smaller and had much more space to move. Despite this, it could cause much more damage than the merchant ship. And the reason for that was the four nuclear bombs it carried inside it.

If everything went according to plan, Largo would be in Latin America in a few days for the second part of their plan.

Crossing the Panama Canal was a great risk for SPECTRE. Disco Volante would have to spend many hours in very confined waters, unable to move fast or maneuver. In addition, the canal authorities were well armed and Panama had a military alliance with the United States. If the authorities discovered Disco Volante carried weapons of mass destruction, helicopters from a nearby US military base would take-off and sink the SPECTRE yacht in less than ten minutes.

In theory, Largo could avoid crossing the canal. Disco Volante could simply reach the western part of Latin America passing around Cape Horn. But such an activity would delay their plans for many days, an amount of time they couldn't afford to waste. They had to take the risk.

To mitigate the risk, the crew of Disco Volante placed the nukes in a specialized cavity in the ship's ballast because the ballast was made of lead and lead absorbs radiation. In addition, lead absorbs X-rays – they are low intensity radiation after all – preventing the authorities from locating the cavity and seeing what is inside it.

In addition, they scuttled their small submarine. Drug cartels extensively use such submarines and having one on board would be a red flag. The moment the authorities found it, they would stop Disco Volante and thoroughly search the yacht for drugs. They wouldn't find any but they would find the nukes and end SPECTRE's plans for good.

For all intends and purposes, Disco Volante was the yacht of a wealthy businessman and middle-aged playboy who after having spent days in the Atlantic decided to have a taste of the Pacific. It would ensure the authorities wouldn't care that much about the man and his yacht. Not exactly what Emilio Largo was but not that far away either.

A few days later...

The red phone – the one only used for grave emergencies – on M's desk rung. It was the Prime Minister himself!

"Yes Prime Minister?" M asked. "Yes, you have my undivided attention. Explosions... where... when? And a message from... SPECTRE? Yes, Prime Minister I will..." The Prime Minister hung up. The next second M called Moneypenny.

"There is a package from Ten Downing Street, from the Prime Minister himself," M told her. "Bring it to my office the moment it arrives. And tell Q to come to my office ASAP."

A few hours later M's phone rung. It was Q, the legendary scientist, gadget's genius and quartermaster.

"Sir," Q said, "I searched our databases, I cross referenced them with the other intelligence agencies and..."

"And?" M asked.

"We have hit a wall sir. There is nothing more we can do. Unless..." Q told his boss what they should do.

"Very well Q" M said. "I will summon him."

It was eight pm. The night had fallen in London and James Bond was sitting on the floor, absorbed with rereading about the battle of Copenhagen, one of Nelson's greatest victories.

Suddenly, the phone rang...

007 looked at the phone. M had told him it would ring only if something terribly important happened.

"Something went wrong Admiral," 007 said. "And one of us will have to go and fix things." And with those words, he picked the phone up.

"England expects that every man will do his duty." The prerecorded message was replayed twice and the line went dead.

007 smiled. It was so fitting. The message that called him back to action was the same one Admiral Nelson had used to address the British sailors and officers before the battle of Trafalgar, his greatest triumph.

007 stood up and picked his coat from an armchair. There was a lightness and a grace to his moves. After days holed in the safe-house with only Nelson's biographies to read, he was back in action.

"Sorry to leave you alone Admiral," Bond said before opening the door. "England expects me to do my duty. I know you will understand."

Chapter Text

"Good evening James," Moneypenny said. "Welcome back."

"Hello Moneypenny," Bond replied. "I had to leave our most glorious Admiral alone."

"Oh, you read the Nelson's biographies I had placed there," she said. "I am a great fan myself."

"A fan of Nelson and not me?" 007 said in mock disappointment. "I am so jealous now. But what can I do? I am just a Commander, clearly outranked." Moneypenny smiled.

Moneypenny was about to reply when the buzz on the intercom stopped her. It was M.

"Send 007 in," M said.

“Duty calls Moneypenny,” 007 said in mock formality. “And as the good Admiral would say 'England expects that every man will do his duty.'"

"Well said Commander Bond. Well said."

"Good evening 007," M said the moment Bond entered his office. The MI-6 agent noticed M had placed a bottle of scotch on the table, the same bottle Colonel Guinness had offered as a gift. It was two-thirds empty though.

"Good evening sir," Bond said. "What crisis am I going to avert tonight?" M poured 007 some whiskey, picked up a remote control from his desk and turned a video projector on.

"Trust me 007," M said, "you are going to need the scotch." 007 looked at his boss, eyes widened in surprise.

"A few hours ago," M said, "a package was sent to Buckingham Palace, addressed to Her Majesty and our Prime Minister. After examining it for explosives, the Palace officials opened it, only to find a number of identical DVDs. Can you guess who the sender was?"

"SPECTRE," Bond replied.

"Correct 007. The DVDs were addressed to various agencies, including our own. After Q examined the DVD for viruses and malware - and finding none – I watched it and..." M pressed a button on a remote control. Immediately, a video projector on the wall started playing.

“Better see for yourself 007.”

The first scene of the DVD showed the familiar SPECTRE symbol: an octopus with its tentacles. After twenty seconds, the image faded only to be replaced with another: a well-dressed man sitting on a desk and. Bond immediately recognized him.

"For those of you who don't know me," the man said, "my name is Ernst Stavro Blofeld and I am head of SPECTRE. Despite your efforts to keep me your prisoner, I have escaped and I am ready to make SPECTRE stronger than ever.

"I know you are trying your hardest to arrest me again. But while you wasted your time and resources doing so, SPECTRE executed Operation Neptune, our most glorious project. To spare you the wasted effort, our operation has nothing to do with the D-Day landings that happened to have the same code name.

"A few days ago, a C-130 carrying four supposedly dummy nuclear bombs dropped them in the Atlantic Ocean as part of a drill. However, our infiltrators among your ranks switched them with real ones. All of them are currently under our control in secret locations.

"If you wonder why we did it, the answer is simple. For starters, we want you to stop hunting down and arresting our members. In addition, we expect you to pay us at anonymous offshore bank accounts of our choice the amount of one billion dollars a month on a permanent basis. Considering the trillions of damage a nuclear explosion can cause to you or your allies, you should consider our offer generous.

"I understand the official policy of you and your allies is not to negotiate with terrorists. However, it is time to reconsider that policy. We give you one week for your reconsideration, a sufficient amount of time for you to decide. Afterwards, we will use one of our nuclear weapons against you or another country and we will keep doing so every month until you pay.

"That will be all." The screen went black and the SPECTRE logo appeared once more.

M turned the projector off. 007 looked at him but for the next few minutes both men remained silent.

"Is Blofeld bluffing here?" 007 finally asked his boss.

"I am afraid not 007," M replied. "A few days ago, our destroyer HMS Trafalgar retrieved four dummy nukes floating in the Atlantic. A few miles outside Scapa Flow, one of the supposedly dummy nukes blew up inside the ship's helicopter hangar."

"Were the dummy nukes supposed to do that?"

"No 007. The dummy nukes have the same size and weight with the real ones but we fill them with concrete, not military grade explosives. The explosion destroyed the two helicopters in the hangar and killed six technicians maintaining them."

"It was a message from SPECTRE to take them seriously."

"That's right 007," M said. "The moment RAF learned about the explosions, they knew something was wrong and they made an emergeny audit in their nuclear arsenal. To their horror, they realized four nuclear weapons were missing and sent their serial numbers to us. Q compared them with the ones the SPECTRE DVD had and..."

"They match," Bond said completing M's words.

"Exactly 007. I read the RAF report about the incident and as you can guess, the security measures were very lax. A single well-placed officer could do it if left unsupervised and that exactly how it happened."

"It is just like Blofeld's escape M. Lax security measures and someone from the inside. So who was the infiltrator there?"

"A RAF Lieutenant named Huxley. But don't expect him to talk. They found his dead body yesterday riddled with high-caliber bullets."

"Dammit," 007 said. "SPECTRE has infiltrators everywhere. Even if we activate the 00 department to search for leads, I am certain the people they still employ inside our intelligence community will find out within hours."

"Unless of course..." M said. James Bond smiled. He knew what his boss meant.

"Unless you assign the mission to someone currently listed as hidden in a safe house..."

"... who also happens to know the one woman capable of helping us," M said.

"I really hoped we wouldn't involve her sir."

A few days after James Bond arrested Blofeld in London, he made an important decision: he would leave MI-6 and start a serious relationship with Madeleine Swann.

There was something bugging him though: what if he changed his mind? What if his relationship with Madeleine never worked? What if he missed his old life as 007 and wanted it back?

Bond decided to ask for a second opinion and Moneypenny was more than happy to advice him. She suggested Bond should not resign MI-6 but instead take an unpaid leave of absence of indefinite duration. If he and Madeleine were still together after one year, he could resign for good. If on the other hand he missed the world of espionage, he could simply return to duty.

M had been understanding and had not tried to talk him out of his decision. He even used an old contact of his to help Bond secure a job in the private sector as a security consultant.

For the first months, things were working. The pay was good, the job hours were steady, he and Madeleine were happy... But soon both realized something was missing.

For Madeleine, the missing part was her home country. She was an Austrian and she missed speaking and listening to German instead of English. She liked and respected the men and women of Great Britain... but they were not her people. She could not feel the same emotional connection with them.

For James, the problem was that he stayed too much at home. He missed travelling, he missed the excitement the brush with death offered, he missed the behind the curtains world of espionage. As a security consultant he had a predictable 9-to-5 job with no travelling opportunities and the most dangerous thing he faced was to accidentally spill coffee on his necktie.

A year passed and in the end, both realized things could not work. James wanted his old job back and that meant he would leave Madeleine alone for extended periods of time. Even worse, he had visited M in his office and the head of MI-6 had told him SPECTRE was regrouping after Blofeld's arrest. Soon, they might make an attempt against him or his girlfriend.

After some discussion, both agreed the best course of action would be to break up, Bond to return to MI-6 and Madeleine to Austria. But SPECTRE might still hunt her down. Only if SPECTRE considered her dead would they stop looking for her. And the only way to do that was if... she faked her own death!

Once more M was helpful. After listening to Bond's request, he assigned Q to find a way and soon the legendary Quartermaster came with a solution: Bond would find the body of a young, recently diseased woman from a morgue and put it in Madeleine's car. Afterwards, he would drive a truck and hit the car, causing it to fall to a lake.

The plan worked perfectly. Madeleine 'died' and the day after her 'death', she and Bond met fot the last time. They hugged each other, wished each other good luck and James gave her a new passport and a new identity.

"A psychiatrist in Vienna?" she had said. "That would work." She had been a psychiatrist for years before meeting James.

"That's right Madeleine,” James had said. “M has a contact in Austrian Intelligence that will help you.” She hugged him, they said goodbye and that had been all.

Two years passed like that. James Bond returned to MI-6 and reused the code name 007 – out of respect M hadn't assigned it to anyone else – while Madeleine found employment as a psychiatrist for school children. SPECTRE still believed she was dead, and Bond had said so to Blofeld to reinforce the impression the day the latter had escaped.

Bond had Madeleine's contact address and he could visit her in Austria if he wished. But doing so might jeopardize her safety and besides why to open old wounds?

Until the day SPECTRE stole four nukes ...

"Is there any other way sir?" Bond asked. "I really want to keep Madeleine Swann out of it."

"I am afraid that's impossible 007,” M said. “considering who her father was.” 007 nodded. Madeleine's father was Mr. White, a man Bond himself had wounded and captured in Italy.

Mr. White's area or responsibility had been to contact and recruit people who would help SPECTRE's goals. Such people ranged from warlords and drug barons to intelligence officers and nuclear scientists. It was that latter category that concerned M.

"The four nukes," M said, "have special control features to prevent unauthorized activation. Only specialized nuclear scientists with specialized equipment can activate them."

"I suppose SPECTRE has purchased the equipment and recruited the scientists," Bond said. "And I suppose Mr. White had something to do with that.”

"Correct," M said, "b ut since he is dead, his daughter is the only lead we have.” 007 nodded. He had located Mr. White in Austria three years ago, nearly dead from radiation poisoning. Mr. White had committed suicide in front of him a few minutes after he had found him.

"According to Q," M continued, “even with the right people and the right equipment SPECTRE will need days till they succeed. Mr. White's daughter led us to one of his hideouts in Northern Africa. There might be more than that."

"I really hoped to keep Madeleine out of this,” 007 said. “But with millions of lives at stake, we are out of options.”

"Exactly 007,” M said. “For that reason I assign you your mission: find Madeleine Swann and use her help to locate the missing nuclear weapons."

"At your orders M," 007 said and went to see Q to get his equipment.

Chapter Text

After his meeting with M was over, James Bond headed to the one person he always met whenever he went on an assignment: Q, the legendary quartertmaster and inventor.

Q was a tall man with white hair who had joined MI-6 decades ago when Bond was still a young boy. That was something he always reminded 007, usually for fun, but sometimes to make Bond behave himself. As a member of MI-6, Q was the one who had designed most of the the 00 agents had used. But for some reason, from all the 00 agents 007 was the one who ended up destroying them.

"Good morning Q," 007 said upon entering. While entering, a lab technician dressed as a waiter placed a box of chocolates on a table next to him and left. All of them had the same rectangular shape and size. But half of them were wrapped in white paper and the rest in black.

"Good morning 007," Q replied. "What brings you here?"

"Oh, the usual stuff. Finding a missing lady, searching for weapons of mass destruction... You know, routine assignements for her Majesty's Secret Service." While saying that, he picked up one of the chocolate bars. It was one wrapped with black paper.

"I am tempted to let you eat that," Q said. "But I am on my good spirits today." Knowing Q, Bond decided to play it safe and put the bar back in the box.

"What is so dangerous about it?" Bond asked. "Extra calories?"

"Pay attention 007," Q said. He approached the box and picked up one of the bars wrapped in black paper.

"You squeeze twice in the middle and..." Q squeezed, threw the bar behind a pile of sandbags and covered his ears. Seeing him, Bond did the same. Three seconds later, a loud explosion rocked the pile and threw a sandbag away.

"Such an explosive taste," Bond said.

"I knew you would say that 007," Q replied. "Now, there are forty very dangerous chocolate bars in the box you are going to take. The twenty wrapped in black have plastic explosives."

"And the other twenty?"

"They are a considerable risk for your silouette, not to mention your weight."

"Can I activate them all at the same time?”

“Yes,” Q said. “There is a specialized transmitter hidden in the chocolate box exactly for that reason. You can activate it remotely using standard MI-6 equipment.”

"Yes, my silouette and my sex appeal are already threatened," Bond replied.

"Speaking of sex appeal, the Q-branch has something special for you. Follow me but don't, I repeat don't step on the red tiles on the floor!"

"Why Q? Did you put mines under them?"

"No, we just painted them and the paint is still wet." 007 wondered whether Q was just trolling him or whether he had indeed put mines there.

007 and Q started walking toward the latter's office when suddenly... a drone passed through them, test piloted by one of Q's assistants. Unlike most helicopter drones, it didn't have rotor blades for lift but ducted fans, a detail Bond mentioned Q.

“Yes 007,” Q said, “it has ducted fans because they are more quiet. You cannot understand that in an enclosed space, but this drone is very quiet out in the open.”

“What about its equipment?” Bond asked.

“It is not armed if that is what you ask. It only carries a camera for reconnaissance that works in three mods: normal, night vision, thermal vision. It also carries a transmitter that allows you to remotely detonate explosives like the ones in the chocolate box.”

“How fast does it go Q?”

“Not very fast I am afraid. It is battery-powered and that gives it a few hours of endurance. The good news is you can recharge it in all places with an electricity network.”

Inside Q's office, there was a big, full-body photo on the wall... the photo of James Bond himself. And the most interesting part? It was full of small darts.

"Hey, what happened here? Who shot me?"

"Target practice 007," Q replied. "Let me show you." He opened one of his desk drawers and removed an elegant wristwatch from it.

"Latest from the Q branch," he said. "It can show you the time in two different locations, it can connect with internet – if there is wifi available – and...

"Let me guess," Bond said. "It also tells you the date."

"No 007," Q said. "Pay attention to the small cylinders under it." 007 turned the watch and saw two cylinders under it. Both appeared to be loaded with... darts!

"The two cylinders contain small but powerful electromagnets," Q said. "When you wear the watch, specialized sensors activate the magnets. Using special wrist motions, you can manipulate the magnets to fire the darts inside them."

"What about the darts Q?"

"They have a range of five meters and they are of two types. The red ones are explosive while the green ones contain a strong neurotoxine. If a green dart hits an exposed part of your skin, you lose consciousness within seconds and die."

"Interesting," Bond said. "Hopefully, I won't hit myself."

"I wouldn't recommend it. I'll provide you with fifteen explosive and fifteen poison darts."

"Anything more Q?" Bond asked. "A fancy new car, a spaceship perhaps? That drone you showed me out there?"

"No, that will be all for the time being 007. And remember..."

"...always bring the equipment back in one piece," 007 said. "That is what I always do Q."

"No 007," Q said, annoyed. "What you always do is bring back one piece of the whole, not the whole in one piece."

"Oh, semantins Q," 007 said. "Just semantics." It was Q's time to facepalm.

Back in Moneypenny's office...

"Hello again James," Moneypenny said. "How did the briefing go?"

"The same," 007 replied. "For some reason Q thinks I destroy his gadgets in the field."

"I am shocked to hear that," she said in mock surprise. "Better be more careful." Her eyes fell on the box of chocolates James was holding.

"I wonder what Q put in those chocolates."

"That depends Moneypenny," 007 said. "The white ones have lots of calories and the black ones have lots calories plus plastic explosives."

"I'd rather avoid them then. No matter which one I eat, I'll need a dentist afterwards."

"Plus an undertaker for the black ones. Now Moneypenny, I have to leave you now. I have a flight to catch." Moneypenny nodded and opened one of her desk drawers.

"Here we are James," she said. "A passport with an assumed name because we don't know whether SPECTRE is spying on us, your ticket for Vienna, and finally a hotel recommendation."

"H. Nelson?" Bond said upon looking the name on the passport and the ticket. "The Admiral would be very happy for me. And..."

"Hotel Sacher, James," she said. "Classy, elegant, and with an excellent restaurant to take Mrs. Swann for dinner. And don't forget to have some Sacheforte for dessert."

"Yes, Sacheforte," Bond said. "The hotel's special chocolate cake with apricot. It's delicious as I have heard."

"Intenational men of mystery know such things," she said with a smile. "But I will let the hotel choice on you.”

"Thank you so much. And now … auf widersehen Frau Moneypenny."

"Auf Wiedersehen Herr Nelson!"

Chapter Text

When planning the operation, M and 007 assumed S PECTRE had infiltrators everywhere, especially among the ranks of various intelligence agencies. With so much a stake, Blofeld wouldn't think twice before sending half a dozen assassins after Bond the moment he made contact with Austrian intelligence.

For added security, Bond was to avoid using credit or debit cards and stick to cash or anonymous prepaid cards as much as possible. After the September 11 ^th 2001 terrorist attacks, most countries established systematic anti-money laundering controls and carefully monitored many financial transactions. It was a given that SPECTRE had people working in the banking system and they would use them to track Bond down the moment he used one of his or one of MI-6's accounts.

To move in Vienna with safety and discretion, 007 rented a car paying cash and headed to a special location he had committed to memory. Just like the safe-house in London, that location was a remnant of the Cold War and contained some very valuable items for him.

007 stopped the car outside a semi-abandoned building in the outskirts of the city. It was old and rusty, a great contrast with Vienna's more aristocratic and beautiful architecture. It was a mixture of living spaces and a couple of shops on the ground floor. Bond wondered how the building looked like forty years ago when the Cold war was at its forte.

During the Cold War Austria was neutral, obliged by treaty to avoid supporting either the Eastern or the Western block. That neutrality made its capital Vienna a popular place for clandlestine communications, so common during that period. Many small scale US-Soviet deals had been agreed in the numerous restaurants the city had. Too many defections to count had taken place in the streets of the city that once upon a time had been the capital of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

To help their agents in Vienna the British – just like many other countries – filled the city with drop-boxes. At the height of the Cold War, the British Embassy in Vienna had a special department just to monitor them with detailed knowledge of their contents and whether someone had compromised them.

When the Cold War ended, most drop-boxes were abandoned and the department was disbanded. However, some of them were still in use and Bond was about to open one of them. From the outside, it appeared like the mailbox of a man named Luke Himmelgeher. But no such person lived in the apartment and nobody cared about opening the box.

Nobody paid attention when 007 entered the huge building and nobody cared when he approached the wall where the mail boxes were. Wasting no time, 007 approached mail box TNX-1138, opened it with a special key M had provided with, picked up the black box inside it, put the box in his backpack, locked the mailbox, and got away. The next minute he was back in his car without anyone realizing what had happened.

Forty minutes later, Bond was in h otel Sacher, perhaps the most famous hotel in Vienna and one of the most luxurious hotels in the world. Built during the second half of the 19 ^th century, Sacher had been a place where aristocrats and millionaires had frequented for more than one-and-a-half century.

Sacher had been a lucky hotel. It had survived the loss of ownership from the Sachers, its original founders and owners, the collapse of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire, two World Wars – it had remained mostly undamaged during World War Two despite hundreds of allied aerial bombings against Vienna –, and four decades of Cold War. In fact, it had played a role during the early stages of the Cold War: the British used the hotel as their headquarters until the day their army left the city.

Apart from being a hotel, Sacher had two different restaurants for its guests and visitors, the Red for conventional cuisine and the Green for culinary experimentation. In addition, it had the Blue bar for aperitifs and drinks in a relaxing atmosphere.

Hotel Sacher was the ideal scenery for men of mystery like 007. In fact, many secret exchanges had taken place in hotels like that. Bond vividly remembered one such incident at hotel Grande Bretagne, the most beautiful hotel in Athens, a hotel that closely resembled Sacher in class and elegance.

Four years ago, M had sent 007 to Athens on a special assignment. He was to meet a beautiful, ambitious, and greedy Russian diplomat working in the Russian embassy there and pay her for the secrets she knew. After the exchange was over, he had suggested they go for dinner, drinks and sex in his hotel room and the gorgeous diplomat had accepted all three offers, much to his delight.

After taking his key from the reception, Bond entered his room, showered, changed to a three-piece suit and a matching necktie and checked the black box he had retrieved. It contained the usual items such boxes had: an envelope containing money, a pistol with four clips and one hundred bullets, and a silencer for the gun.

The most interesting item though was something else: it was a photograph of Skyfall, the area in Scotland Highlands where Bond's ancestral home was. It was a place he and Madeleine had visited when they were still a couple.

Apart from that, the photograph was the key for contacting Madeleine again. Although, she and James had agreed to go their separate ways, Madeleine had agreed to let him contact her in case something terrible happened. And four nuclear bombs stolen by SPECTRE was the clearest definition of 'terrible' Bond could think of.

Bond pocketed the photograph, exited the room, took the elevator for the reception, and asked the receptionist for a pen and a small envelope. After he took them, he headed for a small cabin next to the reception with a payphone in it.

The payphone was a still functional relic of another time, a time when mobile phones did not exist. A phone book was hanging next to it, another relic of an area where smartphones that could search phone numbers online were still a thing of imagination. 007 opened it and checked for the specific name Madeleine had taken when she assumed her new identity. After he found it, he wrote the accompanying address on the envelope, took the photo from his pocket, wrote a short message on it and put it in the envelope. Afterwards, he exited the cabin and reached the receptionist.

“Yes sir,” the receptionist told 007. “We have an agreement with an extra-fast courier delivery service. The message will reach its destination within the hour.”

“Very well,” Bond said and gave the receptionist the envelope plus the money for the courier. One minute later, he was outside the hotel on his way to a clothes store.

It had been a long and tiring day for Madeleine Swann. She had worked for ten hours instead of the usual eight. In addition, her day's clients had been most challenging.

Working as a psychiatrist had always been her forte because she enjoyed helping people discover themselves and solve their problems. Unfortunately, some days all her clients happened to be pessimists and that dragged her down. She really needed something or someone to cheer her up.

“I sometimes miss you James,” she told herself while preparing for a night in front of television.

Madeleine had started a relationship in Austria a few months after her breakup with Bond, but it had ended months ago and she had remained single ever since. She thought of James from time to time but she didn't regret her breakup with him. It had been the best solution for both.

Madeleine was about to turn the television on and watch “Tatort”, a German police drama series, when someone rung the bell...

Wearing an elegant black coat on top of her equally elegant black dress, Madeleine Swann entered the Hotel Sacher Red Restaurant. The piano was playing Claire du Lune, a piece of classical music by Claude Debussy, a famous French composer. It was one of her favorite songs, beautiful, relaxing, and bringing an air of elegance and harmony.

Predictably, most eyes turned to look at her, especially men's eyes. It happens when you are a beautiful young woman with piercing blue eyes and excellent style.

Madeleine approached the table Bond was sitting. Immediately, Bond stood up to greet her, a big smile on his face.

"Good evening Madeleine," he replied. "You are gorgeous."

"Good evening James and thanks for the compliment," she said, also smiling. "It's been a long time."

The waiter came a few minutes later. James ordered a vienneze schnitzel with peaches with a glass of red wine while Madeleine opted for salmon with boiled vegetables and white wine.

"I am really happy to see you again James," she said. "It's been two years but I still think of you from time to time."

"That makes two of us," he said. "How has your life been for the past two years?"

"Quiet but interesting," she replied. "I work as a psychiatrist for adults and children, the same job I used to have in the past."

"That doesn't sound quiet to me," Bond said with a smile. "The part about kids I mean. I was quite noisy during my childhood."

"Noisy? Don't tell me you were destroying things as a child," she said, smiling.

"Only occasionally," he replied with a wink. "But I have improved since. I destroy bigger things now. And the best part: I get paid for it!" Both burst into laughter.

"I really missed your humor James," she said after the laughter subsided. "Too bad I am not the secret agent type. I prefer a quiet life, without too much excitement. I really like you, I really love the time we spent together but I can't live the life of constant danger you so much prefer."

"I understand Madeleine," Bond said. "For me, the life is the opposite of quiet. Espionage, sabotage, saving the United Kingdom...”

"It is definetely an exciting life," Madeleine said. "But as I said, it's not for everyone."

For the next two hours, James and Madeleine enjoyed their dinner. She knew he had something important to tell her but it could wait. For the time being, she wanted to enjoy the moment.

The dinner was over and it was time for the dessert. Both ordered Sachertorte, a chocolate cake with apricot filling that was the hotel's specialty.

“It's delicious,” she said. “Sachetorte is enough of a reason to visit this place again and again. Too bad my friends in Vienna prefer fast-food. They are great people but this is the one thing I wish they did differently.”

“Well,” Bond said with a smile, “in my line of business I have the opposite problem. I constantly come across cultured people with refined tastes in food, clothes, and in manner of speech. Too bad many of them try to kill me.”

“It goes with the territory,” she said and gave him an understanding smile.

After James paid the bill – always in cash – he and Madeleine went to the Blue Bar, the place people go for a relaxing aperitif. She ordered another glass of white wine and he ordered a scotch.

“James,” she said. “I understand you didn't want to spoil our dinner and I appreciate that. After all, we hadn't seen each other for two years. But we had agreed we would only see each other only if something terrible happened.”

“That is correct Madeleine,” he said. She nodded.

“I really understand James,” she said. “Your job is to fight against bad people to save lives. What you do is very important.”

“Thank you Madeleine.”

“I would be unable to live with myself knowing you wanted my help saving those lives and I didn't help. So how exactly can I help you James?”

James Bond told Madeleine about Blofeld's escape, about the loss of four nuclear weapons in the Atlantic, and the fact that Mr. White's hidden data were the only lead Q had found.

Madeleine's eyes widened in terror when she learned James had nearly lost his life during Blofeld's escape. But the shocker was when she learned about the nukes.

“If the nukes go off James,” she asked, “how many people will lose their lives?”

“If they go off in cities,” he replied, “expect about a million deaths. And that's the optimistic scenario. And let's not get started about the additional deaths from radiation.”

“Oh my god,” she said. “How can I help you?”

“Since Blofeld has escaped and since the clock is ticking, we need all the information you can give us about SPECTRE.”

While James and Madeleine were talking about SPECTRE, the head of SPECTRE had a teleconference with one of his closest assosiates.

"So Number Three," he said, "where is Bond?"

"Number One," Barbara Simmons replied, "I contacted M a few hours ago supposedly to discuss about the stolen nukes. I asked him about Bond but M told me 007 was on a leave of absense."

"Do you believe him?" Blofeld asked.

"No," she replied. "You have escaped from captivity Number One and in addition our organization has stolen four nukes. To solve these two crises, the British need to fully mobilize all their assets. And yet they allow one of their top agents to go on leave when he is mostly needed?"

"Obviously not," Blofeld said. "M has probably sent 007 somewhere, somewhere he doesn't want us to find. Can you locate him?" Simmons thought for a second.

“There is a way,” she said. “About two years ago I covertly installed a backdoor program in one of the MI-6 servers. But it is of limited use.”

“How so?” Blofeld asked.

“If we use the program,” she said, “MI-6 will find out within hours. Even worse, if I use it more than two or three times, they might pinpoint me and get myself compromised.”

Blofeld considered the point. On the one hand, if Simmons used the backdoor program, the legendary Q might discover her secret identity, causing her arrest. SPECTRE would lose a high-ranking member and the top quality classified info she provided them with.

On the other hand, what would happen if they left 007 alone, allowing him to interfere with their plans unopposed? What if that caused Operation Neptune to fail?

If Operation Neptune failed, SPECTRE had nothing to protect them against an international manhunt from the British and their NATO allies. And that manhunt could reach Simmons anyway with or without her trying to infiltrate MI-6.

But if Neptune succeeded, SPECTRE would be a nuclear power, receiving a hefty monthly payment plus the ability to force countries to leave them alone. Even if they discovered the identity of Simmons or other highly placed moles, they would be forced to turn a blind eye or risk a nuclear explosion.

In the short run, Simmons would take more risks. But she would reduce the overall risk for SPECTRE – and by extension herself – if she removed that annoying agent 007 from the equation. All things considered, Simmons had to take her chances and that was what Blofeld ordered her to do.

“Very well Number One,” she said. “I will contact you in a few hours with the results.”

“When my father left SPECTRE,” Madeleine said, “he tried to contact me. But I was scared. I knew what Blofeld and his organization were capable of so I initially stayed away. But in the end, the truth found me.”

