Recovering quickly, Michaels butted Bond in the stomach. Both figures tumbled down to the bottom of the steps and rolled out on to the sand, ending up with the younger man on top with his hands around Bond’s throat.
This boy’s strong, Bond thought.
Stephanie ran down the steps and stood waiting, feeling the adrenalin surge through her body as the two men fought. It gave her a thrill to imagine they were fighting over her. Her breathing became shallow and she felt weak at the knees.
With a superhuman effort, Bond thrust his arms between the other man’s elbows and delivered dual lightning sword-hand chops, which made Michaels loosen his grip. Then, with split-second timing, Bond jerked his head forward against the man’s nose, breaking it and causing him to cry out in pain.
Then they were both on their feet, each waiting for the other to make the next move.
Bond’s Walther PPK was in a waterproof holster attached to the belt round his diving suit. Unfortunately, that was tightly buttoned and it would take more than two seconds to retrieve the weapon. Bond knew he didn’t have two seconds. The young man was good—a bit inexperienced, perhaps, but not someone to underestimate. Bond was ready to concede that the other man was the stronger since, although he was in excellent physical shape, Bond was no youngster anymore.
The blond man made a move. With a shout, he leaped in the air and delivered a
By lunging at Bond’s stomach, the man had left himself wide open, enabling Bond to backhand him to the ground. Giving him no time to think, Bond sprang on top of him and punched him hard in the face, but Michaels used his strength to roll Bond over on to his back, and, thrusting his forearm into Bond’s neck, exerted tremendous pressure on O07’s larynx once again. With his other hand, the young man fumbled with Bond’s waterproof holster, attempting to get at the gun. Bond managed to elbow his assailant in the ribs, but this only served to increase his aggression. Bond got his hands round the man’s neck but it was too late; Michaels deftly retrieved the Walther PPK 7.65mm from the holster and jumped to his feet.
“All right, freeze!” he shouted at Bond, standing over him, the gun aimed at his forehead. “I hit you in a vital point earlier but you didn’t go down,” he said with incredulity, looking at Bond as if he were a ghost.
007 caught his breath and said, “That was your first mistake. You were a half-inch too far to the left.”
The man straightened his arm, ready to shoot.
“And now you’re making your second mistake,” Bond said.
“Oh, yeah?” Michaels whispered. “Not from where I’m standing.”
Bond snapped his legs up and kicked him hard in the groin. Michaels screamed, doubled over, dropped the gun, and fell to the ground.
“You were exposing a vital point, my friend,” Bond said, getting to his feet and retrieving his Walther PPK. “And I do mean vital.”
He leaned over the writhing man. “Who are you?” The man only groaned. “Are you going to talk?” Then he remembered the girl.
Stephanie stood behind them, by the steps. She was uncertain whether to run or drop to her knees.
“Come here,” Bond commanded. She stepped forward, looking at the man groaning on the ground. “Do you know him?” Bond snapped.
She shook her head convincingly. “No.”
Bond handed her the Walther. “Then retire him.”
She looked surprised.
“He’s an assassin. He came here to kill me,” Bond said. “He knows I live here. I don’t care who he is, just get rid of him.”
She took the pistol and aimed it at her partner. The blond man’s eyes widened. Bond watched her closely. She hesitated, staring at the man on the ground intently.
“05, I gave you an order,” Bond said firmly.
The wind howled as the woman stood there frozen.
After ten tense seconds, Bond said, “All right. Relax.”
Stephanie dropped her arm and looked dismayed.
“I couldn’t do it,” she said. “I just couldn’t pull the trigger.”
Bond walked over to her and took the gun. “If it’s a matter of not blowing one’s cover, a good agent may have to kill an ally or a friend. Don’t ever forget that. You gave yourself away, 05. In the old days, if I had been KGB, or worse, I would have immediately perceived that you not only recognized 03 here, but knew him well.”
“Yes,” she sighed. “You’re right. You really get the unexpected thrown at you in these training missions. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d win the fight—it confused me.”
“Double-Os must expect nothing
“How are you, 03? You put up a bloody good fight, lad. You almost had me at one point,” Bond said with good humour. “You blew the mission, Michaels, but you’ll get good marks, don’t worry.”
The man groaned and then vomited.
“Yes, well, sorry about that, 03,” Bond said. “You’ll feel all right in a few hours. Sometimes Double-Os have to learn their lessons the hard way. Remember what you learned about vital-point targets. God knows I did! Better luck next time.”
Bond stood, turned, and walked up the stone steps, and Stephanie ran after him.
“So did you
Bond shook his head. “No, but I suspected something, especially when you didn’t try to help me. These Double-O training sessions you two are taking are also exercises for me. I’m unaware of your objectives and you are unaware of mine. Someone in London orchestrated the entire scenario. Apparently my challenge was dealing with someone who has penetrated the privacy of my home. And I take it you two had a mission to assassinate me?”
She laughed. “Yes, real kamikaze stuff, isn’t it? A Single-O agent assassinating a Double-O!” Bond smiled too.
“Is Agent Michaels going to be okay? Not that he was one of my favourite people. He was always chatting me up.”
“He’ll be fine. I don’t fight dirty unless I have to, but he left me no choice. Besides, he was careless. I didn’t hurt him badly—he’ll be up and on his way back to Kingston in no time. In any other situation he would have been killed. My kick was nothing compared to a carpet beater.”
“A what?” she asked.
“Never mind,” he said as he led her on to the top of the cliff. In contrast to the darkness below, up here the moon was very bright, flooding the grounds of the estate in a chalky white light.
Bond had purchased the property a year ago. Even though the heyday of a British Jamaica was long gone, Bond had always loved the island. For years, the memories and dreams he’d had of Jamaica haunted him. He had a compelling desire to be there. When a wellknown British journalist and author died, the property became available and Bond bought it. Thus, in addition to his flat in London, he now owned a secluded holiday home on his favourite island. Since buying it, Bond had spent all his available time between missions at the sparsely furnished house. He called it Shamelady, after a plant that grows wild along Jamaica’s North Shore, a sensitive plant that curls up if touched.
Stephanie Lane followed Bond inside. He immediately began removing his wet suit, stripping down to briefs. He seemed oblivious to the fact that a beautiful woman was watching him undress. “You know, you should be dead, too,” Bond said. “If you can’t hide convincingly behind a cover, then the cover’s no good.”
“I’ll remember that,” she promised. She watched him with increasing interest as she fingered the Walther PPK that he had placed on a coffee table. “Isn’t this gun a little old-fashioned?” she asked. “It’s not standard issue, is it?”
