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 Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"

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Hilly KCMG
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PostSubject: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Tue Jun 06, 2017 8:25 am

Well gents in spite of myself I felt compelled to put pen to paper. I doubt I'll finish this, various factors are at work right now in my life but just a bit of harmless fun. I think my days such as they were on the old forum, for this kind of thing, are all but gone.

Pre-Titles

Vandenberg Air Force Base, California
Sometime in 1979


“I just don’t think you realise the gravity of the situation!”
“Oh, I think gravity was foremost on my mind, Freddie.”
“That’s Minister to you, Bond, after this little cock-up!”
“Cock-up is one word or two, for that.”
Minister of Defence Sir Frederick Gray gave a sound so explosive and exasperated, that James Bond had to turn away from him lest he exploded himself, with laughter. “Forgive me, my dust allergy is kicking in.”
Gray resumed his brisk walk from where he had met Bond at the foot of the ladder of Moonraker Five. The acrid Californian sun blazed upon Vandenberg with such abandon that Bond felt stifled. Following meekly, the CIA’s Holly Goodhead ducked her head as Sir Frederick gave her a look over his shoulder then to Bond: “I just don’t think…no, YOU don’t think what you’ve done! The Queen saw you…and, and Ms Goodhead…frolicking in space!”
“You know, Freddie, sorry –Minister, your bluster is almost endearing,” Bond grinned at him this time. Beyond the rapidly self-combusting British Minister, was a scrum of reporters clustered before a hastily erected podium. Beyond them, was the NASA shuttle that had landed hours ago with the Marines who had briefly made the sojourn up to the late Hugo Drax’s monstrosity in orbit. Were Bond to look to his left by five hundred metres, he would have seen what had become an escape capsule for the gigantic Jaws and his petite love, Dolly. Gray held Bond back a moment, Holly almost walking into them. “The President saw you two…two…well, in orbit and so you are now making a press conference…because you two are heroes! Her Majesty’s Government has quite enough on its plate without this!”
Bond, clad in his Moonraker uniform, stepped up to the microphone with Holly at his side and his arms folded.
“Commander Bond!” a voice that shortly identified itself as from the Times called out. “How does it feel being the first British man in space?”
“I am flattered, though it was never in my remit to be an astronaut,” Bond gestured to Holly. “You must credit Doctor Goodhead for her work on this.”
“But, you alone Commander, saved the Earth!” another voice persisted.
“I was merely the trigger, Holly here was the pilot. A firm hand on the thrust of the mission,” Bond smiled. Holly stepped forward a fraction.
“It was a joint effort,” she said softly. “Drax had to be stopped and we stopped him.”
“Mr Drax was a reputed businessman and entrepreneur, did he not survive?” a third voice asked.
“No,” Bond said deadpan, “he’s boldly gone. Poor chap didn’t have the heart for it you see.”
“What now, for you both?” the second voice –from the New York Post- asked shrilly.
“I am returning to Langley for debriefing and reassignment,” Holly said, she picked at her hair idly. “What career I had anyway.”
“I on the other hand will return to England,” Bond added.
“No more adventures?” the Post queried.
Bond stared frankly at the reporter. “No, but I you’ll find I always find myself rising to any occasion.” At that he took Holly by the elbow and led her away ignoring the barrage of questions and a red faced Sir Frederick.
“Poor man’s going to burst a vessel,” Bond said to Holly. Ahead of them a car with USAF decals on the doors pulled up sharply. “I have a feeling that’s our ride.”
“Where to, James?”
Bond opened the rear door for Goodhead. “Depending on what Felix has waiting for you at Langley, I think a visit to a delightful restaurant I know in Lake Tahoe.”
“Great, I love seafood.”
“Indeed,” he closed the door and went round the other side. Pausing only to look at the space shuttle he shook his head and joined her in the back of the Air Force car.
He had taken enough leaps for one year.

ROGER MOORE’S JAMES BOND 007 in

“HELL’S DELIGHT”


Starring
Kenneth More as ‘C’
Desmond Llewellyn as ‘Q’
Lois Maxwell as ‘MONEYPENNY’

Special appearances by- Richard Kiel as JAWS and Lois Chiles as HOLLY GOODHEAD


Last edited by Hilly KCMG on Mon Jun 26, 2017 2:14 am; edited 3 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Tue Jun 06, 2017 8:47 pm

If you can find the time to write, please do. They feel like extra episodes to Bond's life that I'm catching up on.

'C' is interesting... Since Bernard Lee passed before FYEO?
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PostSubject: Re: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Wed Jun 07, 2017 8:23 am

I'll see what I can do but I have no plot right now sad I was leaning to a sort of Moonraker follow-up but that's too much even for Moore. I was thinking 'C' after reading that Kenneth More was supposedly lined up to step in for Lee for LALD owing to Lee's illness. Furthermore, More was friends with Sir Roger (both best men at each other's third weddings) and by 1973/78 he was still a competent actor (though his Parkinson's started in earnest around 1979/1980 so it's debatable here if he could've been in Bond).

