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

More great work, Hilly. Well-written action and good chemistry between Bond and Brand. Looking forward to a classic Q scene!

I lost my way, largely as I've not written in two weeks and with various stuff going on but it's limping along. I fear the Octopussy echoes are large now but you can't beat a bit of Germany.

Needless to say, my Felix is David Hedison.

--

CHAPTER SEVEN

“The Hare upon the Hound”

“Karlov has left Moscow, sometime today. Roughly around the time his men were shooting up a little town in New York State,” Felix explained as they walked through the warehouse. “Gogol had returned to Moscow this morning and tried to arrest Karlov. Soviet media’s gone into silent mode as if nothing’s happening.”
Bond was not surprised at the speed of movement in Russia. A country that could turn back Hitler could turn events at a mighty rate of knots. He was surprised about Gogol though. “How did you know where to find me, Felix?”
Leiter did not look back, they now walked through a long room where to either side men and women in white coats toiled over gadgets that had Q’s eyes bright with curiosity. “Inspired hunch. If you used Ernie Weiss you know where to go even if YOU didn’t know exactly. Point Perfect stirred something in you deep down and the rest fell into place.”
Bond muttered an oath under his breath that only Brand heard who went a light rouge. “That’s another one I owe you, as you say.”
Finally they came to a stop in a room on the top floor that offered a sublime view of Lake Ontario and Canada beyond that. A boat motored noisily along the American shoreline making Bond oddly pine for Hampshire back in England. Felix went to a board that initially showed a map of Syracuse until he expertly flipped it to show Western Europe and much of European Russia. He pointed to divided Germany. “Karlov was seen leaving Moscow in a military transport for East Germany, landing near Karl Marx-Stadt. Unconfirmed reports suggest that he’s somewhere between Rostock and the Black Forest.”
“What, even the CIA could not pinpoint him?” Bond said lightly.
Felix growled. “Look, James, whilst you’ve been tripping the light fantastic we’ve been hard at it. You realise how many people have died in Point Perfect not to mention New York? Two state cops, three hotel staff members, a petrol station attendant,” at that Brand gasped, hand to mouth, “and all because Karlov is after YOU!”
Bond felt quite isolated just then. He quietly nodded. “Okay, Felix, I take back my levity,” he then shook his head. “New York?”
“They got Ernie Weiss,” Felix turned away from Bond eyes on the Ontario lakefront. “About two hours after you visited him. That’s how they found you. Ernie knew well enough to trigger a silent alarm that’s routed to the FBI office in the city. Where we based ourselves when Kananga was in town, you remember. By the time they got to him he was barely living. The bastards tortured him like an animal. He held out somehow long enough to leave me a message.”
Felix paused, his voice had hardened, his eyes watery as he remembered the little balding man.
“He said ‘tell Felix, I didn’t crack’. Then he died.”
Leiter abruptly turned back on Bond. “So, it’s personal for both of us. You because he’s after you and me, because he’s gotten one of my own.”
“Look, Felix, I’m going alone. Karlov’s gone this far, don’t drag yourself into it.”
“Too late!” Felix reached into his jacket pocket unfolding bits of paper that he threw to Bond. Bond caught the airline tickets one handed and read aloud: “West Berlin Tempelhof…”
“He’s in East Germany and we’re going after him. Gogol is heading to East Berlin soon to mobilise units. It’s either us or him, James.”
“And me,” Natasha Brand said square jawed. She saw the look pass between the men. “He’s killed two of my men, shot up my town and now I’m here. I might as well finish this.”
“I can order you back to Point Perfect,” Felix told her sternly.
“You can kiss my ass,” she told him concisely and smiled, “sir.”
Felix sighed. “James…?”
“Don’t look at me, she’s a tiger.”
“You two are the most vexing men that I’ve ever met,” Brand said then looked at Q. “Except for you, I like you.”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Q said red-faced.
Felix clicked his fingers. “All right, we have little time before we head out. Let’s get ourselves ready.”

**

For Bond this meant being taken into one of these queer looking porta-cabin type rooms with Q. Brand trailed along like a lost puppy, though her demeanour was anything but. Q fetched a black bag not dissimilar to the kind doctor’s used to wield on house visits. Bond looked at it thinking of it like Mary Poppins’ bottomless and endless old carpet bag.
“Now pay attention, 007.”
“I’ll try Q,” said Bond grinning at Brand. Q shook his head as he fished out a Rolex that had a slightly bigger back to it than usual watches. He passed it to Bond.
“An upgrade on the watch you used on your last mission. There remain three darts for tranquiliser and three for kill with explosive tips.”
“Let’s hope that plane leaves on time,” winked Bond towards Brand. She merely glowered as if quite above such juvenile quips. Q appeared to like this for he smiled broadly laying on the table next to the bag a tube of Colgate toothpaste. Bond eyed him suspiciously. “Something about my teeth or plastique explosive, Q?”
“Both!” Q snapped. “You can use the watch strap for this.” He unceremoniously took the watch back. Snapping the strap off below the bottom of the watch, he then poured toothpaste onto the table and stuck the strap into it. Bond said to Brand: “SIS usually has more fantastic gadgets than a bit of toothpaste.”
“How powerful is it?” Brand asked Q.
“C4 equivalent.”
“Wow,” Brand picked up the toothpaste tube eying it as if she had discovered a new colour.
“Finally and this is all I could spare from London mind you,” Q said warningly. He pulled out a Beretta. Bond picked it up with a cold smile on his face. “Q, this is like old home week.”
“I know M told you not to use it all those years ago but it’s the best I could spare. It has a better rate of fire now and is more reliable –i.e. it’s not liable to blow up on you!”
Bond nodded almost to himself. He spent so long in traction M almost kicked him out of the service (including the Navy Reserve!). “Thanks Q.”
“Best of luck, James, we’re all backing you back home.”
Bond chuckled. “Makes it sound like my Eton days against Harrow. Q, you may have all the gadgets and I the skill, but without you, I’ll be long dead.”
Q smiled saying sincerely.
“Oh, of that I have no doubt, 007.”

