The World Is Not Enough

10 - The Approaching Storm

Bill Tanner rushed into the Briefing Room at Castle Thane MI6 headquarters shortly after M had arrived for the morning’s work.

‘I have something,’ he said. ‘It may not mean anything, but we should look into it.’

M was standing with Robinson and other analysts examining printouts from Interpol. Apparently, the terrorist known as Renard had been sighted in at least six different countries on the same day, and they had to sort out which reports were reliable, if any. M looked up and said, ‘Well?’

‘We’ve been monitoring Russian military frequencies, of course. The Russian Army has reported that one of their transport planes was stolen from an airfield in Omsk two days ago.’

‘So?’

‘There’s more. The Russian Atomic Energy Department is searching for some missing Parahawks and a nuclear physicist who’s gone astray. A fellow named Arkov.’

‘What would any of that have to do with Renard?’ M asked, impatiently.

Tanner held up Sir Robert King’s report. ‘Russian Atomic Energy Department,’ he said. ‘Doctor Arkov was supposed to be on assignment decommissioning a testing facility in Kazakhstan. Intelligence reports that the site was destroyed this

morning and a Russian transport plane matching the description of the one that was stolen was seen leaving the area. The worst part is that they believe a bomb is missing.’

‘A bomb?’

‘Plutonium core warhead. The Russian Army has put out an all-points arrest warrant for Colonel Akakievich, the officer who was in charge of the testing facility. Apparently he’s gone missing, too, and they believe he may be involved. It’s a long shot, but it just sounds like something Renard could be a part of.’

M was perturbed that she hadn’t put two and two together herself. ‘Right.’ She turned to Robinson. ‘Is there any way we can track that plane?’

Robinson almost laughed and pointed to the map. ‘It could be anywhere in this circle. Iran, Iraq, Pakistan, Syria, Afghanistan

‘Marvellous,’ she said.

Moneypenny entered the room and got everyone’s attention by announcing, ‘Elektra King is calling for M from Baku.’

M was surprised. She went for the telephone, but Moneypenny said, ‘It’s a video line.’

‘Put her on the wide screen.’

Moneypenny made the connection, and Elektra’s face materialised on the large wall monitor. She looked haggard and red-eyed.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I'm sorry. I would never call you except . . . your man Bond has disappeared. He ... he left my villa, some time in the middle of the night.’

M looked sideways at Tanner.

‘He’s been gone all day and hasn’t returned. I thought you should know. There’s already been one attempt on my life. And . . . my head of security has been found near a local airstrip, murdered . .

M leaned on the console in front of her. ‘I’ll send someone else out right away.’

Elektra furrowed her brow. ‘Could . . . could you come?’ M didn’t expect that. The request so flustered her that at first she didn’t know what to say. Then she studied the face of the giil who was like a daughter to her. Elektra King looked about as lost as she ever had.

‘I just can’t help thinking . . . that I’m next,’ Elektra said. M stared at the girl on the screen, her whole sordid history written in her pleading eyes. M turned away from the screen and said to Tanner, ‘Get me out there.’

Tanner started to protest. ‘Ma’am, I don’t think -’

‘Just do it!’ She turned back to Elektra. ‘I’ll be there as soon as possible. Don’t leave your villa.’

Elektra nodded, holding back tears of relief. ‘Thank you.’ The connection was terminated.

‘Where the devil is Double-0 Seven?’ M demanded.

‘I’ll try to find him,’ Robinson said, jumping to his station. ‘M . . .’ Tanner began, but M cut him short.

‘I know what you’re going to say, Chief-of-Staff, and I don’t want to hear it,’ she said. ‘I'll take my bodyguard and Robinson. Miss Moneypenny, please make the necessary arrangements for immediate departure. I’d like to get to Baku before tomorrow. Tanner, you’ll be in charge while I’m gone. See if you can track down that transport plane. And if you find Double-0 Seven, you tell him that I’ll speak to him in person

Dark black and blue storm clouds gathered off the coast of the choppy Caspian Sea. The wind howled and rattled the rafters of the King villa, creating an unsettling atmosphere in an already rather dreary environment.