Lee was scheduled of course to film on FYEO but died just before. So in my mind I sense this 'sequel' would be somewhere in 1980. It's iffy. I got carried by the idea of a PTS following on from Moonraker. One last OTT outing for Moore's Bond before the grounding of FYEO.

We'll see. My laptop's going in for an overhaul and I'm moving house soon, ha. It's all go.
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PostSubject: Re: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Wed Jun 07, 2017 4:31 pm

Should be a fun one, Hilly. Please keep it going.
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PostSubject: Re: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Thu Jun 08, 2017 11:49 am

Hilly KCMG wrote:
I was thinking 'C' after reading that Kenneth More was supposedly lined up to step in for Lee for LALD owing to Lee's illness. Furthermore, More was friends with Sir Roger (both best men at each other's third weddings) and by 1973/78 he was still a competent actor (though his Parkinson's started in earnest around 1979/1980 so it's debatable here if he could've been in Bond).

Didn't know that. So was the character 'M' to have been retired and replaced with 'C', or were they to be the same character, just a change of codename and actor (but still playing Miles)?

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PostSubject: Re: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Fri Jun 09, 2017 8:50 am

FieldsMan wrote:
Hilly KCMG wrote:
I was thinking 'C' after reading that Kenneth More was supposedly lined up to step in for Lee for LALD owing to Lee's illness. Furthermore, More was friends with Sir Roger (both best men at each other's third weddings) and by 1973/78 he was still a competent actor (though his Parkinson's started in earnest around 1979/1980 so it's debatable here if he could've been in Bond).

Didn't know that. So was the character 'M' to have been retired and replaced with 'C', or were they to be the same character, just a change of codename and actor (but still playing Miles)?


I don't quite know to be honest. To be fair, this whole story and the idea of More being drafted in as 'C' is an invention of mine -assuming M is not quite retiring (or sadly, dead) in the run up to FYEO (it's of course not said in the film whether M is with us or not. The role left vacant owing to Lee's death). If Kenneth More had stepped in for LALD (and say TMWTGG to Moonraker) I'd say he'd have been M from the off. Personally, being a big fan of his, I can easily see him do the Bond apartment scene in LALD well (the door ajar to show his somewhat bemused if irritated expression when Bond answers).

He wouldn't have filled Lee's shoes, no one has, but I like to think he'd have made a good fist of it. Certainly would've given his career a timely if rather late boost, bearing in mind his illness came along 1979-81 and sadly claimed him much too early (68 years of age).

Blame my parents. Had they never watched all these old films when I was little, I'd not have gone down this route. colgate
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PostSubject: Re: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Fri Jun 16, 2017 8:02 am

I really have no idea as you might tell from this chapter which sort of comes either side of three days without my laptop. Real life stuff has fudged my grey matter a little but hopefully, a plot will become evident in the weeks ahead.

--

Chapter One
“Battle Flags”