**

The quartet of Bond, Jaws, Brand and Leiter left New York JFK on an American 727 sometime after midnight that night having been flown in by helicopter from Syracuse. Jaws presented the usual problem at check-in and customs and ended up with four seats to himself in the cramped aft section of the plane.
Bond sat towards the front of coach eyes closed. Felix was across the aisle dead to the world when Brand joined Bond from the rear of the plane. Bond’s eyes opened when he sensed someone sitting beside him. Brand now wore somewhat plain clothing, black slacks, top and her hair was down. “You look almost personable outside of uniform.”
“Are all you Brits this cheeky?”
“No,” Bond sat up. “Where are we now?”
“Don’t know, France?”
Already the 727 would be beginning its descent into West Germany. Bond looked upon the dark shadow of France vaguely guessing places in his mind. He could make out the bright lights of Paris dense and packed in the darkness. Light was lifting over the continent as the jetliner descended. Brand watched him a moment. “Why are you so special for this guy Karlov to come after you?”
Bond smiled drawing his eyes to her. “I am something of a catch.”
“Is everything a joke?”
“No, no it’s not,” he leant forward so he did not have to raise his voice. “I’m a Double-Oh, I’m also one of the longest serving ones which means either I’m lucky or I’m incredibly fortunate. Taking out 007 would be the pinnacle of Karlov’s career and means he has a foothold in taking over the KGB from Gogol. Russia has long been about powerplay and the USSR is no exception. Fact is, Karlov seems to have gone quite barmy and so we’re up against someone who has no regard for anything or anyone.”
Processing this Brand rocked back in her seat puffing her lips. “Some bind. I wonder why I tagged along.”
“Thrill of the chase.”
“I guess.”
“Ladies and gentlemen this is your captain speaking,” the intercom squawked waking up some people. “We shall be landing at Tempelhof in West Berlin in approximately forty minutes present speed…”
It was dawn when the American 727 touched down in West Berlin and taxied to a halt where stairs were brought out. It was hard to conceive of a more tortured place in the West as this city. The stories she could tell if Berlin could speak would be empirical and horrific at the same time. A once great city now divided and well within the sphere of East Germany as to be an island of democracy. Bond and co were shepherded through AA’s desks with quite a turn of speed. Bond felt quite conspicuous standing with the group. “Now what, Felix?”
“Somebody from Section W should be here,” Leiter’s eyes scanned the crowd of people inside the Tempelhof terminal building. Bond was not reassured in spite of his trust in Leiter. People were giving the group a wide berth on the account of Jaws further adding to Bond’s distrust in the current moment. After what seemed an age, a woman approached the group. She wore a rain mack with dark blonde hair tied in a ponytail. Bond hid his snorts of humour at the image.
“Mr Leiter, Warren from Station W.”
“James, Bunny Warren,” Felix said with a grand gesture.
“I must be dreaming,” Bond said to Felix then dipped his head. “Pleasure, Ms Warren.”
“Shall we?” Warren said turning to lead the way out. Bond murmured to Felix as they walked. “Should she not be holding a sign up saying ‘WE ARE SPIES’?”
“It rains in this city, James, just like most places.”
“Bunny Warren…?”
Leiter jabbed Bond in the ribs. “Leave it out, James.”
Behind them Brand grinned and shook her head. Warren led the way to a minibus bedecked in Pan-American colours. Bond sighed. “I haven’t flown Pan-Am for some time.”
“Just get in,” Felix said tossing his bag into the back of the van.
As Brand got in with Bond at the rear she said: “Seems a nice girl.”
“Bunny? Oh, yes. I look forward to burrowing down with her in West Berlin,” he saw Brand’s expression. “Or something to that effect.”
“Right. You’re a regular jack of all trades, James.”
“One tries.”

**

The group were taken to a block of flats that lined part of the Landwehrkanal just down from the old Anhalter Station. Judging by the few people seen inside the flat, this was home mostly to air crew personnel from the various airlines that served West Berlin.
“Still no sign of Karlov since your last transmission,” Warren was saying to Felix after they checked over the flat. Cramped as it was, it was not helped by the five of them all sat around it. “The chief reckons that Karlov has gone deep in East Germany.”
“He hasn’t,” Felix said pointedly. “Karlov seems to do the opposite of whatever we think.”
“So we do the opposite of what he does,” Bond said pointedly. “We get into East Germany and go on the offensive.”
“Not like you to be so American in your thinking, James,” Felix said a little surprised. “Getting the four of us into East Germany will take some doing.”
“Don’t you guys have a secret tunnel under Berlin?” Natasha said hands up, tilted open. Everyone looked at her. “Well, come on, you must have.”
“She’s a pistol,” murmured Felix to Bond. He said brightly “Miss Brand, we have some ways of getting into the DDR but not something out of a film.”
“Felix, I think you forget about the abandoned U-bahn network that used to span all of the city until the Wall was put up,” Bond said smiling to Brand he added: “There’s a few miles of network that still join west to east.”
“And you just propose on knocking on the door of the Federal Republic…”
“Not quite, Felix. Abandoned networks tend to be the purview of local bureaucrats. I imagine the CIA and SIS have their ways of getting into it.”
“Utter madness, then what? We just waltz around East Germany…?”
“Yes…”
“No!” Felix wagged a finger at Bond. “Trains are one thing but not East Germany. The Red Army can have West Berlin surrounded in hours never mind taking it out on the basis of Western agents playing about.”
“Then what do you suggest? Karlov as you say has done the opposite of what we expect so far. He’s taken lives on American soil and he’s spurring all manner of trouble behind in Russia,” Bond’s good humour had evaporated. He looked to Bunny, for once he was devoid of gentlemanly charm: “Bunny, get us into that U-bahn network. Then we’ll figure out Karlov’s location.”
A map of Germany divided as she was, was found and pondered over. Quite why Karlov had sought refuge in the German Democratic Republic was anyone’s guess. Yet, East Germany was as tricky a place as anywhere behind the Iron Curtain. Ever since the end of the Second World War, Berlin had been the place where WWIII could erupt at any given time and the scene of constant tensions. From the Berlin Blockade through to the Berlin Wall to John F Kennedy’s ‘we never had to build a wall to keep our people in’ to now, Berlin had seen it all. Few cities on the planet had meant so much or seen as much.
During the afternoon Bunny Warren returned from Station W (Berlin) to tell the gathered people that Gogol had managed to orchestrate an arrest warrant for Karlov.
“Says and I quote ‘General Karlov is now considered an enemy of the state and his removal must be achieved through any means and any place’.”
“Sweet mother of God,” Felix all but purred. He glanced across the dining table on which the map sat to Bond. “What’s going on?”
“Gogol has apparently wrested the influence of the leader from Karlov and now is asserting his own influence. Never in doubt,” Bond stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Is that all, Bunny?”
She hesitated then nodded. “We have a man on the ground in East Germany who is under deep cover within the National Volksarmee –the People’s Army. He managed to report in that a Russian Tupolev jet matching that of Karlov’s was seen landing at the airbase near Meiningen.”
“Old Thuringia,” Bond said. “They call it Bezirk Suhl or some such. Right down in the south of East Germany, bordering on the West.”
“Maybe he has dome kind of redoubt down there,” Felix said rising to his feet. “Thanks, Bunny. You got the U-bahn sorted out?”
“Sure. We go to Frederichstrasse station and enter the network from below.”
“Bunny, you’re a treasure,” Bond said going to kiss her on the cheek. He looked back to Felix. “Time to get going, Felix.”
Hopefully, this was it.

Nice to see an update, Hilly. Is it me, or is this shaping up to be a sort of "Sir Roger's greatest hits" adventure? Intentional or not, I've noticed references to most (possibly all?) of the other Moore films:

Hedison's Felix Leiter - LALD
The return of Jaws - TSWLM/MR
ATAC reference - FYEO
East German setting - OP
Shootout at police HQ - AVTAK

Now all you need is a nod to TMWTGG and you'll be set.

Ha, I guess so I didn't really think it through like that. I imagine I've put some touches in to cover Moore. I used to do the same with my Lazenby/Sam Neill stories for continuity. Indeed, in my Lazenby Octopussy there was more of Russia in it than I've done elsewhere.

The police station shootout I think I thought more of Assault on Precinct 13 and most small-town America episodes I've seen in old cop shows. Though it's all similar. I used to be original in some of my writing. Least I could do for Sir Roger's Bond was take him places he's been before.

I might add I read years ago Hedison and Moore were friends from the early days in their respective TV careers and I liked the rapport they had in LALD. Having Hedison back in LTK was something I liked. Shame Felix never came back in Moore's tenure.

Hilly KCMG wrote:

The police station shootout I think I thought more of Assault on Precinct 13 and most small-town America episodes I've seen in old cop shows. Though it's all similar. I used to be original in some of my writing. Least I could do for Sir Roger's Bond was take him places he's been before.