Elektra sat alone in her father’s study. As she worked by the halo of light from a single desk lamp, the room grew darker as the storm approached. She looked up from the latest geological reports from Turkey to relieve the strain on her eyes. A portrait of her father stared at her from the wall beside the desk. She felt a chill as the gale screeched outside. A window blew open, sending papers flying. Elektra got up, crossed the room, shut and locked the window. She stood there a moment, looking at the dark sky and the violent sea.

Inexplicably, Elektra thought of her mother. It happened, sometimes, especially when she was in this part of the world. Every so often, when these flashes of memory occurred, she could faintly hear the old lullaby her mother sang when Elektra was a little girl. The sad, haunting tune reminded her of a cold, unfriendly past. A more superstitious person might have believed that a ghost was singing the song, but Elektra knew better.

At times, though, Elektra swore that she could still hear her mother’s sobs as she lay dying in bed . . .

A loud thud from the library next door interrupted her reverie. She listened intently, but there was nothing else.

‘Gabor?’ she called.

She hesitated, then went to the study door and opened it. It whined on its hinges. She stepped into the large library, but it was pitch dark and deathly quiet. Pale light from three French windows that led to a balcony barely illuminated the room. Elektra walked a few paces towards a lamp, but the door slammed shut behind her. She whirled around to see Gabor, propped up behind the door, staring, eyes wide. He fell to the floor like a rag doll. A dark figure stood in his place.

‘Who’s there?’ she demanded.

The man stepped forward until the dim glow from the outside shone on his face. It was James Bond.

‘James!’ she cried. She couldn’t hide the shock and hesitation in her voice.

‘You sound surprised,’ he said.

She moved to Gabor, who was stirring and beginning to groan from the blow to the back of his head.

‘What’s wrong with you? Are you crazy?’ she asked Bond.

‘A little,’ Bond said. ‘Does it matter? After all, ‘there’s no point in living if you can’t feel alive.’ Isn’t that right, Elektra? Isn’t that your motto?’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘Or did you steal it from your old friend Renard?’ Elektra wasn’t sure she heard him right. ‘. . . What?’

‘He and I had a chat. He knew all about us, he knew about my shoulder, he knew exactly where I’d been hurt. . .’ Bond said.

Elektra stood and began to tremble. ‘Are you saying . . . Renard is the man who’s trying to kill me? He’s alive?’

‘You can drop the act, Elektra, it’s over.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’

‘I think you do.’ He walked toward her. His voice was laced with menace. ‘At MI6 we call it Stockholm Syndrome. It's common in kidnappings. A young impressionable victim. Sheltered, sexually inexperienced. A powerful kidnapper skilled in torture, in manipulation. Something snaps in the victim’s mind. The captive falls in love with her captor.’

At the word ‘love’ Elektra exploded. She slapped Bond across the face.

‘How dare you!’ she spat. ‘How dare you! That animal? That monster? He disgusts me! You disgust me! So he knew where to hurt you, is that it? You had a sling on your arm at the funeral! I didn’t have to sleep with you to find that out.’ ‘He used your exact words.’

‘What else have you learned while you left me all alone?’ ‘Your friend Davidov was in league with him.’

‘He’s dead, as you no doubt know. You probably killed him.’ She shook her head. ‘Do you really believe that I would . . . with Renard?’

Bond let her continue to vent her anger. ‘You knew,’ she said. ‘You knew all the time that he was out there, that he was coming for me, and you lied. Wait a minute . . . I see it very clearly now. It’s just like before. You used me. You and MI6 used me as bait, although a more accurate term might be meat.

Just like when I was kidnapped. MI6 sent its little soldier to protect me when in fact you were hoping Renard would get close enough for you to catch him. You even made love to me — what, to pass the time as you waited for him to strike?'

He had no answer to that. He couldn’t deny it.