Bond stood by Moneypenny’s office window, the glass streaked with large droplets of rain –dashed against the window by the strong southeasterly that was bashing Regent’s Park. Even the reinforced glass seemed fragile and weak. Rattling in the frame like a frightened ghost. Bond wore a dark suit with navy blue tie and black shoes from his man in Chelsea. Behind him the whir of the electric typewriter stopped.
“He’s not dead yet, James.”
Bond lifted an eyebrow, without turning to Moneypenny he remarked sourly: “Rather poor taste, Penny, but no…no, he’s not dead yet.”
Bond’s mind travelled south to Gosport across the water from Portsmouth and a week past. Specifically to the old grey and red of the Royal Navy hospital at Haslar which sat away from Gosport’s waterfront and had been present for a few centuries. He forgot how he had been summoned and yet, summoned he had. Rarely for Bond, he took a train from Waterloo and was across to Gosport and the hospital within half an hour of landing in Portsmouth. Memories had come unbidden of his time as a younger man in his RNVR training. Scaling rigging of HMS Victory whilst a hoarse-voiced Chief Petty Officer screamed at him and his fellow trainees: “How else do you expect to command MEN, SIRS, if you can’t CLIMB!?”
At Haslar a matron right out of the early Carry On films, in the mould of Hattie Jacques, met him and took him to a private room buried within Haslar’s confines. In this room, with a window offering some glimpse of the Solent and Isle of Wight, was M. Or ‘Adm. Sir Miles Messervy, RN (Rtd)’ as the board on the end of his bed read. Bond had arrived in uniform (something that he had gone to great pains to accomplish –even when he had travelled to Faslane two years ago, over the microfilm business, a somewhat urgent dash to tailors in Mayfair was needed) and placed his cap under arm.
“Reporting for duty, sir.”
“Sit down before you cause a draft,” M had rasped with familiar irritability. Bond hid a smile as he sat by M’s side. M’s eyes were clenched shut, he wore surgical greens which were mercifully mostly hidden by the light blue sheets. “How’s the office?”
“Tanner is having more a slight nightmare, sir, nothing new there. We’re…,” Bond hesitated feeling foolish. “Shipshape, sir.”
“Good,” M opened his eyes –they were bloodshot and watery. “I daresay I won’t be returning anytime soon.”
“You…I…well, sir, I think you’ll be back before you know it,” Bond fidgeted on his chair.
“No, not this time. I’ve weighed anchor for the last time,” M managed a smile. Bond was surprised at how much the smile hurt him. “You will get…a temporary…,” M’s voice laboured –“temporary boss. Sir Michael Patterson.”
Bond frowned, though he was tempted to ask if it was a SIS rule that heads of department had to have forenames starting with M to get anywhere. “Name rings a bell, sir. Isn’t he the PM’s new favourite?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” M said quietly and looked squarely at Bond. “Michael is a good man, serious but fair depending on the action. He served in destroyers during the last war…good man…in a storm. Good…man.”
Bond leant towards M, not quite aware he was doing so. “Sir, is there anything I can do?”
“Just do your job,” M said with such sharpness Bond winced. “Make sure…you do.”
“I will, sir.” Bond reached out, putting a hand on M’s arm he went ahead: “Sir, there’s never been anyone I respect as much as you…I…”
Bond got no further; M patted the hand and pushed it away. Bond nodded –it was as close as he would get to his chief. “Will Sir Michael be in office soon?”
“Tomorrow.”
Bond stayed to talk about navy matters knowing that was something M would like –it was one reason why Haslar was his current mooring. The sea had never been far from M’s mind once out of the service and into SIS. The home in the Shires had been proof of that with his old CPO –Hammond- being there and all the navy regalia in the house. Then Bond took the train back and found himself brooding at Blades.
Moneypenny’s intercom box buzzed angrily. There was a pause and the light above the door went green.
“He’s ready, James.”
Bond said nothing go through the two sets of doors before entering the familiar office. Except it was a different man sat there. Actually, the man stood by the window, arms behind his back, hands interlaced. At seeing Bond, Sir Michael Patterson half-glanced towards him. “Take a seat, 007.”
Bond smoothly went to the desk, sitting down he felt like a child at school. Sir Michael moved to the desk after a pause, hesitating he sat down and stared at Bond. The face was pinched, as if sizing Bond up. Sir Michael had receding curly grey hair, dark eyes and wore a grey suit albeit with red tie.
“Your Moonraker adventure has had the department tied up in red tape up to its eyeballs. I would hope you’re not planning on going –shall we say, extravehicular- in your next assignment.”
Bond resisted the urge to groan. “No, sir,” he said brightly. “I am not intending on going anywhere…high up.”
“Quite,” Patterson said. He clasped his hands before him on the desk. “Sir Miles’ illness will not be used as a cover for slacking in this department. I have been keeping an eye on what has gone on and I’m not amused.”
Bond stirred, he found his voice irritable. “Sir, this department has been undertaking some difficult if somewhat urgent missions. I wouldn’t consider M’s illness to be cover…I take exception to that.”
The silence in the room was enough for the distant chiming of church bells to penetrate the office. Sir Michael regarded Bond for a moment before standing; he went over to the office window. “My words might have been out of turn; however, I believe that change is needed. Sir Miles has done valiant work, I’m honoured to think of him as a friend.
Bond cheekily did not consider that Sir Michael had friends nor indeed, even more-so did M have friends. Not as one other might have friends. M preferred his own company, perhaps saw people during his rare stints of leave away from SIS but otherwise had the Hammond’s and one might suggest, the likes of Bond, Moneypenny and Tanner. C, as Bond even more cheekily thought of him now, turned from the window hands in pockets. “Your record does you credit, Bond, few men have been able to face off the enemies you have and live long.”
“I have a coward’s taste for life,” Bond tried to joke. He saw it fell flat and also realised he was being self-deprecating for the sake of it. He ran a finger along an eyebrow absently. “I’ve managed so far.”
“Indeed, few men could be known to bartender’s all over the world and still live a secret agent’s life.”
Bond smiled at that. “I get by.”
“As that there are no assignments for the department. The recent foray into, well, Outer Space, has the PM quite concerned that the budget is being used in ways for which it was not intended,” there did seem some twinkle to those dark eyes. “Also, I have recalled 009 from his current assignment based on his failure to put down General Karlov in Cuba.