The police station shootout reminded me a bit of the town hall scene in AVTAK (an action sequence inside a public landmark) crossed with the attack on Stacy's house (Bond wielding a shotgun).

coco1997 wrote:

Hilly KCMG wrote:

The police station shootout I think I thought more of Assault on Precinct 13 and most small-town America episodes I've seen in old cop shows. Though it's all similar. I used to be original in some of my writing. Least I could do for Sir Roger's Bond was take him places he's been before.

The police station shootout reminded me a bit of the town hall scene in AVTAK (an action sequence inside a public landmark) crossed with the attack on Stacy's house (Bond wielding a shotgun).

I think the shotgun action was channeled into the shootout, yes. I like the use of the Bond theme in that scene, sadly missing from the official soundtrack release. Though in this story, Bond was packing something heftier than rock salt.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Ghosts”

Frederichstrasse was one of those stations on the U-Bahn network where one could pass between West and East by crossing the platform and showing no papers. The four members of Bond’s team arrived dressed in Transport Ministry overalls and disappeared down the fire exit at the rear of the ticket hall. Down a spiral staircase they went, ever darker and ever mustier in smell. Bond was reminded of a ghost town and indeed, the Germans had a word –as they so often did for things- Geisterbahnhofe. Bond and his comrades were walking a corridor that had not seen human footfall in almost forty years. Indeed, these ghost stations occupied a peculiar place in Berlin lore. You had the West Berlin station situated just inside East Berlin but only used by West Berliners and with a West Berlin street exit and there were others. Stations that retained their pre-war or wartime decals and others that simply had ceased to be once the wall came down.
“Just down this right turn and we’ll be at the border,” Bunny Warren said as she led the way. Poor Jaws had to keep his head if not most of his upper torso down away from the low ceiling. Bond noted the posters for the 1936 Olympics with some intrigue. He batted away a cobweb that hung from the ceiling, gloomily backlit by the torches they all carried. No one said anything until they reached the end of the corridor where white tiles with brown piping across the top of the wall gave way to two platforms that stretched into darkness. Bond felt a cold finger run down his neck. Someone walking on his grave. He shone a torch across the wall to his right –in Old Gothic text the name of the station was caught- Anhalterlandwehrkanal.
“Looks like this is our ride,” Felix said gesturing to the platforms. A two-car train was slowly rattling down towards them. Bond raised an eyebrow.
“A train?”
“It’s your best way to get out of East Berlin and into East Germany proper,” Bunny told him. “I have it all figured out. The train will move in between regular East Berlin services and take you as far as the Seelow Heights. Here are your papers.”
Bond looked over his fake card. “You’ve done quite well, Bunny.”
“Yeah, thanks Bunny. Make sure you get back to Station W and stay put until we’re safely inside East Germany. No telling what could happen.”
Bunny stayed on the platform as the four boarded. Brand had been silent until now nudged Bond as they sat down. “We just take the train into East Germany?”
“You wanted espionage and spy thrillers, well here you are,” the train jolted with sudden violence. “Hold tight.”
A man in a grey uniform walked down the car towards them. He grinned at the party. “Tickets please.”
Felix stood grinning. “Jack Wade, what the Hell are you doing here!”
“Just seeing you fellas over the line is all. Though I never thought I’d be having to dress up as a Kraut ticket inspector,” Wade had a lean body slowing going to fat, a broad forehead and cheerful deposition at odds with the grey eyes. “James Bond, never thought I’d have the pleasure.”
“Nor I,” Bond said dryly. “Who’s driving?”
“Would you believe one of our informers? He’s a train driver!” Wade laughed, it dried up when he saw Jaws staring at him. “Who’s the tank?”
“Jaws,” Bond said and smiled cheerfully. “He kills people.”
“I bet,” Wade held onto a stanchion pole as the train sped up. “Once we get to Seelow, you’ll be transferred to a regular train that will take you down to Thuringia. It’s the best we could do. Should get you into Josef Stalin-Stadt within five hours.”
“Karlov?” asked Felix.
“Still down there. Looks like he’s holed up pretty tight in an air force base now. Our man on the ground there’s gone quiet. Hopefully he’s okay.”
“And if he isn’t?” Brand asked.
“Then you guys should’ve brought single tickets,” Wade said and headed back up the car.

**

In April 1945 the Germans fought the Russians here at the Seelow Heights in one of the preliminary stages of what would become the Battle of Berlin. No one knew how many Germans fell here and it was said they were still finding bodies here all these years later. In 1980, Seelow was a typical postwar town in East Germany. Much of it had been destroyed in 1945 during the battle and after when the Soviets ran riot. Some of the old town survived and it was here that the four members of the team made their way to the town’s old station. On the train ride they had quickly changed into regular clothes, suits in the case of the men (befitting your average East Berlin worker) and a trouser suit for Brand who felt quite odd in it. Bond remarked that she looked like a Land Girl from 1940s Britain; this did not go down too well of course. The train at Seelow was a great behemoth that looked like something out of the 1950s and probably was. It was a steam locomotive bedecked with the Soviet Hammer and Sickle on the front and consisted of half a dozen carriages. A fair mix of people boarded including soldiers from the East German Army, Soviet tankmen heading for parts unknown and the obligatory group of nuns (Bond assumed the constant presence of nuns in his latest adventure was a delayed reaction by some deity to his exploits at Eton).
Bond and his party sat in the third car with their scant luggage –bags provided by Wade who left them at Seelow with a cheery goodbye. Brand was sat next to Bond, whilst Jaws awkwardly stuck his legs into the aisle and thereby thwarted a genuine ticket inspector’s effort to chide him for doing so. Fortunately for the group, Bond and Felix spoke German and it was this language that was of course prevalent in spite of East Germany’s natural alliance with Soviet Russia. Bond’s language skills were such that he passed on this journey quite easily as a native of Berlin.
The journey would still take five hours.