“What happened?” 007 asked.

"This,” Madeleine said and opened her handbag, producing a piece of paper.

“What is this?”

“It is an e-mail,” she said. “My father created a new e-mail account a few weeks before his death and set it up to send that e-mail with a two year delay. I received it about one year ago and I printed it for you when I received your message. I knew your visit had something to do with it.”

“Good thinking Madeleine,” Bond said. Madeleine gave him the paper and Bond started reading it.

“It is mostly a farewell letter,” he said after he finished reading.

“Yes it is,” she said. “And it contains names of places I had visited with him when I was a kid.”

“Yes,” Bond said. “It mentions a place in the Alps. Do you know where it is?”

“Yes,” she said. “I didn't contact you a year ago because I didn't believe it was necessary. After all, you had Blofeld as your prisoner so I assumed he would give you the information you needed. Besides, we had broken up and I didn't want to interfere with your life.”

“I understand Madeleine. But things have changed now. Can you take me to that place? It might contain the key to locate the nukes.”

“Sure but... right now?” she asked. “It's darkness outside.”

“It is,” he said. “But we can start tomorrow morning an hour before the sun rises.”

“Then I should go home to get some sleep and change into new clothes. I can't go to the mountains with a dress and high-heels.” Bond looked at her, a crooked smile on his face.

“You don't have to go that far Madeleine,” James said. “I have brought some clothes for you, just for the occasion.”

After sending the photograph to Madeleine and before meeting her, Bond had spent his time to buy her clothes: a pair of warm boots, a pullover, a coat, a pair of wool trousers and a pair of gloves.

“James!” she said, in mocking disbelief. “I think you have crooked intentions.”

“I think I have,” he said with a big smile.

“Well, it's so cold outside,” she said. “And I am too drunk to drive anyway.” And after two years Madeleine kissed James' lips.

“I did it,” Simmons told Blofeld. “I hacked their systems. Apparently a man named H. Nelson booked a ticket for Vienna, the capitol of Austria.”

“Austria?” Blofeld said. “The country Mr. White came from. The country his daughter might still live.”

“Number One?” Simmons asked. “Madeleine Swann is dead. I have the official report about that. Besides that was what Bond told you a few minutes before you escaped.”

“True,” Blofeld said, “but death certificates can be fabricated and secret agents can tell lies. Perhaps, Bond had suspected I would try to escape and intentionally misinformed me just in case.”

“Or perhaps Swann is indeed dead,” Simmons said, “and Bond was telling the truth. But perhaps she gave him some intel before she died and he is acting upon it.”

“Who knows,” Blofeld said. “Maybe Swann is dead, maybe not. But the important thing is that Bond is in Austria chasing a lead. We must find what he is after.”

“What are your orders Number One?”

“We don't have that much manpower to spare,” Blofeld said. “We had some attrition during the past three years and we still haven't covered our losses. In addition, many of our armed operatives are in Latin America waiting for Number Two and the nukes to arrive. What assets do we have available at a moment's notice?”

“The SPECTRE operatives in Great Britain,” Simmons replied. “They are the same ones Number Two led when he attacked the prison in Scotland to facilitate your escape. But Number Two took five of them as added security for the nukes.”

“I see,” Blofeld said. “Send the remaining six in Austria and provide them with constant feedback even if that means taking additional risks. Operation Neptune is too important to fail.”

“At your orders Number One,” Simmons said. She was a bit uncomfortable with letting six highly trained operatives away from her because they could act as her bodyguards and they could help her escape in case the British captured her. She was even more uncomfortable with risking exposure every time she hacked MI-6's systems. But orders were orders and besides she was more at risk if she didn't help Operation Neptune succeed.

Back in MI-6 headquarters, Q was staring at his computer monitor. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

“Who infiltrated our systems? And how?”

Chapter Text

It was five in the morning when the alarm clock sounded. Immediately, 007 got out of bed and woke up Madeleine who was sleeping next to him.

"That waking up is brutal," she said. "I never wake up that early. And it's so cold here."

"It's only because you are naked," Bond said. She smiled.

"Someone seduced me last night," she said.

"I am sure he had good intentions," 007 replied. "OK young lady, shower time."

Fifteen minutes later, they were out of the shower and got dressed. Madeleine wore the clothes James had bought for her: a pair of thick blue jeans, a long coat that covered her head, a scarf, a pair of gloves, and a matching pair of boots.

"Great choice of clothes James," she said and gave him a kiss.

"Only the best for you Madeleine," he said and opened the door. Ten minutes later, they were in the car, on their way to Mr. White's secrets.

One hour later they reached a small and isolated farmhouse just as the sun was rising. It appeared to be in good condition but it looked abandoned. Madeleine immediately recognized it.

"I remember the place," she said. "I stayed here for two days when I returned to Austria."

"Yes," Bond said. "It was a temporary residence until Karl, M's friend in Austrian Intelligence, arranged the last details of your new identity. The house belonged to Karl by the way."

"I never talked to Karl," she said. "I only received a handwritten note to remain inside the house, never venture outside and make no phone calls to anynone."

"You would have been unable anyway," he said. "The house never had a phone line connected." She nodded.

"When the arrangements for me were finished," Madeleine said, "and Karl came to drive me to Vienna, he was wearing a full face-mask, never spoke a word to me and gave me a scarf to put on my eyes."

"The less you know," Bond said, "the less you reveal."

"I agree," she said. "But why didn't you or M ask for Karl's help? I understand you needed to protect Karl's identity but don't you think four nuclear weapons are a good reason for Karl to be involved?"

"You have a good point here," 007 said. "Unfortunately Karl passed away one year ago. But he is still of assistance."

"How so James?"

"In his will, Karl left this house to a fictional 'cousin' in France. As you can guess, that 'cousin' is in reality MI-6. We use the place as a safe-house and we have an off-road vehicle in the garage at our disposal."

"Yes but what about mail or bills? Who pays them? People can track you from them."

"We have a person – I don't know who – who comes and visits the place once every two months to check for mail and maintain the vehicle. As for bills, there are none. The house has no phone, water or electricity connection."

"Smart thinking," Madeleine said. "And it saves you some money too. I suppose you do the same with all your safe-houses." Bond smiled.

"You know Madeleine, you really have a knack about how espionage works." She laughed.

James Bond parked the car outside the garage and killed the engine.

"Stay here," he told Madeleine and exited the car.

Bond approached the garage entrance and entered a five-digit code on the keyboard lock. After a few seconds the garage door opened, revealing a black jeep parked inside it.

Bond unlocked the jeep, put the key in the ingition, turned it clockwise and heard the engine roaring. He let the engine run for a couple of minutes to warm up and exited the car to find a screwdriver to unscrew the jeep's licence plates. He also entered the house to get some supplies: food, water, coffee, and a pistol for Madeleine.

After a few minutes, the engine was warm enough for the jeep to move. Bond drove it next to the rented car while Madeleine drove the rented car inside the garage. Just like the jeep, Bond used the screwdriver to unscrew the rented car's licence plates and screw them to the jeep. Finally, he screwed the jeep's licence plates to the rented car, exited the garage, and locked the door using the five-digit combination.

"Let's go Madeleine," he said and started the jeep. "Hopefully changing the licence plates was unneccessary. But better safe than sorry." She nodded and gently touched his shoulder.

While James and Madeleine were getting closer to Mr. White's hideout, Q was inside M's office for an important briefing.

"There is a back door in our IT system," Q said. "It had remained dormant and undetected for years because nobody had used it... until yesterday."

"Aren't our systems supposed to withstand hacking attempts?" M asked.

"They are," Q replied, "unless the attempt comes from the inside. The perpetrator is someone from the British Intelligence community."

M nodded. Three years ago he Q had exposed the former head of MI-5 as a mole. It was plausible SPECTRE had found a replacement.

"It was a high-risk operation," Q said. "Whoever did it can only pull this trick once or twice before we find them."

"They take extra risks because of the nukes," M said. "If SPECTRE activates the nukes, we and our NATO allies will be forced to pay them. Besides, Blofeld can always threaten to blow one of our cities up if we refuse to free the mole."

"But if 007 finds the nukes," Q said, "SPECTRE will lose their leverage. And then..."

"We can arrest the traitor without fear," M said. "Well, exposing traitors was the reason I joined MI-6. Therefore, carry on Q. Track the mole."

The moment her conversation with Blofeld was over, Simmons summoned the six SPECTRE operatives she controlled in London and ordered them to go to Vienna ASAP under the command of Max the sniper.

Since carrying weapons, ammunition and bulletproof vests was illegal in most commerical flights, SPECTRE had established a network of safehouses in various European capitols to keep their operatives equipped whenever they went on an assignement. It was a similar logic like the one MI-6 had used for their own safe-houses.

The moment they exited the airport, the six operatives headed to a small apartment owned by a SPECTRE intermediary. All six of them picked up pistols, and submachine guns and hundreds of rounds of ammo. In addition, Max picked up a Barett sniper rifle, the same type of weapon he had used during Blofeld's escape.

After the operatives equipped themselves, they entered two cars SPECTRE owned and headed for Hotel Sacher. According to Simmons, Bond was there using a fake name. Max sent two men in the reception to ask for him

"So?" Max asked his two men when they returned.

"There is a man named Horatio Nelson," one of his men replied, "who has booked a room in the hotel. But he left early in the morning without saying where he went."

Max thought for a few seconds. If he waited for Bond to return, he might waste his whole day waiting. But Barbara Simmons had insisted they had to capture Bond as soon as possible. What should he do?

Perhaps Bond had headed to a safehouse to equip himself. Perhaps MI-6 presence in Vienna included more than a couple of dropboxes. But the only way to find out was by asking Barbara for more intel, something he immediately did.

"OK Max," Simmons said on the phone, "I'll see what I can do."

Simmons had hacked the MI-6 systems once. They probably hadn't discovered her identity because they hadn't anticipated the attack. But a second attempt might make her luck run out. She was certain Q would be waiting.

Despite this, Simmons knew she could not let James Bond win. Blofeld was right. An additional risk today can prevent a bigger risk tomorrow.

With some reluctance, she typed the secret password for a second hacking attempt.

"Here we are," she said after some hours of driving. Bond checked the time on his – dar firing – watch. It was eleven am but despite the five hours of daylight, the atmosphere outside the car was very cold.

"Better to put my scarf and gloves on," Madeleine said.

"And don't forget the pistol," he said. She nodded and checked her coat pocket. It contained a loaded nine milimeter Walther PPK like the one Bond carried.

Bond and Madeleine exited the car and headed for an abandoned house, almost in the middle of nowhere. There are fifteen more houses around but only two of them appeared occupied.

"My father used to take me here during the summers," she said. "It was so tranquil and quiet. And there were so many children to play with. But gradually the people moved away and the place decayed."

"According to his letter," Bond said, "he revisited the place a few years ago. There is something hidden there."

The door was locked and all windows were closed. However, there were no alarm systems installed and the door lock was easy to pick, something Bond accomplished within ten seconds, earning an admiring glance from Madeleine. He smiled and pushed the door.

The interior of the house was abandoned. There were no furniture, no electric appliances, no paintings hanging from the walls, and no courtains on the windows. As for the floor, there were no carpets on it and it was covered with a thick layer of dust.

"I visited the place a year ago," she said. "But I had no courage to enter the place then. Besides, my father left me no key and my lockpicking skills are nonexistent." Bond nodded and kept scanning the place.

"Madeleine," he said, "where exactly would your father hide the data we are looking for?"

"I wish I knew myself," she replied. "The letter gave no hints."

It took Bond and Madeleine three hours and lots of search to find the place: it was behind a fire-resistant brick in the fireplace. As Bond had expected, the missing data were inside a flash drive.

"Let's see," he said. He took his smarphone from one of his pockets and a specialized cable to connect it with the flash drive. 007 spent a couple of minutes examining them.

"I was afraid of that," he said. "The data are encrypted with very powerful algorithms. We must return to London for Q to decrypt them."

"We James? We?" James Bond nodded.

"I admit I missed you," he replied, "but it's much more than that. You might need to examine the data yourself for additional clues we might miss. After all, Mr. White was your father and you knew him better than anyone else."

"OK James," she said with a smile. "Today is Saturday but I can arrange to take one day of leave if you need me. And I missed you too," she said and gave him a soft kiss on the lips.

The smartphone in Max's pocket rung. It was a message from Barbara Simmons.

"OK everyone," Max told his people after he read the message. "MI-6 has a safehouse in the outskirts of Vienna. Let's go."

Two hours later, two SPECTRE operatives broke into the house and took position there. Three more hid close to the house. Finally, Max hid on a nearby hill, having a good vantage point both for the house and the road next to it.

Their plan was as follows: the moment Bond's car approached, Max would shoot its engine with his sniper rifle to immobilize it. When the car stopped, the five hidden operatives would jump from their hiding places and surround it.

Max would have liked to fire a second shot and kill Bond. Bond had been such a troublemaker for SPECTRE. But he had strict orders to capture Bond alive and thoroughly search and interrogate him, orders that came from Ernst Blofeld himself. Despite his personal dislike for 007, Max was a professional and knew how to obey orders.

Two minutes after Max assembled his rifle and put a fully loaded magazine on it, he received a message from the two men inside the house. They had discovered a rented car inside the garage.

Having a rented car in the garage meant Bond had left it there and used another to go wherever he wanted to go. After all, he could not go very far on foot.

"What about the licence plate?" one of the men inside the house asked. "Should we check it?"

"Yes," Max said. "Tell me the number." It would probably reveal nothing but what harm would it make if they checked? And with that thought in mind, he forwarded the number to Simmons and asked her to check it.

And that was exactly the mistake Bond had anticipated SPECTRE would do...

It was afternoon and the sun would set in less than two hours. Bond had asked Madeleine to drive the car while he focused on decrypting the data. Unfortunately, his original impression was correct: the encryption algorithm was too strong for him to do anything.

"No luck so far," he told her. "We need to go to London to check them." But he was smiling when he said it.

"On the bright side," he continued, "we will see each other for a few more days."

"Back in London," she said. "I missed it a bit. I hope we'll have time to go to Harrods."

"Don't worry Madeleine. M can arrange for it to open on Sunday.”

It was at that moment his phone rung.

“Strange,” he said and started reading the message on the screen.

“What is it?” Madeleine asked. Bond had remained silent after the phone call was over.

“Do you remember when the authorities send written messages on the phone in case of emergencies?”

“Yes,” she said. “For floods, earthquakes, fires.”

“MI-6 has something like that for secret agents. Do you remember when I changed the license plates with the ones the car you drive has?”

“Yes James. What about them?”

"The licence plates are tagged. If someone in law enforcement or the intelligence community searches them, MI-6 learns about it within seconds."

"Is that what the message told you?"

"Yes Madeleine," Bond said. "We still don't know who did the search but the fact the search was made is proof that someone has broken into the safehouse, entered the garage, and found the licence plates. In other words, we are heading for an ambush."

"So what are we going to do?" Madeleine asked. Bond saw her hands were trembling and a tear falling from one of her eyes. James gently touched her shoulder.

"That's why I wanted to be out of your life," she said. "I know people like you save lives but I can't live with the fear day after day."

"OK, stop the car. We need to plan our moves." She nodded and did as Bond asked.

"Madeleine," he said. "I don't know how many are they and how well armed they are. But I know we must defeat them."

"But why bother?" she asked. "Can't we bypass them?"

From the glove compartment, Bond picked up a map of the Alps and placed it on the car hood.

""No we can't,” he replied after examining the map. “There is only one way heading from and to the mountains. In theory, we can search for another way but it will take many hours.”

“"What if we tried to outrun them?”

“"This car is good for off-road movement but it is too slow for the main road. Our enemies can easily outrun us.”

“What if you called for reinforcements James?”

“Well, do you remember when Blofeld captured us in Africa three years ago?”

Madeleine nodded. She remembered Blofeld escorting them in a room full of computer monitors that transmitted signals from cameras all over the world. Among them, she remembered there was a monitor showing M speaking to MI-6 personnel.

“You are right James,” she said. “If SPECTRE is capable of hacking cameras in high-security areas, they can easily intercept our call for help. And for that reason, we can't risk calling the Austrian authorities either.”

“Even directly calling M is not totally safe,” Bond said. “Besides, even if we ignore the security issues, how much time will it take till reinforcements arrive?”

“You are right,” she said. “So what is your plan?”

"This is how we are going to do it," Bond said and explained his plan on the map.

Chapter Text

"We are two kilometers away from the safehouse," Bond told Madeleine and stopped the car. "Let's get ready."

007 and Madeleine Swann got out of the car. Bond picked up a log from the road. Madeleine took off her coat and put it on the log.

"It's not a very good disguise," she said.

"You are more beautiful than a tree log," Bond said with a smile and put the log on the passenger's seat. "Don't be jealous!"

"It's not that," she said. "I mean, will a log wearing my coat fool them?"

"It's getting darker. It will fool them from a distance, especially if you put the coat's hood on." Madeleine nodded and did that. She also fastened the seatbelt around the log.

James Bond took off his coat and gave it to Madeleine. She took it, wore it, and buttoned it.

"Do I look like a secret agent now?" she said with a smile.

"That depends on how you introduce yourself." She took a mockingly serious look.

"The name is Bond," she said in mock British accent. "James Bond!" Bond smiled.

"You just passed the test Madeleine."

During their attack in the prison, SPECTRE had used a combination of snipers and submachine-carrying troops to neutralize the British resistance. It had worked really well: Blofeld had escaped and six SAS troopers had died in the process with the snipers being the greatest troublemakers of all, claiming four lives and stopping a vehicle with a shot in the engine block. In contrast, only one SPECTRE agent had died: he was the traitor who had committed suicide to avoid arrest.

Bond suspected the enemy success would encourage them to repeat the same tactics and his plan was specifically tailored to exploit them. For that reason, he disguised a log as Madeleine and Madeleine as himself to offer them a bait while he would try to find the enemy sniper using stealth and a pair of binoculars he found in the car's trunk.

Where would a sniper hide? General answer: in a place higher than the surrounding area to have a good observation point. Examining the map, Bond realized the only such place was a small hill about four hundred meters to the east of the house. It was the perfect spot: it offered visibility for both the house and the road and concealment.

After telling Madeleine to stay in the car with the engine on, 007 started walking towards the hill. To avoid enemy observation and enemy fire, Bond chose a circular route that would allow him to reach the hill from the eastern part, the furthest away from the house as possible.

The night was approaching and it was getting colder and darker. Even worse, he had given Madeleine his coat to disguise herself as James Bond for the distraction. James had to rely on his pullover and his fast movement to keep himself warm.

After one hour, Bond had covered most of the distance to the hill. So far the sniper hadn't seen him – he would have shot him if he had – and he hadn't seen the sniper himself. The time had come to locate him.

Hidden between a bush about four hundred meters away from the hill, 007 took a careful look with the binoculars. After minutes of careful observation, he found what he wanted: the barrel of a sniper rifle and a gloved hand that moved.

Crouching to remain as hidden and protected as possible, 007 approached the hill. He looked at the sky. It was getting darker each passing minute. In a few minutes, it would be the ideal time to attack: dark enough to fool SPECTRE with the disguised log but with still enough light for him to shoot the enemies.

Still remaining quiet, Bond drew his pistol, attached the silencer on its barrel and quietly covered the last steps till the sniper. He could see him clearly now, crouched on a mat, a pistol to his left and a Barrett 0.50 cal sniper rifle to his right. He was scanning the horizon with a pair of binoculars.

Bond was about to get closer when the sniper touched his ear and started talking.

007 knew what that meant. The bad guys had intercon which was both good and bad news for him. It was bad because they could better coordinate themselves and good because he could eavesdrop them if he took the set the sniper used.

"This is Wolf One," Max said. "Report status. Over." A few seconds passed like that.

"OK people," Max said. "Negative here too. Over and out." They hadn't seen anything and that was to be expected. Bond hadn't told Madeleine to move yet.

While Max was talking, Bond took advantage of the man's distracted attention and got closer. Max only realized someone was behind him when Bond had approached to five meters.

Max tried to move but the man's voice stopped him.

"Freeze," Bond ordered. "Extend both arms." Max did exactly that.

"Remove the intercon from your ear and drop it to the ground," Bond ordered, holding his pistol. "And no tricks." Max saw the barrel of the pistol and complied.

"Both hands at the back of your head," Bond said. "Turn around, slowly. And don't stand up."

"Hello Mr. Bond," Max said. "I admit I am impressed. You came quietly from the one place I was not looking at."

"You should have put a sentry there you idiot," Bond said.

"I didn't have the manpower. And we didn't expect you to find out about us. How did you do it?"

"If you tell me what I want to learn, I might tell you myself."

"And what exactly do you want to learn Mr. Bond?"

"How about telling me where the stolen goods are and where the rest of your team is hidden?"

"Well Mr. Bond," Max said, "I can't tell you about the first and I don't want to tell you about the second. Besides, you won't survive that long anyway."

"How so?"

"There is a pistol next to me. In a few seconds I will grab it, stand up and shoot you."

"I carry a pistol and I am a crack shot. You won't survive."

"Perhaps, but the moment you shoot, my people will hear the gunshots and surround you."

"My pistol is silenced. They won't hear a thing."

"They will hear mine," Max said and ducked for the gun.

What Max had anticipated was an incompetent opponent. Most people are good shots with a pistol but not good enough to kill an enemy with the first shot. He had expected Bond would hit him but not before he had the opportunity to fire one or two shots himself and alert his people. And who knows? He might get Bond himself.

What Max didn't know was how good 007 with a pistol was. In fact, three years ago he had shot down a helicopter carrying Blofeld with his service Walther PPK, a shot very few people in the world are able to perform.

Max ducked for the gun but Bond reacted fast and accurately. The first silenced shot from his Walther PPK hit Max on the chest. Although Max wore a bulletproof vest and survived the hit, the shock from the bullet's impacting was enough to stop him for two seconds

Two seconds were more than enough for 007, who fired once more, this time aiming for the head. He hit Max between the eyes and the SPECTRE operative fell to the ground, never to stand up again.

Bond took a final look at Max's corpse and smiled. He didn't like killing people but the idea of ambushing and killing the man who had spent most of his day trying to ambush and kill him had a certain ironic twist in it.

007 dragged Max's corpse away, lied on the mat, picked the sniper rifle up and tried to locate as many SPECTRE operatives as he could. After a few minutes, he had located one inside the house behind a half-closed window and one outside it behind a tree.

There were certainly more enemies out there but the only way to locate them was Madeleine's distraction. Picking up his smartphone, 007 made a phone call.

Two kilometers away from the safe-house, Madeleine was waiting for Bond's phone call.

"What do you think my friend?" she told the log dressed in her coat. "Can you pass for a psychiatrist?" It was at that moment her phone rung.

"I really hope the windows are bulletproof," she said and stepped on the gas pedal.

The five remaining SPECTRE operatives were waiting... and waiting. Bond was hoping that after so many hours, they would be bored and that would make them sloppy. That was another reason he had timed Madeleine's arrival close to dusk.

The car with Madeleine slowly approached the safe-house. From the sniper scope, Bond saw one of the enemies tensing. He ignored him and focused on the incoming car.

Bond took very careful aim at the approaching car. He wanted to hit close enough to make the enemies believe he had hit the engine. But such a shot was very tricky under near darkness conditions and with a moving target to shoot. If he missed, he might hit the car engine for real. Even worse, the armor-piercing bullets the sniper rifle was loaded with could easily penetrate the bulletproof glass! What if he accidentally shot Madeleine?

James Bond held his breath, took careful aim to the ground next to the car and pulled the trigger...

As Bond had instructed her, Madeleine was to move slowly and look at the hill the sniper was expected to be. The moment she saw the gun flash, she should immediately step on the brake pedal, giving the enemies the impression the sniper had hit the car engine.

Bond's aim was true and his shot hit the road very close to the car. Hopefully, the closenes of the shot, the approaching darkness combined with enemy tiredness and boredom would do the trick. Madeleine immediately pushed the brake, bringing the car to a stop.

Within seconds, three masked men carrying submachine guns stood up from their hiding places outside the house and approached the vehicle. In addition, two men appeared in two of the house windows and took careful aim at the car.

"I hope your plan will work James," she said and took a deep breath. "OK, time to count. One, two..."

James had instructed Madeleine to count to five the moment she saw the enemies breaking cover. The moment she reached five...

"... four, five," she said and pushed the gas pedal. The car started moving in reverse.

All enemies opened fire against her, some aiming for the windshield and others for the tyres. Fortunately, their bullets failed to penetrate the bulletproof glass.

It would be easy for Bond to shoot one of the enemies the moment he had a sniper rifle in his hands. But what would that accomplish? He knew nothing about the number and the location of his enemies. Killing one of them would inform the rest their sniper was dead, allowing them to regroup, surround the dead sniper's location, and kill him.

On the other hand, if he waited for the enemies to attack the car, he would outsmart them. To attack, all of them would have to break cover, allowing him to pinpoint their locations. In addition, the moment they opened fire, the sound of their guns and their focus on the car would allow Bond to kill some of them unnoticed.

While the SPECTRE operatives were focused on the car – still ignoring their sniper was dead – Bond aimed at one of the men inside the house and pulled the trigger. The shot hit him on the head, killing him in an instant.

As Bond had expected, the remaining four men paid no attention to their dead colleague. They kept firing at the car, destroying its tyres. The noise their guns made masked the second shot Bond fired, killing the second man in the house.

Madeleine unbuckled her seatbelt and crouched to the floor. Although the glasses were still holding, the enemies had shot them many times and they might break under the massed hits.

Moving the car was pointless at that point. All four wheels had been shot multiple times and she could not move the car. Her only hope was to wait the attack out while James took care of the enemies.

One of the enemies fired a burst of bullets at the driver's window but the shots stopped after less than two seconds. James Bond had just killed another enemy.

Bond's distraction had worked. 007 had killed the sniper and three out of his five colleagues. The two surviving enemies had barely realized what had happened when another shot from 007 killed one of them.

The last survivor saw his colleague dying, realized Bond's trick and took cover behind a tree, strategically placing his body to avoid sniper fire.

"Wolf One," he shouted on the intercom. "Wolf One, what is going on?

"He can't speak now," Bond replied.

"What happened? Who are you?" the SPECTRE operative wondered.

"He run out of time," Bond replied. "And unless you surrender, the same happens to you."

To give emphasis to the threat, Bond fired a shot that hit the ground a few centimeters from the man's right leg.

So far the enemy was safe from Bond. The tree was thick enough to protect him from enemy fire. But the enemy was pinned down and was exposed to attacks from other angles.

At Bond's instructions, Madeleine exited the car, her pistol in her right arm. She carefully approached the enemy who was pinned down by Bond's accurate fire and fired a warning shot next to his leg. Realizing he was surrounded, the SPECTRE operative dropped his weapon and surrendered to her.

A few minutes later, Bond reached the safe-house and entered the garage to find some duct tape to tie and blindfold their enemy.

"Listen to me very carefully," Bond told the SPECTRE operative after tying him. "Did you place a bomb or a transmitter in the car that is parked the garage?"

"No," the man said.

"Good," Bond said. "Because you are coming with us... in the trunk."

Although their prisoner had told them no bombs were in the rented car, Bond checked anyway. After all, their enemy might be lying or ignore whether someone of his colleagues had placed a bomb or a transmitter there. To make certain, Bond and Madeleine spend some minutes searching the car until they found nothing.

"Good," Bond said. "We are clear." A few minutes later, they switched the licence plates back to the rented car – fortunately no bullet had hit them while they were screwed on the jeep – and left.

"In one or two days, the Austrian authorities will find the bodies and the jeep riddled with bullets," Bond said. "But don't worry. We will be out of Austria until then."

"You killed those people," she said, trying to calm herself. "And I helped you do that. And we have a man on the truck." She sighed.

"I don't like killing," Bond said. "But if I have to kill one man to save ten, I kill him."

"I don't blame you James," she said. "I just don't know if I can do it."

"Most people can't. And that's OK. Most people don't have to."

Back in London...

" How did they hack our systems again Q?" M asked. "And to what purpose?"

"We are vulnerable to intrusions from inside our intelligence community," Q replied. "As for their purpose, one was to find 007 in Austria and one to find our safe-house there. There was also a third incident where they searched for the licence plates the jeep had.

"And?" M asked.

"Using the data from the three incidents, I concluded the intrusion comes from MI-5. There are ten suspects, one of which is the head of the organization."

"Barbara Simmons?" M said. "It's far from impossible. After all, her predecessor was a highly-placed SPECTRE operative."

"I can find who he or she is," Q said. "But it will take days of careful analysis."

"Do that," M said. "But before starting, we have other things to do. 007 just sent me a message from Austria. I need to secure transportation for him and Mrs. Swann. Put all the data we have about Mr. White and SPECTRE in your laptop and get ready."

Chapter Text

"So, how do we fly to London?” Madeleine asked. “They found us here in Vienna. They will probably do the same when we return.”

“Don't worry Madeleine,” Bond said. “M has taken care of that.”

She could not understand how M could help. But she noticed they did not take the road for Vienna but a detour to a small airport outside the city.

“A private jet is waiting for us,” 007 said when they reached the airport.

“And what if SPECTRE tracks it?”

“The jet is not government property. M has contacts in the private sector and in the army who own him favors.”

“Good thinking,” she said. “And I suppose M or that friend of his has also taken care of customs.”

“He has. It's the only way we can leave Austria without SPECTRE noticing.”

A few minutes later, the car entered the airfield and stopped inside a hangar. A two-engined jet was there. A woman dressed in black was waiting for them. Madeleine immediately recognized her.

“It's Moneypenny,” she said. “What is she doing here?” Bond stopped the car next to her.

“Hello James,” she said. “Hello Mrs. Swann. It's good to see you both alive and well.”

“Hello Mrs. Moneypenny,” Madeleine said.

“You look gorgeous Mrs. Swann,” Moneypenny said.

“Madeleine is always gorgeous,” Bond said with a smile.

“Indeed,” M's secretary said. “I am going to stay behind to take care of the car and the man in the trunk. You go to the plane and fly to London ASAP. M is waiting for you.”

Madeleine entered the jet while 007 remained with Moneypenny to discuss some professional matters.

“Welcome to the field Moneypenny,” Bond said with a smile. “How do you feel about that?”

“Curious, but it is just a very short assignment,” she said. “I am to surrender the man in the Austrian authorities after I take some photos of him, pay your hotel bill, return the rented car, and take the first flight to London.”