Karlov had been a Soviet general who had repeatedly been seen in Cuba advising the Cubans on methods of defence as well as giving intelligence about American missile defences on the contiguous USA. In a rare example of American request for help, Karlov was to be assassinated by 009 to put pay to any repeat of the Cuba Missile Crisis or worse. Bond could not fault 009 without knowing the facts. What Bond knew of Karlov, he knew the Russian general to be slippery.
“In that light, you are on leave. Try not to go too far,” a slight smile, “though Tanner has you on pager.”
Bond reflected upon this news with a twitch of the eyebrow. When C said no more he stood and refrained from saluting. “Good morning, sir.”
Bond hesitated at the door expecting a final word from C, yet with none coming he swiftly went into the anteroom pausing to gather his coat from the stand. He smiled at Moneypenny. “If he wants me, Penny, tell him I’ll be riding in the park.”
Moneypenny frowned. “Riding?”
Bond chuckled, he went to her desk leaning towards her. “I have a sudden yearning to ride horses in Hyde Park, fortunately I know someone in the Chelsea Barracks who could help me out with that,” he kissed her on the forehead and straightened. “Give my best to M when you see him.”
Moneypenny’s frown became polite surprise. “Oh? How did you know?”
Bond had reached the door which he deftly opened. “I know you all too well, Penny!”
From the garage in SIS Bond took his Lotus from the space allocated to him. It was the same white model that he had veritably punished in Sardinia two years ago during the Stromberg business. As he drove out towards Regent’s Park he was half tempted to drive into the boating lake there (though the depth of the lake was only a foot or two in places). Instead he opted to drive southwards in the direction of his Chelsea flat mulling over his meeting with C. Hard to gauge on this initial meeting, it was what in the navy would have been sizing the enemy up from its first appearance on the horizon. Sir Michael could either be a valuable ally or entrenched enemy depending on what went on in the days to come. Bond found it hard to believe he had no assignment. Most of his working week was admittedly office based, his weekends spent outside of London or overseas. On the quiet, few weeks of his year were ever spent on assignment. Such was the effect of a mission; he spent considerable time on leave.
He was half serious about riding in the park. Something he had done a few times before. It would be Hyde Park though as it had a dirt track that ran much of its perimeter including Kensington Gardens. Yes, he could go for a ride then have a bang up meal at Surrey’s in Eaton Square. A new place that had a promising menu and cheeky choice in wines.
As he drove down Edgware Road, Bond’s mind was admittedly focused on this and not the innocuous Volkswagen Beetle that was following him. It made neat work of the light traffic heading down towards Marble Arch, and beyond that, Park Lane. Just as Bond reached the famous spot where executions were carried out once upon a time, the Beetle charged into the lane to his right. Bond then noticed the car, took in absurdly the swinging dice in the car’s cabin and then swerved as the Beetle came in at him. Bond drove in front of a bus that slammed on its brakes (and its horn), swerving towards Marble Arch itself. The Beetle came in at him again, this time it connected, its chrome bumper denting Bond’s door. Bond gritted his teeth, he changed gears and accelerated between the white main arch of the Marble Arch scattering pigeons and some tourists alike. The Beetle pursued at great speed, something that surprised Bond. He then launched across a pedestrian crossing and into the park at Speaker’s Corner. Turning left he started down the horse track.
“Not quite the ride I had in mind,” Bond mused to himself. He flicked his eyes to the rear-view mirror. The Beetle was bouncing wildly as it came down the sand track behind him. Bond freed his left hand from the gear stick, pressing a button on his dashboard which revealed a series of small electronic screens. Bond’s Lotus kicked up several lumps of sand and dirt as it tore down the track. Sirens rang tinnily in the distance. Bond kept his eye on the track for a moment then punched at a screen. The Lotus surged upwards on four metallic supports, bobbing like a top as it did so. The Beetle raced into the gap left, neatly fitting between the Lotus’ wheels. Bond waited, slowed a fraction, allowed the Beetle out ahead and returned the Lotus to its regular position atop its wheels. He shrugged. Q would be pleased that the addition to the Wet Lotus worked though he wouldn’t care for Bond’s believe it was pointless. Poor Q. Bond flicked the top of his gearstick which lowered his front number plate. Twin nozzles sprayed the Beetle with wet cement. The Beetle swerved crazily perhaps as a result of the driver trying to get Bond to pass him and thereby attack him.
Bond was not finished, taking the gamble that whoever was driving the Beetle was out to kill him, he accelerated hard. Bond’s number plate, still lowered, was shorn off and one of the nozzles destroyed as the sloped nose of the Esprit smashed into the Beetle’s rear. The Beetle bounced to the left, hitting the side of the track it improbably flew into the air shortly, crashing into the black railings lining Hyde Park. Bond came to a ragged stop, the Lotus slewing around to the right as he lost momentum. Bond had to get out of the passenger side which slowed him down enough to miss seeing the Beetle’s occupant get out of the wrecked car and inch towards the railings. A crowd was already forming chiefly from the Park Lane side of the railings. Bond caught the driver as he tried to climb the railings. It was no effort to get the short man down –blood covered the left side of his face, matting his sideburns and hair. His eyes were glazed.
“Who are you? Who are you working for?” Bond snapped automatically.
The man said nothing, instead his head lolled to the side and he collapsed upon the grass. Bond stood there uselessly over the body just as two Met Police panda cars came tearing up the horse track from nearby Hyde Park Corner. Bond was in the process of reaching for his MoD identification when he noticed something. Crouching he saw his would-be assassin had a tattoo on his right wrist. Just below the hand, Bond frowned for it seemed odd and then his frown became a slightly wider-eyed look of realisation. The words on the tattoo read ‘SMERT SHPIONAM’. Bond knew enough Russian to know it was ‘Death to Spies’.
SMERSH.
Bond’s eyebrow lifted in time with the arrival of constables from the panda cars. Noting the newcomers, Bond remarked:
“Poor man was lost. Luckily I was on hand to give him directions.”