Bond clenched his jaw. What if he was wrong? Could she be telling the truth? He had become suspicious during the long trip in Christmas’s car from Kazakhstan back to Baku. Along the way, something about Bond’s encounter with Renard bothered him. He replayed the events over and over in his head. It was something Renard had said . . .

When he made the connection, Bond felt as if someone had just punched him in the stomach. The wave of dread that passed over him almost made him physically ill. Christmas had looked at him and asked, ‘What’s the matter? You feel all right?’ Bond had nodded and replied, ‘I’m just beginning to see this thing more clearly, that’s all.’ For the remainder of the trip, Bond worked on purging his affection for Elektra King. He was certain that she was somehow connected with Renard’s plans. He hardened his heart and put up the familiar stone cold wall. It was painful, but it was not anything he hadn’t done before.

Now Bond looked at Elektra and questioned his assumption. If she was truly in league with Renard, then she was a terrific actress. She was very convincing. She was right about his shoulder - Renard could have learned about that in other ways. Could those words have been a coincidence? 'There's no point in living if you can't feel alive.

Bond rarely believed in coincidences.

The phone on the library desk rang, cutting through the tension. She stared at him as it rang a second time . . . then a third. Finally, she picked it up.

‘Yes?’

She listened for a moment. ‘I’m on my way.’ She hung up the phone and looked at Bond with daggers in her eyes. ‘He’s struck again. The pipeline construction site. Five men are dead’

She turned to leave, but he moved after her. ‘I'm coming with you,’ he said.

‘Do what you want. I need to call M back and tell her not to come here; she should meet me there.’

‘What?’

‘Oh, didn’t I say? I’ve already spoken to M once. She’s coming to take charge.’

That stopped Bond in his tracks. Elektra left the room, leaving him with Gabor, who was just managing to sit up. Bond sighed then helped the bodyguard to his feet.

M had flown from London to Istanbul, then used a Euro- copter EC 135 owned by the British military to take her to the pipeline control centre. She arrived early the next morning, not long after Bond himself had returned from Baku with Christmas Jones. As the helicopter landed, M looked out of the window at the site, her face set hard.

It was clearly a disaster area. Five body bags had been laid out on the ground outside the industrial plant. Three buildings were demolished and the pipeline was damaged in four sections. Scientific, military and police vehicles surrounded the place. Soldiers, policemen and King Industries workers were sweeping the area. Interestingly, Renard’s stolen transport plane was still standing on the airstrip.

Bond stood at the entrance of the building near Christmas, who was participating in the reconnaissance. He didn’t like the look on M’s face as she strode toward him with Robinson and her bodyguard in tow.

‘Nice of you to join us, Double-0 Seven,’ she said.

Bond ignored the quip and explained, ‘We still don’t know if they did anything with the bomb here. There’s a scientist from the International Decommissioning Agency over there - Doctor Jones. She’s checking to see if she can find anything.’

They stepped out of the bright sunlight and into the control centre. The place was a shambles. Emergency illumination was in use until electricity could be restored. Technicians were busy tinkering with equipment that wasn’t working. Elektra King was huddled with a couple of policemen. She nodded an acknowledgement to M. She had pointedly ignored Bond since their encounter in the library in Baku.

‘Double-0 Seven, I’d like a word,’ M said, pulling him aside. She threw a look to Robinson and the bodyguard, indicating that she wanted some privacy.

‘I want an update,’ she said, tersely. ‘Where do we stand?’

‘Renard bribed people at the Russian Atomic Energy Department and in the Russian Army. He got a transport plane and a bomb. I still don’t know what he plans to do with it. apparently, though, they landed here last night. Renard and his men killed several workmen, the security guards . . . Then they started to destroy things, as you can see. His motive is unclear. They left the stolen plane on the airstrip, and it’s completely empty. It appears to me that he still has that bomb.’

Bond took the locator card out of his pocket and handed it to her. ‘One of Renard’s men removed this locator card from the bomb. So we can’t track it.’

She looked at it, turning it over.

‘M —,’ he hesitated.

‘What?’