“Yes, taking him with us is pointless. SPECTRE will eventually find and kill him. Now, since you go to Hotel Sacher try the Sachetorte. It is delicious indeed.”

“Thanks James. Bon voyage.”

Two hours later, the private jet was back in London and landed on a small runway in the outskirts of the city. A black limousine was parked there and two men were standing next to it. Madeleine immediately recognized them.

“It is M and Q,” she said. “They haven't changed at all.”

“No they haven't,” Bond said with a smile. “Q remains the deadpan snarker he always was.”

Q opened the trunk, picked up a suitcase and a briefcase from it and followed his boss to the plane.

“Good evening sir,” 007 said the moment M entered the plane.

“Welcome back 007,” M said. “Good evening Mrs. Swann. I am glad you are here with us but we don't have time for pleasantries. OK Q, let's get to work.”

Q opened his briefcase, placed his laptop on a table and took a seat. Madeleine, Bond, and M sat around him.

“According to the data we have so far,” Q said, “SPECTRE has a number of bases around the world.” He pressed a button and a map of the world appeared. There was a number of black and red dots on it.

“The red dots,” Q explained, “are confirmed SPECTRE bases while. The black ones are possible but unconfirmed ones.”

“The data we had so far,” M told Madeleine, “come from three primary sources. One, whatever we had before Blofeld's arrest, including the data you and 007 uncovered in Mr. White's hideout in Northern Africa. Two, the information Blofeld gave us while he was in captivity. Three, all additional information we uncovered during the last three years.”

“Of course,” 007 said, “there are probably more areas where SPECTRE is active that we don't know about. Fortunately Madeleine and I uncovered a fourth piece of data to help us.”

“It is old information though,” Madeleine said. “My father passed away three years ago and dead men don't update data files. Everything my father put in the flash drive is at least three years old. I am afraid most information in it is obsolete.”

“Not necessarily Mrs. Swann,” M said. “When 007 captured Blofeld, SPECTRE became less active. Apparently, nobody took initiatives during his captivity.”

“That is why they stole the nukes after he escaped and not during his captivity,” Bond said. “Nobody would take the initiative to launch such a major operation in his absense.” Madeleine nodded.

“And not taking initiatives,” Madeleine said, “also means SPECTRE built no new bases or moved existing ones during the last three years. In other words, the data my father gathered are not that obsolete.”

“Exactly,” 007 said and gave Mr. White's flash drive to Q. The latter took it, inserted it into one of the laptop's USB ports and scanned it for viruses and malware.

“It is virus-free,” Q said. “The data are protected by a powerful encryption algorithm but I have the right tools to break it.”

After Q successfully decrypted the data, he used specialized software to link them with the ones they already had. Within seconds, a number of yellow dots appeared on the map.

“OK,” M said. “We are looking for a place to store nuclear bombs and operate on them. Where could it be?”

“SPECTRE operates under constraints,” Bond said. “Let's take them into account.”

The first constraint was about transportation. How do you move four stolen nukes from the middle of the Atlantic to your hidden base? Answer: you either use a sailplane or a ship. However, the sailplane option is out of the question. There are very few sailplanes big enough to carry four nukes and have enough range to fly to a remote location undetected. It is also very unlikely SPECTRE would spend time and the money to create their own sailplane.

On the other hand, a ship was a realistic option. Almost all ocean-sailing ships have the capacity to carry four nukes. In addition, since most of the ocean is international waters, such a ship could travel for hundreds or thousands of miles without anyone having the authority to inspect her cargo.

“What if they used a ship as their base?” Madeleine asked.

“Very unlikely,” Q said. “Even the biggest ships are affected by the movement of the sea. To operate on the nukes is a very delicate process that requires a very stable ground no ship can provide.”

“Moreover,” Bond said, “a ship is a very vulnerable target. It is much easier to sink a ship than to destroy a ground base. One bomb or one torpedo would be enough to do the trick.”

So far, two constraints existed. SPECTRE had to use a ship for transportation and they had to eventually reach a land base to operate on the nukes. That introduced a third constraint: the ship had to be a safe distance away before the British realized their nukes were stolen. How many miles could a ship cover during that amount of time?

“Using a speed between twenty and thirty knots,” Q said, “we have to search areas ranging from Canada to Argentina in the west and from Norway to Southern Africa in the east. It's not a small area but at least we have eliminated Asia, Oceania, and Russia.”

“We can eliminate Canada, the United States and Europe as well,” M said.

“How so?” Madeleine asked.

“SPECTRE has has not limited their threats to Great Britain. They have threatened all NATO countries plus China and Russia.”

“But that will make them a global enemy,” Madeleine said.

“They already are,” 007 said. “They have presence in most countries of the world. And even if they didn't threaten others with the nukes, what is to prevent them from doing so in the future, for instance as a way to stop another country from chasing SPECTRE operatives?”

“Besides,” M said, “the more countries you blackmail, the more the ransom money is shared between them. Demanding one billion a month from one country is a bit tough for its economy. But demanding the same amount from thirty is much easier.”

“For that reason,” Q said, “Europe, Canada, and USA are out of the list. Blofeld would be a fool to hide the stolen nukes there. And that leaves us Latin America and West Africa.”

“Africa is too unstable for SPECTRE to use.” Bond said, “They have recruited some warlords there but the areas these warlords control constantly change. Moreover, the warlords themselves are very unpredictable and unreliable, not to mention they have a very high mortality rate.”

“Besides,” M said, “MI-6 has delivered a strong blow against the SPECTRE-controlled warlords in Africa. A few years ago we neutralized a criminal named Le Chiffre who laundered money for them. In fact, it was the first mission for 007 after he earned his 00 status.”

Both James Bond and Madeleine Swann lowered their heads and remained expressionless. Both had deep scars from that incident. For Madeleine, it was because her father had been the one who had made contact between Le Chiffre and the warlords. Although her father had regretted his criminal ways in his final years, the fact remained he had caused lots of harm, especially in poor areas like Africa.

For James, the scars were of another nature. He had faced Le Chiffre and he had survived. But it had nearly cost his life in four different incidents and even worse, a woman he had fallen in love with named Vesper Lynd had betrayed him and broken his heart. It had taken years for his wounds to heal.

“For that reason,” Q said returning their thoughts to the present, “Latin America seems like a better option. So let me show you something.”

Q pressed some buttons on the keyboard and the map zoomed to Latin America. There were dots in various countries there but most were concentrated in one of them. Even better, all of the dots there were yellow, indicating they came from Mr. White's hidden data.

“Colombia,” Q said. Madeleine nodded.

“That certainly rings a bell,” she said. “I remember my father frequently visited the country when I was a kid. He took me with him once when I was seven but I don't remember much.”

“According to our intel,” Q said, “Mr. White had already joined SPECTRE by that time. I suppose he was trying to establish contacts with the drug cartels there.”

007 looked at M. M looked back and nodded.

“It makes perfect sense,” 007 said, “for SPECTRE to have a base of operations there. The drug cartels have steady control of the Colombian jungle and they think and act long term, unlike the warlords of Africa.”

“Yes,” M said. “They could have a base down there. The Colombian Army avoids that area because the drug lords are too well connected and too well armed. All of them have entire armies at their disposal both to fight each other and to keep the government forces away.”

“Yes,” Bond said. “And they can put as much added security as they want without attracting anyone's attention.”

“Not to mention the extra money they earn from selling drugs,” Madeleine said.

“And let's not forget the narco submarines,” Q said, referring to very effective and very popular method the cartels uses to smuggle cocaine and other illegal substances for long distances.

“Yes,” Bond said. “The ideal way to move nukes whenever they want undetected. And if we stop paying, one of their submarines will make a detour to New York or Los Angeles or Manchester or Herburg and blow the harbor up.”

“Unless we stop them,” M said.

After a long journey, Disco Volante reached its destination and dropped anchor in a small but well-protected natural harbor. It was the only yacht in the the area, all the other ships being either fishing trawlers or small boats.

Within minutes, two boats approached the yacht, each carrying six heavily armed SPECTRE troopers. Four men from each boat boarded the ship while the rest remained in the boats and started patrolling around the yacht to keep the curious away.

Largo understood that everyone in the harbor would notice the yacht's entrance and the added security measures. However, he didn't worry. He knew everyone would assume he carried illegal cargo but nobody would make the correct assumption about what that cargo really was.

“Your orders Number Two?” a crewmember asked.

“Remove the nukes from the hatch,” Largo replied. “When the night comes, the trucks will come to take them to our base.”

“What about the locals?” the crewmember asked. “Won't they suspect something?”

“The locals,” Largo replied, “already know we are up to something. Let them believe we carry drugs or money or gold bars or whatever. As long as we leave them alone, they live us alone.”

“Why don't you directly contact the Colombian authorities?” Madeleine asked.

“Two reasons,” M replied. “One, SPECTRE has infiltrated the British Secret Service and the moment we send a message they will find out about it.”

Madeleine nodded. Three years ago, SPECTRE had briefly captured her and James. She remembered Blofeld giving them a tour in SPECTRE's installations, showing them – among other things - a live transmission from a hacked camera inside the MI-6 headquarters! It was the perfect demonstration of their ability to infiltrate even the most secure places. Besides, hadn't C, the former head of MI-5 been a SPECTRE infiltrator?

“Two,” Bond said, continuing M's logic, “SPECTRE has probably infiltrated at least one of the drug cartels and the cartels have infiltrated the Colombian authorities. Even if we somehow evade their operatives in Britain, the ones in Colombia can still destroy us.”

“I see,” she said. “So what do we do?”

“Look at those names Mrs. Swann,” Q said. “They all come from your father's flash drive. Does any of them ring a bell?” Madeleine took a careful look at them.

“Yes,” she said after a couple of minutes. “I haven't seen them myself but I vaguely remember two of them. Perhaps I can make contact with them.”

The names in question were Enrico Hernandez, a reformed former drug cartel operative, and Emilio Ramirez, a drug lord who apparently disliked SPECTRE.

M, Q, and 007 looked at Madeleine Swann.

“We cannot order you to help us,” M said, “but helping us will save countless lives.” Madeleine thought for a few seconds.

“I will do it,” Madeleine said. “I am not the secret agent type but with so many lives at stake...” Bond smiled.

“Don't worry Madeleine,” Bond said. “I'll keep you away from the field. I will only need assistance to contact your father's old acquaintances and for some backup.”

“I will trust you on that James,” she said and excused herself to call her employers and ask for a few days of leave.

The teleconference between Ernst Blofeld, Emilio Largo, and Barbara Simmons had just started and the mood was bad. The group they had sent to capture 007 was missing. Although Moneypenny had freed the only surviving member of that group, the survivor hadn't made contact with Simmons yet.

"They are probably dead," Blofeld said. "Whoever did it was good and we all suspect who he was."

"Too bad we can't send another group," Largo said. "We don't have the manpower."

"We are depleted in field operatives," Blofeld said. "We suffered losses during the last three years, losses we haven't replaced yet. Besides, most of the surviving operatives are in Colombia for Operation Neptune."

"Bond is probably away now," Simmons said. "And the worst part is we don't know what exactly he wanted in Austria."

"That's too bad," Largo said. "I really hoped Operation Neptune would go smoothly."

"We also had to take a lot of risks to gather intel," Simmons said. "That might compromise me."

"It's too late to stop now," Largo said. "We had to take the added risks though. If we succeed, we will have nuclear blackmail to keep us safe. Taking more risks today makes us safer in the long run."

"That is correct," Largo said. "What are your orders Number One?"

"The same. When the scientists arrive, you put them to work as soon as possible. You have a lot of henchmen to protect our base, the nukes and the scientists and I expect you to do so."

"Yes Number One," Largo said.

"As for you Number Three," Blofeld said, "you remain in your position and give us all the intelligence we need. I understand it is safer for you to run away. But doing so means we might lose valuable intel about Operation Neptune, info we can't afford to miss."

"Q," 007 asked, "what about the people who tried to kill us in Austria?"

"It is an inside job," Q replied. "Only someone working in our intelligence services could penetrate our systems but he or she left traces behind."

"And?" 007 asked.

"We had three incidents: their discovery about your trip to Austria, their discovery of our safe house and their search for the fake licence plates. Using them, I established the intruder works in MI-5. So far, there are ten suspects but I can narrow them to one within days."

"Another traitor among our ranks," M said. "After Kim Philby and C, now that..."

"Request permission to be the one who will arrest the traitor sir," Bond said.

"Permission granted 007," M said. "Now take Mrs. Swann with you to Colombia and find the nukes."

"At your orders M," James Bond said.

"And to help you on your mission," Q said, "I will give you the drone. I hope you will return it intact."

"Don't worry Q," Bond said with a smile. For some reason, Q remained sceptical on that.

Chapter Text

The private jet carrying Bond, Madeleine, and the drone reached a small airfield outside Bogota, the capital of Colombia. After easily clearing customs – thanks to some inofficial M contacts and an envelope containing dollar bills – they entered a taxi. Thirty minutes later they reached their destination, a luxurious hotel in Bogota.

Inside the hotel room, Bond pulled the curtains to hide them from outside observation and they unpacked their stuff. Madeleine also helped him unpack and assemble the drone.

After the unpacking was over, it was time to establish contact with Enrico Hernandez, one of Mr. White's old contacts in Colombia. Since the contact could only answer to Mr. White or his daughter, it was Madeleine who should make the necessary phone call.

Taking a deep breath, Madeleine took the smartphone James offered her and made the call. Fortunately, the number was still active and the man at the other end of the line answered it within seconds. After she and the man exchanged a few coded words, she proceeded with the message Bond had told her to relay.

“It worked,” she said after the call ended. “Hernandez knows how I look like because my father gave him a photo of mine years ago. He will talk to you but only if I come with you. He also suggested we meet at the hotel lobby.”

James Bond thought for a second. Although Hernandez was an enemy of SPECTRE, Bond didn't want to take unnecessary chances by revealing his and Madeleine's location. On the other hand, if he agreed to meet Enrico at the lobby, Madeleine would not have to exit the hotel building and that would keep her a bit safer. Besides, not having to arrange a meeting at a different place kept things faster and simpler and Bond was in a hurry. SPECTRE might activate the nukes at any time.

“Very well,” he said. Madeleine nodded and made a second phone call.

“He will be in the lobby in one hour,” she said when the call ended.

While waiting for Hernandez to arrive, Bond trained Madeleine in how to operate the drone. After all, there was a good chance she would have to operate it while he would be in the field.

"Put the drone on the table," Bond said, "and we are going to test the cameras."

The drone was equipped with a camera with three modes: day, night, and thermal that could also zoom up to two hundred times. Using a wireless connection with a specialized tablet, Madeleine zoomed the camera on various items inside the room, such as a pillow on the sofa, a small button on Bond's shirt and her sunglasses lying on a table.

The next step was to test the drone in flight conditions. Fortunately, it used ducted fans to lift, manuever and move instead of blades that made its flight more silent. In addition, it made it safer to operate because ducted fans are harder to be damaged than blades if they hit an obstacle.

“It is very quiet,” Madeleine said. “And its cameras are very powerful.”

“And it is very easy to operate,” 007 said. “It requires training but you have the hang of it.”

Madeleine smiled and was about to answer when the telephone rung. Their contact had just arrived.

Enrico Hernandez had seen better days in his life. Once upon a time he was a close associate to a drug lord, having lots of power and prestige. He also had a luxurious place to live, servants to take care of his needs, and lots of money to spend on whoring, expensive vacations... and gambling.

Enrico had a very soft spot for gambling and spent most of his money there. As the years passed, the amounts he spent kept increasing and he found it harder and harder to cover his losses. But he always paid his debts and he always stayed away from trouble. Until that particularly bad night when he lost half a million dollars playing roulette.

The loss was too big for him to cover on his own. But he needed the money in a harry and the only way to do so was by stealing money from his employers.

Enrico had intended to only steal once and discreetly return the stolen amounts. But his gambling losses kept increasing and stealing from his employers became a permanent situation. Soon the amounts became too big for him to cover and he knew he was facing a deadly situation if his bosses found out.

It was at that moment that a man who identified himself as Mr. White offered his assistance: he would cover Enrico's losses in exchange for information about the drug cartel. Being desperate, Enrico accepted, still unaware that Mr. White was a high ranking member of SPECTRE with orders to infiltrate organized drug trade in Colombia, orders that came from Ernst Blofeld himself.

Using Enrico's assistance, SPECTRE took over the cartel. They used their financial resources to bribe and finance the right people and their highly trained operatives to assassinate whoever within the cartel opposed them.

SPECTRE also used their resources to build a base in the jungle far from curious eyes, a base that soon became one of their most important and powerful ones. Their plan was to use it both for drug production – a very lucrative operation in itself – and for other secret research and development projects.

Finally, SPECTRE's infiltration of a drug cartel gave them access to narco sumbarine technology, a technology they could use both to smuggle cocaine and to transport other forms of illegal and dangerous cargo undetected... like nukes!

"About three years ago," Enrico told Bond and Madeleine after they had introduced themselves and exchanged some pleasantries, "Mr. White came to see me. "But he had changed a lot."

"How so?" Madeleine asked.

"When I first met him many years ago," Enrico replied, "he was confident, clean-shaved, and sharply dressed. But the last time I saw him, he was scared and constantly looked behind his shoulder, had an unkempt beard, his clothes were rumpled and he walked with a limp."

"I admit am partly responsible for his limping Mr. Hernandez," Bond said.

"I know Mr. Bond," Enrico said. "He told me you shot him in Italy."

"He was still loyal to SPECTRE back then," Bond said.

"I am not blaming you and neither did he," Hernandez said. Neither did Madeleine, as she had told James years ago.

"When I last saw Mr. White," Enrico said, “he had grown a conscience and he considered that shot a sort of punishment for his crimes. Only two things concerned him: how to escape SPECTRE and how to keep his daughter safe."

"And why did he come and visit you Mr. Hernandez?" Bond asked. "After all, he risked a lot travelling that far in a place with a strong SPECTRE presence."

"Two reasons Mr. Bond. One, he wanted my help to disappear in a quiet place in the countryside and spend the rest of his days there. Unfortunately, SPECTRE was firmly established in Colombia and has contacts everywhere.”

“Moreover,” Hernandez continued, “I kept hearing my bosses talking about Mr. White and calling him a traitor. Knowing how many informants SPECTRE had, I concluded that helping Mr. White would fail and it would only cause my death in the process."

Bond nodded. SPECTRE was notorious for infiltrating law enforcement and intelligence agencies everywhere. It was unlikely they would make an exception for Colombia. Moreover, drug dealers always tried to bribe officials to be informed when and where the next anti-drug operation is to take place.

That was the reason why Bond or M had made no contact with the Colombian authorities: SPECTRE would learn about the communication within five minutes.

"And the second reason Mr Hernandez?"

"For some reason I can't explain, Mr. White liked me. He adviced me to get out of the drug business and run away from SPECTRE while I still had time."

"And that's what you did,” Madeleine said.

"Yes. I would lose most of my income that way. But I had stopped gambling and I had lost my taste for luxury anyway, so no big deal."

"My father tried to leave SPECTRE too," Madeleine said, "but he was too high-ranking and knew too many secrets to let him go. Retiring in peace was not an option for him."

"And the same will happen to me if they find out," Hernandez said. "You understand the risks I take."

"I do Mr. Hernandez," Bond said. "But you already know how many people die using drugs every year." He didn't mention the nukes and he didn't have to. The thousands of deaths due to drugs were more than enough reason for a man of conscience to help.

Enrico sipped his drink and looked at the MI-6 agent.

"I think Mr. White was right when he thought I had a conscience. Very well Mr. Bond. Tell me what you need."

After the meeting was over, Madeleine returned to the hotel room to practise with the drone and try to manuever it from one room to another.

For security reasons, Bond had instructed her never to leave the room. She should have all her meals in the room and not in the hotel restaurant, and she should always keep the curtains closed and never go to the balcony. As an added precaution, Bond gave her a pistol she should always carry on her person.

Madeline was not the secret agent type, preferring a simple and peaceful life for herself. But she had to admit she found the whole situation exciting.

After leaving the hotel, Bond and Hernandez reached a small airfield outside Bogota where a plane was waiting for them. 007 sat on the pilot's seat and Enrico sat next to him as an observer.

"The drug cartel had bases in various parts of Colombia," Hernandez said. "But when SPECTRE took over, they opened new ones"

"Like an ordinary business venture," Bond said. "Do you know where their main base of operations is?"

"No, I am afraid not sir," Enrico said. "I know it is somewhere in the jungle it but its precise location was a secret and besides I left before learning more."

007 was disappointed. If Hernandez knew where the main base was, his search would be practically over. But there was still an angle he could try.

"Do you know details about their sea vessels?"

"Yes Mr. Bond," Hernandez said. "And I am sure you know about narco submarines."

Bond nodded. He knew how many tonnes of cocaine such vessels transported every year and how hard was to locate them. And if he failed in his assignment, SPECTRE would soon use them to carry nukes.

"The narco submarines are usually one-off," Hernandez said. "They build them for one journey to carry as much cargo as possible and they scuttle them when they reach their destination. They can afford to do so because one shipment of cocaine provides them with enough profit to build dozens of such vessels.

“The surface ships are another story. They only make short trips from the coast until they reach international waters. They mostly act as support for the narco submarines and nobody inspects them. Therefore the drug cartels have no reason to scuttle them."

"I see. I am looking for a specific ship that crossed the Panama Canal a few days ago. Unfortunately, I don't know her name. Do you have any idea which one could it be and where?"

"No Mr. Bond," Hernandez said. "But we can use that information to narrow our search criteria. Where did that ship come from?" Bond explained – without revealing anything about the nukes – that the last known location of the ship had been a few days ago in the Northern Atlantic, in the area where SPECTRE had stolen the nukes.

Their search took many hours plus one landing for refuelling. They searched many places such ships could be, every natural or artificial harbor the drug cartels used.

It was night when Bond landed the plane and went to the hotel, having agreed with Hernandez to continue their search the following morning. For the time being, he needed some rest, some sleep and some 'quality time' with Madeleine.

“How did the search go?” Madeleine asked when he was back.

“Nothing so far,” he replied. “But at least we have eliminated half the potential locations.”

While James was in bed with Madeleine, four trucks escorted by jeeps with mounted machine guns reached the harbor. All of them carried heavily armed SPECTRE troopers. In addition, a helicopter with mounted machine guns landed next to them.

The moment the night fell, Largo had the four nukes brought to Disco Volante's deck, covered with a thick canvas to hide them from observation. A fishing trawler approached the ship and Largo's people carefully lowered the first nuke on it. Afterwards, the trawler reached the shore, the nuke was carefully loaded in one of the trucks waiting there and the trawler returned to Disco Volante to repeat the process.

After a few hours, all nukes were in the trucks and the convoy started moving towards their base of operations. Largo entered the helicopter and he took off to better observe and protect the trucks, the jeeps and the nukes.

To his satisfaction, everything went smoothly and two hours later the convoy safely reached its destination at three am.

“Welcome Mr. Largo,” the base chief of security told him the moment he landed. “It's good to have you back.”

The following morning Bond woke up before sunrise and had a quick shower. Without waking Madeleine up, he got dressed, wrote a message with instructions to her and headed for the lobby where Hernandez was already waiting for him.

After a quiet ride to the airport, both men entered the plane and continued their search. For hours nothing of interest happened... until at one p.m the former criminal saw something that puzzled him.

“That ship over there,” he said. “It looks out of place.”

“How so?” 007 asked.

“I know this harbor,” Enrico said. “It is used for drug smuggling. But I have never seen such a big and luxurious ship docked there.”

“Can you see her name?” Hernandez nodded and used a pair of binoculars to scan the port side of the ship.

“Disco Volante,” he said. “Does it ring a bell to you?”

“No,” Bond replied. “But I will investigate it.” Within ten minutes, an encrypted message from 007 reached Q in London.

Bond and Hernandez continued their search in other ports and harbors but they found nothing of interest. All the ships they located were either too small to safely cross the Atlantic or had remained docked during the time period SPECTRE had stolen the nukes. So far Disco Volante was the best lead they had.

Q's reply further reinforced Bond's suspicions. Disco Volante had been purchased by a company the British suspected as a front for SPECTRE. Bond decided to have a closer look at the yacht.

One hour later, the plane landed on the airport. After thanking Hernandez and wishing him good night, 007 headed for the terminal building where Madeleine was waiting for him.

“Everything OK Madeleine?” he asked. In the message he had left her in the morning he had instructed her to buy diving equipment for him and bring it to the airport along with the drone.

“Yes James,” she said. “I brought everything you asked.”

Bond gave her a kiss, smiled and explained his plan. After the plane was refuelled, they would take off, heading to a small airfield a hundred kilometers away from Disco Volante.

“The airfield owner is an old friend of Hernandez,” Bond said. “We can land there no questions asked. Even better, he will lend us a car.”

Two hours later the plane landed on the airstrip and after two hours of driving, they reached the harbor. Disco Volante was there.

“This is it,” Bond said and gave Madeleine a pair or binoculars to observe. “Does the name ring a bell to you?”

“No,” she replied. “My father never told me anything about it.”

“It makes no difference,” 007 said. “I was going to dive and approach it anyway. And you will be my aerial support.”

Chapter Text

"OK Madeleine," Bond said. "Let's repeat the steps."

"You wear your swimsuit and slowly swim towards the yacht, careful not to be seen. Meanwhile, I activate the drone and pilot it above the ship. I'll use its thermal camera and night vision to help you navigate and avoid danger."

"You can use the microphone to talk to me. I will listen using a wireless ear plug on my ear. But remember: this is a silent drone but not a totally quiet one. If it flies below fifty meters the enemies will notice it. Never fly lower than that.”

"OK James, I'll be careful."

"There are two problems I'll face. There is a boat patrolling around the ship and the enemy guard inside the yacht. I saw two people patrolling the deck but I am sure there are more of them somewhere."

"I will keep my eyes open. The thermal camera will help a lot I believe."

"It will. Now help me put the diving suit on." Madeleine smiled.

"You really like ladies undressing you James."

"Good luck James," she said when Bond was ready. "Be safe."

"Thanks partner," he said with a smile. "You know, we can do this more often."

"Oh James, the world of espionage is not for me. I admit it's exciting but I prefer it safe and quiet. I only make exceptions for a few days and only when weapons of mass destruction are involved." Both smiled on that.

"I'll steal one nuke for myself then," he said. "They don't guard them well anyway."

The water was a bit cold but the diving suit gave Bond adequate insulation. Swimming the four hundred meters to Disco Volante would be a relatively easy task.

Two minutes later, Bond listened to the faint buzz the drone engines made. Immediately, he touched his wristwatch, activating a small transmitter that sent an encrypted signal the drone could locate. Apart from the drone cameras, it was the only way for Madeleine to know his precise location.

After activating the transmitter, Bond continued swimming. He was moving slowly, both to be more silent and to tire himself less. Four hundred meters were not an enormous distance but he had to cover them again during upon returning. Besides, the less tired he was, the better for him if he had to fight for his life.

A few minutes passed like that. James kept swimming, closing the distance between him and Disco Volante. It was time for him to contact Madeleine.

"Can you hear me?" he said touching his ear.

"Loud and clear," came the answer.

"Good. I am going really close now. Only talk to me whenever someone gets closer."

James Bond was about forty meters away from the ship when suddenly...

"Dive!" Madeleine said in an urgent tone.

Bond had no way to know what she had seen but he didn't waste time arguing. He immediately dived and held his breath.

A few seconds later he understood. A small boat carrying two enemies approached him. It was moving slowly and silently and had no lights, making it difficult to observe. He only realized its presence when it passed five meters away from him.

Despite the danger, the boat was nothing more than a small and temporary annoyance. It was moving very slowly and the two people inside it were mostly looking to the outside. A few seconds later, Bond reached the surface and resumed swimming towards the yacht. He also activated a waterproof radiation counter Q had provided him with.

While the boat was patrolling the starboard side of Disco Volante, Bond made a careful and methodical search of the port side trying to find the one spot where radioactiviy indications on the counter would spike.

"The boat is coming again," Madeleine said through the intercom. Bond dived, swam under the yacht, and emerged at the starboard side where he continued his search. When the boat reached the starboard side, he dived, emerged at the port side and repeated the process.

After twenty minutes, he had examined both sides of the yacht. But he found nothing.

"Either we have the wrong ship or they have shielded the nukes somehow," 007 whispered through the intercom.

"What will you do now?"

"I am climbing onboard. Keep an eye for the sentries on deck."

"The boat is coming back," Madeleine replied. "I'll tell you when you surface." Bond dived and passed under the ship. A few seconds later he surfaced next to a ladder in the middle of the ship's port side. Unfortunately, there was an armed sentry partrolling that part of the ship. 007 had to be patient.

"He turned to his right," Madeleine said. "He left... and nobody else is there. That part of the deck is clear." Immediately, Bond climbed the ladder. Less than ten seconds later, he was onboard Disco Volante, his Walther PPK pistol unholstered from the waterproof case strapped on his right leg.

As Madeleine could observe using the drone's thermal cameras, there were six sentries on the yacht's upper deck. One of them was patrolling the port side, another one the starboard side and the rest were sitting inside a room. Judging from the way they were sitting and the way they moved their arms, Madeleine concluded they were watching TV and drinking something, probably beer.

The port side sentry put his hand on his belt and picked up a walkie-talkie. Madeleine saw his movement and activated the drone's microphone.

"This is Sentry One," he said. "All clear on deck. Give me a status update, over."

"The Chicago Bulls are losing by five points, over," came the reply.

"Dammit," the sentry said. "This NBA season is all wrong." Madeleine listened to the laughter from the other end of the conversation.

"OK, back to work," the sentry said. "Over and out." He buckled the walkie-talkie to his belt and started walking.

Madeleine smiled. Even bad guys like basketball.

"OK he left," she told James. "You can move now."

Bond had listened to the conversation hidden under a canvas, keeping his pistol aimed at the sentry's head the whole time. 007 could easily kill him... but the moment he did so, the alarm would sound and his mission would be over. No, 007 would only pull the trigger as a last resort.

After the sentry left, Bond stood up and approached a hatch behind him. He checked it, found it unlocked and opened it. A ladder was exactly below the hatch and 007 put his right foot on the first step.

"He is turning," he heard Madeleine say. But Bond had already closed the hatch above him before the sentry realized anything was wrong.