---
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PostSubject: Re: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Sat Jun 17, 2017 10:43 am

Nice one, Hilly! The opening moments to the first line is probably moodier than any of Moore's moments in the films, but it was nice to picture him in that kind of scenario.

Intrigued to read more... smile
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PostSubject: Re: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Sun Jun 18, 2017 10:35 pm

Thanks Fields. I'm not entirely convinced by this story yet. I realised after writing latest bits that I'm thinking more of Lazenby and the moodier tone isn't quite right for what is meant to be a sort of transition phase from Moonraker's out of the world stuff to FYEO's down to earth mood. Tends to be affected by my own mood, ha.

I actually had something else written for this chapter initially but redressed it. We'll see, laptop kinks aside, what else I can do.
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PostSubject: Re: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Mon Jun 19, 2017 6:23 am

Before I thrust ahead, I've edited our credits. A bit of fun and solidifying as we go...

Starring
Kenneth More as ‘C’
Desmond Llewellyn as ‘Q’
Lois Maxwell as ‘MONEYPENNY’
James Villiers- TANNER
Geoffrey Keen- SIR FREDERICK GRAY

Barry Foster- VALLANCE
Walter Gotell- GOGOL

Special appearances by- Richard Kiel as JAWS and Lois Chiles as HOLLY GOODHEAD

Music by Bill Conti (title song ‘Hell’s Delight’ by Blondie with Bill Conti)

---

Now, I'm sorry for this one, the tone is something I've striving for and you'll see what going in without a plot does for a man but I think I have a clue which will flourish in the next chapter.

CHAPTER TWO
“Caviar for Breakfast”