**

As the others dozed an hour out of Seelow, Bond slipped aft to the train’s dining car. This was not like that of the Orient Express or any that Bond had used before. It was rather Spartan, the fixtures plain and largely consisting of a bar with a few tables. At the bar Bond ordered a Martini, specifying the type he perched on the stool before the bar waiting.
“Taking the edge off?”
Bond glanced sidelong at Natasha Brand. She had spoken quietly so that few if any but Bond would have heard the use of English. Taking the drink he paused in his response. A hefty sip followed by a nod. “Danke schon!” Bond led Natasha to a table in a corner. The carriage rocked gently to the furious passage of the train ever southwards.
“Stay put,” he left and returned in quick order with a Martini for her. “You’ll find that a good drink helps. This is almost one of those occasions.”
“Yeah, it takes an American to mix a good drink,” she said with a smile that hid the grimace at her taste of the drink.
“Long way from Point Perfect now.”
“Don’t I know it.” for a moment she looked fragile, only for a moment. “I want to get that bastard Karlov.”
“Me too,” Bond observed two Russian soldiers entering the bar. They spoke to each other in loud, abrasive voices. Bond focused on Brand with a softer expression. “You’ve seen more than your fair share of horrors this week. I dare say you need to vacation after this.”
“You sound like a doctor.”
Bond reached for his Martini. “I have a certain licence you might say. Getting away from this is a must. You shouldn’t have seen and done what you have…”
“Relax, Mr Bond, I’m a grown up girl and this isn’t Victorian England,” she batted away his unspoken apology. “I’m sorry, just that all my life I’ve had men telling me what is best for me. Why I’m a cop, because I can do a man’s job as well as they can. Yes, I’ve seen stuff this week that is more than your average Joe’s week, just the way it goes. Sorry, that’s the fact Jack.”
Bond gulped his Martini. “Consider myself chastened,” he could see the Russians looking their way. Frowning at the pair as if confused by something. The soldiers exchanged looks to each other. Bond drained his drink. “Finish your drink, I think we should be going.”
She glanced over her shoulder then at Bond. “Me and my big mouth, huh?”
“Something like that,” Bond rose followed by Natasha. The American slunk out behind him, swaying as the train continued its rocketing flight south towards Thuringia. Bond made sure she went out the door first and closed it behind them. Back with the others Bond checked the corridor before sitting down. Felix was reading a German newspaper. He flicked it down with a sigh. “Good time?”
“Cousin Ivan took a close expression in us,” Brand jerked a thumb at Bond. “He got me out of there.”
“Loose lips sink ships, James.”
“Felix, your snide tone is a little out of place here and yet taken aboard,” Bond sat by Felix nodding to Jaws. “I’m stunned still by your latest addition to the CIA files.”
Jaws was asleep, oblivious to anything. Felix grinned at Bond. “We couldn’t resist. The things he told us has been enough to fill the archives at Langley for years. Once we got him at Vandenberg, he was only too willing to help out. Providing we let him stay with this girl of his…Dolly? Drax’s operation was thoroughly debriefed –Drax had a Plan B you know.”
“Do tell.”
“Sorry, state secret,” Felix winked and laughed at Bond’s scowl. “Seriously, Stromberg and other operations were all weeded out and then we gave him a job.”
“No different to the Nazis after the war,” Brand said with a hint of disgust in her voice. “What’s the difference? The Reds were our enemy after the war and so you guys recruited the Nazis. Goes and goes doesn’t it?”
Felix’s smile faded. “Look, Brand…”
“Sergeant.”
“Sergeant,” Felix said heavily. “We do what we have to. Simple.”
That was that. Sleep was next. No rest for the wicked and all that.

**

The Russians came just as the train neared Thuringia at a town called Bad Westehim. It was nightfall, an hour after sunset and lights had been turned off. It was the glare of the sole emergency light at the doorway that alerted Jaws first. He came to his feet like Frankenstein’s Monster, scaring the daylights out of the first soldier who butted in and careered him into the second. Bond was woken then, Felix scrambling for his gun that he had in his coat. The Russians came in again with a shouted roar –guns were fired, bullets shattering a window and pinging off the ceiling. Jaws got the first Russian with his meaty fists and slammed the Soviet unceremoniously into the ceiling. He then threw him down the aisle, missing his comrade by inches. The second man came in and for his sins tried to punch Jaws. The giant took the punch and delivered the coup d’main with his teeth to the man’s throat. Brand recoiled in muted horror. Bond was on his feet now, hauling Brand after him. “Head down the train and wait where the carriages join!”
More Russians were coming now like the proverbial doll –constantly.
Felix clambered over the table flying into the doorway to rugby tackle the first soldier that came in. Jaws reached in to push the soldier back then barred the corridor. “Go!” he shouted. Bond pulled on Felix’s sleeve.
“You heard the man, let’s change trains.”
“Wait until I get hold of that cop, her and her mouth!”
“Not now, Felix,” Bond all but kicked Felix up the backside to get him moving. The two ran ignoring the shouts from behind them and the noise of men dying. Brand had indeed stopped at the coupling point of the next carriage. Fresh air whipped in between the cars causing her hair to cascade about in wild abandon. Bond leant out to get a look at the countryside. “We can’t be far now!”
“You’re not seriously going to jump are you?” she shouted back.
“Karlov has the edge on us, again. I can’t imagine it’ll make a difference but we go in on foot!”
Without warning he grabbed her and leapt from the train followed by Felix. They hit the embankment hard, rolling down end over end until they reached the bottom and came to a rest against a wooden fence that lined the minor road.

--

I read recently that with Fleming, trains were usually associated with death and indeed in the films they can crop up that way (FRWL, LALD chiefly), so it passes here.

More solid work, Hilly. Loved the Jack Wade cameo! There's a nice relationship being developed between Bond and Brand. I'm curious when we'll first see Karlov.

Thanks. It wasn't the best overall, my laptop's starting to go back on itself (poor swine I had repair it back in May must be sick of me by now) but we managed to get this one off. It's what it is.

--
CHAPTER NINE

“Der Englander kommt…”

The lights of the Volksarmee lorry swept over the edge of the artery road, illuminating the cracks and dents in the metal barrier and carried on into the valley beyond. Emerging from the shadows, Bond, Brand and Leiter resumed their walk. All three had bruises and various cuts on their faces or arms. Their clothes were dirtied in places. Bond ran a hand through his hair, rewarded with a small twig he pointed as he tossed the twig away: “Few miles.”
“You said that a few miles back,” Natasha Brand sat on the barrier lining the right side of the road. It was unnaturally silent in the night air –even the nature seemed to be holding its breath awaiting the next move. Bond stood over her hands on hips. “Considering Karlov has the edge on us all the time, I think sitting down isn’t a good idea.”
“I’ve just been thrown from a train. You’re lucky we’re speaking.”
Bond smiled, stroking his chin he looked around. Light shimmered beyond the dip of the road ahead, like an ethereal display. He walked on ahead, letting the others follow at their speed. When he reached the crest of the road then he stopped. Ahead in its sparsely lit and yet somehow palatial splendour was Josef-Stalin-Stadt. Before the Cold War it had been Freisberg and then came the Soviets. Here in 1945 Americans almost clashed with the Soviets as the two armies raced across Southern Germany. Felix joined Bond. “So what do we do now?”
“We go on in and find him. Simple as that.”
“If only it ever were so.”
Another lorry from the East German Army drove down the road. Its driver was late, lost from the convoy he had been travelling in when his engine gave up. He remembered his father saying that at least the Nazis knew how to keep engines going. East Germany seemed unable to keep anything going for any period of time. Just as he drove over the top of the hill the engine once again acted up. Cursing the driver stopped to look at it. Blessedly it only took five minutes, long enough for Bond, Brand and Leiter to get in the rear and hide under the canvas therein. Resuming his journey, the Army driver was for once grateful to drive down the streets of postwar architecture. At the junction beyond the rail station he debated which way it was. Lender Allee or Lenin Strasse?
Lenin, he decided, turning right he crossed the tracks at a crossing and was soon approaching Stalin-Stadt’s army and air force base. The majority of adults, mostly the men of course, from the town worked here. Like most places in East Germany, the town’s economy had steadily declined and quality of work was not what one could get just across the border in West Germany. Indeed, such was life here; Josef-Stalin-Stadt saw some of the highest attempts to cross into the West outside of Berlin. The driver was waved through the gates by a bored corporal who couldn’t care if the driver was late. He drove down past the edge of the parade ground into a hangar that was the joint responsibility of the air force and army. There he left it whilst he went to report in. No doubt his major would have his guts for garters.