007 slowly descended the ladder, careful not to make any noise. He heard the faint sound the sentry's feet made... until they stopped just in front of the hatch.

Bond tensed and aimed the hatch with his PPK. Had the sentry realized someone had just entered the lower deck? Would he open the hatch to further investigate? Or would he start believe everything was all right and move on?

In the end, the sentry started walking again. 007 breathed a sigh of relief and kept descending towards the lowest deck, the one part of the ship the nukes were more likely to be. Bond started walking, confident his soft-soled shoes would made no noise.

"Someone is coming," Madeleine said, “from the upper deck." With an annoyed grimace, James Bond hid inside a nearby closet and waited.

Five seconds later, a door opened and a man slowly walked on the corridor, his boots making a lot of noise. He was one of the four SPECTRE operatives who were watching the basketball game.

Ten seconds later, the SPECTRE sentry stopped exactly in front of the closet Bond was hidden. 007 had to patiently wait in an uncomfortable position while the sentry took his time to smoke a cigarette.

"All clear below," the sentry said on the walkie-talkie. He smoked for one more minute, extinguished the cigarette in an ashtray he had brought with him and left, closing the door behind him.

"All clear James," Madeleine said. "He went to watch the game with the others."

"Good," Bond said. "I feel so comfortable getting out of the closet."

Fortunately, there were no more sentries and 007 reached the lowest decks unopposed. It was the one part of the ship someone would use to smuggle nuclear weapons.

To keep a ship stable when the winds or the sea hit her sides, it is necessary to put ballast in her. Usually, ballast is made of concrete or a heavy metal such as lead. Disco Volante had lead ballast and not only for stability reasons. Lead is excellent for absorbing radiation.

Bond fully understood their plan now. They used a submarine to steal the nukes in the Atlantic and they hid them in a special cavity in the ballast area to avoid detection from the authorities when they crossed the Panama Canal.

The only question remaining was: were the nukes still inside Disco Volante? Judging from the rather light security and the low alert status of the people onboard, Bond concluded the nukes weren't there. But he still had make certain.

Entering the lowest deck, 007 found what he expected: a big cavity in the middle of the deck, big enough to hide four nukes.

"Dammit," he said on the intercom. "There are no nukes here." That was something to be expected though. Why would SPECTRE keep the nukes in a hard to defend ship when a land installation provided better protection, more space, and much better facilities to operate on them?

In any case, 007 had to make absolutely certain nukes had indeed been inside Disco Volante. He unbuckled the radiation counter from his belt and aimed it at the cavity. If the nukes had remained there for days, the cavity walls would have absorbed some radiation. The amount would be very low to harm a human being but still high enough for the counter to find.

After just two seconds the counter gave Bond the answer he expected. Radioactive material had indeed been there!

"OK I have confirmation," 007 told Madeleine in the intercom. "I am getting out the same way I entered. Watch for sentries."

Exiting Disco Volante was easy. The smoking sentry and his colleagues kept watching the NBA game and the two sentries who patrolled the deck kept walking at predictable patterns with predictable speeds. As for the boat patrolling around the yacht, it kept moving at a very slow speed, its crew more bored than vigilant.

Once more, 007 exited the lower deck undetected at Madeleine's signal and waited under the canvas for the sentry to go away. The moment he did, he stood up, went to the ladder, and quietly descended to the water.

"The boat is at the other side," she said the moment 007 was in the water. "You are free to go."

Bond started swimming towards the shore. He only needed to dive once to avoid the patrolling boat but apart from that his return was uneventful.

"So James?" Madeleine said when he had changed back to his clothes.

"The nukes were in the ship," he replied. "But they have moved them.”

“Where could they be?”

“Somewhere nearby. They can't risk moving such a cargo in long distances in the jungle. OK Madeleine, back to the hotel. We are going to see some satellite photos tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

It had been Option Three as Blofeld had called it. Option One was to develop a nuclear weapon from scratch and Option Two to steal an active one. Option Three was the intermediate one: stealing an inactive weapon and activating it themselves.

Option Three was the best for SPECTRE: it avoided the massive financial costs of Option One and the massive security risks of Option Two. And four bright but corrupt and immoral scientists were ready to turn it into a reality.

The moment SPECTRE stole the nukes, the four scientists – a Russian, a Chinese, an American, and a British – received classified messages to get ready. The moment Disco Volante reached Colombia, additional messages urged the scientists to immediately resign their posts and fly to Colombia with private jets SPECTRE had arranged for them.

Some of the scientists believed in the idea that a non-state actor should influence the world. Others were simply disappointed by the way their employers had treated them: the long and lowly paid hours, the favoritism that always benefited others and never them, the lack of prestige and recognition... But most of it, all loved the millions SPECTRE would give them when the nukes were active.

SPECTRE spared no effort and no expenses for them. Each scientist would live in a luxurious room that included – among other things – a jakuzzi . In addition, Blofeld's personal chef was at the base to satisfy all their culinary desires at a moment's notice. Of course, the best part was their reward: SPECTRE had set up an offshore bank account for every scientist containing millions of dollars, several times the reward of a single Nobel prize.

SPECTRE had consulted with the scientists long before Operation Neptune was initiated. Using their feedback and illegal contacts in the underworld, Blofeld's organization had purchased the specialized equipment required and shipped it to Colombia.

A few hours after the convoy with the nukes reached the secret base in Colombia, the four scientists got to work. All of them were smart, hard-working and greedy. With the equipment at hand, it would only take them a few days to succeed.

James Bond and Madeleine were in the hotel room bedroom, naked. They had spent the previous hours having sex.

"I really missed that part James," she said, a big smile on her face.

"That makes two of us. Also..." Suddenly the phone rung. It was from the reception.

"Oh, what do they want?" she said.

"I think I know," Bond said and picked up the phone. He listened for a few seconds, thanked the receptionist, hung up, and stood up.

"What is it?" Madeleine asked.

"A gift from USA," 007 replied and started dressing.

A few minutes later, Bond was back in the room, carrying a big envelope with him. Madeleine was wearing her dress and drinking some coffee.

"It took a lot of effort from M to obtain what we are about to see," Bond said. "He had to use inofficial channels to avoid tipping of SPECTRE. Needless to say, it is classified. You should talk to nobody about it except me."

"I understand James," she said. "What is it?"

"Some background first," Bond said. "Every year, the drug cartels in Colombia smuggle tons of cocaine in the United States. For that reason, USA and Colombia agreed to cooperate and combine forces against them. As part of their agreement, the Colombian government allows US surveillance satellites to photograph their jungle at regular intervals."

"That makes sense," Madeleine said.

"The envelope contains satellite photos of drug cartel activity," 007 said. "It was not the intention of the Americans to specifically target SPECTRE. After all, we only know their presence in Colombia because of your father.”

“Has M informed the Americans about what my father knew?” Madeleine asked.

“Not yet,” 007 replied. “We operate under the assumption SPECTRE has infiltrators in CIA and other US intelligence agencies. We will inform them after we recapture the nukes.”

James opened the envelope and placed a photo on the table.

“Our task,” he said, “is to find SPECTRE among the drug activity here.”

"But isn't SPECTRE aware of that?" Madeleine asked. "Don't they know the USA are using satellites to photograph the jungle?"

"To answer your question," Bond replied. "Take a careful look at the photo."

Madeleine took a careful look. It was a satellite photo from the jungle. But as she could observe, it covered a very wide area. It was impossible for someone to tell small changes such as an increase or decrease in the number of vehicles on a specific facility.

"That is too distant," she said. "You can't understand what is going on if you don't zoom."

"That is correct," he replied. "Looking for changes there is like searching for a needle in a haystack. That's where SPECTRE count on. Even if we take a look at the jungle, how will we locate the specific compound they have hidden the nukes in?"

"But if we constantly monitor the jungle," she countered, "we might find something. A pattern or activity, a suspicious vehicle..."

"True, but for how many days do we need to observe the jungle until that discovery? We need weeks for that and we only have a few days till the nukes are active."

"That's a good point," she said. "So what do we do?"

"We combine satellite imagery with other forms of intelligence," Bond said. "That will allow us to narrow our search to a much smaller area." Madeleine smiled. She understood what James meant.

"You mean Disco Volante," she said. "The ship that carried the nukes."

"Exactly," Bond said. "It makes no sense for SPECTRE to have their base far away from their ship because carrying the nukes for long distances complicates logistics and increases security risks. So the nukes must be somewhere in the vicinity.”

Bond removed another photo from the envelope. It was a satellite image of a specific area in the jungle. It also showed part of the coast and a dock but without the yacht.

"Watch this," he said. "Does this remind you of anything?" Madeleine took a careful look.

"It looks like the area we scouted last night," she said.

"It is," James confirmed. "It's a magnified part of the previous photo, taken a few days before Disco Volante docked in that harbor.”

Bond removed a third photo from the envelope and placed it next to the second one. It looked like the second but as Madeleine could observe, Disco Volante appeared docked in the place they had seen it the night before.

"It is like that game,” Madeleine said. “You see two pictures and you try to spot the differences.”

“Exactly,” Bond said. “Apart from the missing yacht, what other differences can you spot?”

The photo showed six compounds. Any of them might belong to SPECTRE. But which one? Madeleine took a close look for several minutes. In all cases, the buildings had remained exactly the same. Only the cars – and in some occasions the helicopters – within the compound walls were parked in different locations. Could that mean something?

An idea crossed her mind. She started counting the number of vehicles...

“It is compound number three,” she said. "In all other locations, the position of the vehicles has changed but their number has remained more or less constant. But in number three, it has tripled!"

"Exactly," Bond said. "They also have three helicopters, instead of one. If they have three times the vehicles and the helicopters, they probably have three times the guards as well.”

“It is SPECTRE,” Madeleine said. “We have found them! Who else would add guards and helicopters?” Bond smiled.

“It's an interesting paradox that the measures they took to be more secure ended up making them more vulnerable. But I am afraid we still have work to do."

"What do you mean James?"

"Extra security does not necessarily mean it is SPECTRE trying to protect stolen nukes. The facility might belong to a drug lord who has received death threats. Or perhaps a drug cartel has stored a huge shipment of cocaine and took extra precautions. At the same time SPECTRE might have just kept the same level of security.”

“But why would SPECTRE neglect security?” Madeleine asked. “As you have told me, if they lose the nukes they are vulnerable to retaliation from all NATO countries.”

“Perhaps they believe the security they have is enough. Or perhaps they want to keep a low profile. Or perhaps SPECTRE has serious manpower issues and cannot spare extra troops. But all things considered, this compound appears to be the one we are looking for. I need to get a better look though.”

"What do you mean James? Will you enter the compound to find for yourself?"

"I am afraid so," he replied. "We are talking about weapons of mass destruction here. I need to be absolutely sure where they are. Besides, it is not enough to find the compound, we need to find the specific building where the nukes are to better organize an operation to recover them."

Apart from the possible location of the SPECTRE base, the satellite photos provided 007 with another important piece of information: the roads in the jungle he could use to approach and escape in case things went wrong. Bond carefully studied the photos until he found the best possible route.

"We can't land on the same airstrip we used last night," he said. The route from the airstrip to the enemy base is too long, not to mention it passes through the area of another drug cartel. And the usual drug cartel policy is to shoot first and ask questions much later."

"So... where?" she asked.

"The only relatively short route passes through the part of the jungle controlled by Emilio Ramirez. Your father has mentioned him in his files.”

“Yes,” Madeleine said. “He is a powerful drug lord and Hernandez knows him. OK, I will make a phone call.”

Hernandez listened to Madeleine and promised he would call Ramirez to let them pass through his territory unharmed. He also promised he would arrange for a car to wait for them there.

A few hours later, the small plane carrying 007 and Madeleine landed on an airstrip just outside the Colombian jungle. As Hernandez had promised, a car was there for them.

“Don't talk to me while I drive,” Bond said when they both exited the aircraft. “The car probably belongs to Ramirez and I suspect there are hidden microphones in it.”

“That's a good point James,” she said. “Should we be afraid of Ramirez?”

"As long as we leave him alone," Bond said, “he has no reason to care. He just lets us go, no questions asked. But no talking until we both exit the car.”

Bond put the packed drone in the trunk, sat on the driver's seat and gunned the engine. The car soon disappeared deep inside the jungle. In a few hours, they would be close to the SPECTRE base.

Their journey was uneventful with the exception of one blockade. Eight men carrying submachine guns were there, guarding one of the many entrances to Ramirez's criminal empire. Bond and Madeleine tensed, expecting something to go wrong. However, the men in the blockade had instructions to leave them alone and avoid talking to them so nothing wrong happened.

It was night when Bond and Madeleine reached their destination, deep inside the jungle. They parked and hid the car, unpacked the drone and made some tests.

“The drone is fully functional,” James said. “And the situation is like Disco Volante. I infiltrate the place while you use the drone for support.”

“OK James,” she said.

“This time it will be harder, much harder. We won't face six enemies, four of which were watching basketball. We will face dozens of well armed and very alert troopers.”

“Do you believe we can make it?” Bond smiled.

“The two of us blew up a SPECTRE base in Africa, remember?” he said. He was referring to an incident three years ago when Blofeld's people had captured them. Thanks to Madeleine's help 007 had escaped, killed several guards and blown the enemy base up. Madeleine smiled remembering that past adventure.

“And dont' forget you were unarmed while I was both unarmed and tied to a chair. We can make it Madeleine. But only if you support me.”

“You will have my full support James,” she said and gave him a kiss.

Chapter Text

"OK James," Madeleine said. "Go!" James immediately stood up and started running. His soft-soled shoes allowed him to move as fast as he wished without making a sound. You had to be less than four meters away and concentrate really hard to listen to his footsteps.

"Sentry! Duck!" Madeleine said through the intercom, her voice a bit alert. Bond did exactly that, fully trusting her.

A few seconds later, 007 saw the sentry himself. Apparently, he was patrolling inside the perimeter and he had just climbed the wall to have a look outside. Bond hadn't seen him because the wall was three meters high and prevented all observation from outsiders. Only Madeleine's aerial observation with the drone had alerted 007 to his presence. Nevertheless, Bond had to hide behind a bush and wait for Madeleine to notify him when he was clear to move.

"Clear," she said after ten seconds. Bond stood up and resumed walking. The walls were fifty meters away now. There were two sentry towers on both corners on the wall but 007 had intentionally chosen the middle of it to climb because it was a blind spot none of them would notice.

The next minute Bond reached the wall. Only three obstacles remained: climbing, cutting the thick barbed wire on top of the wall, and hiding from all approaching sentries. Fortunately, 007 had come prepared, carrying a rope with a hook for climbing and a small but strong cutter to deal with the wire. As for the sentries, Madeleine would help him evade them. She was a smart woman and the drone had very powerful cameras.

If the worst came to worst and a sentry noticed him, Bond could fire a poisonous dart from his wristwatch to silently neutralize him. Hopefully, nobody would see or hear him falling to the ground. If the SPECTRE troops somehow noticed him, he was armed with his trusted Walther PPK and he would fight his way out.

Unfortunately, the moment he opened fire, the base would go on alert mode and every trooper in it would try to kill him. Even if Bond survived that, his mission would be over and SPECTRE would win.

"Jeep! Take cover!" Madeleine said. Bond immediately ducked to the ground next to the wall and drew his pistol. He had no cover but he was optimistic the jeep crew would ignore him. That part of the wall was unlit and he carried no shiny objects. Moreover, his shoes, his clothes, his backpack and his full-face mask were black. An enemy would have to be very observant to discover him.

Ten seconds passed. Bond remained immobile and hidden, listening to the sound of an approaching vehicle. It moved slowly and didn't make a lot of noise and that was why Madeleine had noticed it before him.

From a distance, 007 saw that the jeep moved very predictably. It always stayed on a dirt road ten meters away from the wall and never deviated from it. When it came closer, Bond observed it had a two-member crew. One person was driving while the other one was standing up and manning a machine gun mounted on a pole.

Fortunately, the two men were not paying attention to the wall. The driver was looking forward and slightly to his right and the machine-gunner had his gun turned outwards. None of them saw the lonely MI-6 agent hidden in the darkness just a few meters away and aiming at them with his pistol.

Using his wristwatch, Bond calculated it took two minutes for the jeep to cover the distance between the two ends of the wall. According to the satellite photos, the base had a square shape, meaning all its sides were of equal length. It would therefore take six minutes for the jeep to cross the remaining three sides, enough time for 007 to climb the wall and cut the wire if nobody was watching.

After waiting for a sentry partolling the wall to move away, Bond picked the rope from his backpack, took a deep breath and threw it to the wall. The hook connected with the wall and the secret agent started climbing. Nobody saw or heard a thing because the rope itself was black and the hook was covered with black rubber, which made it less observable and more quiet when it connected with the wall.

After climbing the wall, Bond tried to cut the wire with the small cutter he had brought with him. Unfortunately, SPECTRE's had chosen high-quality barbed wire, slowing the cutting process down. Even worse, sentries occasionally climbed the wall and he had to climb back to avoid them. The patrolling jeep also returned and once more 007 had to take cover. Once more, Madeleine helped him avoid trouble.

In the end, 007 climbed the wall, carefully pushed the cut wire aside and stepped inside the perimeter. He put the wire back in its place to make it appear uncut and crouched to avoid detection. After another sentry passed, the MI-6 agent stood up and got ready to start his search.

Bond knew that if a sentry performed a careful search, he would find the hidden rope and the cut wire. But usually sentries aren't that thorough. Walking back and forth at the same route for hours, observing the same things again and again soon makes you bored, especially when it is night, the time you would normally sleep. Very few people are able to remain constantly on high alert status for extended periods of time.

Exactly in the middle of the courtyard, there was a big and luxurious three-story building. It was heavily armed with sentries on every balcony and every entrance. There were even more inside the building, acting as bodyguards for the scientists who operated on the nukes and the high-ranking SPECTRE operatives who supervised the whole operation.

As Bond could see, most lights in the building were off except the ones on the second floor. Apparently someone had a meeting there.

Inside the building, Emilio Largo was hosting a dinner. Apart from him, five more people were present: the hacienda chief of security and the four scientists operating on the nukes.

“For starters,” Largo said, “I would like to make a toast for our scientists. Thanks to you, SPECTRE will soon be a nuclear power.”

“It is only a number of days sir,” one of the scientists said. “Too bad the Nobel Committee won't give us a prize for that.”

“Don't worry my friend,” Largo told him. “After all, your reward is many times the reward the Nobel committee gives.”

“That is correct Number Two,” another scientist replied with a smile.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Largo said addressing the scientists, “I know all of you have abandoned your countries and therefore worry about potential reprisals from them. But don't be afraid. The moment the nukes are active, SPECTER will be a nuclear power. They won't dare touching anyone of us. Our reprisals will be too severe for that.”

“You should also have no worries about your stay here,” the hacienda chief of security said. “This is one of the safest and most heavily guarded bases SPECTRE has. And to make things even safer, we have brought reinforcements from all over the world, tripling the number of guards.”

“In addition,” Largo said, “this is a safe area. The other drug lords have a truce with us, the Colombian government never sends troops here, and the Americans and their allies, including the British, respect Colombia's sovereignity and never interfere.”

Two servants entered the room, pushing two trays with food, salad, and more bottles of wine.

“And now, bon appetit ladies and gentlemen,” Largo said. “Number One's personal chef has created an excellent meal for us.”

While Largo was enjoying smoked salmon for dinner, Bond was covertly approaching a big, sturdy rectangular building in the northern part of the compound. Two sentries stood guard in front of its gate and two more patrolled around it. And as Madeleine had observed with the drone, there were additional sentries on the roof.

On the one hand, having so much security made things easier for 007. You don't post a heavy guard for an empty building. There is something valuable there and what is more valuable for SPECTRE than the nukes? On the other hand, the more the sentries, the harder it is to pass them undetected.

James Bond took cover behind a parked vehicle, waiting for the pair of patrolling sentries to move away from him. Fortunately, they appeared to be careless: they were walking slowly, they weren't looking around them, and they were chatting. It was obvious they weren't expecting company.

There is one unexpected drawback when you have lots of troops available. The more people you have on duty, the more each one of them assumes that someone else will spot an enemy who infiltrates the place even if you miss him. That makes all sentries less vigilant and as a consequence, the moment the enemy approaches your post, you miss him. It is a typical example of a phenomenon known as 'diffusion of responsibility'.

“You may go now,” Madeleine said from the intercom. Bond stood up and silently run for ten meters, taking cover behind another vehicle.

There was a small window five meters away from 007, big enough for him to enter the building. Even better, there were no cameras and no alarm system appeared on it. Apparently, his enemies thought the wall, the patrolling jeep and the armed sentries were enough.

“Now,” Madeleine said, having observed the sentries on the roof were looking somewhere else. Bond run to the small window and pushed it. It was unlocked and he opened it without much effort.

Careless SPECTRE, Bond thought and entered the building.

The building Bond had entered was a warehouse, thirty meters long, twenty meters wide and five meters tall. Fortunately, it was deserted with no people and no security cameras inside it. It only contained a number of pallets in the middle of it covered with canvas.

What was under the canvas? Had Bond finally located the nukes? To answer the question, he activated his radiation counter and approached the pallets. A few seconds later, he checked the device monitor...

“Nothing?” he whispered, a bit sceptical. “How could that be?”

When Bond had infiltrated Disco Volante, he had detected radiation residuals in the ballast, although the nukes had only remained there for a few days. The dosage was too weak to be of any harm to human beings but still strong enough for the radiation counter to pick up.

However, the radiation level in the warehouse was zero. Even if they had moved the nukes or placed them inside a metal or concrete tomb, a small amount of radiation would still remain for the counter to detect. Unless of course...

When Bond removed the canvas, he discovered the truth. The pallets were full of 'bricks', small packages that contained cocaine and had the same dimensions as the bricks used for construction. Each package contained half a kilogram of cocaine with three layers of protective plastic both to prevent the drug from leaking outside and humidity from leaking inside.

Bond made a quick calculation: there were ten pallets in the warehouse, each one having hundreds of 'bricks'. Since a 'brick' of cocaine was worth tens of thousands of dollars, a pallet was worth tens of millions and all pallets hundreds of millions. It made perfect sense for SPECTRE to guard them well. Granted, the nukes were more valuable to them but cocaine was far from worthless and besides it offered the perfect cover story for the added security if the drug lords in the neighborhood became curious.

“Did you find the nukes?” Madeleine asked through the intercom.

“No,” he replied. “It's only cocaine here. They must be in place number two.”

When Bond had planned his infiltration, two buildings had stood out as possible storage areas for the nukes. Both had a rectangular shape, appeared to be well-built and both looked like warehouses from the satellite photos. Both were also heavily guarded.

“OK,” Bond said. “Check the other building. I have something to do here.”

“What exactly?” she asked. James told her.

“Excellent idea,” she said and sent the drone to the other building.

While waiting for Madeleine to finish with the reconnaissance, Bond picked the box of 'chocolates' Q had given him from his backpack. He had an idea in mind.

Bond looked at the pallets with the drugs. He estimated they contained about ten tonnes of cocaine. Putting explosives on them was not his primary objective in Colombia but why miss the opportunity to save the people these drugs would kill and make SPECTRE lose millions of dollars in the process? Besides, blowing up the drugs might provide him with a distraction in case they cornered him.

Granted, if he escaped the compound undetected, blowing up the explosives might betray the fact he had infiltrated them. But he already had cut the barbed wire, something the enemies would discover in a few hours anyway. In addition, if he blew up the cocaine, he might confuse SPECTRE about his true intentions. They might think the infiltrator was not a spy looking for nukes but a saboteur one of their competitors had hired to destroy their cocaine.

The best solution would be to uniformly spread the explosives because that would cause maximum damage. Unfortunately he had no time for that so he put the 'chocolates' between two pallets in the middle and activated the detonator the box had. Afterwards, he contacted Madeleine to inform her about her new mission.

“But remember,” he said. “You will blow the drugs up only after I exit the facility. Now, tell me about the other building.”

“Unfortunately,” she said, “it is better guarded than this one and there are patrols everywhere around it.”

“Oh great,” Bond said. “Why do things always get complicated?”

Normally, going from the northern part of the facility to the south was a five-minute walk. But it took 007 more than thirty to reach his destination because he had to constantly duck for cover, hide in the shadows and wait for patrolling sentries to move away from him. In addition, he had to follow an indirect route to further avoid detection, which more than doubled the distance.

Hidden behind a parked jeep close to the warehouse, Bond checked the radiation counter. There was a weak signal, indicating the existence of radiation. He had found the nukes!

Unfortunately, detecting radiation was not enough. It proved nukes were in the warehouse but it couldn't prove all of them were there. What if SPECTRE had moved one or two of them somewhere else?

Just like the previous warehouse, there was a small window he could use to enter the place. However, security was tighter here: there was a camera a few meters from the window and twice the number of sentries.

Using Madeleine's help, Bond evaded two patrolling sentries and approached the window the moment the camera was focused away from him. He opened it with silent and careful moves and entered the warehouse three seconds before a sentry turned from around the corner.

Unlike the other warehouse, this one had lights on. In addition, there were cameras on the walls. But all of them were focused on the middle of the warehouse where...

...the four nukes were stored, placed side by side! 007 had finally found them!

Finding the nukes was of course necessary but far from sufficient. What is the point finding them if you can't take them back SPECTRE and bring them back to England?

Moving the nukes himself was out of the question. Each one of them weighted two tonnes and it required a truck or a helicopter to transport. Sabotaging them was also impossible. Such an activity is very hard and requires time and specialized knowledge and SPECTRE had the people to undo the damage anyway.

The only option was for an army to attack the place, neutralize the guards, secure the nukes, and use trucks or a helicopter to take them away. The good news were that Bond had a plan for that. It had many uncertainties and all the pieces had to fall in the right places for a success but it could be done.

Provided of course he exited the compound alive!

Bond exited the warehouse and headed for his point of entry, hoping the sentries still hadn't realized the wire was cut. Once more he had to evade a lot of patrolling guards and once more Madeleine provided a lot of assistance with that.

After thirty minutes, he had almost made it. He had evaded the sentries, he had almost reached the exit...

It was at that moment he run out of luck. While hiding from a patrolling sentry, Bond stepped on a discarded beer can someone had forgotten to pick up. It was a faint sound but more than enough for the sentry to hear.

Bond crouched to present a smaller silouette but it was too late. The sentry had seen him.

“Who are you?” the sentry asked and aimed his rifle at him.

“I am just patrolling here,” Bond replied. “Like you.”

“I don't think so Mister,” the sentry said. “Drop your pistol and put your hands up!”

Chapter Text

James Bond sighed. He had spent so much time and effort to evade the enemy guards only for one of them to discover him... because of a beer bottle! But such is the irony of life.

More guards would arrive within seconds and when they did his mission would be over. 007 he had to do something and do it fast. What options did he have?

Option one was to pick his pistol up and shoot the trooper. But such an idea meant he should make a move from his gun, which currently was on the ground two meters away from him. The moment he made his move, the SPECTRE trooper would fill his chest with bullets at point blank range.

Option two was to rush the enemy and try to disarm him. Tha was also out of the question because once more the sentry would hit Bond at point blank range. Even if Bond survived the bullets, he would be too seriously wounded to escape. Besides, he wore no bulletproof vest.

Option three was to use Q's wristwatch and fire a dart at the enemy's neck. That was the most realistic choice and Bond was confident he could hit his target. Unfortunately, his hands were raised and he needed to lower them to fire. But the moment he did that, the sentry would open fire.

Unless 007 somehow distracted him... and there was a way to do that!

“Blow it up,” he said in the intercom.

“What did you say?” the senty asked.

“I said: blow it up,” Bond said. But he was talking to someone else.

A few hundred meters away, Madeleine Swann listened to Bond's command. Although the original plan had been for Bond to quietly exit the compound, get in the car and detonate the explosives after they were safely away, the unexpected had happened and they had to improvise.

“OK James,” Madeleine said and pressed a button on the command console. Doing so sent an encrypted signal to the drone. Within milliseconds, the drone relayed it to the detonator, causing a circuit in the detonator to close...

A loud explosion rocked the warehouse where the drugs were. As Bond had expected, the sudden, shocking sound of the explosion distracted the SPECTRE trooper and 007 took advantage of that. In a fluid motion, he lowered his arm and fired a dart from his wristwatch that struck his enemy on the neck.

The sentry felt the pinch on his neck and realized Bond had hit him. He tried to open fire with his submachine gun but Bond had anticipated that and ducked to the ground avoiding the bullets. The next second the enemy fell to the ground, never to breathe again.

Bond's problems were far from over though. The explosion was a good distraction but it alerted everyone in the facility. 007 had to run!

“Two enemies approach from the left,” Madeleine told him as he picked up his gun.

Two of the guards opened fire and one of their bullets hit a wall next to 007, missing him by half a meter. He ignored them and started running. The enemies kept approaching but Bond had a few seconds of a head start and left them behind. They only fired some bullets but they all missed. The only real obstacle for 007 would be the sentries on the walls. And one of them had just spotted him.

“Stop and raise your hands!” a sentry on the wall said. Without slowing down, 007 brought his pistol forward, aimed, and fired.

Bond's first shot missed. The second hit the enemy's chest but did no damage because of the bulletproof vest he was wearing. The third shot though hit the enemy on the head, killing him in an instant.

Bond kept running, climbed the stair, reached the cut barbed wire and kicked it away. A bullet hit the wall a meter away from him but he ignored it and jumped to the ground, making a barrel roll when he landed to avoid injury.

The sentries reached the wall but Bond had already up and running towards Madeleine and the car. Only the jeep remained to stop him...

Inside the villa, Emilio Largo was talking with one of the scientists when he heard the explosion. He looked at the chief of security, stood up, and drew his pistol.

Four armed men entered the room. Largo ordered them to escort the scientists into a bunker in the basement and let nobody enter it he personally ordered them to stand down. At the same time, the chief of security picked his walkie-talkie up and communicated with the guards outside.

“What is going on?” he asked the chief of security.

“Someone infiltrated the complex,” came the reply. “He killed two guards, blew the cocaine up and escaped.” Largo cursed under his breath.

“Try to get him alive if you can.” Largo ordered. “And prepare one of the helicopters for take-off. I am going to hunt him down myself.”

Once more Bond's luck ran out when the jeep crew saw him. The machine gunner opened fire, hitting the ground in front of his legs, forcing him to stop.

“Drop your gun and put your hands up,” the machine gunner ordered.