C was a little back in his chair at M’s desk, head upon his forefinger looking inquisitive as Bill Tanner read from a manila file cover.
“Vallance’s people at Special Branch found nothing out of the ordinary save for that tattoo, sir. The car had been brought five years ago by a Samuel J. White of West Brompton –needless to say the driver did not match Mr White’s description, as he was or is, ahem, a hippy of sorts. Mr White that is, sir…”
“I got that, Tanner,” C said irritably and straightened in his chair. “Nothing at all? No clues of any kind?”
“Car was clean, what Special Branch could comb from it, sir. Forensics says that our SMERSH friend’s tattoo was at least twenty years old. He was in his late thirties so too young to even be a SMERSH agent the first time round. He’s a perfect zero.”
Bond had been sat away by the window like a pupil due a thrashing by the headmaster. C had wasted no time in extracting Bond from Scotland Yard and spiriting him here to SIS. “Bond, when was the last time you dealt with SMERSH?”
“Many moons ago, sir,” Bond said carefully. “There was some rumour that Major Amasova was actually working for a distant relation of the old department. Otherwise, I thought it was disbanded not long after the war.”
“It was,” Tanner said stiffly. He snapped shut his file. “Whoever this man was was connected to SMERSH or maybe even SPECTRE. And he wanted you dead specifically, 007.”
“Thanks Bill, I knew he was after me for something beyond unpaid bills,” Bond stood going to C he passed Tanner with a cold look. “Sir?”
C looked up at Bond as if seeing him for the first time. “Well, 007?”
“I would like to go after whoever was behind this.”
“If it’s something to do with Soviet intelligence, the answer is no. You and Major Amasova might have, ahem, repaired Soviet-British relations then but we’re somewhat fractured right now. The development of our ATAC system, our new methods for resisting detection for our nuclear submarines and other matters are driving somewhat of a wedge between us. It’s almost like the postwar era. You going off after whoever was behind this might make things ten times worse.”
“James had somewhat of a specialty for this, sir,” Tanner remarked.
“My thanks to the peanut gallery,” C said dryly. He stood pressing his palms on the desk. “Where would you even start?”
“Our friend in the morgue,” Bond said. “With your permission, sir.”
C hesitated then nodded sighing as he did so. “Very well, 007. Find who did this and why. Remove them as you see fit.”
“Sir,” Bond nodded to Tanner, “Chief of Staff.”
C watched him go before sitting. “SMERSH,” he murmured. Shaking his head he reached for his phone. “Moneypenny, connect me with Vallance immediately.”
Bond in the meantime drove over to Westminster and Old Scotland Yard off Whitehall. With his regular Lotus now in the shop, he drove a Lotus arranged for 004 which had sports tyres and a red piping down the sides. Leaving the car in a sidestreet Bond threaded his way through the rat-warrens of Old Scotland Yard to reach the mortuary. It was not quite where he wanted to spend a day off and yet he was going have to. He was somewhat surprised to see the dour face of Assistant Commissioner Ronnie Vallance standing before the door though.
“Hello, Ronnie,” Bond said brightly. “I take it you’re not here collecting toll money.”
“No, I’m flaming well not,” Vallance growled folding his arms across his chest. The trenchcoat he wore half hid a grey suit which all combined to form the perfect image of a British copper from the movies. Vallance’s expression was devoid of humour. “I’ve had to abandon highly important work because of a phone call from some bonze at your department who’s filling in for M. Where is M, anyway?”
“Leave,” Bond suddenly did not find humour worth the effort. “You’re in a right mood.”
“Like I said, I had business that was more important. Your new boss wanted me here, doesn’t seem to trust you much.”
“Must be my looks,” Bond said side-stepping Vallance and entering the mortuary room. The body of the assassin was on an examination table dead centre of the room. The smell of disinfectant stung Bond’s nostrils, he swallowed at the sight of the body. In spite of all he had seen in his life, there was something faintly nauseating about this. A man of average height, bald and with round black spectacles wearing a doctor’s coat stood by the table clipboard in hand. “You must be Commander Bond.”
“Guilty.”
Vallance just nodded to the man who held a hand out to Bond. “I’m Hawkins, one of the coroner’s here at Scotland Yard. I’ve been working on your bod for the past few hours. Not often we get to help you chaps out. Not that often anyway.”
Bond smiled, he liked this man instantly. Clearly one who didn’t care for rank judging by how he accepted Vallance’s quiet acknowledgement of him. “What have you found out?”
“Not much, I’m afraid to say. Death was a result of the car crash, blunt force trauma to the back of his head,” Hawkins turned as if addressing the body. Bond stood beside him with hands interlinked behind him. “The tattoo is temporary or was meant to be, the ink is a week old designed to remove itself within a month.”
Bond peered at the tattoo frowning as he did so. “Elaborate ruse…I would suggest that SMERSH are not behind this,” he held a finger up straightening. “I know what you’re going to say Ronnie, and that was rhetorical. I know SMERSH are not behind this. Needless to say, someone is.” Bond walked around the table eyeing the body. “What does Mr Samuel White have to say, Ronnie?”
Vallance blinked, surprised. “The car owner? Someone tried to buy the car off him last week –sounded Russian he said. White didn’t like the look of him,” a snort, “quite a stretch coming from a dopehead.”
“Perhaps a visit is in order?”
“No. No point and why would the SIS bother?”
“Because it’s all we have. You never know what a drive might present.”
Vallance shook his head and headed for the door. “I’m going to regret this, I’m sure.”
“Now, now, Ronnie, where’s your sense of adventure?” Bond said cheerfully following. He paused to nod at Hawkins. “Thank you, Doctor. Keep it up won’t you?”