--

Having been delivered into the arms of the beast by the lorry, Bond and company now had to find a way to Karlov and at the very least, disguise themselves appropriately. The easier part actually was getting out of the rear of the lorry and across to a storage locker that had all manner of overalls inside. The tricky part was Brand, for she was a woman and the Volksarmee was not quite geared to women mechanics. Somehow they found a suitable uniform for her before an engineer walked into the locker room. He nodded to the three before going to his locker. Bond and company made a quick departure.
“Stay close and keep quiet,” Bond instructed Brand in precise tones.
“Yes, comrade,” she whispered back.
Felix trailed behind the pair by a few feet; he still at least had his gun whereas Bond was unarmed. They crossed the parade ground towards the administrative block which flew the East German flag beside that of the regional flag. A truck trundled past them heading to the hangar. Jets flew overhead, banking as they did so. At the administrative block, Bond left the others outside and jogged up the steps making sure his hat was pulled low. Inside it was organised chaos, the jangling of phones, constant movement of people hurrying back and forth, typewriters and machines going. Bond returned to the others. “I’m going to assume Karlov is inside.”
“And if he isn’t?” Brand asked.
“Then we’ve come all this way for nothing. He must be here, somewhere.”
Felix jerked a thumb to the base at large. “Big place to check, James.”
“Split up?”
“Sure, back here in an hour,” Felix said and hurried off.
“Come on Natasha, we have to hurry ourselves. I don’t fancy our chances considering Karlov’s game so far.”
“Indeed,” was all she dared say as they swept past some officers coming out of the building. No one seemed to mind the fact two mechanics had walked into the block. After all, this was the admin block and part of its job was to overlook the mechanics as much as anyone. Bond cut across the foyer, past a picture of the Soviet leader and his East German counterpart before sidling down a busy corridor. German voices snapped at each other from one open doorway.
“Der kriegspiel! Verdammt!” an officer said exasperatingly as he left the doorway directly before Bond and Brand. The pair got past without a word. The officer was left muttering darkly to himself before he headed to the foyer.
“Something about a war game, must explain why everyone’s in a flap,” murmured Bond. He paused at an office doorway, inside was a room full of desks and a telephone exchange along the right hand wall. The wall facing the door showed a monumental diagram of the base under the legend JOSEF STALIN-STADT VOLKSTAFFEN. Bond walked in briskly. He pretended to look at the wall chart then turned sharply to a woman in shirtsleeves at a typewriter.
“Der Russiches general aircraft, ich hier?”
“Ja, es landete gestern.”
“Ich bin ein Mechaniker für das Flugzeug. Wo ist das Personal der Allgemeinen einquartiert?”
Startling the woman into answering in the first place appeared to keep on working.
“Zweiter stock.”
“Danke, kamerad lieutenant,” Bond quickly left so fast in fact that Brand did not realise straightaway. They headed down the corridor as before. “What was that about?”
Bond smiled at Brand. “I told her that I was a mechanic for the aircraft and asked where the general was billeted. Hopefully this buys us some time.”
“You really think it’s that simple?”
“No,” said Bond as they reached marble steps. As they were coming up the stairs, a group of men in olive green uniforms were coming down the far side of the staircase. Their Russian voices seemed at odds with the German hereabouts. All wore peaked officers caps including the man at the rear of the group whose hat was just that bigger than the others.
Karlov.
Alexsandr Paulovitch Karlov.
As if in some old movie, their eyes met across the wide staircase, the looks cutting through the bubble of conversation. Bond in his commandeered aircraft technician’s uniform and Karlov in his too tight, worn uniform. Bond and Brand carried on walking, Karlov stopped a few steps below, his entourage continuing none the wiser. Then Karlov turned and shouted: “English spy!”
The yell ‘spion’ alone tended to do the trick. The entourage wheeled about, a comic show of trying to draw guns as quickly as possible. Bond pushed Brand to one side at the landing and then dove for cover as a chorus of gunfire lit up the staircase. Karlov shouted at his men, waving his arms in angry gestures. “Idiots!”
“Natasha, get going!” Bond ordered. He tried to stand, his left leg simply had given up. He had sprained his damn ankle. Natasha Brand instead took a flying leap of the landing and flew into the crowd of somewhat stunned Soviets. She wheeled about lunging kicks and punches where she could. Bond found Karlov walking up to him, seemingly uncaring of the fight behind him.
“Commander Bond, at last.”
“You play a poor game of cat and mouse, general.”
“I think you’ll find my game was good enough. here you are with your American friend.”
Brand was subdued when three Soviets punched her in the ribs at the same time knocking her down to her knees where she toppled against their legs. Bond tried to swing at Karlov he overcompensated for the stairs and his leg and thus fell beside Karlov. The Russian placed a shining boot on Bond’s left leg. “As I told General Gogol, I can defeat James Bond and bring the British to their knees at the same time. Though I did not expect it to be so literal!”
At that, he pressed down hard.

Things are getting heavy! Any mental image of who you have playing Karlov?

Funnily, I don't. Only in that so far Karlov has been this shadowy, all knowing, all powerful figure and beyond the sketchy description early in the story I'm none the wiser. Something along the lines of Klaus Kinski perhaps. A little, obnoxious swine.

I should add for the benefit of all, that I don't speak German and rely upon a website (freetranslation.com) so any errors are my own. Fleming did it well in OHMSS if you ask me (I daresay Fleming knew the lingo inside out) and I take it as writ, like Bond says in YOLT, that any Bond is well versed in languages.

Not sure on next chapter. Laptop's suffering some kind of nervous breakdown of late so going into the shop Friday.

CHAPTER TEN

“Going Up in the World”