The car's lights were blinding 007, making him unable to take accurate aim. Even worse, his enemy had a machine gun and could see him well. Realising the disadvantage, Bond dropped his PPK for the second time and slowly raised his hands.

Once more the situation seemed hopeless. But Bond was a man with a plan.

“Hit them,” he whispered through the intercom.

“With the car?” Madeleine asked him. “It's too far away.”

“The drone! From above!”

To hit the jeep with the drone was easy. The drone was already above it and Madeleine only needed to stop the engines and let gravity do the rest.

“Sorry Q,” she said and pressed a button on the console. The drone's engines stopped and the small aircraft started descending to the ground. From the height of sixty meters, the impact was strong enough to render both enemies unconscious.

Bond wasted no time. The moment the drone crashed, he picked his gun up, rushed to the jeep, threw the two enemies and the remains of the drone outside and climbed to the driver's seat.

A number of enemies opened fire from the wall and a couple of them tried to descend it. Bond turned the lights off to reduce visibility and accelerated the car towards the road, away from the SPECTRE facility. He was heading towards Madeleine who was still hidden in the jungle.

“Get in,” he told her when he reached her. “Let's go.”

“But the car...”

“Forget it. Go!”

Madeleine entered the car. Bond gunned the engine and the jeep disappeared in the jungle.

There were three helicopters in the SPECTRE base, all of them armed with miniguns. Largo entered their hangar and approached one of them. He saw its pilot in it, checking the instruments and starting the engine.

“Send three cars out there,” Largo ordered the chief of security from the radio. “Four men each. I am going to locate him from air.”

Carrying a scoped rifle, Largo entered the helicopter and sat next to the pilot. A few seconds later, they took off and Largo activated the helicopter's night vision camera to have a better look at the ground.

The first thing Largo focused on was the two wounded men from the jeep. Two of his troopers were trying to revive them and another one was trying to pick up the remains of something that looked like a drone.

“Pick the remains of the drone up,” Largo ordered, “and give them to the chief of security. Now!”

Largo put two and two together. Someone had entered the facility and someone had piloted a drone to assist him, so they had to face at least two enemies. In addition, they had stolen the SPECTRE's jeep to escape so they had left their car somewhere.

“Send troops to search for a car hidden in the jungle,” Largo ordered his chief of security.

Losing one of their jeeps was a problem. The vehicle had a mounted machine gun and that would complicate things.

“Search the jungle roads for our jeep,” Largo told the pilot. “And radio our troops on the ground to be careful. That machine gun it has is dangerous.”

James Bond was in a dilemma. If he kept the lights off, his enemies would find it hard to spot him but he would have worse visibility and thus move slower. If he turned the lights on, he could move faster but his enemies would locate him within seconds, especially if they used a helicopter.

Bond made a sharp right turn, to avoid a fallen tree on the road. The sudden movement shocked Madeleine who only saw the tree after they had passed next to it.

“Impressive,” she said. “I hadn't even noticed there was a tree there.”

“We the secret agents have lots of talents,” Bond said with a smile.

“Sir,” the pilot said, “There is a car moving in the jungle. Its light are off.” Largo looked at the monitor in front of him. It was their jeep.

“It's them,” Largo said. “Message our cars and get closer. Is the minigun operational?”

The helicopter was equipped with a 7.62 mm minigun, a special type of machine gun that could fire three thousand rounds per minute. Both the pilot and the co-pilot and could aim and fire it.

“The minigun is operational Number Two,” the pilot replied. “But beware! The road is narrow with a lot of twists and turns. There are also tall trees on both sides of it. We won't get a clear shot and they have a machine gun to fight back.”

“Do it anyway,” Largo ordered. The pilot nodded and got closer.

“I can hear helicopter sounds,” Madeleine said. “Have they found us?”

“I hope not,” Bond replied.

A burst of minigun fire hit the trees around them. Fortunately, the height of the trees and the narrowness of the road caused all bullets to miss, exactly as the pilot had warned Largo.

“No need to hide anymore,” Bond said and pulled a lever next to the steering wheel and turned the car lights on. At the same time, he pushed the gas pedal and the vehicle accelerated.

“Shoot them,” he said. Madeleine looked at him, puzzled.

“Shoot them James?”

“Yes, with the machine gun,” he said.

The only time Madeleine had used a firearm in action had been three years ago. Just like then, she was with James Bond and they had to cooperate against a powerful SPECTRE opponent who wanted to kill them.

After the incident and after James had arrested Blofeld, Madeleine had hoped she would never use a firearm again. But once more SPECTRE interfered. Reluctantly, she stood up from and grabbed the machine gun.

“I cannot see the helicopter,” she said. “I can only hear the sound.”

“Wait for them to open fire,” Bond said. “When they do, aim at the flashes from their guns and fire at them.”

The helicopter approached again, firing an one-second burst. Thankfully, the road remained twisted and narrow and once more all bullets missed. However, Madeleine didn't return fire.

“Why didn't you shoot them?”

“They stopped firing before I took aim,” she said.

“Just fire in their general direction,” 007 said. Madeleine was a bit puzzled but did what James said he and fired a two-second burst in the night sky.

“Fire another one,” Bond said. “In the same area.” Madeine was still puzzled but she pulled the trigger again.

Inside the helicopter, the pilot saw the bursts of fire.

“The first was too far away,” he said. “The second came a bit closer though.”

Largo thought for a second. Helicopters are very maneuverable and capable of vertical take-off and landing. But to achieve that they need to be lightweight and have limited lifting capacity.

The helicopter Largo was in carried a minigun, a type of weapon that needed lots of ammo to operate. The ammo added a lot of extra weight, leaving no lifting capacity for armor, thus making the chopper vulnerable to machine gun fire.

Since their cars were coming, Largo had no reason to take unneccessary risks.

“Climb higher,” he ordered the pilot, “and keep more distance. Can you see them?”

“Easily sir,” the pilot replied. “Especially now that they have their lights on.”

“Keep an eye on them,” Largo said and radioed the cars to approach. Afterwards, he looked at the monitor in front of him. It showed a map of the area. An idea crossed his mind.

“I can't hear the helicopter,” Madeleine said. “Did it leave?”

“I am afraid not,” Bond said. “It just climbed higher to take a better look. I only hope they won't radio cars to follow us.”

“Oh no,” she said after a few seconds.

“What is it?”

“The cars you were saying? They are behind us.”

Guided by Largo, the three SPECTRE jeeps were three hundred meters away from Bond.

“Fire,” Largo ordered. The machine gunner in the first vehicle took careful aim and pulled the trigger.

“Oh no,” Madeleine said the moment the enemy opened fire. Fortunately, the road was still full of twists and turns and he hit the trees.

“Fire back,” 007 said. “Aim for the car lights.”

Madeleine had very limited combat experience and the enemy gunfire had caused her a lot of stress. She was hyperventilating and her hands to tremble. To make things worse, she was inexperienced with a machine gun. But despite this troublesome situation, she had to fight back.

Madeleine took careful aim – as careful as she could under the circumstances – at the lights of the first car and pulled the trigger, firing a two-second burst. But her stress, her inexperience and the fact the jeep was on a road full of bumps and twists and turns make her miss. The bullets hit the ground twenty meters in front of the enemy jeep, completely missing its driver and the three other people in it.

Despite missing the car, Madeleine had some success. The driver saw the bullets hitting the ground and stepped on the brake. Even better, the two following cars saw him slow down and did the same, allowing Bond to increase the distance from them.

“Good shot!” Bond said. “Fire another one.”

“At your orders James,” she said, this time calmer and more confident.

Meanwhile, Largo had found what he needed.

“There is a clearing in the forest a few kilometers ahead,” he told the pilot and pointed it with his finger. “Go there and hover three meters above the ground.”

Once more, Madeleine's shots missed. That was to be expected though. Hitting a fast moving vehicle on a road full of turns while you are inside another vehicle is almost impossible even for experienced troops.

One minute later, Madeleine noticed the cars pursuing them slowed down and their fire became more sporadic. Puzzled, she informed James.

Bond thought for a second. The cars were increasing their distance, the helicopter was nowhere to be heard...

Suddenly, he understood.

“Get on your seat and fasten your seatbelt!” Bond said. “We are heading for trouble!”

The moment the helicopter stopped attacking them and let the cars alone, Bond knew things were off. Why would they leave their fastest and most powerful asset outside the action? The only explanation was it had flown away to set up an ambush.

The moment their pursuers increased their distance, Bond knew the ambush was imminent. SPECTRE were not stupid to let their own people die from friendly fire.

The only remaining question was where the ambush would take place. It would be pointless to do so in the jungle because the trees and the thick vegetation would provide cover and concealment to James and Madeleine. It would be much better for them to attack in the open.

Fortunately, Bond knew where such a place was, because he had studied the topography of the jungle. He had done so both better prepare himself for his mission and to deal with any unexpected developments. According to the satellite photos and the maps he had consulted, the forest soon ended. However, the road continued and took a sharp left turn just outside the trees and continued in a straight line parallel to the forest.

The best place for an ambush was that sharp turn: cars have to slow down before turning and a slow car is an easier target to hit, especially when there are no obstacles to obstruct your view and your field of fire. But what if you suspect they will ambush you there?

“We are not turning,” Bond said. “We are going straight ahead. It's the only way.”

Madeleine looked at him, eyes wide in shock.

“But there is a cliff ahead James!”

The helicopter with Largo was hovering, ready to ambush Madeleine and Bond. The moment the car exited the jungle and made a left turn...

“I see their lights,” the pilot said.

Largo took a deep breath and put his finger on the trigger...

Chapter Text

The jeep exited the jungle. Largo waited for it to slow down and turn, his finger on the trigger.

But instead of turning, the car kept moving straight and accelerated! Reflexively, Largo pulled the trigger while the pilot tried to turn the helicopter. But although he fired two hundred bullets, all of them missed.

“Follow them!” he ordered the pilot. But it was too late. The car kept moving straight and fell to the cliff. Largo fired another one-second burst but he only hit the air.

The cliff Bond had driven the jeep into was steep but not terribly so. Being a skilled driver, he maintained control of the vehicle and prevented it from turning upside down. The jeep kept moving until it reached the bottom of the cliff and fell in a small river down there.

Fortunately, neither Bond nor Madeleine were wounded when the vehicle stopped. Both were wearing seatbelts and the water partly absorbed the impact.

When the jeep stopped, Bond blinked a couple of times to make sure he was OK and checked Madeleine. She was a bit shocked from the collision but apart from some water on her clothes she was OK.

“Seatbelts really save lives,” Madeleine said. “But did we really have to fall down a cliff?”

“It was either that or the enemy minigun. And it fires fifty bullets per second.”

“Well, getting wet beats getting dead.”

“Let's move,” Bond said. “The helicopter will come for us.”

Madeleine nodded, unbuckled her seatbelt and tried to stand up. She was still dizzy from the fall but James helped her stand up and move. A few seconds later, they heard the helicopter approaching and took cover behind a big rock.

Using the night vision camera, the pilot found the wrecked jeep and prepared to fire. At the same time, Largo opened the window and took aim with his sniper rifle, happy his weapon had a night vision scope.

A few seconds later, the helicopter fired a three-second burst, covering a wide area. Most of the bullets hit the ground, the rocks, the water, and the vegetation. About thirty of them hit the car, shredding tyres, penetrating the engine block, destroying the windshield, and filling the fuel tank with holes. Three bullets hit the rock Bond and Madeleine used for cover but they failed to hit them.

From the wide dispersal of the shots, 007 concluded the pilot hadn't spotted them. He just fired random shots in a wide area, hoping one or two of them would hit someone. A second burst a few seconds later followed the same pattern but all missed Bond or Madeleine. A third burst soon followed but the result was the same.

Largo took careful aim and fired a couple of shots with his rifle. But just like the pilot, he hadn't spotted 007 or Madeleine Swann. He simply fired against something that appeared to move

One of the reasons they had missed was because they had kept their distance from the car. Getting closer would improve their odds but it also increased the risks. Besides, the British had captured Blofeld when James Bond had shot his helicopter down... with a pistol! That was something nobody in SPECTRE would forget.

What if 007 was down there, aiming them with his pistol or – even worse – a scoped rifle? No, getting closer might be suicide.

“They won't get closer,” James said. “It's too risky for them.”

“What if they send troops down there?” Madeleine asked.

“Unlikely as well,” Bond said. “They can't send cars down here, only foot soldiers. But it is dark, the cliff is very steep and we can easily evade them.”

Largo examined his options and reached the same conclusions as Bond: he was out of options. Besides, he was in a territory outside SPECTRE's control. He didn't know which drug lord was the boss there but he knew that until the nukes were in the sea, SPECTRE was vulnerable and should avoid creating new enemies.

Two minutes later, SPECTRE Number Two ordered the jeeps to return to the base. The helicopter hovered for a few more minutes, dropped some grenades, fired two more bursts but it too turned and left the area.

Bond and Madeleine had survived without injuries but their situation remained tough. Their car was a wreck after the fall and the dozens of bullets that hat hit it and their only option was to leave the area on foot.

007 reached the car and recovered his and Madeleine's backpack. A few bullets had hit them but their contents were mostly intact.

“We shall follow the river,” he whispered. “But we need to be very quiet because enemies might be waiting in ambush.” In fact nobody was, but James Bond hadn't survived so many years by being careless or by taking unnecessary risks.

Madeleine nodded and both started walking. They walked slowly and remained hidden in the vegetation for as much as they could. They also were silent and vigilant, with their pistols drawn and ready to shoot on sight.

After one hour, Bond gestured for Madeleine to sit.

“OK,” he said. “We can talk now. We are far away from them.”

“At last,” Madeleine said. “I never had the opportunity to ask about your reconnaissance it their base.”

“I have good news and bad news about the reconnaissance. The good news: the nukes are there and I found the building they are in. The bad news: they are so well-guarded we'll need an army to capture them.”

“Will the Colombians help us?”

“No Madeleine. And here is why.”

Bond explained her that attacking the well-armed and well-funded private armies the cartels had would result in a bloodbath for the Colombian Army and it was far from certain they would win. So the army and the cartels had reached an unspoken agreement: the army would not enter the jungle and the drug cartels would not expand their influence outside the jungle.

But even if 007 somehow convinced the Colombian army to attack, their bases were hundreds of kilometers away. How much time would it take them to organize a successful attack against SPECTRE? Probably more than the time SPECTRE needed to activate the nukes and load them into narco submarines.

Lastly, all cartels – including the one SPECTRE owned – had infiltrators in the authorities to remain informed for possible attacks against them. If Bond contacted the Colombians, SPECTRE would find out within hours.

“But they already know about you James,” she said. “You infiltrated their base a few hours ago. What difference will it make if you contact the Colombians?”

“It's not the same,” Bond said. “For starters, they don't know it was I who attacked them. Besides, we blew their cocaine up and that might confuse them. They might think I was a saboteur working for a competitor and not a British agent searching for nukes.”

“What about your own country James? After all you are a British agent trying to recover British nukes.”

Madeleine had a point but the British option was no better than the Colombian one. For starters, SPECTRE would learn about Bond's plans thanks to their infiltrators among the British Secret Service. And although Her Majesty's government would be more willing to attack SPECTRE than the Colombians, the logistics of the operation would be much harder: they would have to operate in a foreign country thousands of kilometers away from their bases. The nukes would be far, far away long before the British were ready.

In addition, although the cartels controlled the jungle, the jungle was officially part of Colombia. Tolerating the drug cartels was one thing but allowing a foreign army to operate there was something most governments would be very reluctant to do. Permission from the Colombian government was uncertain, not to mention the fact SPECTRE learn about any contact within the hour.

Under those limitations, the British could only mount a very small operation. It would be simple and fast to organize and M could do it alone without informing anyone in the Foreign Office or the intelligence community, thus keeping SPECTRE in the dark.

Finding the troops would be easy. Every man in SAS wanted revenge for the six SAS troopers lost during Blofeld's escape. M could just ask his old friend Colonel Guinness to discreetly assemble a small group of them and lead them to battle. Guinness would be more than happy to oblige.

Transporting the troops was also easy. M had an old friend who owned a private jet, the same jet who had carried James and Madeleine from Austria to London and from London to Colombia. He could transport a group of SAS everywhere.

“Unfortunately,” Bond said, “such an operation is not enough on its own. We can bring a small group here within hours but they will be too few to defeat the dozens of troopers SPECTRE has. We need reinforcements.”

“Where do you find an army in the middle of the jungle James?” Madeleine asked.

“Well Madeleine, there is an old saying: the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” He went on to explain what he meant.

“Very well,” she said. “Let me make the phone call.”

The Colombian drug cartels reminded Bond of international relations: an environment of anarchy with no central authority to impose order. All participants had selfish interests and used all types of methods to promote them, such as war, friendly diplomacy, alliances, counter-alliances and everything in between. 007 was certain a professor in international relations would find the study of inter-cartel relations fascinating.

When you cannot defeat your enemies on your own, you need allies. The best allies are those who are also enemies of your enemies because they have strong reasons to help you win. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend" principle is an old, effective and time-tested idea.

Sometimes though, such potential allies are morally corrupt and responsible for countless crimes. In such cases you face a dilemma: do you fight on your own and lose or do you ally with the monsters to win? What should you choose then?

With those thoughts in mind, Bond made a phone call...

"Yes M," Bond said after explaining for a few minutes. "This is the plan."

"But a drug lord?" M said. "That's a deal with the devil."

"I agree sir," Bond said, "but we did the same with Stalin."

M thought for a second. Josef Stalin had led the Soviet Union between 1927 and 1954 with an iron fist. His regime was totalitarian and everyone opposing him was either faced the firing squad or became a prisoner in his concentration camps, the notorious gulags.

Millions of Soviets died during Stalin's rule and everyone in Great Britain was aware of his atrocities. However, when Nazi Germany became an enemy of both Great Britain and the Soviet Union, the two countries became allies. Allying with Stalin was an awful choice but losing the war against Hitler was a much worse one.

"Yes," M finally said. "We allied with one of the most ruthless tyrants humanity has ever seen to defeat the Nazis. Allying with a drug lord to retrieve four nukes is mild in comparison."

"Yes sir," Bond said. "Now for our mission to succeed we need..." M listened carefully.

"Yes it can be done 007," M said he heard Bond's demands. "I will arrange things here. Good luck."

Apart from absorbing a drug cartel, SPECTRE had also enforced a form of truce among the various drug lords. It was not altruism that had led to that decision but pragmatism. The more peaceful the situation in the jungle, the less attention the Colombians government – and by extension their allies in Washington – paid. The less attention they paid, the less they noticed what SPECTRE did in their base there.

Although the peace had many benefits for the drug lords – more safety and more profits – there were people who resented them. One such person was Emilio Ramirez, an ambitious and ruthless drug lord.

Years ago, Mr. White had tried to recruit Ramirez, offering him vast amounts of money and an expanded distribution network in the USA, courtesy of SPECTRE. But the drug lord had declined, believing they only needed him to establish control and get rid of him when they no longer needed him. He was proven right: the leaders of the cartel that had allied themselves with SPECTRE had 'disappeared', probably shot at the head and thrown in the ocean.

Ramirez understood SPECTRE would leave him alone only if he kept the peace. He disliked them but he had no option: they had more resources than him. If he started a war with them, he would lose both his empire and his life.

For years, Ramirez remained patient. He managed his criminal empire as best as he could, always careful to expand only as much as SPECTRE tolerated, always hoping an opportunity would come...

And the opportunity presented itself in the form of a British MI-6 agent and the daughter of the man who had tried to recruit him.

It was nine am when James Bond and Madeleine Swann approached the main gate in Ramirez's compound. They had walked for four hours and they were tired.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked. "We are dealing with a ruthless criminal here."

"The enemy of the enemy..." Bond said. She nodded but she still felt uneasy.

"That is the worst part of your job," she said. "Dealing with monsters. I really admire you James for being able to do it. I never could."

Bond gently touched her shoulder.

"It disgusts me as much as it does you," he said. "But under the circumstances, I have no choice."

The door opened and four armed guards surrounded Bond and Madeleine. They disarmed them, tied their hands behind their backs, covered their eyes with cloth, and escorted them inside the compound.

After some minutes, James and Madeleine were separated. Two of the guards led Madeleine in a room, locked her there and remained outside to guard her. The other two escorted 007 to their boss.

Bond listened to the door closing behind him and the footsteps on the floor. He felt someone cutting the rope that tied his arms and someone else removing the cloth from his eyes. After blinking twice to adjust to the light, he saw the man he had come to visit.

"Your beautiful friend," Emilio Ramirez said, "called me a few hours ago in a phone number very few people know. She said you told her to do so."

"That is correct Mr. Ramirez."

"I know who the lady is. She is Madeleine Swann. Mr. White is her father and he wanted to make business with me years ago. He told me she might phone me one day.

"What I don't know about is you. So my first question is: who the hell are you?"

“The name is Bond. James Bond.”

Although Great Britain was no longer an empire and the Royal Navy only had a fraction of the warships it had during the glorious past, Her Majesty's Ships still roamed the oceans. Most of them patrolled the Atlantic or the Mediterranean but you could still find the occasional cruiser or destroyer in the Pacific or the Indian Ocean.

A phone call to one of M's inofficial contacts in the Royal Navy confirmed there was indeed a warship in the Pacific, not far away from Colombia. She was destroyer HMS Nelson, taking part in a joint exercice with the Royal Australian Navy. In an interesting coincidence, she was the sister ship of HMS Trafalgar, the ship SPECTRE had damaged during Operation Neptune. And just like her sister ship, HMS carried a helicopter with enough lifting capacity to carry one of the nukes.

Taking into account the warship's position and speed, the range her helicopter had, her distance from Colombia...

“Moneypenny! Call the Prime Minister! Now!”

“And what are you doing in Colombia Mr. Bond?”

“I work on Her Majesty's Secret Service Mr. Ramirez. And I am here to make you an offer you can't refuse.”

An offer you can't refuse . Ramirez smiled. It reminded him of Vito Corleone, a fictional gangster who occasionally used the phrase. Its meaning was blackmail: I'll make you an offer and if you refuse it the consequences will be grave for you, so you'd better accept. Was that British agent trying to blackmail him?

“Don't worry Mr. Ramirez,” Bond said. “I am not here to harm or blackmail you. But if you don't accept my offer... SPECTRE will.”

“I am listening.”

007 started with the nukes. He explained how SPECTRE had stolen them and had them in Colombia not far away from them.

M had been very hesitant to allow Bond to inform outsiders about the nukes. Such a loss had remained top secret and even members of the government knew nothing about it, not to mention the press. However, talking to Ramirez about the loss was essential if they wanted to obtain his help.

“SPECTRE is more powerful than you Mr. Ramirez,” Bond said. “But SPECTRE's enemies are even more powerful. There are only two reasons SPECTRE survived them. One, because they have a vast network of spies and two because nobody considered them a high-priority threat.”

“And now that they have the nukes,” Ramirez said, “they will become more powerful.”

“True,” 007 replied, “but the moment they stole the nukes, they became a high-priority threat. Every powerful country in the world is now making plans on how to defeat them.”

“And for that reason, they will never return them. The moment they do, they lose their leverage and the whole world will retaliate against them.”

“That's right Mr Ramirez. Doing so would be suicide. What they asked instead was to pay them ransom money every month and turn a blind eye whenever we spot one of their operatives.”

How could that affect Ramirez and his criminal empire? Simple: the ransom money would allow SPECTRE to hire more troops and use them to take control of the Colombian drug trade.

“There is more than that,” Bond said. “How do you think they will smuggle the nukes outside Colombia and keep them permanently hidden and always ready for use?”

Ramirez thought for a second. How did the drug cartels smuggle drugs from Colombia to other countries? They used narco submarines because it was a reliable and effective technique. SPECTRE could do the same with the nukes. What consequences would that have for Ramirez?

War history provided the answer to the drug lord's question. During both World Wars, Germany used their submarines – the so called u-boats – to sink as many enemy ships as possible. Soon the casualties became so heavy the Allies could not build enough ships to replace the sunk ones.

One of the reasons u-boats were so successful was because the Allies hadn't developed the technologies to counter the threat. In addition, there were few anti-submarine ships and aircraft available. Determined to change that, the Allies invested massive amounts of money to build the necessary ships and aircraft and develop the necessary technologies.

The massive investment soon paid off, turning the tide against u-boats. Their losses increased while allied casualties decreased. When World War Two ended, most German u-boats were sunk. Only one in four u-boat crew members survived the war.

The same thing could happen with the narco submarines. Using them to carry drugs was a problem most countries recognized but nobody considered it high-priority. But the added danger the nukes presented would change that. It would be like the World Wars again: an alliance would form against SPECTRE and its members would invest massive amounts of money to build the ships, train the crews, and develop the technology to locate the and eliminate the narco submarines.

How many more submarines and how many tonnes of cocaine would Ramirez lose that way? How many millions would that loss represent?

“There is a saying,” Bond said. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Personally, I don't like you or your job. But under the circumstances we can help each other.”

Ramirez considered his options. If he remained idle and SPECTRE won, he was a dead man. SPECTRE would use the ransom money to hire assassination squads and unleash them against him and the other drug lords.

If Ramirez helped the British and SPECTRE still won, his enemies would remember that and retaliate. Sooner or later, an assassination squad would find him and put a bullet on his head. But that would happen anyway if SPECTRE won. At least Ramirez would get some comfort knowing he went down fighting.

If he did nothing and SPECTRE lost, he would lose nothing and reap the benefits of a defeated SPECTRE. But why would British ally with someone they disliked if they could solve their crisis on their own? Without his assistance, the British would lose and that would mean a victory for SPECTRE and eventual death for Emilio Ramirez.

What if Ramirez helped the British and they won? He would get rid of a powerful competitor and expand his business unopposed. Would SPECTRE retaliate against him? No way. The moment they stole the nukes they convinced all the powerful nations on Earth how dangerous they were. The only thing preventing those nations from attacking were SPECTRE's ability for nuclear retaliation. But the moment they lost the nukes, the means for retaliation would eclipse. No longer afraid of a nuclear attack, the powerful nations of Earth would start an international manhunt against them to prevent a second nuclear blackmail. SPECTRE would too busy and too weak to retaliate against Ramirez and his drug cartel.

Ramirez smiled. For years he had hoped for an opportunity to hit SPECTRE and now it had presented itself. It was not what he had expected but he would be a fool to ignore it.

“OK Mr. Bond, tell me about your plan.”

A few minutes later, Bond entered the room Madeleine was.

“It worked,” he told her. “Ramirez will help us. But...”

“He wants me to remain as his hostage just in case. You had warned me about that James.”

“That's right Madeleine. So?”

“We had agreed on that,” she said. “Yes James, I am going to stay if that is going to help.”

“You are very brave,” Bond said and gave her a kiss. “Time to make a phone call now.”

At the same time...

“Yes Prime Minister,” M said on the phone. “HMS Nelson is essential for the operation. Yes, the SAS will assist. And I urge you, not a word to anyone, not even Her Majesty. Thank you Prime Minister.” He hung up.

A few minutes later, M's phone rung. It was 007.

“We have a deal with the drug lord sir,” Bond said.

“Good,” M replied. “We have diverted a destroyer from a joint UK-Australia exercise. It will be there as soon as possible.”

“How about paratroopers? We need a combined aerial and ground operation to succeed.”

“Don't worry 007. Colonel Guinness itches to take revenge for Scotland. In fact, he is in my office as we speak.”

“Alec,” M said when the phone call ended. “Thank you for coming here so soon.”

“I am always available for you Gareth,” Guinness replied. “So tell me, what is the plan?”

“You will take off from Great Britain and you will parachute next to one of our destroyers in the Pacific. You will use the ship's helicopter to will fly into the Colombian jungle where one of my agents is waiting for you.”

“Who is that agent?”

“His name is Bond. James Bond. But you are not to tell his name to anyone, including your troops.”

Guinness nodded. James Bond was a legend among the intelligence and the special forces community. And thanks to him, one SAS trooper had survived the SPECTRE attack in Scotland, something the SAS would be eternally grateful for.

“After you take him,” M said, “you will fly above the SPECTRE compound. A local ally will attack from the ground while you will parachute inside it. Your mission: kill as many enemies as possible and recover the nukes.”

“With pleasure Gareth,” Guinness said. “I will lead the attack myself. The bastards who killed our boys in Scotland will pay and they'll pay hard.”

“One more thing Alec,” M said. “Only the Prime Minister knows about the operation. The rest of the Government, her Majesty, our Generals, our Admirals, our allies and even the Colombian government know nothing. It's totally inofficial. You are not to tell anything to anyone even with other SAS.”

“Don't worry Gareth,” Colonel Guinness said. “The SAS know how to keep the kingdom's secrets.”

“Good luck Alec. And give them hell. For Scotland!”

“For Scotland!”

Chapter Text

While James Bond was trying to form an alliance with Emilio Ramirez, another Emilio was trying to understand what had happened just a few hours ago.

SPECTRE had suffered a defeat the previous night. An enemy had infiltrated their facility undetected, entered the warehouse where the cocaine was stored, and placed explosives between the pallets of drugs. The resulting explosion had destroyed half the cocaine, causing a two hundred million dollar loss for SPECTRE.

What made things worse was the infiltrator's escape. A guard had spotted him and had him at gunpoint but the enemy had killed him with a poisoned dart on the neck. Afterwards, he had run for the wall, killing a second guard in the process. Moreover, the infiltrator had evaded the jeep patrolling outside the walls because his assossiate had dropped a drone on it. And last but not least, the two enemies had escaped in the jungle despite a pursuit with jeeps and a helicopter, most likely unharmed.

Largo would never get the opportunity to interrogate them. Granted, his first priority had been to kill them as retaliation for the damage they had caused. But if he somehow had captured them alive, he would be more than happy to torture them for all available info.

Upon returning to the facility, Largo personally interrogated the wounded jeep crew. Both men reported the infiltrator was wearing a mask that covered his face. Moreover, he hadn't spoken a word before the drone hit them. He repeated the process with the guards on duty during the night but none had seen or heard him. It was as if he had been a ghost.

Largo had no illusions about the true competence of SPECTRE personnel. He knew that after three years with Blofeld in captivity, many in SPECTRE had become lax. That was to be expected though: when the boss is absent, the organisation loses its edge. Apart from that, the reinforcements they had brought to better guard the nukes were not as good as the local troops. They were still trying to adapt to the warm and humid environment of the jungle, something the local troops had achieved years ago.