**

Bond’s Lotus made the journey to deepest darkest Brompton in half an hour. Samuel White’s house was in a row of buildings near Old Brompton Cemetery. Bond adjusted his tie as he followed Vallance up the short flight of steps to the front door. Vallance simply pushed the door open.
“Security somewhat lax in Brompton,” Bond said.
“Everything is you’ll find,” Vallance led the way up several flights of stairs in a building that was somewhere between fragile and unkempt in terms of appearance. Loud music greeted them at the top floor through a door left wide open. Bond instinctively put a hand to where his PPK was hidden under his coat and noticed that Vallance had drawn his service revolver. Stepping into the flat, the two men glanced about. The place was a tip, magazines scattered about, ashtrays overfilling, the smell of something quite fragrant and torn wallpaper. As they examined the room, the two men were startled by the sudden appearance of a man with shaggy hair and thick moustache.
“Hey, what you guys doing here?”
“Special Branch,” Vallance said crisply producing his ID from inside his coat whilst still holding the revolver in his right hand. “Mr White.”
“You’re here about the car again? I told you guys, I don’t know what was going on there.”
Bond had manoeuvred to the other side of the room by the window. He poked with a finger at detritus atop the windowsill. Two empty tins of caviar rattled noisily. “Quite high market for a hippy who I imagine is against this sort of thing,” Bond said airily.
“Man’s got to eat,” White snorted. “Besides, what does caviar have to do with being against capitalism?”
“Or room service,” Bond murmured taking in the room again. Vallance put his gun away. “Speak Russian, Mr White?”
“No.”
“This man who took your car was Russian, or we assume as such and he was keen on your car for some reason. Had you seen him before?”
“No!” White went to his sofa, kicking stuff aside he sat down. “You pigs are all the same. Guy’s a certain way and you prosecute him. I’ve never seen him before. I was looking to sell the car at one stage, not that I have to now, and I guess he was keener on it than others.”
Bond was finding this quite tiresome. There was no telling really just where this would go. If the assassin was a cipher, a nothing, than the investigation was cold. Quite frustrating. “I think we’ll leave it there, Vallance?”
“You didn’t say the car was for sell before, White,” Vallance was coldly staring at White from across the room. Vallance had that tone of voice reserved by most police, especially London police, for tricky suspects. “You’ve seen our friend before.”
There was a perceptible change in the hippy that Bond realised immediately. Gone was the edgy nervy man, now was one calmer and steely-eyed. “I wouldn’t know him from Adam, mate.”
Before either man could react, Samuel White launched himself from the sofa a gun in hand that he fired several times in what seemed like a blur. Bond ducked to his left as the window next to him shattered. The speed of the attack (the gun, he assumed, had been under the sofa cushion that White had sat on) was all too startling. Bond had dim acknowledgement of White passing through the window before he could turn around. Vallance rushed to the window hands on the sill amidst the shards and peered over the edge. “Bastard! Where did that come from?”
Bond looked out, White was spread-eagled across the bonnet of Bond’s Lotus. The odds of two cars being written off in a day was something he found quite unpalatable. “Something tells me our Mr White was part of this SMERSH business.”
“Sharp as a tack as always,” Vallance growled dusting his hands off. “Let’s get this mess looked at by the forensics boys and head back to the Yard.”
“I don’t suppose you have fare for a taxi?” Bond asked as they walked out.

---

Vallance is someone I think could've been in an early Bond movie (Dr No/FRWL, even Thunderball or a pre-62 movie as he has that old copper feel, your Jack Hawkins of Gideon's Day/Long Arm for example). Barry Foster came to mind for a 1979/80 Vallance and I suppose I'm largely thinking of his brief turn in Battle of Britain as a fairly irritable Wing Co who has to teach Polish recruits ("SILENCE! In Polish!")

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PostSubject: Re: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Tue Jun 20, 2017 11:04 pm

Will set some time at the weekend to read the latest chapter... Looking forward to it!
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PostSubject: Re: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Wed Jun 21, 2017 1:15 am

I'm having fun following this, Hilly. I always wanted to see your take on a Moore-Bond story. Even if this is the 'toning down' of Bond from the '70s to the '80s, don't forget to go big and have fun--this is Sir Roger, we're talking about. wink
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PostSubject: Re: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Fri Jun 23, 2017 2:51 pm

Good to see Vallance pop up. Your scene is highly evocative of a old fashioned cop mystery so bravo you! He certainly wouldn't have felt out of place in a film tonally similar to Dr No. I suppose that if Fairbanks in TMWTGG was killed in London (instead of Beirut), there might have been an opportunity to bring the character to life. For all of TMWTGG's faults, Hamilton did create a unique atmosphere for the film, which, and could easily see Bond and Vallance visiting a nightclub to investigate Fairbanks death.
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PostSubject: Re: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Sat Jun 24, 2017 5:47 am

Thank you fellas. I've tended to watch my fair share of old movies with British cops so I guess it's all I know. I think he is like, Vallance that is, the chap who helps Bond out in Dr No from the police.
I think Vallance could've been a good character -trouble is there's no room for him really now, not unless he ends up as a Lastrade in Sherlock type.

I've just gotten my laptop back today so hopefully other chapters might fall into line soon enough. No idea the kinks Microsoft Office kicks up, ha.

Anyway, my thanks as always.
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PostSubject: Re: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Sat Jun 24, 2017 10:18 am

You're probably right. Vallance would probably be a non-entity as they've made Tanner nowadays.
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PostSubject: Re: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Mon Jun 26, 2017 2:11 am

CHAPTER THREE

“Death to Spies, Minister”