Bond had no idea how long he was out for the count. Only that the wounds he had sustained in the stairwell remained and were joined by fresh ones such as what felt like a fracture. Cuts and bruises lined his face, not that he could tell, hanging as he was from a rope fixed to a hook. He dangled like a prize piece of meat. Certainly, he felt like one. The room was nondescript, perhaps a fridge in the base –denoted by the power unit in the top right corner and one row of shelves, or some utility cupboard.
Bond winced as the door to this cubbyhole opened, it did so noisily, the wrenching of rusted hinges. General Karlov walked in with a guard behind him. The guard stayed at the door, AK-47 slung over a shoulder on a strap. Karlov looked quite pleased with himself. “I told you, I would capture the great 007 and here you are.”
Karlov walked around Bond, hands behind his back. “Gogol thinks he has the edge on me, clearly he hasn’t.”
“Gogol says you’ve gone rogue, Karlov. I’m starting to believe it.”
Karlov barked short sharp laughter. “Perhaps. Gogol returning to Moscow crimped my plans in regards to gaining serious power. The leader believes that I am a good man, doesn’t that count for something?”
“Not in Moscow.”
Karlov jabbed a finger at Bond’s face. “You have the decadent views of a corrupted western agent, Bond! You and your filthy comrades believe we are on the wane, no! No! I have the ear of our leader and I will gain that trust, believe me. By killing you, I will do enough and more.”
“Get on with it then,” Bond said casually. “I hate to miss a show.”
“That would be too easy. Killing you now, would be too easy. First, you will watch the American girl die.”
Bond tensed whilst Karlov turned to the guard and clicked his fingers. To Bond’s surprise, away to his left, a screen moved upwards in the stained wall to reveal a window. Beyond that window, in a similar room to this one, Natasha Brand was stood –strapped to a wooden stake flanked by two grim faced soldiers of the Volksarmee. Her commandeered uniform was torn in places exposing bruised flesh.
“Natasha!” Bond snapped. She lifted her head a little; a bruise had formed under her left eye which appeared swollen. Bond struggled at his bonds, flapping like a stranded fish.
“Your concern for the American is touching. She really is an American cop! I had no idea when we captured you that you would tow a provincial policewoman with you. Still, I’ve heard about your exploits with women,” Karlov lifted a hand so Bond could see and ticked off fingers: “Tatiana Romanova, Fiona Volpe…”
“----I think you’ll find that was more of a black widow type situation,” Bond interjected.
“Even our Agent Triple-X, the corruptible Anya Amasova! But of course, I forget, Teresa Bond. You couldn’t even save your own wife, you let her die…!”
Bond lashed about on the rope his bound wrists chafing enough for blood to appear. When he stopped he had expended enough energy to feel deflated.
“A raw nerve, still,” marvelled Karlov. He gestured to the window. “She cannot see you, she can probably hear you though. All right, send her in.”
In the other room a woman walked in wearing an army uniform. Her hair was in a bun that made her look quite fierce and yet could not hide who she was from Bond whose vision swam a little.
“Karstova,” he said. Somehow this was not surprising.
“Agent XY has been excellent in this mission, the Point Perfect episode included –granted it could have gone better but such is the way of things. She is a capable agent, more or less shadowing you by thinking ahead.”
Bond refused to believe he could be so predictable. There were so many variants such as Jaws taking them to Syracuse or flying into West Berlin or using the U-bahn out to Seelow…
“She is clever like I say,” Karlov murmured reading Bond’s thoughts. “Josephina, proceed.”
Karstova produced a riding crop which she lashed across Brand’s face and upper torso. She repeated this twice more, all occasions accompanied by cries of pain from Brand. Bond twisted on the rope, rubbing his thumbs together he felt the rope’s coarseness and wondered. “Leave her alone, she’s not what you’re after.”
“No, but she is collateral damage as you say. No one will know she was here.”
Felix, Bond thought abruptly, he had to be around here somewhere. Surely if they were so clever, Karlov and Karstova would have realised this? And Jaws. No word on him so maybe he had gotten off the train too or had escaped capture elsewhere.
Natasha cried out, her efforts to stop this by biting her lip had failed. She writhed on the stake, blood oozing from the lashes on her chest. Bond fidgeted more, his wrists hurt like buggery, they chafed as he wiggled.
“Observe the decadent Western woman, truly weak and not like our Russian women! They have hearty stomachs and willpower to match men,” Karlov rambled. He gazed at Bond for a moment. “They won the war of course.”
“Naturally,” Bond said. As Karlov turned away, Bond dropped an inch. It was perceptible only to Bond; a quick flick of the eyes upwards showed the rope had frayed at his left wrist. One of the guarding soldiers with Natasha slipped out of the room, his helmet low he spoke guttural German to the other guard who moved closer to Brand. Bond dropped an inch lower just as Karlov turned. Bond then heard a shout from the other room, a scream followed. Both Bond and Karlov looked to the two-way mirror to see Brand kick Karstova in the face with such force the Soviet careered into the two-way mirror forcing a crack to run its length. Bond took his cue, lashing out with both legs he got the legs around Karlov’s neck and began to squeeze. At the same time, the door to the cell opened –the soldier who had left Brand now entered. Lifting his rifle he fired twice into the soldier left with Karlov who had been frozen to the spot by the action behind him. The East German who fired the shots ripped off his helmet.
“Felix, hurry!” Bond shouted. “Natasha!”
In her cell, Brand had managed to wrench loose her binds and was now fighting Karstova. A devilish sequence of twists and turns as she managed to land some meaty punches on Karstova’s increasingly weakening frame. Felix hesitated then ran out. Bond was finally himself torn from his binds and the two men collapsed in a heap. Bond kicked out at Karlov catching him on the chin. The general rolled away, as he came up two soldiers ran through the door: “Kill the British spy!” he screamed before fleeing. Bond lay prone on the floor as the two East German soldiers lifted their rifles. He closed his eyes –so this was it
--the two-way mirror shattered as Felix’s volley of fire tore through and peppered the attackers. Bond opened his eyes, sitting up he saw Felix with his East German rifle in hands. “Didn’t think you were meeting St. Peter just yet were you?”
“Natasha?”
Bond could just make out her head above the edge of the frame. She looked dazed. Felix nodded at Bond. “She’s fine, Karstova’s dead though.”
Bond went to the one of the downed Germans and used a bayonet to break his binds fully. He picked up a rifle: “I’m going after Karlov. Get the Hell out to West Germany.”
Felix had no time to protest as Bond took off. Sirens began to wail all over the base now- echoing and fading out of sync. He went to help Natasha up –the inert form of Karstova lay on its side where Felix’s shots had felled her. Natasha opened her eyes wearily.
“Time to go?”
“Yeah, you could say we’ve overextended our welcome. Can you walk?”
“Just about. What about James?”
“Gone to get Karlov.”
Brand suddenly strengthened. “We have to go after him!”
“No, come on kid, you’ve done enough,” Felix began to lead her out. A company of soldiers led by a pinch-faced Russian turned the corner into the cell block. “Der englische Spion hat entkommen!”
Told that the English spy had escaped, the Russian led column reversed their course. When Felix went to speak to Brand he found she too had gone. Felix swore several shades of blue and ran after the column.
“This is going to be fun,” he groused. Plans of escaping over the border into Bavaria were vanishing in smoke. Getting out of the prison block, Felix was confronted with a scene of utmost chaos. Planes, tanks and anything that could move were all over the place, men were running in all directions and sirens drowned it all out. Like looking for the queen in an ant nest, Felix thought. Leiter then hitched his rifle and ran to an empty jeep.
Far across the field a light aircraft was racing across the tarmac.

An utter fall-out in creative drive came with my unexpected finishing of things. It was never the best story -those days went with old MI6 and if I may say so, the Lazenby and Bond in WWII stuff.

--

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Last Ditch”

