“Natalya, that’s a lovely name. Who was the inside man on this?”
“Boris. Boris Grishenko.”
“Russian Federal Intelligence - the old KGB - or military?”
“A brilliant computer programmer, but I think probably old KGB. He acts crazy but he’s quite exceptional.”
“Was there anyone else?”
“Inside? No.”
“What about satellites. Are there any more?”
“Just one moment. It’s my turn to ask questions.” She appeared to have gained confidence. “Who are you?
Who are you really?”
“James…” he began, then a key rattled in the metal door which was thrown open and an armed guard preceded the Minister of Defence, Viktor Mishkin, into the cell.
Mishkin looked suave in a long dark coat with a sable collar over his sober dark suit. In his right hand he carried Bond’s automatic pistol, and his smile was the smile of a tiger.
“Well, good morning, Mr. Bond.” He held the gun as a child might hold a small flag, wiggling it in the air. “Sit, both of you.” Bond immediately grabbed the metal chair that was not bolted to the floor, while Mishkin took the chair opposite.
“In case you do not recognise me, I am Viktor Mishkin, Minister of Defence.” He hardly paused for breath, putting Bond’s pistol on the metal table in front of him. “So, how shall we execute you, Commander Bond? The usual manner: the bullet to the back of the head? Quick, painless and straightaway, now, so we can deny any knowledge of you?’ Bond raised an eyebrow. “No small talk or chit-chat, Minister?You’re not going to do a proper sinister interrogation? Nobody has time for these things any more.
Interrogation’s a lost art.”
“This isn’t the time to be flippant, Commander. I have one question only. Where is the GoldenEye?”
“I assumed you had it, Minister.”
“No. All I have is an English spy, a Severnaya programmer, and the helicopter they stole… “You only have what one traitor in your government wanted it to look like.’ Mishkin’s hand came down heavily on the table. “Who is behind your attack on Severnaya? Who ordered it?”
“Who had the access codes?”
“The penalty for terrorism is death, and I regard the pair of you as terrorists.”
“What’s the penalty for treason these days, Minister? A slap on the wrist and banishment to a country dacha, like the traitors who bungled the coup in “91?”
“Some died.”
“Supposedly by their own hand. You have another traitor close to you, Minister.” Natalya suddenly spoke, loudly and with a very firm voice. “Stop it. Stop it, both of you. You’re like children squabbling over their toys.” Bond looked at her, a smile around the cruel corner of his mouth. “Didn’t you know, my dear? The one who dies with the most toys wins.”
“Stop it. You know the truth as well as I do.” She looked at Mishkin. “It was Ourumov. General Ourumov and that woman - the one like a snake.
Together they killed everyone and stole the GoldenEye.” Mishkin threw back his head and gave a one note laugh.
“Ha, why would Ourumov do that?”
“Because there’s another satellite. Exactly the same as the one they used to destroy Severnaya.” Mishkin’s smile turned itself off, as though someone had thrown a switch. “This is true?”
“Absolutely true. The second one is code named Mischa, and somewhere out there is a second control complex.
A commotion at the door stopped them short. General Ourumov seemed to cannon into the room, slamming the door behind him. He looked unkempt, tired, unshaven and as though he had slept in his uniform. Sweat dripped from his face as if he had been running through terrible humidity and was very out of condition.
“Defence Minister… I must protest.” he blurted, struggling for breath.
“General Ourumov..
“This is my investigation. You are out of order!”
“From what I’ve just heard, General, it is you who is out of order.” Ourumov leaned forward and picked up Bond’s pistol from the table. “I think I’ve seen this weapon before!”
“Put it down, General.”
“In the hands of our enemy. Do you even know who the enemy is, Viktor? Do you?” Mishkin made a gesture, as though he were knocking an insect out of the way.
“Guard! The General is under arrest Escort him to.
The guard, a young soldier in his early twenties, paused for a second, then began to unholster his machine pistol - too late, for Ourumov wheeled and shot him. The guard was thrown against the wall, his chest torn out by the Glaser round.
Bond grabbed Natalya and dragged her down to the hard stone floor, trying to protect her with his body, as Ourumov turned and took off Mishkin’s head with a second shot.
“This ammunition takes no prisoners, does it? What a terrible state of affairs. Defence Minister Viktor Mishkin is murdered by the cowardly British agent, James Bond…” He worked the slide on the pistol, flipped the magazine from the butt, pocketing the ammunition and tossing the gun to Bond as his hand went towards the weapon holstered at his hip.
In turn, Bond is shot while trying to escape.” He levelled his pistol and began to shout, almost hysterically - Guards… Guards.
Quickly.” The pistol came up in his hand, but Bond had already moved, diving for the unanchored metal chair and hurling it at Ourumov, who caught it across his chest, falling backwards, the pistol going off and a bullet ricocheting around the cell. As it happened, so Bond was on Ourumov, his fist catching the general on the side of the jaw so that his head lolled back, unconscious.
Bond dragged Natalya - and the one loose chair - to the wall behind the door just before it clanged open, and two soldiers, both with machine pistols, barrelled into the room, and stopped short, staring at the bodies, completely shaken by what they had found.
Before the pair had a chance to react, Bond leaped forward, swinging the chair - left and right, hard, smashing into the faces of the two men, then catching Natalya by the wrist, he hauled her out of the cell stopping only to scoop up a machine pistol which had fallen from one of the now bleeding and unconscious soldiers.
They were in a long passageway studded with metal doors, like the one belonging to the cell from which they had escaped. At the far end of the corridor, steps led upwards and, still pulling Natalya with him, Bond headed towards them, reckoning that stairs going up probably meant there would be stairs going down. He was wrong.
Damn, he cursed. People on the run in buildings normally go up and he had wanted to break that psychological fact by getting down to a lower floor.
At the top of this short flight of stairs, another long corridor led to an open plan office. Three soldiers stood at the ready in front of the office, and, as he glanced back, he could see Ourumov, puffing and blowing, his pistol unholstered and accompanied by three more men, beginning to follow the fugitives.
He put a quick burst in the direction of Ourumov, and then fired a long burst at the three men in front of the office. He saw one man go down, and another fall onto one knee as though wounded. The third ducked back into the office.
There seemed to be no way out, so he signalled to Natalya, making her flatten herself against the wall as he edged his way forward.
Three steps and they came to an archway on their left which appeared to be the entrance to yet another very dark and narrow corridor.
There was no option so he pulled the girl close and asked if she was all right.
“I will be if I live,’ she said with some spirit.
“Run like hell and don’t stop for anyone.” They set off at a sprint into the darkness.