The SPECTRE troops had their limitations but the decisive factor had been the enemy competence. The enemy, whoever he was, was a skilled one. He was the only one who ever infiltrated their facility and survived to tell the tale, something that worried Largo. What if he had entered the warehouse with the nukes? The cameras in the warehouse hadn't recorded anyone but was it because he hadn't entered it or because he had been careful to remain outside their field of view? Largo had no way to know.

Since eye witnesses and cameras had offered no information about the intruder, Largo and his chief of security had to limit themselves in the physical evidence available. They were three of them: the poisoned dart that killed one of their sentries, a car his people had discovered hidden close to the facility, and the remains of the drone.

The dart was a very small one, about two centimeters long. You could only fire it using a small sized gadget you could easily conceal, such a modified lighter or a wristwatch. But who could use such a technology?

Largo's first thought was MI-6. Thanks to Barbara Simmons, he knew about Q, the legendary quartermaster. Q had designed dozens of high-quality gadgets 00 agents – including 007 – constantly used in the field. Was the use of a dart-firing gadget the proof MI-6 had sent someone to spy on them?

Largo's instinct told him yes but he still had his doubts. Creating such a gadget required skill but Q was not the only person who could do it.

The second piece of evidence was the car. It was an ordinary vehicle with nothing that stood out. The enemies might have stolen it, bought it, borrowed it or rented it. Largo had little hope it would help them but he had ordered his men to thoroughly check it, just in case his enemies had forgotten something.

The car had no licence plates. There were also no fingerprints, no papers and no other evidence in it. The only evidence it provided was that his enemies were competent and thorough enough not to leave anything incriminating behind them. But that was no news for Largo. The dead guards, the stolen jeep, and the destroyed cocaine had already established the enemy competence.

The last – and most promising – piece of evidence was the drone. It was a sophisticated model, not the type sold in regular electronics stores. Nevertheless, you could legally purchase one from companies that specialized in such equipment. It was an expensive model but if you could afford buying a new car, you could afford buying a drone like that.

Such drones were very practical because they run on batteries and you could charge them using electricity from the power grid. They were usually unarmed and carried a wide range of surveillance equipment, ranging from night vision cameras to microphones. Their users were mostly organizations that wanted to keep an eye on their facilities against intruders, thieves or saboteurs. In fact, one of their nuclear scientists – the American – remembered he had seen a similar drone flying above the Los Alamos nuclear research facilities in New Mexico, searching the perimeter for potential intruders.

Of course, you could use such drones not only to prevent others from spying on you but also to spy on others. Using a drone was often more practical than using a human on the ground. For instance, a human has to climb obstacles while a drone just flies above them. But the biggest advantage is that you cannot arrest and interrogate a drone. Even if you somehow capture it, its operator can self-destruct it and leave you with useless junk.

Who had used the drone against SPECTRE? The best way to find out was by examining its memory, its central processor, and its software. However, the memory and the processor were automatically destroyed and the software was automatically erased the moment it crashed. Exactly as Q had programmed it to do.

Taking all the above evidence in consideration, Largo asked himself three questions: One, who had an interest in infiltrating the SPECTRE compound. Two, who had access to poisonous darts and a drone? And three, who had an operative capable enough for such a job?

The list of suspects and their possible motivations varied. It could be an MI-6 agent – perhaps James Bond himself – trying to locate the nukes. Or it could be a vigilante trying to destroy the SPECTRE drug supply. Or the Colombian army was trying to learn more about the drug cartels. Or a drug lord saw the added security and decided to send his best henchman for a closer look.

The infiltrator had blown the cocaine up... but what did that mean? Was the destruction of the drugs his main objective? Or was his primary objective to locate the nukes while the explosives in the drugs were a target of opportunity or an attempt to disguise his true motives?

What did the quality of the equipment say about the intruder? Granted, the legendary Q in MI-6 could build a drone and a dart-firing gadget from scratch while the drug cartels couldn't. But the cartels only needed to spend some money to buy the technologies. They were expensive but when you make millions every week, such expenses are trivial.

What about the quality of the infiltrator? Could he be James Bond? Largo considered it the most likely scenario. After all, Bond had survived many SPECTRE attacks in the past. But it was still possible someone else had been responsible.

In any case, Largo had to assume the worst and prepare accordingly.

A few minutes later, a helicopter landed in the compound, carrying the chief of security. Largo had ordered him to take off at first light and search the cliff in an attempt to find the infiltrator and his accomplice. But the only thing he had found were two pairs of footsteps that led to the area Emilio Ramirez controlled.

Were the infiltrators saboteurs working for Ramirez? Or was it a coincidence they crossed Ramirez's territory? Or did they want to ask Ramirez for sanctuary? Whatever the case, they were gone and Largo was none the wiser.

“We must keep our eyes open and be careful,” Largo told his chief of security. “We were a bit careless last night.”

“You are right Number Two,” the chief said. “That man evaded all of our sentries. These new reinforcements haven't adapted yet.”

“I know,” Largo said. “They are new in the jungle. I am not blaming you or them here, these were the best men they could send us. But after last night, we need to modify our timetable.”

“How exactly Number Two?”

“The initial timetable was to activate all nukes first and transport them to Disco Volante using one convoy. Afterwards, our yacht would sail and meet our four narco submarines in four different locations and give one nuke each. That leaves us vulnerable though. If someone attacks our base while we wait until the fourth nuke is ready, we will lose them all.”

“So what is the new plan?”

“When the first nuke is ready, we load it into a truck, we transport it to Disco Volante under heavy guard and we send her to rendezvous with the first submarine. We load the nuke in the submarine, Disco Volante returns to port and we repeat the same process with nukes two, three, and four.”

“We shall have four convoys at different dates,” the chief of security said. “That will complicate logistics. And four convoys means four opportunities to attack us instead of one. But it makes sense. Even if they stop us while we prepare the third nuke, we will still have two nukes in the ocean.”

“Yes,” Largo said. “Partial success is better than total failure. Remember: the moment SPECTRE stole the nukes, we became enemy number one for NATO, China, and Russia. If we lose the nukes, we lose our leverage against them. If this happens, we'll have nothing to deter them from attacking us with everything they've got. It is essential to have at least one nuke in the ocean to keep them scared.”

“So when will the first nuke be ready Number Two?”

“According to our scientists,” Largo replied, “in twelve hours. Prepare a truck, jeeps and a helicopter for its transportation. When the night comes, we will load it to the yacht. Also send a message to our submarines. Tell them to launch the first one and send it to rendezvous point one.”

“At your orders sir.”

Using a projector Ramirez had, Bond showed him and his lieutenants photographs of the compound the drone had taken.

“They have permanent sentries the walls,” Bond said, “The ones on the corners are stationary and the rest patrol up and down. There is also a jeep with a mounted machine gun patrolling around the base.”

“Dmitri?” Ramirez told one of his men. “What do you think?” 007 looked at the man. He was tall and well-built. Since Dmitri was a Russian name, Bond concluded the man was former Spetznaz, the Russian Special Forces.

“Dmitry used to be a sniper in Spetsnaz,” Ramirez said, confirming Bond's suspicion. “Twenty confirmed kills in Chechnya and how many more unconfirmed?”

“Twenty more boss,” Dmirty said in a thick Russian accent. “And I killed six in one day.”

“But in the end Colombia won you over,” the drug lord said.

“The money was better,” Dmitri said, laughing. Ramirez gave him a friendly pat in the back.

“How fast does the jeep go?” Dmitri asked. “And how does it move?”

“Slowly and predictably,” Bond said. “It never strays from the road around the complex.”

“I can get the driver in one shot,” the Russian said. “Vladimir will shoot the machine-gunner.” Vladimir, the man sitting next to Dmitri nodded. He too was a former Spetznaz sniper.

“Time to break your daily record Dmitry,” Ramirez said.

Bond had a strong dislike for Ramirez. The man was a drug lord, responsible for thousands of drug related deaths. Nevertheless, he was the enemy of Britain's enemies and he and his men were professionals with a keen grasp of military tactics. Bond had no difficulty agreeing to a plan of action with them.

“My men will hit the compound tonight,” Ramirez said. “But if your paratroopers aren't in place Mr. Bond, my men will be slaughtered. And if that happens, my friend Dmitry will be very pissed. And the only way to calm him down will be to allow him to put a bullet between your eyes and another one between the eyes of beautiful Mrs. Swann.”

Inside a private jet, the same one that had flown Bond and Madeleine to Colombia, Colonel Guiness and the eight SAS troopers he had brought with him were preparing for their attack.

“After we reach the Pacific,” the Colonel said, “we will fly above destroyer Nelson and we'll parachute next to the ship. They are expecting us and they will have two lifeboats ready to recover us.

“The ship has a helicopter onboard. They use it for anti-submarine duties, reconnaissance and troop transportation. The moment we board the ship, we head straight for the helicopter and take off without delay.”

Guiness picked up another photo. It showed a small clearing in the jungle, not far away from Ramirez's compound.

“An MI-6 agent is waiting for us here,” the Colonel said. “He is the key to our success because he knows exactly where the nukes are.”

“How does he know Colonel?” one of the troopers asked.

“He infiltrated the enemy base last night,” came the reply. “Alone.”

“That really needed cojones Colonel,” another trooper said.

“That's right,” Guiness said. “And the good news? He is going down with us. Now, who has the spare parachute, the spare MP-5 and the spare ammo for him?” A trooper raised his hand. The Colonel nodded.

“When he boards the helicopter,” Guiness continued, ”he gives us last minute instructions and informs us about our allies.”

“Our allies are drug dealers,” a trooper said. “We made a deal with the devil.”

“I hate it myself,” Guiness admitted, “but we are running out of time. The first nuke will be active within hours. I wish we had established a joint operation with the Colombian army but such operations need days to plan and execute. Only the devil was available on short notice. Any more questions?” A trooper raised his hand.

“There must be lots of drugs in the warehouse,” he said. “What if we destroyed them? A couple of thermal grenades could do the trick.”

“Unfortunately,” Guiness said, “part of the deal was to avoid touching any drugs we find. Ramirez wants to keep them for himself and that makes sense. He is going to risk the wrath of SPECTRE and the lives of his men to assist us. The drugs are a form of compensation for that.”

After the briefing was over, the Colonel entered the pilot's cabin. Mallory and Tom Sawyer, the jet pilot, were old friends and Guiness was more than happy to meet an old friend of Gareth. Soon, both men were on a first name basis and sharing stories from their respective pasts. Both shared the same fascination: the Falklands war.

The Falklands were a small archipelago in the South Atlantic that had been under British control for centuries. The British used them as a naval base and for whatever revenue local fishing could provide. In 1982, Argentina captured them, claiming they were Argentinian soil.

Despite numerous protests, Argentina refused to withdraw their troops from the islands. Realizing diplomacy had failed, the British sent a fleet of aircraft carriers, transport ships, cruisers, destroyers, and submarines to take them back. It was a small but nevertheless deadly war. Hundreds of men lost their lives on both sides. But in the end the British prevailed and the Falklands remain under their control until this day.

It was more than just a military victory though. To understand that, one needs to take a look at modern British history.

Once upon a time, Great Britain ruled the biggest empire the world has ever seen. At its peak, it controlled one quarter of Earth's surface and commanded . But when the 20 ^th century came, the decline started. The two World Wars devastated the Empire, causing many deaths and huge economic losses. The worst part though was something else: in both wars, Great Britain had been unable to prevail on its own, despite its vast empire. In both wars, it was the intervention of the United States that turned the tide, proving who the most powerful in the world really was. That was a blow in Britain's prestige, a blow they never fully recovered from.

After the Second World War ended, another blow came for the Empire: their colonies demanded independence. In some of them, such as India, the people struggled peacefully. In others, such as Malaya or Cyprus, the people took arms with bitter and deadly conflict ensuing. But in all cases, the result was the same: Great Britain withdrew their forces and the former colonies became independent states. In the end, only a few scattered islands in the oceans remained from the once mighty empire. The Falklands were part of that remnant.

Although many British believed imperialism was morally wrong, losing the Empire was something that devastated the British psyche. Granted, the empire would have ended one way or another: the anti-colonial sentiment was getting stronger and stronger, the resistance against the British rule was growing, the costs of running the empire would soon surpass the revenue... But no matter what your logic says, losing so much power and prestige within a few decades is something even the most rational anti-imperialist would be shed some tears about.

Taking the Falklands back was more than a military victory. It was the proof Great Britain still had it. The old empire was gone but the British were still capable of fighting and winning. They had declined but they hadn't collapsed. They were still alive.

It was no accident that both Sawyer and Guiness would be fascinated by that war. Both men had taken risks for their country because they believed in it. And winning that war had been one of the reasons for their faith.

“Do you remember that magazine when our Navy sailed for Falklands?” Tom asked.

“I will never forget it as long a I live,” Alec replied.

When the Royal Navy sailed to take the Falklands back, Newsweek , a US magazine, had an idea. They put a photo of HMS Hermes, a Royal Navy aircraft carrier and the flagship of the Falklands expedition, on their front page and an impressive title next to it: 'The Empire Strikes Back'.

“The funny thing,” Sawyer said, “is where the idea from the title came.”

“Yes,” Guiness said. “From a Hollywood movie that had nothing to do with Falklands or our kingdom.”

Nevertheless, Newsweek had struck a chord. Its title perfectly matched the spirit of a nation: the British Empire was a shadow of its former self but it was still there ready to fight back.

After two more hours, the jet reached HMS Nelson. Sawyer lowered the plane and started circling around the destroyer while Colonel Guiness prepared to go to his men.

“It is too bad you can't tell me about your mission,” Tom said. “But you wouldn't be a SAS colonel if you didn't keep your secrets.”

“I am sorry Tom,” Alec said. “I would betray Gareth's trust if I told you.”

The SAS Colonel stood up and approached the cabin door. But before opening it, he turned and faced the pilot.

“I can only tell you this,” Guiness said. “The Empire Strikes Back!”

“That's all I needed to hear. Give them hell Alec.”

“Giving hell is a SAS specialty Tom,” the colonel said and exited the cabin, ready to parachute in the ocean.

Parachuting is always a tricky business, especially when you land on water. For starters, you risk drowning if you are careless. Moreover, the sea winds are stronger than above land, making accurate landing trickier. Finally, missing your target on land means walking but in the ocean it means swimming. Swimming while wearing a parachute and carrying heavy equipment strapped on you makes things a hundred times harder.

To give the example, Colonel Guiness was the first to jump. His eight men followed one by one. The Colonel knew they would scatter in the ocean but he didn't worry. All of them were excellent swimmers and HMS Nelson had a boat ready to retrieve them.

After a few seconds of free falling, Guiness opened his parachute. Looking around him, he saw eight more parachutes opening. All his men had made it. After one minute of controlled falling, he touched the water and within seconds, a motorboat was next to him.

“Welcome to the Pacific Colonel,” the man who picked him from the water said. Guiness recognized him. He was Captain Nigel Hawthorne, commanding officer of HMS Nelson.

“Thank you Captain,” Guiness said.

It was uncommon for the captain of a destroyer with hundreds of crew members to personally pick SAS troopers from the water. He could easily delegate the task to one of his officers. But since the operation against SPECTRE should remain as secret as possible, the less people on the know the better. After all, they would operate on foreign soil without permission, something that could cause a diplomatic incident if found out.

There was another reason Captain Hawthorne had been personally involved. SPECTRE had killed a number of Royal Navy sailors when the bomb they had hidden in one of their dummy nukes had exploded. Every Royal Navy officer worth would be outraged and take such an attack personally. After all, every SAS officer was outraged for the six SAS troopers SPECTRE had killed in Scotland.

“I know why you are here Colonel,” Hawthorne told Guiness. “Prime Minister Hacker gave the orders himself.”

“Yes Captain,” Guiness replied. “You also know my mission has to remain classified until the nukes are onboard your ship.”

“I am the only person onboard who knows,” Hawthorne replied. “Prime Minister's orders. There are of course rumors why we left the exercise with the Australians and why we stopped here to collect you and your men. But I can maintain secrecy for twenty-four more hours.”

“That's all I need Captain.”

With Hawthorne's help, Guiness picked his men from the water. Within minutes, all of them were in the boat, their parachutes folded and ready to reuse. Fortunately, none of them was injured.

Six minutes later, the boat reached the rear part of the ship where the helicopter was. Apart from the helicopter pilot and the co-pilot, that part of the ship was deserted. 'Loose lips sink ships' after all, as the saying goes and the less you see the less you say.

“At ease gentlemen,” the Captain ordered the helicopter crew when he and the SAS approached. “The Colonel here is going to explain the mission.” Guiness nodded and started talking.

“So what do you think gentlemen?” Guiness asked.

“It's an honor to take part in that mission Colonel,” the helicopter pilot said. “They will pay for killing our boys.”

“That's the spirit gentlemen,” the Colonel said. “Captain Hawthorne, I request permission for my men and myself to board this helicopter and make SPECTRE suffer.”

“Permission granted Colonel,” Hawthorne said. “Today, the Empire Strikes Back!”

Chapter Text

The Royal Navy helicopter carrying the SAS touched the Colombian ground. An MI-6 agent was there, waiting to board it. Next to him, a beautiful blonde was touching his shoulder.

“Good luck James,” she said.

“Thank you Madeleine,” 007 replied. “I have planned the operation as much as I could and the SAS over there are excellent professionals. But chance always interferes.” She gave him a soft kiss on the lips.

After the kiss, Madeleine headed to a waiting car. The two men in it had orders to take her back to Ramirez's compound and keep her under lock and key until the operation was over. If the British betrayed the drug lord or if they failed to be on time, the men had orders to kill her.

Bond set the thoughts about her safety aside. Madeleine was a brave woman, she understood the risks involved and she had agreed to becom e a hostage. There was nothing he could do about that now. Besides, he had four nukes to recover and therefore no time for distractions. Giving Madeleine a final glance, he stepped forward and approached the helicopter.

“What would the good Admiral say if he saw us today?” a man from the helicopter asked. Despite the darkness, Bond recognized the figure of SAS Colonel Alec Guiness.

“England expects that every man will do his duty,” 007 replied. It was the same message Admiral Horatio Nelson had given his troops before the battle of Trafalgar. It was also the coded message that identified Bond as friendly and allowed him to enter the helicopter.

“Welcome on board agent,” Guiness said.

007 stepped inside the cabin and the next second the helicopter took off. In a few minutes, they would be above the SPECTRE compound, ready to parachute.

"OK Dmitri, OK Vladimir," Ramirez said. "When you hear the British helicopter approaching, open fire. Your shots will open the attack. And don't miss!”

"We never miss boss," Vladimir said.

The drug lord smiled and left. To attack the SPECTRE compound, he had used most of his troops. That was a high-risk move. If he failed, his casualties would be so heavy and he would have too few troops left to defend against a SPECTRE counter-attack. But if he didn't try, SPECTRE would activate the nukes, receive monthly ransom not to detonate them and use the money to crash him. Attacking was the only option he had.

"OK Dmitri," Vladimir whispered. "Do you see them?"

Looking through his night vision binoculars, Dmitri saw the jeep turning and disappearing in the darkness. It would reappear in six minutes after it completed its turn around the enemy facility.

The faint sound of a helicopter engine reached the two snipers. Both looked at each other and nodded.

"About time," Dmitri said. "When the jeep returns, I'll get the driver."

"Done. I'll get the machine gunner."

Inside the helicopter...

"OK lads," Colonel Guinness said. "You know the drill. Remove everything that could identify you: dog tags, name tags, ID cards, passports, everything. After you finish, check your parachutes."

007 and the SAS under Guiness' command were professionals and had left everything that could identify them back in Great Britain. Nevertheless, a good commander should always confirm everything is OK. A single slip-up is enough to cause a catastrophe.

The same principle applied with the parachutes. Although every man in the group had many parachute drops in the past, the less you left things to chance the less you had to worry about silly mistakes.

“Parachutes ready sir,” a SAS trooper confirmed.

“Remember,” Guiness said. “There is no aerial support. The moment we jump we are on our own. HMS Nelson was very far from the Colombian coast and the helicopter spent almost all its fuel to cover the distance. It cannot return to our ship. It will have to land on the drug lord's compound to refuel.”

“The drug lord,” 007 said, “has agreed to refuel us. But until this happens we are alone. Undestood?” Everyone in the cabin nodded.

"Good,” the colonel said. “Now we wait for the drug lord's signal...”

The jeep with the two SPECTRE troopers made a left turn, entering Dmitri's view. The sniper aimed for the driver, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.

The jeep driver never realized what had happened. The bullet that hit him was supersonic and he was dead before its sound reached his ears. The machine gunner had barely registered the fact when Vladimir's bullet ended his life, leaving him no time to react.

The two gunshots alerted the sentries on top of the wall. One of them sounded the alarm but the next second Vladimir shot him between the eyes. Dmitry killed another sentry, weakening the enemy defenses in that area.

Using night-vision binoculars, the drug lord observed the deadly job his snipers did. Satisfied, he ordered his men to attack.

Within seconds, the drug lord's henchmen exited the jungle and headed for the unprotected part of the wall. Some enemies climbed the wall and tried to open fire but Dmitri and Vladimir shot them, killing two and forcing the rest to take cover.

The attack was organized and well-coordinated. Some of the men were carrying ladders to climb the wall and the rest carried rocket launchers and submachine guns to support them. At the same time, Dmitri and Vladimir kept firing well-aimed shots against the SPECTRE troopers who dared exposing themselves. An enemy sentry opened fire against a group of Ramirez's men, killing one and forcing three others to take cover but Dmitry killed him with a headshot before he became more dangerous.

The first ladders were secured on the wall and Ramirez's men climbed them, their bolts ready to cut the barbed wire. Their tactics somehow resembled the ones armies had used during the Napoleonic times – and even before that – to attack walled cities and forts.

After a couple of minutes, twenty of the drug lord's men were inside the compound and established a defensive perimeter. More men were climbing the walls to reinforce them. However, things could easily deteriorate. SPECTRE had a strong garrison in the compound, outnumbering Ramirez's men two to one. Soon, all of them would be fighting against his people.

Apart from that, the enemy controlled the high ground. There were enemies on the roofs of the two warehouses Bond had entered the previous night. Using their elevated position, they could easily pin Ramirez's troops down and kill them one by one. Moreover, SPECTRE had three helicopters armed with miniguns, something the attackers lacked.

So far, about a third of Ramirez's men were inside the complex. But the enemy had recovered from the initial surprise and had organized his defence. The SPECTRE troopers on the rooftops opened fire, preventing reinforcements from climbing the walls and forcing the ones inside the perimeter to keep their heads down. When the helicopters took off, they would mow down the men outside the walls and prevent the ones inside them from escaping. Only SAS intervention could turn the tide.

“Let's see what your people can do Mr. Bond,” Ramirez said and reached for his radio.

“This is Wolf,” Ramirez said. “The party has started.”

Onboard the helicopter, the pilot listened to Ramirez's message.

“OK Jackal, this is Eagle,” he said. “We are coming. Out.”

The situation on the ground seemed grim. In reality though, everything was going as planned. Ramirez's men had surprized SPECTRE and SPECTRE had reacted in a predictable way by solely focusing on them. They had pinned the intruders down but doing so had left themselves vulnerable to aerial attack.

“For our Navy! For our country! For Scotland!” Colonel Guiness said. Once more, he jumped first to set the good example. James Bond and the SAS followed him.

To avoid alerting the enemies and attracting enemy fire, the helicopter had kept its distance from the compound. But that was not a problem because the British used gliding parachutes that could carry them for long distances before they touched the ground. Bond himself had used such a parachute to land on the MI-6 building a few days ago.

After some minutes of gliding, the ten British were close to the enemy base. Following their plan, they split into two groups of five and headed for their objectives: the rooftops of the two warehouses.

The rooftops were of great tactical value because of the excellent firing position they provided. Capturing them would take the advantage from SPECTRE and give it to the SAS. In addition, one of the warehouses housed the nukes and capturing its rooftop helped the SAS secure them.

The rooftops were very hard to capture from the ground. For starters, you had to cover open terrain under constant enemy fire to reach them. When you reached them – if you had survived so far – you had to climb a small ladder, fully exposed to the bullets and the grenades the enemy would use against you.

Attacking from the air was much easier. You moved much faster, you had no ladder to climb and you had the advantage of surprise. But to achieve surprise, someone had to distract your enemies from the ground. That was what Ramirez's men had already achieved.

Five SAS approached the warehouse with the cocaine while Bond, Guiness, and the rest took the one with the nukes. As expected, the troopers on the rooftops were too busy firing against the enemies on the ground to notice the paratroopers in time. Only a handful of them realized something was wrong and only when the paratroopers were less than a hundred meters away.

A SPECTRE machine-gunner opened fire against Bond but the latter was wearing black clothes, making him almost invisible in the darkness. All shots missed him and he safely landed on the roof, doing a quick barrel roll to absorb the impact of the landing and to make himself a harder target to hit.

The machine-gunner turned his gun to Bond but doing so distracted him for some crucial seconds. That allowed Colonel Guiness to approach – with his boot extended no less! – and kick the SPECTRE trooper on the head.

“Nice landing Colonel!” Bond said and unholstered his submachine gun.

The remaining SAS reached the roof, careful to land behind 007 to avoid obstructing his field of fire. The enemies realized what had happened and one of them tried to reach for his gun. A five-round burst from 007's submachine gun ended his live. The remaining enemies looked at each other, realized they had no chance of winning and raised their hands.

The SAS approached the surrendered enemies, disarmed them and tied their arms and legs. A few seconds later, Guiness received a radio message from the SAS on the other rooftop: they too had neutralized their enemies without suffering casualties.

It was time to use the rooftops as firing positions against SPECTRE. A great assistance for the SAS there were the weapons the captured enemies had. They included a Barett rifle, the same type of sniper rifle SPECTRE had used in Scotland and in their failed ambush in Austria. Just like Austria, 007 took the Barett and prepared to use it against its former owners.

“For Scotland!” they all said in unison and opened fire.

Wearing a bulletproof vest and carrying a submachine gun, Emilio Largo approached the villa entrance. The enemy attack had started minutes ago and things were still confusing.

“What is going on?” a scientist asked. She was still in her pajamas.

“Go to the basement,” Largo ordered. “You and the other scientists! Now!”

Who were these people? Were they drug lords who wanted to get rid of a competitor? Were they Colombian soldiers in an anti-drug operation? Or were they British Special Forces trying to recover their nukes?

Largo had no way to know and it didn't matter right now. What mattered was to protect the nukes at all costs. Three were still in their warehouse. The fourth, activated just two hours ago, was loaded on a truck parked inside their armored garage. Two jeeps with mounted machine guns and ten SPECTRE troopers were there with orders to guard the nuke at all times.

Largo picked his walkie-talkie up and contacted the truck driver.

“This is Hangar One,” the truck driver replied. “We have locked ourselves in and we guard all entrances. Shall we move the nuke now?”

“No,” Largo replied. “Stay tight. I'll tell you when to move.” At least the active nuke was safe

One truck and two jeeps was a light escort, too light to survive an enemy ambush out in the jungle. It would be safer to repulse the enemies first and he was confident they could soon achieve it. After all, SPECTRE had three helicopters with miniguns ready to cut the attackers to ribbons, not to mention their numerical superiority and the rooftops.

But did SPECTRE maintain their advantage on the ground? What was the status on the rooftops?

“Roof One,” he said on the walkie-talkie. “Can you hear me?” But no reply came.

It was at that moment the walkie-talkie next to 007 came to life.

“Roof One? Roof One?” It was Emilio Largo. Bond decided to taunt him.

“This is Roof One,” Bond said. “Delivering SPECTRE ammo to SPECTRE troops with a lot of accuracy!”

“Who the hell is this?” Largo asked. Bond answered with the most famous Bond one-liner ever.

“The name is Bond. James Bond.”

007 tossed the walkie-talkie away and aimed at an enemy machine-gunner. His aim was true and the man fell to the ground, never to get up again. Upon seeing him die, two enemies next to him run for cover.

So far, 007 had killed three people with the sniper rifle and one with his submachine gun. The SAS killed an additional twelve and captured ten more on the roofs. Their accurate fire greatly assisted Ramirez's men and soon most of them were inside the facility, pushing the enemy back.

Largo analyzed the situation. The enemy had dozens of troops inside the compound and controlled the rooftops. But they still hadn't entered the warehouse with the inactive nukes or the garage with the active one. In addition, even the tactical advantage the enemy had gained would vanish the moment the helicopters entered the picture.

Out of the three helicopters, one was gone. It had been in the open and accurate sniper fire had damaged its engine and killed its pilot. The remaining two were well-protected inside a concrete hangar, ready to take off the moment Largo gave the order.

“This is SPECTRE Number Two,” he radioed the helicopter crews. “The enemy controls the warehouse rooftops. Take off and riddle both with bullets. When you finish them, shoot the enemies on the ground. Out.”

Largo was certain the arrival of the choppers would reverse the situation. Too bad there was one crucial detail that would derail his plan...

Three years ago, James Bond was in London, facing an almost impossible task: he was hunting Ernst Blofeld but the latter had evaded him and escaped using a helicopter. The only way for 007 to stop him was to shoot the chopper down before it sped up or climbed at a higher altitude.

If Bond had a jet fighter at his disposal, his task would have been easy. But he only carried a small pistol and piloting a speedboat on Thames! The only way to shoot the helicopter down was to fire with his pistol and hit its engines from hundreds of meters away, a nearly impossible task.

Despite the fact it was night and therefore Bond had poor visibility, the fact pistols have short ranges and moderate accuracy, and the fact speedboats are not steady firing platforms because they roll and pitch in the water, Bond had achieved the impossible. With just two shots, he had damaged the helicopter engine, causing it to crash and killing its two pilots. Blofeld had suffered serious wounds and was unable to move. 007 easily arrested him.

When you shoot down a helicopter under such difficult conditions, hitting another one with a scoped rifle from steady ground is easy in comparison. Despite heavy enemy fire from the ground, Bond exposed himself, took a deep breath, aimed for the engine, and squeezed the trigger.

Once more, Bond's aim was true and he hit the engine, causing the helicopter to spin around its axis. Its pilot tried to steady it but a second shot from Bond finished the engine off. The chopper fell to its hangar, out of control.

Bond had no time for celebrations though. Judging from the hangar size, he concluded there was a second helicopter there. Wasting no time, he removed the empty ten-round magazine from the rifle, inserted a fresh one and waited for the next helicopter to take off.