Bond sprinted across the tarmac from the administrative block, his eyes smarting from the exposure to daylight after the artificial light of the cell. He could make out Karlov heading towards the hangar where a Russian Tupolev transport was being taxied out. Bond slackened his pace, he could not keep this up indefinitely. As he slowed a kubelwagen was driving towards him. Bond waved at the driver to slow down. The driver came to a stop frowning from beneath his oval shaped helmet.
“God’s teeth, you look a mess friend!” the driver grinned.
“I’m late for curfew,” Bond said in German. Sirens began to wail, some coming from the hangar, then from the admin block accompanied by announcements over the loudspeakers dotted around the base, of an escaped prisoner. The driver began to reach for his gun that is until Bond leapt into the jeep and smashed a fist across the driver’s face. Bond tossed the driver out of the side before doing a U-turn and accelerating towards the hangar. Just as he rounded the Tupolev he saw a light aircraft, an Antonov An-2, career out of the hangar’s rear exit. A typical Soviet light aircraft, this was amazingly durable and had been in service nearly forty years at this juncture.
Karlov.
Bond hurtled through the hangar sending technicians and pilots alike in all directions. The steering of the kubelwagen was stiff; Bond trying to turn to run parallel to the An-2 found he was best suited to a straight line. Clearing the hangar he was now directly astern of the light aircraft. The plane bobbed as it tried to get up to full speed sooner than it was able. Bond drew closer, pressing his foot down hard as if by shoving the accelerator pedal through the floor the kubelwagen would take off. As he gained on the aircraft, Bond could make out Karlov and indeed, the handgun that he now popped shots off with. Gritting his teeth, Bond went ahead anyway with trying to get beside the An-2. He veered close then plunged in, the nose of the jeep crashing through the port flaps at the tail. The An-2 weaved left and right then tried to lift. As it did so, the left wing collided with Bond forcing Bond back. The wagen was damaged enough to lose speed dramatically. As Bond watched the plane open a gap in spite of its damage, he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. All this for nothing. Karlov would return to Russia and force the issue somehow.
Bond’s kubelwagen slowed to a halt, petrol syphoning from the trunk like a burst water main. The An-2 began to lift into the air until tracer fire slammed into it. It rippled from the left until it hosed the fuselage of the Soviet light aircraft. The Antonov cleared the hedgerow lining the perimeter of the field before it plunged downwards into a copse of trees. Bond climbed out of his wagen to see Natasha Brand standing in the rear of a kubelwagen that had a gun position. He ran over to her, by which time she jumped down and embraced him. Bond looked her over. “Are you okay?”
“A little bruised but we survive,” she nodded her head to the left. “Karlov.”
“Indeed,” Bond climbed into the mobile gun. She joined him, staying at the gun itself. “Hold tight!”
They drove towards the perimeter, something that posed little problem for Bond as he aimed the jeep at it and crashed through the weak point between hedges. The jeep bounced violently as they drove into the copse of trees following a steady line of debris. Bond called to Natasha: “Quick work to get this, how did you manage it?”
“I gave Felix the slip. The base was all over the place. It wasn’t hard.”
“Good girl,” Bond murmured with admiration. His eyebrows lifted as the copse narrowed and the jeep forced its way through a gap between trees with an inch spare either side. The trees then grew thinner and sparser, the ground sloping down towards what looked like a lake. Clearing the treeline Bond saw the crashed An-2 on the shoreline. Not only that, but Karlov running from the wreckage to a wooden bridge that spanned the narrow point of the lake. Stopping the jeep, Bond noted the stillness of everything. The alarms at the base had muted into nothingness and now there was only the sound of the idling engine. Bond said nothing to Brand, grabbing at the rifle he went after Karlov. Running past the wreckage, Bond reached the bridge and slowed to a walk. Karlov was tottering down the bridge like a wounded deer, legs spindly and bow-shaped as he tried to walk before collapsing. Bond slowly walked up behind the Russian general working the bolt on the East German rifle.
“Seems you’ve reached your bridge too far, Comrade General.”
Karlov rolled onto his side, inverted to regard Bond with bloodshot eyes. “I will have the last laugh, Bond. Gogol will fall and my death shall be avenged.”
“Is this what this is all about? Prestige with the leader and Gogol’s job?” Bond reached Karlov squarely aiming the muzzle of the rifle at the man’s chest.
“You were just a target, what a target though!” Karlov wheezed then coughed. He began to inch away from Bond. From far off came the sounds of mechanised vehicles closing in. Bond watched Karlov for a moment. “Why don’t you finish me off, Bond? Or are you really a soft touch now that you can’t do the deed!”
Bond shook his head. “It wouldn’t be fair to treat you like a dog but dog you are. Innocent people have died because of your thirst for power and greed. So, on your feet general…”
Bond did not account for the fact that Karlov might have been faking his injuries in the light crash. Karlov came up like lightning, a two-footed lunge aimed at Bond’s chest felled the British agent who hit the wooden panelling of the bridge with a great thud. The wind was knocked from his sails and he doubled up in pain. Karlov drew a pistol from his gun belt, the muzzle wavered slightly. There was a fanatical look to his features. The eyes wild and bulging.
“And now you will die, Commander Bond.”
The shot sounded like a thunderclap in the quietness of the lake. Bond found that he had flinched. He also found that he was not wounded and that Karlov wavered like a puppet with the strings cut. Another shot pitched him around and sent him sprawling to the ground. Bond managed to get to his knees, holding his chest he saw Natasha Brand standing on the shoreline with a rifle. Next to her stood Felix, face grave if a little relieved.
“Aren’t you glad she’s on our side?”
“More than before,” Bond remarked. Taking one look at Karlov, Bond managed to his feet and shook his head. It was over at any rate.

--

epilogue to come.

Hilly KCMG wrote:

I lost my way, largely as I've not written in two weeks and with various stuff going on but it's limping along. I fear the Octopussy echoes are large now but you can't beat a bit of Germany.

Needless to say, my Felix is David Hedison.

Ha! About to get onto Chapter 7 now, but when Felix popped up at the end of Ch 6, I read his dialogue in Hedison's voice.

Like reading another Bond adventure. I like the Germany setting - wasted opportunity not having it feature more prominently in the series. Caught an excellent German Cold War program on Netflix called The Same Sky recently, and made me think of the possibilities of exploring more of that territory in 70s.

Thank you kindly, Fields. Germany as a setting always intrigues me for the Cold War aspect. Just wish I had done the final few chapters a bit better but personal stuff sort of robbed me of what drive I had. I might return to it sometime. If I can toil over DAF/Lazenby and DAD/Neill after years, maybe this one too.

Here is zee epilogue.

--

EPILOGUE

“Cleaning Up”

Sir Michael Patterson, a.k.a C, hung up the green telephone with a muted sigh and leant back in his chair, pushing slightly harder on the old chair to get traction on the floor. Feeling his back click he relaxed slightly. The green door connecting his office to Moneypenny’s opened and the ever faithful secretary to M walked in. She carried a notepad, armed with a Parker pen that clicked active as she went to stand by the desk.
“Please sit, Miss Moneypenny,” Patterson noted the surprise that briefly flickered on her face. He knew that everyone loyal to M did not much care for him. Well, he would not be here much longer. “Ready? Good. Agent 007 executed his mission with a great degree of success…no, no, erase that line please. Double O’ Seven reported in via Station WB that General Karlov is dead. Killed at the climax this episode we have dubbed Operation BULLSHINE. Emphasis must be placed on Felix Leiter’s involvement and will be so accordingly passed onto Langley in the United States. Also, Bond stressed that Sergeant Natasha Brand of the New York State Police has been most helpful in this mission.” Patterson paused and sat up, he reached for his cigarette case. Offering one to Moneypenny, he waited until she took one and then proceeded to light both of their cigarettes.
“The agent known as Jaws was recovered by East German Army the day that Karlov was eliminated. He shall be exchanged immediately with a prisoner from West Berlin –note Moneypenny, a captured KGB operative- in the usual fashion. Case closed.”
“Really is that simple.”
“It is Moneypenny. Gogol has returned to his usual position of power and we have a sort of ally, one might say, in the that regard. For how long is anyone’s guess. After all, we are on opposite sides.”
Moneypenny made notes to herself about the file amendment and rose to leave.
“Miss Moneypenny, I feel I should tell you that M has taken a turn for the worse. I fear he will not be returning to SIS anytime soon. Bill Tanner will run the department until…,” Patterson swallowed and looked away his face suddenly pinched. “I’m very sorry.”
Moneypenny felt the tears in her eyes and nodded. “I understand, sir.”
“I admired Miles more than most of you could ever imagine. We men of the Senior Service have a certain bond and I did with him.”
Moneypenny managed another stiff nod before getting out of their as fast as she could and sit at her desk with tears on her cheeks. She wiped at her eyes and began to write up the report. The clatter of the electric typewriter soon clamoured for attention with the noise of traffic through the open window.