‘With all due respect,’ Bond said, ‘I don’t think you should be here.’

A flash of anger crossed M’s face. ‘Need I remind you that you’re the reason I’m here, Double-0 Seven? You disobeyed a direct order, and left that girl alone.’

‘If I hadn’t left her alone, we wouldn’t know that Renard is in possession of a bomb. And perhaps that “girl” isn’t as innocent as you think.’

‘What are you saying?’

Bond brought his voice down further, stealing a glance at Elektra. ‘Suppose the inside man — the one who switched King’s lapel pin — turned out to be an inside woman?’

M blinked, incredulous. ‘First she kills her father - then attacks her own pipeline. Why? To what end?’

‘I don’t know,’ Bond admitted. ‘Yet.’ His theory sounded even more absurd with M listening.

‘Then let’s deal with what we do know. We’ve got a dying terrorist with a nuclear bomb in his pocket. We don’t know his plan, or where he’s taken the weapon.’

‘Yes. But if it’s revenge - to finish what he started in London — he’s got you right where he wants you.’

The lights suddenly powered up as the workers succeeded in restoring electricity. The monitors that lined the room flashed on. and a huge satellite map of the pipeline appeared on a wall-sized screen. The technicians scrambled to their posts to inspect the machinery’s usability.

‘M . . .’ Elektra called. She was studying the pipeline map. ‘We’ll talk about this later, Double-0 Seven,’ M said, then moved toward Elektra.

‘Look at this,’ Elektra said, pointing to a flashing red light. ‘That’s not right. It shouldn’t be there.’

Robinson asked, ‘What is it?’

‘An observation rig,’ Elektra replied. ‘Travels inside the pipe looking for broken seals. It performs all kinds of tasks, much like a robot. It runs automatically, but there’s nothing scheduled —’

‘Shut it down,’ Bond said.

A technician flicked two switches. The light continued to flash. Confused, he tried others, but there was no change. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘It won’t respond.’

Christmas Jones appeared next to them and said, ‘The place is clean. There’s no sign of-’

‘— the bomb is in the pipeline,’ Bond said, cutting her off. ‘My God,’ Elektra said.

All eyes followed the route from the flashing light to the large mass of animated derricks on the eastern end of the map.

Robinson announced what they all realised simultaneously, ‘It’s headed for the oil terminal.’

‘Where it can do the most damage,’ Bond said. ‘Elektra, have your men evacuate that terminal.’

She bristled at him. ‘Now do you believe me?’

The look on Bond’s face revealed his inner struggle. Was she right?

Elektra turned to the technician. ‘Do it. Tell them to evacuate, then clear this room.’ The man immediately got on the phone.

Bond looked at M. ‘He’s going for the oil,’

‘Of course,’ M said, studying the map. ‘The one pipeline the West is counting on to supply our reserves for the next century.’

The doubt in Bond’s mind still nagged him. ‘But why? What’s in it for him?’

M shrugged. ‘Revenge, as you say? Who knows, with a man like Renard? Chaos follows him wherever he goes. Do you have an idea?’

‘Maybe,’ Bond replied, studying the map. He turned to another technician. ‘How far is that rig from the terminal? And how fast is it travelling?’

The man checked his read-outs before replying. ‘It’s a hundred and six miles from the terminal. Going seventy miles an hour.’

‘We’ve got less than ninety minutes,’ Bond said, thinking quickly. If he could get into the pipeline in front of the rig with the bomb, he just might be able to jump aboard and take care of the weapon. ‘Is there another rig?’

‘There are several stored at random locations throughout the pipeline.’ The technician flipped a switch and another light blinked on the pipe map. ‘There’s one parked in the same passageway. Ahead of it.’

Perfect. Bond turned to Robinson. ‘Can you get me out there? Fast?’

Before Robinson could say yes, Christmas cut in. ‘Wait a minute. Are you going to try to do what I think you’re going to try to do?’

‘What do I need to defuse a nuclear bomb?’ Bond asked.

‘Me,’ she said, smugly.