A few seconds later, Bond was proven right. The last enemy helicopter rose and 007 hit its engine. His second shot killed the pilot, neutralizing SPECTRE's aerial superiority.

After using the walkie-talkie to contact some of his surviving men, Largo confirmed how hopeless the situation had become. The enemies from the roof were crack shots and had killed many of his men, including his chief of security. Using their covering fire, the men on the ground kept pushing forward. Most of his troopers were dead or wounded, the helicopters were gone and enemy fire had damaged most jeeps.

What could he do now? Calling for reinforcements was out of the question. SPECTRE had depleted themselves to send troops in Colombia. The remaining troopers were very few and it would take them days to arrive anyway.

It was only a matter of time before the men in the helicopter hangar and the villa surrendered. Soon after, the same could happen to the men in the garage. And there was nobody inside the warehouse with the nukes...

With a heavy heart, Largo decided to write off the nukes in the warehouse. Its rooftop was already under enemy control and the enemy controlled the area around the building. The only thing he could do was to salvage whatever he could and one nuke was much better than nothing.

According to the original plan, the truck with the nuke was to reach Disco Volante with six jeeps and one helicopter as escort, along with thirty troopers. Moving the nuke with just two jeeps and ten men offered a much weaker protection. What if enemies were waiting in ambush further down the road? But risking on the road had a good chance of success while remaining in the hangar meant certain failure: how much time would take the attackers to surround and breach the armored garage?

Having made his decision, Largo focused on action.

“You and you,” he told two of his troopers. “Follow me.” Hopefully, the enemy would be too busy to notice them rushing to the garage.

The first henchmen opened a side entrance and run towards the garage. Largo and the other henchman followed him, running at a zig-zag pattern to make themselves harder targets to hit.

Bond took aim and shot an enemy holding a grenade. He hit him on the chest and the grenade fell to the ground next to him. Two seconds later it detonated, finishing him off.

It was at that moment when he noticed a middle-aged man and two younger men moving at a zig-zagg pattern. Focusing on the older man, he realized who he was: Emilio Largo.

Bond had never met Largo in person but he had seen his photo. (There were standing orders for all MI-6 agents to memorize the photos of international terrorists in case they met them. For 00 agents like Bond, the orders included killing them on sight whenever possible). Unfortunately, 007 had no clear shot and although he pulled the trigger twice, both his shots missed SPECTRE Number Two.

“Let's go!” Largo ordered the men inside the garage.

“But Number Two,” one of them said. “We only have two jeeps and no aerial support.”

“If we remain here,” Largo said. “they will surround and kill us all. We need to escape now that we still can.”

“What about the other nukes?” another one asked.

“Forget them,” Largo replied. “We can't reach them. We need to salvage what we can.”

Twenty seconds later, the hangar door opened. Two jeeps and a truck exited it. Both jeeps had machine guns and constantly fired against everyone, especially the men on the roofs.

Meanwhile, a SAS trooper inserted a miniature camera from a small hole on the rooftop. That allowed him to take a good look inside the warehouse. What he saw shocked him.

“It's only three of them!” he shouted. “Where is the fourth?” Bond and Guiness looked at each other.

“The truck!” they both said in unison.

Using his radio, Guiness contacted the helicopter. But as the pilot explained him, Ramirez had no military grade refueling facilities. It would take some time until the helicopter was fully refuelled and airborne again.

“Do it faster!” Guiness ordered the pilot. “There is no time!”

“We have to act now,” Bond said. “I need one of your men and covering fire.”

“Done,” the SAS Colonel replied. “Who volunteers to join the agent?” A SAS Sergeant named John Smith stepped forward.

The next second, 007 and Smith rushed to the ladder. Fortunately, most enemies were dead or had retreated to the villa by now and enemy fire was sporadic and very inaccurate.

Bond and Smith reached the ground and searched for jeep that still worked. It took them several minutes until they found one. A hidden SPECTRE trooper tried to ambush them but Guiness' aim was true and he was killed before he pulled the trigger.

“It's working sir,” Smith said, after testing the engine. Bond nodded and climbed to the machine-gunner's place. Another enemy broke cover but 007 fired a burst, forcing him to duck for cover.

A few seconds later, the jeep rushed to the jungle. The enemy had some minutes of head start but hopefully they would overcome the enemy convoy before it was too late.

Chapter Text

SPECTRE had suffered a major defeat during the past hour. Their base in Colombia, one of their biggest in the world, was gone. Dozens of their troopers were lost defending it. In addition, the scientists were gone too. Largo had no idea whether they were dead or if the enemy had captured them but both options were equally awful.

Out of the four nukes captured, only one remained under SPECTRE control. Losing it meant more than just the loss of ransom money. It meant the loss of leverage against NATO.

But even with one nuke, SPECTRE could win. Although one weapon was far less destructive than four, the damage would still be significant. A nuke in a densely populated city like New York or London could easily kill a hundred thousand people and cause a financial loss of three trillion dollars. Paying a monthly ransom to avoid such a catastrophe remained the best option for SPECTRE's enemies.

Would Blofeld offer reduced ransom since SPECTRE only had one nuke left? Perhaps, but even with three billions a year instead of twelve, they would still be the winners. They would use the money to repair and repopulate their base in Colombia and the lucrative drug trade with the United States would soon restart. And that was only one of the many projects Blofeld would authorize.

But such thoughts had to wait for later, much later. For the time being, Largo had to secure the nuke. If he failed, Blofeld would have to cancel all their ambitious projects for lack of funds.

A few minutes later, one of their jeeps reached the convoy. Were they SPECTRE troopers who had escape the destruction and wanted to join them? Or were they foes who used captured equipment? Since securing the last nuke was of such importance, Largo decided to take no chances.

"I know they might be friends but I doubt it," he radioed the crew of the jeep following the truck. "Open fire."

"It was easy to reach them sir," Sergeant Smith said.

"Yes," Bond said. "Our jeep is faster than their truck."

The main reason Bond had taken the jeep was because no other vehicles were available. But apart from that, 007 had hoped they would confuse their enemies until they were close enough to surprise them. But a burst of machine gun fire disproved Bond's hypothesis. Fortunately, just like the previous night with Madeleine, the enemy missed them.

"Our bluff failed," Smith said.

"It was a long shot anyway," Bond said. "Ready Sarge?”

“We the SAS are always ready Sir!” Smith replied.

“So are we,” 007 said, “the people... on Her Majesty's Secret Service!”

On Her Majesty's Secret Service

The bullets Bond fired hit the ground five meters away from the enemy jeep. Bond was a better shot than the enemy but he still failed to hit the SPECTRE troopers.

“Leave the road!” Bond shouted. Smith was puzzled but he trusted Bond's judgement. With a sudden move, he turned the jeep to his left and stepped on the brake. The jeep hit a tree and stopped but fortunately both men suffered no injuries.

It was one second later when Smith realized why Bond had given the order: a forty millimeter grenade, like the ones fired from a M79 grenade launcher, hit the ground a few meters away from them. Had they remained on the road, the grenade would have landed on the jeep.

“How did you know sir?” Smith asked. He was impressed Bond had detected a threat he, a member of Special Air Service hadn't. But of course, if you both drive and scan for threats, you'll crash the car.

“Part instinct, part acute observation!” Bond replied. “Is the jeep working?”

“Yes Sir!” Smith said and gunned the engine. The pursuit started again.

The failed enemy attempt had cost them a scratch on the jeep's paint and one minute of delay, in other words nothing to worry about. Within four minutes, Bond and Smith reached the enemy convoy and were about to fire again.

It would be nice if their helicopter attacked and cut Largo's retreat. It would be a satisfying form of poetic justice to ambush SPECTRE the same way they had ambushed Bond and Madeleine. Unfortunately, the helicopter was still refuelling and it would take several minutes to take off.

Should they ask Colonel Guiness for reinforcements? Bond thought it for a second. SPECTRE had lost the battle in their facility, mostly thanks to Ramirez who had sent dozens of his men to fight. However, the drug lord had helped them recover the nukes out of interest and not out of altruism. What if he decided to secure the nukes for himself?

It was possible for Ramirez to steal the nukes. His troops outnumbered the SAS at least ten to one. What if he ordered them to kill Guiness and his men, capture the nukes, take the equipment to activate them and kidnap the surviving nuclear scientists to work on them? The scientists would eventually cooperate either at gunpoint or because Ramirez paid them a handsome amount of money. Afterwards, the drug lord could use his narco submarines to hide the nukes in the oceans and demand ransom to avoid detonating them. It would be his own version of Operation Neptune.

Granted, Bond had no way to know if Ramirez had such an idea. But you should always assume the worst and prepare for it when you don't know the devil's intentions, especially when there is so much at stake. Only a strong SAS strong presence around the nukes guaranteed Ramirez would remain quiet.

But to maintain a strong presence, Guiness had to keep all his remaining men in the warehouse with the nukes. Bond had no right to ask for more reinforcements for one nuke and risk losing three. For the time being, he and Sergeant Smith were on their own.

To better deal with the pursuers, Largo ordered the two escorting jeeps to stop and form an ambush. Doing so was a risky action because it left the truck unguarded. On the other hand, it increased their chances of destroying the pursuing enemy and it was unlikely other enemies waited in ambush. Besides, the truck was well guarded with Largo and six SPECTRE troopers.

After a sharp left turn, the road widened and became straight. It was at that point the two jeeps stopped and turned their lights off. Everyone except the machine-gunners dismounted and got ready.

“An ambush,” 007 said, upon seeing the jeeps turning their lights off. “They want to surprize us in the darkness. Stop the jeep, I have an idea.”

The enemies had two jeeps and that meant two machine-gunners and four or six additional troopers. Two men attacking them head-on was suicide. Their only chance was if they created a diversion, just like 007 had done in Austria.

After Smith stopped the car, Bond checked the machine gun. Unmounting it was easy and only required him to remove a couple of bolts and screws. Such weapons are designed for easy removal to better inspect and maintain them.

“Here is the plan,” Bond said. “The road is straight ahead. You will take the machine gun and move through the jungle. I will take the car and go straight for them. When they start firing, aim for their machine gunners and hit them. Understood?”

SAS Sergeant Smith stared at 007. Did the man just say he would go alone in an open jeep against six heavily armed enemies who would fire dozens of bullets against him? The SAS are famous for their courage but this man over here...

“You really have the biggest cojones in the United Kingdom sir.” 007 smiled.

“I would embarrass the good Admiral otherwise,” 007 said. Indeed, Admiral Nelson would be proud of Bond.

James Bond climbed the driver's seat carrying a rock while Smith entered the jungle and started walking parallel to the road. In two minutes, 007 would start the engine and turn the lights on. Hopefully, his distraction would work as well as it did in Austria.

The two minutes passed and the car started moving. The moment it turned, two machine gunners and four more enemies opened fire. Bond slightly turned the car to the right, placing it at a collision course with one of the enemy jeeps. Afterwards, he pushed the rock to the gas pedal with his right leg. The weight of the rock made the jeep accelerate.

A few bullets hit the car but it kept moving, its lights blinding the enemy troopers and worsening their aim. That allowed Bond to jump to the ground unnoticed and unharmed while the jeep kept accelerating. The six SPECTRE troopers kept firing, their attention fully focused on the fast running car... exactly as 007 had anticipated.

Carrying a machine gun and three hundred bullets in addition to your standard MP-5 submachine gun adds a lot of weight on your shoulders. It is even worse when you have to move in the humidity of the jungle and do so fast because you don't want to let the man who depends on you down. Even if you are a young man on peak physical shape like Sergeant Smith was, such a task stretches you to the limit.

“I should have taken the car,” Smith told himself.

Nevertheless, Smith made it on time and he found a good firing position: a rock about sixty meters from the road with good visibility to the enemy jeeps. He placed the machine gun on its bipod and waited for Bond to arrive.

From his position, Smith saw 007 jumping to safety and the car continuing its movement against the enemy positions. The enemy intensified their fire but that was a good sign. It meant they were too focused on the jeep to notice the SAS Sergeant aiming at them with a machine gun.

Smith was an experienced gunner and despite a distance of a hundred meters, he easily found his mark. His twenty-round burst killed the machine gunner of the jeep furthest away. Two seconds later, he fired another burst and the second machine gunner met his end.

It was at that moment the driverless jeep crashed on one of the enemy cars. They enemies were confused and Smith took advantage of that to make his third kill.

The remaining enemies realized the danger and ducked for cover, trying to return fire. They all carried submachine guns though, weapons with a much lower rate of fire than a machine gun. Firing another burst, the Sergeant pinned them down.

Meanwhile, James Bond had stood up from the ground. Taking advantage of the darkness and the confusion the crash and Smith's fire had caused, he run to the left. So far his plan had worked: instead of facing six enemies head-on, they only faced three and they had trapped them in their crossfire.

Smith's fire had pinned the enemies down but they occasionally fired short bursts against his position. That was to their disadvantage though because Bond used their gun flashes to locate them. Within seconds he had determined the position of the first one. Taking careful aim, he squeezed the trigger and fired two five-round bursts. Half the bullets hit the enemy, killing him in an instant.

The remaining two enemies were easy prey. Their morale was low because of their lost comrades. Moreover, Smith's fire had forced them to focus on him and neglect their flank. They realized Bond's attack when it was too late.

“All clear Sarge,” Bond shouted. “They are all down.” Smith broke cover and rushed to 007.

“Excellent plan sir,” the SAS trooper said. “And you were very brave to expose yourself like that.”

“Thanks Sarge,” Bond said. “But we must hurry. The nuke is still away.”

“Let's take the most drivable car then.”

The car they had driven so far was riddled with bullets. Both its front tyres were shot and changing them would take too much time. Out of the two ambush cars, one was hit in the engine and the front right tyre. The other however was remained intact, the only damage being the blood from the killed machine gunner.

“This one,” Bond said. Smith nodded and climbed the driver's seat. 007 took the machine gunner's position and the chase started again.

Largo had no idea whether the ambush had succeeded or not. If it had failed though, his enemies would soon catch up with him. After all, they had a jeep, a vehicle much faster than his truck. He had to further delay them.

Two minutes later, Largo saw what he needed: a fallen tree next to the road. He ordered the truck to stop and he and his men pushed it to the road. That delayed them for a few minutes but it was worth it. His pursuers had only used one jeep, meaning they were very few, probably no more than two. Two men would take a lot of time to move the fallen tree, much more than the time Largo's men had spent to put it on the road.

Granted, if his ambush had succeeded, his men would have to spend time moving the tree and miss Disco Volante's departure. But what was more important? Losing six troopers or losing the only thing that deterred NATO from pursuing the thousands of SPECTRE operatives worldwide? Besides, his surviving troopers could always hide in the jungle and SPECTRE could always use some of the ransom money to compensate them for their trouble.

The British had defeated the ambush without injuries but Bond estimated they had lost at least ten minutes trying to do so. They were moving faster than the enemy but would that be enough to reach the truck in time?

Suddenly, Smith pushed the brake and the car came to an immediate stop. Bond nearly fell outside it.

“Dammit,” Bond said upon recovering his balance “How can two people move that tree?”

Largo was satisfied. The tree had done its job. Too bad they hadn't found one sooner. That would have made the ambush unnecessary, sparing the lives of his men. At least their loss had bought them the valuable time they needed.

Using his walkie-talkie, Largo contacted the Disco Volante captain. The latter confirmed two of his men were next to a crane on the dock, the same one they had used to offload the nukes a few days ago. A boat belonging to SPECTRE was waiting next to the crane, ready to transport the nuke to the ship.

Largo knew the dock never sleeped. People constantly moved drugs, weapons and other illegal items to and from it. People also noticed what the others did. That was to be expected though. People are naturally curious and you need to know what your competitors do to better prepare yourself against them. That was why they had docked Disco Volante as far away from the other ships as possible and had moved the nukes during the night, covering them with a thick canvas.

It was a given people would notice them loading the nuke onboard. That would raise some eyebrows but most would suspect they were loading drugs to rendezvouz with a narco submarine. The wrong assumptions they made would work to SPECTRE's advantage.

Ten minutes later, the truck reached the dock. Largo and his men disembarked and tied the nuke to the wire extending from the crane. Hopefully, their pursuers were still stuck behind the fallen tree.

“Let's try again,” 007 said. He and Smith had found a long and sturdy branch to use as leverage. Hopefully, it would move the tree.

“On three,” Bond said. “One, two, three!” Both men applied all their strength. And they succeeded! The tree moved a few centimeters and Smith placed the branch to a new spot to try again. Both men applied pressure again, moving the tree a little more

It took some time but in the end the tree was out of the way. Smith climbed to the driver's seat, 007 took the machine-gunner's position and off they went.

While travelling, Bond's walkie-talkie came to life.

“Wolf Two?” a man said on the radio. He was Colonel Guiness, adressing 007.

“This is Wolf One,” Bond said. “What is our status Wolf One?”

“The helicopter is ready to take off,” Guiness said. “Where do you want me to send it?” Bond told him.

“What about the battle Wolf Two?” Bond asked.

“The last enemies surrendered. We have secured the warehouse with the package. I have four people in it and the rest on the roof. And I hope our friend the drug lord won't have any funny ideas.”

“So do I,” Bond said.

Things were improving. They had three nukes and they could still stop the last one before Largo sailed with it. SPECTRE had ambushed them but they had survived killing six enemies in the process, making the final showdown be easier for Bond and Smith. And of course, the aerial support that would soon arrive wouldn't hurt either.

Even if the enemy yacht sailed before the jeep reached them, Bond and Smith could use the helicopter to board her. Granted, doing so was a worse option because the ship's crew would join the fight. But at least the British would not be hopeless if the yacht sailed.

“We are getting closer sir,” the Sergeant said. “We'll be there very soon.”

The nuke was loaded on the yacht and Largo with his men boarded her. Only two men remained behind, to guard the truck and delay incoming enemies. Largo believed none of them would survive for long but the more they delayed the enemy, the further Disco Volante would go unopposed.

He had to give credit to his enemies. Their attack had been well-coordinated. They had made an initial breach with ground troops, forcing the garrison to focus on them. Afterwards, a group of paratroopers had captured the rooftops and used their elevated position to win the battle, a brilliant tactical move.

One of the paratroopers had identified himself as Bond, James Bond, something Largo had suspected anyway. The rest were obviously SAS, eager to recover the nukes and take revenge for the loss of their people in Scotland. As for the ground troops, Largo concluded they were Ramirez's, something that made a lot of sense. He knew about that drug lord and about his dislike for SPECTRE. After Operation Neptune succeeded, Ramirez would be the first to face SPECTRE's wrath.

“The nuke is secure below decks,” the Disco Volante captain said. “We have raised anchor and we are ready to sail.”

“Full speed ahead,” Largo ordered.

Chapter Text

After a lengthy chase in the jungle, James Bond and Sergeant Smith reached the shore, opposite the spot Disco Volante had been docked. Using a pair of night vision googles, 007 observed the dock and found the truck. But the ship wasn't there!

Had the ship sailed without the nuke? 007 hoped so but you can't assume the enemy will do the stupid thing just because it is convenient for you. On the other hand, perhaps Bond and Smith had moved too fast for them and Largo abandoned the nuke to save his life. That was a more plausible hypothesis.

Two SPECTRE troopers were next to the truck with orders to delay the enemy as much as possible. The moment the jeep approached both opened fire. But Bond was ready for them and returned fire, pinning them down and preventing them from maneuvering. At the same time, Smith stopped the car, got out, and approached them from the flank.

While Bond continued firing, Smith reached the enemy flank, took aim and killed the first opponent with a head-shot. His colleague realized the danger but Smith killed him before he had time to react.

When both enemies were dead, Bond drove the jeep next to the truck. Smith was trying to open its cargo door but it was locked.

“We need to break the lock sir,” the Sergeant said. “Do you think the nuke is still here?”

"Let's find out," Bond said.

Using a crowbar they found on the ground, they pushed, pulled and tried their hardest to open the truck door. After multiple efforts they succeeded but as expected, the truck was empty. It was nevertheless disappointing.

"Don't worry sir," Smith said. "I just received a message on the radio. The helicopter will be here in two minutes."

"That's good news,” Bond said. “Let's dismount the machine gun while waiting."

"Yes sir. The more firepower the better."

Exactly two minutes later, the helicopter landed next to the truck and both men boarded it. Bond was carrying the dismounted machine gun while Smith carried five hundred rounds of ammo he had found in the jeep.

"We have a radar signal from the ship," the pilot said when they took off. "It's not to far away."

"We'll have to board Sarge,” Bond said. “Have you ever boarded a ship?"

"Only during training," Smith replied. "But I didn't have to fire my gun."

"You will now Sergeant," Bond said. "I need you with me down there."

"With pleasure sir!" the SAS Sergeant replied.

Disco Volante was moving fast but a helicopter is always faster. Within minutes, the British had visual contact with the ship. Of course, the same applied to the ship's crew.

“Are they friendly or hostile sir?” the yacht captain asked Largo. “Perhaps some of our people escaped the compound."

"I don't believe that," Largo said. "It's the enemy. Send two men with MANPADS and tell them to shoot the helicopter down."

The term MANPADS stands for Man-Portable Air-Defense System. They are surface-to-air missiles, small and lightweight enough for a single individual to carry and operate. Although they lack the range and accuracy of bigger systems like the S-400, they are still deadly for ranges up to six kilometers.

Due to range and accuracy constraints, MANPADS are more suitable for slow and low-flying aircraft. That is why helicopters in particular are very vulnerable to them. They only way to survive such an attack was to detect it at a very early stage.

For that reason, Bond was wearing a pair of night vision googles the pilot had given him and was scanning the ship's deck for threats. The foresight paid off later when he saw a SPECTRE sailor on Disco Volante's deck getting ready to fire his missile.

"Incoming missile!" he shouted.

To home on their target, surface-to-air missiles use various guidance systems. There are radar-seeking ones, heat-seeking ones, radio controlled ones, and of course combinations of the above.

When the enemy fired, the pilot took evasive action: he turned the helicopter's nose downwards and made a deep dive to the sea. The helicopter reached sea-skimming altitude within seconds. While diving, the pilot fired flares and chaff to confuse the missile's target acquisition system. Hopefully, the latter would focus on the decoys and miss its real target.

The trick worked! The missile locked on the flares and ignored the helicopter.

"He fired too early," the Sergeant said.

"No," the pilot replied. "We are just that good."

That was a self-serving compliment but the pilot deserved it. Firing a MANPADS is a tricky business. If you fire too early, your enemy has enough time and room to evade you. If you wait for too long, the enemy might shoot first before you shoot him. That particular enemy had fired at the right time but he hadn't anticipated the Royal Navy pilots would remain calm and make such a fast and daring maneuever.

"He is reloading," the pilot warned. "And we are unarmed."

Normally, the helicopter was armed with machine guns and missiles. But HMS Nelson had been too far away from the Colombian coast when the order to attack SPECTRE came. To reach the SPECTRE compound in time for 007 and the SAS to attack, the helicopter had to take off immediately and fly at the limit of its endurance. To achieve that, it had to carry extra fuel but their added weight and the helicopter's limited lifting capacity meant it had to leave its weapons systems back, becoming completely unarmed in the process.

Bond knew about the problem because he had flown with that particular helicopter just a few hours ago. Fortunately, he had found a solution for the problem.

"Sergeant," he said, "help me with the machine gun." He and Smith placed the gun to the cabin floor, took the prone firing position and got ready to fire.

"Keep it steady Captain," Bond told the pilot. "We are too close to evade anyway. And turn me to face the yacht."

The pilot nodded and did as Bond asked. Such a maneuver was a bit uncommon but it was possible to execute. Unlike airplanes that only move forward, helicopters also move sideways, backwards and can stop in mid-air if they choose.

The SPECTRE operative reloaded his MANPADS with a new missile and took aim. Unfortunately for him, 007 saw him thanks to his night vision googles. Using the machine gun's iron sights for aim, the MI-6 agent zeroed on his enemy and pulled the trigger, firing a twenty-round burst.

Most of the bullets missed their mark but three of them hit the enemy, two on the chest and one on the head, killing him in an instant. The MANPADS fell from his hands. A second enemy broke cover and tried to reach the anti-aircraft weapon but a second twenty-round burst ended his life.

No more enemies appeared on deck, either because they were scared because they were or preparing a counter-attack. That suited Bond because it would make boarding easier.

Bond had no idea how many enemies he would face. And he only had a SAS Sergeant and two helicopter crew-members to support him. But as king Henry V would say: “The fewer the men, the greater the share of honor". Not to mention how much there were at stake for Bond to hesitate.

“Can you land on deck?” Bond asked the pilot.

“You'll have to jump sir. My co-pilot will provide covering fire.”

Inside the yacht bridge, Emilio Largo was weighting his options. On the plus side, he had twelve people at his disposal, six from the compound and the six crew-members the yacht had. Moreover, all of them had military training. In addition, he only faced one helicopter, not exactly a powerful opposition. The moment his men shot it down, he could proceed to his rendezvous with the narco submarine undetected.

On the minus side, the two henchmen assigned to shoot the helicopter down had failed and the enemy had killed them. Accurate enemy gunfire prevented the rest from approaching the deck for another try.

Two more SPECTRE troopers tried to approach the deck but Bond and Smith opened fire, killing the first and forcing the second to run for cover. The next second, the co-pilot took over the machine gun while Bond and Smith got ready to jump to the deck.

“For Scotland!” Bond shouted and jumped. He was a Scottish man himself and had nearly lost his life in Blofeld's prison escape. He took the incident as personally as the SAS did.

“For Scotland!” the SAS Sergeant shouted and jumped after Bond.

As Bond and the pilot had agreed, the helicopter would fly above Disco Volante to harass and confuse the enemy. 007 and the Sergeant would take advantage of the confusion and enter the lower decks. To do so, they would go through the same hatch Bond had used when he had infiltrated the yacht's interior a few days ago.

This time though, the hatch was locked. And unlike what movies show, shooting a lock from point blank range won't destroy it. Your bullets might damage it a bit but they will fail to open it. They will ricochet and damage you instead.

“What now sir?” the Sergeant asked.

Inside the bridge, Largo was trying to organize his men.

“Have you locked all doors and hatches to the lower decks?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” a henchman replied. “And their locks are strong enough to withstand gunfire.”

“How about the deck?”

“That helicopter has a machine gun. We won't survive if we expose ourselves.”

At that moment, the helicopter appeared in front of them, having flown above the yacht. It was flying sideways showing its right side, the one where the machine gun was located. When it reached a distance of fifty meters from the bridge, the co-pilot aimed at Largo and opened fire, firing a forty-round burst.

SPECTRE Number Two remained stationary and calm, making no attempt to duck for cover. But he had no reason to worry. Not a single one of the bullets penetrated the glass.

“Nice try my enemies,” Largo said. “Too bad the glass is bulletproof.”

Despite the casualties, things were looking good for SPECTRE. For starters, the enemy helicopter was harmless because it only carried a machine gun. After all, if it carried something heavier such as bombs or rockets, its pilot would have already used them. It could only harm them if they exposed themselves in the open deck but why to do that?

Granted, the enemy pilot could radio for reinforcements. After all, it had Royal Navy markings, meaning it had taken off from a British warship. But the yacht's radar showed no enemy ships in the vicinity. Even if reinforcements existed, it would take them hours to arrive, long enough for Disco Volante to reach their submarine and transfer the nuke.

As for the enemies on deck, they had no way to enter the lowest parts of the ship. All hatches were locked and all critical parts of the ship were guarded. Even if they somehow breached a hatch, there were three men guarding the nuke and the ship's engineer was armed and locked in the engine room. Just to be on the safe side, Largo ordered one of his troopers go and to reinforce him.

Soon the helicopter would run out of fuel. When that happened, the two enemies on deck would be without aerial coverage. Largo with his troops would storm the deck, kill them, throw their bodies overboard and complete Operation Neptune.”

“You really are good my enemies,” Largo said. “But not good enough. We are still invincible.”

But were they?

The only way to open the hatch was if Bond put explosives on the lock and Q's were ideal for that. Although he had spend most to blow SPECTRE's cocaine up, he had the foresight to keep some in reserve. A secret agent's job is full of uncertainty and having high quality explosives available can make the difference between success and failure.

Bond put a small bar of explosives on the lock, pressed it twice and run away!

“Fire in the hole!” he shouted while running. The Sergeant run after him.

The next second, a powerful explosion rocked the hatch. When the smoke cleared, 007 and Smith returned and saw the lock was blown to bits. Bond kicked the lock away, opened the hatch and got ready to climb downstairs. The Sergeant followed him.

Unfortunately, a SPECTRE trooper was on his way to the engine room...

“Open fire!” 007 shouted the moment he saw the enemy. The Sergeant tried to, but he was too late. The SPECTRE trooper managed to fire a five-round burst before Bond's bullets hit his chest. Bond fired a second burst, hitting the enemy on the head, finishing him off. But curiously, the Sergeant hadn't fired a single shot.

Upon looking at him, Bond understood why: two enemy bullets had hit him. The first had hit his bulletproof vest and upon examination Bond realized it hadn't penetrated it. The second had hit his right arm, forcing him to drop his submachine gun.

“I can walk but my right hand is useless,” the Sergeant said while Bond applied a bandage on the wound. “I can still use the left one though.”

Bond helped Smith draw his sidearm and both men started moving towards the engine room. Upon passing next to their dead enemy, Bond stopped and picked his walkie-talkie up. With some luck, he could eavesdrop the enemy communications.

“Engine room,” Largo asked using his walkie-talkie. “Report status.”

“I am alone here,” came the reply. “Where are my reinforcements?” Largo was puzzled. What had happened?

“Disco Three,” he said in the walkie-talkie. “Disco Three?” But the only people who heard him were an MI-6 agent and a SAS trooper.

“Dammit,” Largo said, realizing the hard truth. “They are below decks now.”

With the enemies outside, transferring the nuke to the submarine was easy. Granted, the enemy warship would eventually appear but Largo, the nuke and his people would be safely away before that. But if the enemies were below decks, they would be able to disrupt the process long enough for that warship to appear and sink Disco Volante! Largo had to eliminate the infiltrators and do it fast if Operation Neptune was to succeed.

Out of the twelve men originally on board, four had lost their lives. Out of the eight survivors, one was holed in the engine room and three were in the lowest deck guarding the nuke. Out of the remaining four, one – the captain – was required to pilot the ship and one more had to stay with him both to assist in night navigation and for added security on the bridge.