**

The sun was setting over Lake Havel in West Berlin setting off the still surface of the water in brilliant reds and yellows. The island of Schwanenwerder that jutted out into the Havel was home to some of the wealthiest people in the city. One of these homes actually belonged to the station chief of Station WB under his ‘daytime’ cover as charges d’affairs at the British Embassy.
Natasha Brand sat on the jetty, down from the house, feet just above the water watching the lake. She wore a bathrobe and her brown hair cascaded over her shoulders.
“Here we are, the finest champagne I could find in West Berlin,” Bond joined her on the jetty’s edge also wearing a bathrobe. He handed her a glass. “I found the wine cellar quite shocking for someone who claims to be an expert. Civil servants don’t always have the best taste.”
He sensed her reticence in spite of what they had done upon returning from East Germany. “In time you’ll get used to what has happened.”
“I wonder if I will,” she murmured and put the glass down by her side. The three of them had escaped Joseph Stalin-Stadt in the kubelwagen Bond had commandeered and drove hell for leather towards the nearby border into Bavaria and in turn West Germany. Having given the deep-cover SIS agent in Nuremberg heart palpitations by turning up so unexpectedly, they were soon on a plane to West Berlin. “The deaths of my guys at Point Perfect…my job. What can I return to?”
“Join the CIA,” Bond had meant it as a joke.
“Yeah, yeah! The CIA,” she laughed and then wiped at her left eye with a hand and sighed. “After all this, I can’t ever return to normality. But you can because for you, this is normal.”
Bond looked away from her stare and nodded. “Yes, this is normal. I’ve used up my nine lives and then some but you can return to normality. That’s something I am envious of.”
She picked up her glass finally and sipped from it. Then, putting it behind her she went to kiss him. Bond held her and after they parted he lifted an eyebrow: “Something tells me you’ll be fine.”
Standing she held a hand out. “Come on,” she said with a smile, “Felix said I had a day left before I’m flown home. Let’s make the most of it.”
Bond stood taking her hand. “I make it a rule never to listen to what Felix says and indeed, always listen to a lady.”
“Oh, I’m no lady,” she chuckled and led the way to the house.
Across the lake a flock of birds made a low sweeping pass in a V-formation before screaming away over the house.

END

JAMES BOND WILL RETURN IN “FOR YOUR EYES ONLY”

Hell's Delight 'Starred'
JAMES BOND –Roger Moore
FELIX LEITER- David Hedison
‘C’- Kenneth More
RONNIE VALLANCE- Barry Foster
NATASHA BRAND- Jaclyn Smith
JAWS- Richard Kiel
KARLOV- Klaus Kinski
KARSTOVA- Catherine Schell
MONEYPENNY- Lois Maxwell
'Q'- Desmond Llwellyn
WEISS- Danny DeVito
GOGOL- Walter Gotell

'FILMED' on location in London, New York State, West Berlin and Pinewood Studios

1980.

Dang it, once again the forum failed to send me emails to notify of new posts in this thread, and I hadn't thought to check after you said you were taking your computer in for service. Will read through these later today. Looking forward to the conclusion!

It's alright, notifications come and go. My laptop went in and out of servicing last week so for now we're okay.

Finally got around to reading these last few chapters, Hilly. Glad you saw the story to completion, though I admit it felt a tad rushed towards the end. I would have liked a bit more closure for Jaws (I half-expected him to show up and participate in the heroics at the climax) and I'm unclear exactly how Natasha Brand defeated Agent XY. Still, it was an entertaining read and I think you did a fine job capturing Sir Roger's voice in what was presumably your first attempt. Maybe one day you'll give it another run-through. Of your other abandoned stories, I would most like to see you revisit "Property of a Lady" with Dalton. In the meantime, I'll keep an eye on "Die Another Day."

Apologies. Things got away from me outside and inside the forum, such as Q's bag of tricks not featuring and Jaws sort of disappearing (I figured he had been left on the train and then eventually made his way out). As for XY's demise, she was killed by Felix. Shot dead as he broke into the cell.

Property of a Lady? Law, I've done so much I've completely forgotten where I am with these stories. I mean I have an incomplete Lazenby TMWTGG (sandwiched between my DAF and TSWLM), my Mask of Gold story (Plummer/Peck) and my WWII stuff that I need/was going to re-edit (but after reading Trigger Mortis, I realise just how out of track my WWII Bond was compared to Fleming's).

I've done a Sir Roger short story for Christmas (A Quantum of Imagination) but nothing full length. That was Bong's department on old MI6, he did a fine story.

ADDENDUM- Indeed, I keep a tally of all stories I write on a Word doc' (Bond, non-Bond etc) and there's been 52...(not all have been finished).

----

1. The Vengeance of Evil
2. Diamonds Are Forever (Lazenby)
3. The Spy Who Loved Me (Lazenby)
4. Moonraker (Lazenby)
5. On His Majesty’s Service (WWII)
6. Octopussy (Lazenby)
7. The Devil’s Crusaders (WWII)
8. The Lasting Storm (WWII)
9. Shatterhand (Neill)
10. Above All, Courage (WWII)
11. A View To A Kill (Neill)
12. All Our Yesterdays (Lazenby, short, where Tracy lived)
13. Islington (WWII, short)
14. Death Is So Permanent (Neill)
15. Where Angels Fear (WWII)
16. For The King (WWII/Fifties)
17. Deadline Midnight Saturday: ‘Extract’ (April 11-09)
18. No Tears for Barcelona (short, McKnight#1)
19. Deadline Midnight Saturday: 007 in New York (April 18-09)
20. Die Another Day (Neill)
21. Deadline Midnight Saturday: Britannia’s Dying (May 9-09)
22. The Evil that Men Do (WWII AU)
23. Deadline Midnight Saturday: Gotta Get Away (May 23-09)
24. From a Far Shore (short, D-Day65)
25. Deadline Midnight Saturday: The Persuading Kind (September 26)
26. Deadline Midnight Saturday: From Harley Street With Prescription (October 10)
27. The Descent (short, McKnight#2)
28. The Property of a Lady (Lazenby, short)
29. A Quantum of Imagination (Moore, short, Christmas)
30. Diamonds Are Forever: 2010 Ultimate Edition
31. Chimes of Midnight [cancelled]
32. Deadline Midnight Saturday: By Prague (May22)
33. Deadline Midnight Saturday: The Riviera Touch (May 29)
34. Deadline Midnight Saturday: A Godawful Small Affair (June 5)
35. Deadline Midnight Saturday: Try (June 19)
36. Blue Skies (Battle of Britain70, short)
37. Forever Autumn (Lazenby)
38. Mask of Gold (Peck/Plummer)
39. Skyfall riff
40. A Whisper of Hate (Dalton, Goldeneye reworking)
41. The Spy Who Loved Me: 2012 (Ultimate Edition)
42. The Crimson Hour (Dalton, TND reworking)
43. Where Angels Fear to Tread (2014 2nd draft) scrapped
44. Die Another Day (redraft, 2014) scrapped
45. The Man With the Golden Gun (Lazenby)
46. The Mirage of Fate (Dalton, TWINE/Skyfall re-working)
47. Casino Royale (Brosnan re-working) scrapped
48. Property of a Lady (Dalton, Spectre re-working) scrapped
49. Diamonds Are Forever (Lazenby, 10th anniversary reworking)
50. All Time High (Roger Moore tribute, short)
51. Roger Moore’s James Bond 007 in “Hell’s Delight”
52. Die Another Day (redraft, 2017)

Lumme, ten years of my life.

But my thanks for sticking with this bilge all this while, Coco. Appreciated.