Fresh from Brompton Road, Bond was somewhat relieved to be heading up to the eighth floor having just gotten a tongue-lashing from Q about going through cars like toilet roll. Even Bond’s humour failed him as poor Q went through the litany of cars Bond had written off from the DB5 onwards.
This being said, he was unprepared for the sight that greeted him when he was ushered into M’s office by a sombre faced Moneypenny. Seated before M’s desk was KGB chief Anatol Alexis Gogol adjacent to Minister of Defence Sir Frederick Gray. Bond faltered.
“I seem to have the wrong office.”
“Hardly, 007. I believe you know Mr Gogol from previous assignments,” C said. Gogol rose a hand outstretched, that familiar line of a smile evident, the lights above glinting off his spectacles. “Comrade Bond, a pleasure as always. I see you have recovered from your extra-orbital activities.”
Bond cleared his throat wondering just how many people had seen his hijinks with Holly. “My back twinges sometimes. You’ll forgive me for wondering what’s going on.”
“It’s about that body, the second one stacked up next to the first from this morning,” Gray snapped. “My God Bond, you’re accident prone!”
“So I’m led to believe. Samuel White was not who he seemed, he was…”
“KGB,” Gogol interrupted sitting back down. “Acting rogue from the new head of Department Five, formerly SMERSH –General Karlov!”
Bond looked from Gogol to C, studiously avoiding Gray’s stare. “Sir, you’ll excuse me but isn’t that a tad neat?”
“You’d think so but frankly I’m losing trace of this day’s events,” C reached for a pipe which he tapped, unlit he held it. “Vallance has burst a vessel, Q is suffering some form of breakdown and I have the head of KGB in my office.”
Bond couldn’t help but smile at that. C sounded quite put out by the day.
Gogol laughed. “I assure you, Sir Michael, I have better things to do than come to London at a moment’s notice but this is of the gravest importance. It seems your failed assassination of Karlov in Cuba has sparked something in my countryman. Within hours of landing in Moscow he was summoned to the leader’s dacha outside the city. By the evening, Department Five had been reinvigorated and SMERSH returns…!”
“When was this? Only a few days ago I’m sure,” Bond said. “If that’s the case, I’m surprised at how swiftly the Soviet apparatus works…”
“We have our moments, Bond,” Gogol said humour gone like water down a drain. “Karlov is a shrewd man, shrewder than most.”
“SMERSH, what tosh,” Sir Frederick butted in with bluster. “This…this Down with Spies nonsense died in 1946!”
Bond chuckled. “Death to Spies, Minister,” he nodded to Gogol. “So, Karlov has my head in his sights. Why?”
“I believe he promised the leader proof of his dedication to the Soviet cause and that means your head.”
“I’m flattered. I’ll remember to buy a new hat lest his aims off.”
“This is no time for levity, Bond,” Sir Frederick said loudly. “There is a mission…”
“Quite,” C interrupted with some exasperation. “Bond, you’re to head Karlov off at the pass, as it were. With General Gogol’s aid.”
Bond laughed. “Sir, this is outrageous. The submarine business I could understand but this? No offence, comrade, but I’d sooner trust my tailor.”
Gogol shrugged. “No offence taken. I have the same view.”
“What about the fact that Karlov had the ear of the Soviet leader within hours and now Gogol’s here?” Bond was on the verge of something. He did not quite know what. This was at once the oddest day he had in a long time. C was watching Bond as if waiting for him to break. Bond backed away from the desk. “It doesn’t add up in my book.”
“The leader has frozen me out of his inner circle, something you might quite extraordinary,” Gogol rumbled rolling the syllables of each word delicately. “There is some fear that Karlov is agitating for my position. I have a certain amount of allies in the country to help.”
“Dandy,” Bond folded his arms. He went to stand by the window back to it taking in the three men.
“What I propose Commander Bond,” Gogol said shifting markedly in his seat to face Bond, “is this. That you come to Moscow and face Karlov.”
“Utterly absurd,” C said standing. “Do you honestly think that would work? This isn’t an old fashioned duel, Gogol. Bond is not some prawn in a game of chess. I will not have one of the Double-O’s used in this fashion.”
“Then I propose nothing if that is the case. I did not come to London on a goodwill mission! This whole escapade does not benefit either of our people. If Karlov is removed than perhaps we can carry on as before and not until then. Or at the very least, Commander, you have a head start.”
C rubbed at his eyes wearily, settling back into his chair he muttered: “Head start?”
“Karlov is coming for Commander Bond regardless. Would it not be therefore wiser, if he cannot come to Moscow, that he gets what you would call, a jump on Karlov?”
“This is so bloody preposterous,” C said. He waved a hand at Sir Frederick as the Minister of Defence began to bluster again. “One moment. Well, Bond?”
Bond unfolded his arms realising he had been clenching his hands into fists. “This is quite out of order, sir, with the greatest of respect.”
“I know Bond, but we can’t afford to lose you,” C winced. “It sounds quite trite I know. General Gogol…”
“I shall provide you with contacts before I leave London in a few days. I will be at the embassy,” Gogol smiled thinly. “I will stay to pay my respects at Highgate to Karl Marx’s tomb!”
“Hail, comrades,” murmured Bond to himself. He nodded once at C. “Sir, I’ll get going.”
“Before you go, 007, speak to Q. once you leave this building you’re on your own.”
Bond smiled. “Indeed I am, sir.”
After Bond left the other visitors eventually filed out leaving C alone. C pondered for a moment before reaching for the phone.
“Royal Navy Hospital Haslar, Moneypenny, please.” He hung up waiting for the call back.
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PostSubject: Re: Roger Moore's 007 returns in "Hell's Delight"   Today at 11:21 am

Nice to see an update, Hilly. The plot thickens!
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