Cursing under his breath, Largo ordered his two remaining henchmen to follow him. It was such a reversal of fortune! Just one day ago, he had two hundred troops, three helicopters, six jeeps and an entire compound at his disposal. Now, only two men were following him.

“The engine room,” Smith said, reading the letters on the door. “Shall we blow the door up?”

“No, I have an other plan. We need...” He suddenly stopped talking, his eyes widened in surprise.

This time, Bond didn't have to warn the Sergeant. Both men ducked to the ground the moment a fusillade of bullets hit their position. Both survived unharmed and found cover but they were at a disadvantage. Largo and his henchman had pinned them down.

“Both of you,” Largo shouted. “Surrender or we are going to throw grenades. I am going to count to three!”

Bond and Smith looked at each other.

“Do you wish to surrender?” Bond whispered, expecting a negative reply.

“No way sir,” came the reply, exactly as Bond had expected. 007 nodded and put a fresh magazine to his submachine gun.

“One,” Largo said.

“Keep them pinned down,” he said and gave Smith his pistol. “Use my pistol when yours runs out of bullets. I am going to flank them. Get up on my signal.”

“Two,” Largo said.

“For Scotland!” Bond shouted. It was the signal. Both he and Sergeant Smith broke cover and opened fire. Smith fired aimed shots with his unwounded arm while 007 fired one long burst and rushed to a side corridor.

The speed and ferocity of the attack surprised Largo and his henchman. The henchman who was about to throw the grenade took cover and never pulled the pin.

The second henchman was slowly moving on the side corridor, a grenade on his right arm. His idea had been to throw it behind Bond's and Smith's back. But that turned out to be a mistake because holding the grenade meant he had to hold his submachine gun one-handed. That compromised his aiming speed and Bond easily dispatched him with a ten-round burst.

The Sergeant kept firing until his pistol run out of bullets. When that happened, he tried to draw the one Bond had given him. But doing so stopped his suppressive fire for a small amount of time, allowing the enemy with the grenade to break cover and try to pull the pin.

Bond however was there to save the day. After killing the first henchman, he run around the corridor, established visual contact with the second one and fired a quick burst from the hip. His bullets missed but 007 had achieved his objective: he had distracted the enemy long enough for Smith to fire with his backup pistol.

After seeing Smith killing his henchman and realizing the tactical situation had turned to his disadvantage, Largo decided to retreat. He fired one burst to keep Bond occupied and started running towards the bridge. 007 however emerged from his cover and fired a burst above his head, forcing him to stop.

“Turn around and keep your finger away from the trigger,” Bond ordered Largo. The latter did exactly that, raising his right arm and holding his submachine from the barrel with his left hand.

“Emilio Largo,” Bond said. “I have seen photographs of you but it's the first time I meet you in person.”

“That makes two of us Mr. Bond,” Largo said. “I admit you are a big troublemaker.”

“I consider that a compliment,” Bond said. “But enough talking. Tell your men to stop the ship and surrender.”

“I don't think so Mr. Bond.” In a fluid motion, he lowered his gun to his chest while his right hand reached for the trigger.

Bond was disappointed. He had hoped he could get Largo alive, both to end the nuke situation earlier and to have a high-ranking member of SPECTRE for interrogation after Blofeld's escape. But Largo left him no choice.

Without blinking, James Bond pulled the trigger...

… but instead of a burst of fire, he only heard an empty click!

“You are out of bullets Mr. Bond,” Largo said with a smile. “I was expecting that.”

“You just got lucky Largo,” Bond said.

“Perhaps, but you fired too many in a very short amount of time. It was not a stretch to assume you had no time to reload. Now, drop your weapon.” Bond had no choice but to comply.

However, Bond was not totally out of luck. He still wore his dart-firing wristwatch. He still had a good chance to kill Largo but he had to be careful. If he missed, he and Sergeant Smith would die and his country would never recover the last nuke.

Largo slowly aimed at Bond's chest. 007 took a deep breath, lowered his left arm and fired.

The dart hit Largo's neck one tenth of a second before he was about to pull the trigger. He felt the pinch on his neck but pulled the trigger nevertheless.

James Bond had spent years training and familiarizing himself with firearms and how people handled them in various situations. He knew that when people are surprisingly hit, they instinctively pull the trigger. However, when you pull a submachine gun's trigger that fires in burst mode, the weapon has the tendency to move upwards and you have to apply pressure with your arms to keep it level.

The moment the paralyzing poison in the dart entered Largo's bloodstream, the latter started losing control of his body. He was unable to apply pressure to the gun and its bullets hit the ceiling. Only a handful of them went in Bond's direction but the latter ducked to the floor, completely avoiding them.

“You run out of luck Largo,” Bond said the moment SPECTRE Number Two fell to the floor.

A few seconds later, Bond reached Smith. While the Sergeant was watching for incoming enemies, Bond searched a nearby closet and found some chains strong enough to keep the engine room door locked from the outside. Soon the enemy in the engine room was trapped. He repeated the process with the entrances to the lower deck, trapping three more enemies. Only the bridge crew remained now.

A few minutes later, Bond and Smith reached the bridge. The helicopter covered the exits to the outside deck with the machine gun. The only way for the captain and his assistant to leave was from an exit to the ship's interior but Smith covered it with his pistol.

In an interesting twist, the security precautions SPECTRE had taken for Disco Volante turned against them. The engine room only had one entrance and the lowest deck only had two, meaning 007 and Smith only needed to lock three doors to keep their enemies trapped. As for the bridge, its bulletproof glass meant the enemies inside could not shoot 007 when he approached them from the outside.

“You on the bridge,” Bond ordered using his walkie-talkie. “Stop the ship now!”

The Disco Volante Captain contacted Largo to ask for instructions, only to realize the latter was dead. He kept contacting the rest of his people, only to realize half of them were dead while the rest were trapped, unable to escape. Realizing the situation had become hopeless, the captain stopped the ship and unlocked all doors to the bridge.

007 and the Sergeant entered the bridge simultaneously. Both SPECTRE men were waiting for them, their hands raised in surrender. While Smith covered them with his pistol, Bond approached them and tied their hands behind their backs with plastic handcuffs.

“Listen everyone,” Bond said on the walkie-talkie, addressing all trapped SPECTRE troopers. “We are British officials and we have control of the ship. Your boss Largo is dead and reinforcements will soon arrive. Remain in your positions and don't try to escape.”

“Who are you?” a voice said on the radio.

“The name is Bond. James Bond!”

Chapter Text

After Bond interrogated the Captain and his assistant, he placed them inside a small warehouse with no windows and a sturdy metal door that only locked from the outside. That warehouse would be their prison cell until the British transferred them to HMS Nelson.

Four enemies remained, one in the engine room and three at the lowest deck close to the nuke. They were trapped but they remained armed and dangerous. What if they somehow escaped and ambushed Bond and Smith? For that reason, the British decided to capture them, disarm them, and place them in the warehouse with the other two enemies.

Capturing the enemy in the engine room was easy. He was alone, he had no place to go and he was outnumbered two to one. Realizing resistance was futile, the SPECTRE trooper surrendered the moment Bond knocked on the engine room door.

The three enemies at the lower deck were trickier. For starters, they outnumbered Bond and Smith. In addition, there was an underwater hatch down there the crew of Disco Volante had frequently used to transfer drugs to narco submarines. They also had used it to launch the submarine that had stolen the nukes in the Atlantic. What if they used it again to escape and transfer the nuke to their submarine?

As long as enemies remained at the lowest deck, Bond could not stop them from opening the hatch. Could he just wait for HMS Nelson to arrive? After all, the yacht was now stopped and it would not reach its rendezvous point with the submarine. The latter would have to travel for hours to meet them. But what if the submarine came before the British warship? Could Bond risk that?

Since a nuke had the potential to kill hundreds of thousands, Bond could not afford to take the risk. He had to neutralize the enemies at the lowest deck, despite the fact his only support was a wounded SAS Sergeant. Fortunately, the enemy had provided him with a solution to his problem.

In his attempt to kill Bond and Smith, Largo had equipped two of his troopers with grenades. But Bond and Smith had killed them before they had used them. Now the grenades remained for Bond to use, an ideal weapon for the task at hand.

Using his walkie-talkie, Bond contacted the remaining enemies. He explained them their situation: he controlled the upper ground and they were confined in a small area. He would use the upper ground to drop them grenades from openings in the ceiling. The confined space guaranteed the grenade fragments would kill everyone down there. The only way for them to survive was by surrendering.

“I will give you five minutes to decide,” 007 said. “When the deadline passes, I will drop the first grenade and I will keep dropping one every minute. Out.”

The three SPECTRE troopers wanted to fight back but the situation was hopeless. Despite their numerical superiority, they were trapped in a small area, unable to fight back.

“OK,” one of them replied after two minutes. “We surrender.”

“Good,” Bond said. “Approach the exit closest to the bridge one by one, unarmed, and with your hands up.”

The SPECTRE troopers did as ordered. Bond opened the door just enough to let the first one out. Afterwards, he closed it, locked it carefully and ordered the enemy to face the wall. When the enemy complied, 007 searched him for concealed weapons while Smith covered him with his pistol. Satisfied the enemy was unarmed, they escorted him to the makeshift prison, locked him in with the other three already there, and returned to arrest the two remaining enemies.

Six minutes later, all six enemies were locked in the warehouse. Bond placed a chain to its handle for added security and he and Smith returned to the lower deck. The nuke was chained there but they ignored for the time being. Their task at hand was to to jam the underwater hatch to preventing anyone from opening it.

After they hatch was jammed, the two British returned to the bridge. Smith used his walkie-talkie to talk to the pilot.

The helicopter onboard HMS Nelson had a three hundred mile range, meaning it could take off, fly at a straight line for three hundred miles and fly three hundred more to return to its point of take-off. Alternatively, it could fly for six hundred miles straight but it would be out of fuel at the end of its journey.

HMS Nelson had been seven hundred miles away from the SPECTRE facility when Guiness and his men parachuted next to her, much more than the maximum distance the helicopter could normally cover. To improve maximum distance, the helicopter crew had removed all weapons systems, making the machine light enough to carry additional fuel. They had succeeded but barely. When Bond and the SAS parachuted for their attack, the helicopter had barely enough fuel for ten minutes of flight.

Fortunately, the deal Bond had made with Ramirez included landing for refueling in his compound. The drug lord had aviation fuel he used for his private helicopter, so logistics were relatively easy. After the British parachuted, the Royal Navy chopper landed in his compound, got refueled and was back to action within a few hours. The only drawback was that Ramirez had no military grade refueling facilities, something that delayed the process and forced Bond and Smith to hunt the nuke driving a jeep instead of flying.

When the helicopter finally took off, it greatly assisted Bond and Smith in their mission, providing transportation and covering fire from a captured machine gun. After the two men succeeded, they no longer needed aerial support and the helicopter returned to the captured SPECTRE compound to start transporting the nukes and the SAS.

Inside the enemy compound, Colonel Guiness swept the area with his nigh vision binoculars. All the compound was under Ramirez's control, with the exception of the warehouse where the nukes where. The Colonel had four of his men close to the nukes and he with other three remained on the roof. Fortunately, all of his men had survived the attack.

Most enemies were dead. Only a handful had survived and had escaped in the jungle. Unfortunately, the nuclear scientists were among the dead, shot in the back by SPECTRE troopers. Perhaps Largo had given the order himself or one of his subordinates had taken the initiative to silence them for good. M would never learn their secrets now.

Guiness made some calculations. HMS Nelson was traveling at twenty-five miles per hour and she had been seven hundred miles away from Colombia when the SAS had parachuted next to it. It would take her twenty-eight hours to cover the distance. Out of them, seven had already passed, five of them flying in the helicopter and the rest fighting. They would have to spend the next twenty-one hours waiting for the warship to arrive.

As long as SPECTRE still had troopers left, the SAS and Ramirez's men were allies. But now that SPECTRE was no longer a threat, what would the drug lord do? Would an immoral man like him honor his deal? Or would he take advantage of his numerical superiority and try to steal the nukes?

There was another problem. There had been ten tonnes of drugs in a warehouse. James Bond had blown half of them up but the rest remained intact, a prize for Ramirez and his men. Would Ramirez prevent them from entering the warehouse and get some free stuff as a victory bonus? What if his men took some of the stuff, became high and uncontrollable and attacked the SAS? A general firefight would follow. Oh yes, the next twenty-one hours would be far more dangerous than the previous two.

Fortunately, Bond contacted him with with a solution that greatly simplified things. Since he and Smith had captured Disco Volante and since the yacht was only fifty miles away, they could temporarily transport the nukes there. It was a neat way to avoid trouble.

It took one hour for the helicopter to reach the compound, strap the first nuke under it, take-off, reach the yacht, unload it on deck where Bond and Smith tied it with steel cables, and return to take the second. Within three hours, all nukes were onboard Disco Volante and the helicopter made a last journey to pick up the SAS.

It was six am when the SAS boarded Disco Volante. The yacht's deck was too narrow for the helicopter to land but the sea was very calm and the chopper had floats so it landed on the water next to the ship. Upon stepping on deck, Colonel Guiness breath a sigh of relief. The nukes were finally safe and all of his boys were alive! And last but not least, they had taken their revenge!

It would take seventeen hours for HMS Nelson to arrive. Until she came, 007 and the SAS searched Disco Volante for every piece of intelligence they could find. They rifled through Largo's cabin, the bridge, the crew cabins, even the engine room. Soon they had filled a bag with various pieces of information: documents, hard drives, photographs...

Two hours after the SAS landed on Disco Volante, Ramirez had Madeleine released. His men put her on a plane, flew her to a small airfield outside Bogota where two of his men drove her to her hotel. Shortly before eleven am, she entered her hotel room and phoned James, something that delighted him.

“I am going to get a hearty breakfast and a shower now,” she told him. “See you!”

“You deserve it Madeleine,” Bond replied. “See you in a few hours.”

A few minutes later, Bond received a second phone call. This time it was Ramirez.

“I understand you don't trust us,” the drug lord said. “You assumed we might steal the nukes for ourselves.”

“The thought crossed my mind,” Bond admitted.

“You are a smart man Mr. Bond. And I admit I was tempted. But I don't want to mess with a nuclear power and your allies the Americans.”

Bond had expected the answer. No, Ramirez had avoided stealing the nukes but not for moral reasons, just out of self-preservation. He sighed but he decided not to press the issue.

“You have won Ramirez. SPECTRE is no longer a problem for you. The NATO will hunt them down and they will never recover. You will expand your empire unopposed and you will make a handsome profit from the drugs you might find. I suggest you leave it at that.”

“I will Mr. Bond. And you are right about the cocaine. I found five tonnes of the stuff in a warehouse. It won't go to waste.”

Bond took a deep breath. How many people would die Ramirez distributed the stolen drugs? He set the thought aside. SPECTRE would have done the same anyway. At least blowing half of it up saved some lives.

“You have your nukes and Mrs. Swann is free,” the drug lord said. “I have my freedom from SPECTRE and five tonnes of cocaine. You kept your part of the deal and I kept mine. Our business together is finished. Goodbye Mr. Bond.”

Bond's next phone call was to his boss.

“Congratulations 007,” M said when Bond had finished talking. “Now, I have some news that might interest you. Q has found the mole. She is Barbara Simmons, head of MI-5.”

“Simmons? I have a request sir.”

“I am listening.” Bond told him what he wanted.

“Done,” M said. ”First thing when you return to London.”

“Actually, it will be the second.”

A few hours later, HMS Nelson arrived. The ship's crew transferred the four nukes in one of the lowest decks for storage. Guiness posted two of his troopers there to guard them.

The six captured SPECTRE troopers were escorted to the brig. Two SAS troopers stood on the door with orders to prevent anyone from approaching.

After these arrangements were over, Bond visited Sergeant Smith in the ship's infirmary. The ship's surgeon was about to operate on him.

“How is the arm Sergeant?” Bond asked.

“The bullet broke something but the doctor will fix it,” Smith replied. “He said I will be OK in five to six days.”

“That's great news Sarge. Be strong. Our country needs people like you.”

Bond and Smith exchanged some pleasantries for a few minutes until the surgeon politely told him the operation was about to begin. Bond saluted the Sergeant and left.

After his visit to Smith was over, Bond prepared to leave. The helicopter had refuelled and was waiting to transport him to Bogota. Colonel Guiness approached him with the bag containing all the intel they had found on Disco Volante.

"Time to return to London Colonel," Bond said. "I have some unfinished business to attend to. How about you?"

"I will return to England with the nukes and the prisoners. My orders are to guard them until we reach Scapa Flow."

"If that is the case, this is where we say goodbye Colonel," Bond said. "Thank you for your assistance. Your people are really the best."

"Thank you 007," the Colonel said. "We did our duty and we took our revenge for our boys in Scotland."

"I can feel you Colonel," 007 said. "After all, I was there, nearly dying in the process."

The two men shook hands and Bond boarded the helicopter. His destination was a small airfield where Enrico Hernandez was waiting for him. A plane would take him to Bogota where a private jet would take him and Madeleine back to England, the same one that had brought them in Colombia.

A few minutes later, the helicopter with 007 took off. While flying, Bond noticed the ship's deck gun was firing. The target was Disco Volante. The Royal Navy wanted to exact its final revenge against the ship responsible so much trouble. Within three minutes, the rapid firing gun had fired about sixty shells, totally destroying the SPECTRE yacht.

Three hours later, James Bond finally met Madeleine! She rushed to hug and kiss him.

“We have made it,” he told her. “We won. Time to go back to England.”

Chapter Text

In his hideout in Greenland Ernst Blofeld reached the inevitable conclusion: Operation Neptune had failed, the nukes were back under British control, Emilio Largo and the troops in Colombia were either dead or under arrest, their base down there was gone, their lucrative drug trade with the United States was over...

Operation Neptune had been a big gamble. If it had succeeded, it would provide SPECTRE with billions in revenue plus a means to deter any state that messed with them. But the operation had come with a big and unavoidable problem: you cannot expect the people you blackmail with nuclear weapons to remain passive.

The moment you blackmail your enemies is the moment you become priority number one for them. Only their fear of your reprisals can keep them in check. They might pay you to avoid destruction but they will certainly resent you and look for opportunities to bring you down. The moment you lose the nukes is the moment you lose your leverage and the moment they stop paying you and start attacking you.

Was the gamble worth it? Should SPECTRE proceed with Operation Neptune with the risks involved? Blofeld had concluded they should. Yes, their enemies would strike back but wouldn't they do so anyway? Yes, they had lost people during the operation but hadn't they lost so many during the past three years? Yes, they had become enemy number one for NATO but weren't they a high priority enemy already? SPECTRE had two choices: a slow death or a gamble that could either bring a quick death or survival and victory.

Blofeld had no way to know how the British had outsmarted them and how big a role that agent Bond had played. He had no way to know whether Largo was still alive or whether Simmons would remain free. He had no way to know if Simmons or Largo or another high-ranking member of SPECTRE would reveal their secrets, including the location of his hideout in Greenland.

Believing your people will remain silent when arrested was foolish. Loyalty is easy when you are free, away from danger, with four nukes to threaten your captors if they dare touch you. But what happens when the nukes are gone and you are alone? Will you remain loyal or will you accept their offer to talk in exchange for a shorter prison sentence

How much time Blofeld had before one of his people talked? He had no idea but he was not going to take the risk. Why wait in Greenland when he could regroup and reorganize somewhere else safely? Let the SAS come for him, he would be in a different continent by then.

One hour later, Blofeld left his hideout. A sailplane was waiting for him. His destination was a secret location in the northernmost parts of Canada. It was a vast, snowy and quiet area, away from civilization and curious people, a very discreet and hidden place even the highest ranking members of SPECTRE knew nothing about. It would give him the necessary time and safety to regroup, reorganize, and think about the future.

Yes, SPECTRE had lost and lost badly. Yes, many – perhaps even the majority – of their people would soon lose their freedom or their lives. But Blofeld would remain free and able to organize SPECTRE's comeback.

“The time for SPECTRE will arrive again,” Blofeld said and entered the sailplane.

Inside the private jet, James Bond and Madeleine spent most of the flight time to England having sex. The only thing that ended their marathon session was the pilot's announcement they would soon land in London.

Both lovers stood up and started dressing. She wore an elegant black dress with a matching pair of high heel shoes – both a gift from MI-6 – and he wore an elegant blue three-piece suit with a matching necktie and shoes.

“Nice clothes Mrs. Swann,” he said.

“Thank you Mr. Bond,” she said.

After a few minutes, the plane reached London and parked inside its hangar. Moneypenny waiting for them.

“Hello Mrs. Swann and hello James,” she said.

“Hello Moneypenny,” Madeleine said. “It's so good to see you after years”

“This is for you James,” Moneypenny said and gave him the envelope she carried. It contained instructions directly from M.

“Thank you Moneypenny. This bag contains evidence we took from the enemy. Take it to headquarters and I will be there soon.”

“Of course James,” Moneypenny said. “Goodbye Mrs. Swann.”

It was over and they both knew it. After all, the situation had remained the same: yes, James was awesome, yes Madeleine was wonderful and yes being together was great. But it couldn't work because of the different things they needed in life.

Madeleine was brave and she could fight if she had to. But she was not the secret agent type. James was caring and loving but he wasn't the type to settle down. His life was one of mystery and adventure and danger.

James opened the envelope. It contained a piece of paper with instructions and a set of car keys for him. It also had something for Madeleine: an one-way ticket to Vienna for a flight that would take off in a few minutes.

“Will you escort me to the plane James?” she asked when Bond gave her the ticket.

“By all means Madeleine.”

James and Madeleine started walking until they reached the ticket counter. It was the place where they would say goodbye.

“It was really great to see you again James,” she said. “After so many years.”

“It was,” he said. “We had a great time during the past days.”

“We had,” she admitted. “But I nearly lost my life twice. I am not blaming you of course but I prefer it safe.”

“It's OK,” he said with a smile. “We the secret agent types want to be rare. The rarer we are the more our employers pay us.” It was a rather lame joke about the law of supply and demand in economics but Madeleine smiled nevertheless.

“Goodbye James,” she said. “Our world depends on people like you.”

“Thanks for your good words Madeleine. Goodbye”. They kissed each other on the lips... perhaps for the last time.

The aircraft slowly taxied the runway, taking position for take off. James Bond looked at it, thinking of all the planes he had risen, of all the times he had taken a flight from that same airport. How many parts of the world had he visited trying to protect his country from another terrorist, another corrupt government, another billionaire with a sinister agenda?

The plane kept accelerating on the runway and so did Bond's thoughts about his life, about Madeleine and about his future. He had tried, both had tried to make their relationship work. In the end it hadn't but nobody was to blame for that. Both wanted and needed different things to do, different lives to live...

And the future? Would James Bond remain a bachelor or would he find a wife? Should he marry if he found that special woman? Or would a marriage with kids put his wife and children in jeopardy from SPECTRE or another sinister organization? Would a wife and kids make him and by extension his country vulnerable to blackmail?

Would 007 continue being a field agent in the future? Would his body still withstand the physical punishment his job required? He had survived bullets, explosions, hand-to-hand combat, car chases, on-foot chases, motorcycle chases, aircraft chases, boat chases, even underwater chases... How much toll had that taken to his body? Could he keep going for long? Would M reassign him away from the field as an instructor or as an analyst in a desk job?

And perhaps equally important... if he ended up in a desk job after a final injury, should he try to contact her again? Or should he let her find another man from her country and her culture?

The aircraft with Madeleine took off. Bond kept watching it until it disappeared in the night sky. He smiled. Both had made each other happy and that was what mattered in the end. Better to remember their relationship with a smile on the face than tears in the eyes.

Bond turned his back to the runway and started walking towards the airport exit. That chapter in his life had ended, perhaps for good. No need to look back now. He didn't know what the future had for him. But he did know he loved his job – even when Q complained he destroyed his gadgets – and he loved his country. Perhaps that was that mattered, all that he needed.

While walking towards the airport exit, Bond's mind returned to business, focusing on the previous days. On a personal level, he should be happy. He had recovered information against SPECTRE, he had survived multiple encounters with the enemy, he had located and helped recover the nukes... Admiral Nelson would be proud of him.

But would the good Admiral be proud for Great Britain in general? 007 doubted it. SPECTRE had located Blofeld thanks to a traitor in the British Secret Service, someone they had failed to find in time. Blofeld had escaped because SPECTRE had infiltrated the SAS and because the SAS themselves had sent badly trained people to guard him. SPECTRE had stolen the nukes because RAF had failed to guard them well and because they had failed to realize one of their own officers had betrayed them.

Even the Royal Navy, Nelson's own branch of service, left something to be desired. The crew of HMS Trafalgar never noticed the dummy nukes they had carried onboard for days were not the ones RAF had dropped. Granted, it was very hard to distinguish between RAF's dummy nukes and the ones SPECTRE had produced. But doing so would have prevented the deaths onboard HMS Trafalgar. The British would have stopped Disco Volante while she was still in the Atlantic long before they were activated.

What made things worse was the embarrassment. It is one thing when you fail to protect your nukes but you recover them before others learn about your loss. It is another when Blofeld messages all NATO countries to inform them. That was an embarrassment the British would take years to recover from, especially if you remember they had to ally with a drug lord to win.

On the bright side, the way things turned out made things worse for SPECTRE. It was a good idea for them to blackmail all NATO countries and not just the British. They could demand more ransom that way and protect their members in more countries. But in the process they created more determined enemies. In addition, attacking their facility in Colombia destroyed one of their biggest sources of income.

Upon exiting the airport , Bond headed to the parking lot and reached his silver Aston Martin DB5 parked there. The keys were in the envelope Moneypenny had given him.

“I wonder if you enjoyed driving my Aston Martin Moneypenny,” Bond said upon unlocking the car.

Inside the car, 007 opened the envelope and read the message. He smiled. M had granted his request.

“Good news Admiral,” 007 said and gunned the engine. “We are going to arrest a traitor.”

Barbara Simmons parked her car outside her elegant apartment. It had been another another long and tiring day at work.

Things were going bad. Their base in Colombia had stopped communicating almost two days ago. What had happened to their people there? Despite repeated attempts, no reply ever came.

Her queries inside the intelligence community revealed nothing. James Bond was still hidden somewhere, M had authorized no operations... Unless of course M and 007 had used unofficial channels Simmons had no access to...

Simmons had a lot to worry about. Trying to locate Bond in Austria had nearly exposed her. Had the exposure been so vast Q had realized she was working for SPECTRE? So far, things appeared to be normal but was that because Q and the rest of MI-6 were clueless or was it because they wanted to fool her with a false sense of security?

Despite appearing calm and confident, Simmons was worried like hell. She knew their operation had failed. It was only a matter of days before the manhunt started...

Should she keep going to work hoping Q hadn't discovered her? Should she remain loyal to SPECTRE or should she run away? Was she living on borrowed time and surrender to M was the only way to receive a reduced prison sentence

With those dilemmas in mind she exited her luxurious car... only to see James Bond waiting for her, his right hand holding his Walther PPK nine milimeter pistol.

"Good evening Mrs. Simmons," he said. "You are under arrest."

Simmons said nothing. She had feared such an outcome would come but she had believed Operation Neptune would succeed, ensuring her safety. With a resigned look in her eyes, SPECTRE Number Three raised her arms. Two Scotland Yard officers appeared from behind her, handcuffed her and escorted her to a waiting van.

007 waited until the van had disappeared and headed for his car. His next stop was the MI-6 headquarters.

It was ten pm when the silver Aston Martin entered the underground MI-6 garage. After parking his car, 007 took the elevator for M's office. Moneypenny was already there, working in front of her computer monitor.

“Hello again James,” she said. “Everything alright I presumed?” They hadn't talked much in the airport because Madeleine was still there.

“If you ask for Madeleine,” he replied, “things are exactly as we left them two years ago. We parted ways as friends and we are back to our separate ways.”

Moneypenny nodded. Bond had told her about his relationship with Madeleine Swann years ago. She had agreed with him that breaking up had been the best solution for everyone. No need and no point to repeat the same conversation two years later.

“If you ask for my mission,” he continued. “I did my duty for England, as the good Admiral would expect. I hunted the bad guys down, found the nukes, and returned in one piece to tell the tale.”

“Not to mention Hotel Sacher,” she said. “Did you like it?”

“It was great Moneypenny. I was born for places like that.”

“Lucky you James. You live in elegant hotels, you drive fast cars and I sit on a desk typing on a keyboard. But at least I got to drive your Aston Martin.”

“Well Moneypenny, nobody shoots you on a desk job,” Bond said with a smile. “And by the way, did you like my car?”

“Every job has its advantages I suppose. And yes, I loved your car. Anyway, M is waiting for you.”

“Good, I'll tell him to give you a raise to buy your sports cars.” Bond stood up and headed for his boss's office.

“Promises, promises,” Moneypenny said with a smile and returned to work.

"Good evening 007,” M said when the latter entered his office.

Bond noticed M's mood was cheerful. He also noticed there were numerous bottles of whiskey on a table next to his desk.

“They are all gifts,” M said. “RAF thanks us for recovering the nukes, the Prime Minister and Her Majesty for averting a national catastrophe, the Foreign Office for making our national embarrassment smaller, the Royal Navy for helping them avenge the bombing of HMS Trafalgar, and the SAS for avenging their deaths in Scotland.”

“We'll have to open a bar M.” M permitted himself another smile.

“Perhaps we should 007. There is also a bottle for you. It's a gift from the SAS for saving one of their men in Scotland and another one onboard Disco Volante.”

“I just did my duty sir,” Bond said. “As you, my conscience, her Majesty, our country, and the good Admiral would like me to do.”

“Admiral Nelson would be proud of you 007. That was your Trafalgar... but unlike him, you survived.”

“I prefer it when I survive sir,” Bond said with a smile.

“That makes two of us 007. Anyway, it is time for a toast.”

M opened one of the bottles and poured some scotch in two glasses. It was time for celebration. Yes, there had been numerous failures in the past but the MI-6 had done its duty and had recovered the nukes. The time for criticism and failure analysis would come. Both Bond and his boss decided to enjoy the moment and let criticism for tomorrow.

“As the good Admiral would say,” M said, “England expects that every man will do his duty.”

“And some of us did M,” 007 replied.

“To our people who do their duty,” M said for the toast.

“To our people who do their duty,” 007 replied.

The End

But James Bond will return in... No Time to Die.

The James Bond Theme