by BBMSN
Bond came into M's office looking none too happy. He had been called away from
his assignment in Malaysia rather abruptly, and wanted an explanation. But the
look on M's face was too serious for him to raise too much of a protest.
"Sit down, Bond," she said to him. Her look was ominous. "We have a
situation," she said. She laid a folder out on her desk top and opened it,
facing Bond. "Do you remember a professional boxer from some years ago, named
O'Hara?"
"The big Irish heavyweight?"
"That would be him."
"He disappeared from the boxing scene somewhat suddenly, if I remember
correctly."
"You remember correctly," said M. "His punches were so powerful that on a
number of occasions he shattered his opponents' jaws so completely that they
were left paralyzed. Others had their necks snapped, to the same end. Several of
them died from the beatings. Apparently, Mr O'Hara was unable to control his
strength, and was banned from boxing for life. That was ten years ago."
"So where are we today?" asked Bond, as he lifted the first picture from
the folder and looked at the boxing promo shot of O'Hara from his short career.
It showed a powerfully built man of about twenty. Even at that age, he had a
massive barrel chest and huge arms and hands. Giant, thick hands. In fact, he
was thickly muscled all over. Bond could see how a man like that could severely
injure someone in a fight.
"Today, we are trying to find Mr O'Hara. We have reason to believe he is on
a course of revenge against a group he feels wronged him."
"The British Boxing Commission?" asked Bond.
"Not exactly. You see, after he was banned from boxing, O'Hara applied to
Her Majesty's Secret Service."
"And?"
"He was rejected," said M.
Bond picked up another picture, one of O'Hara in a suit much like the one
Bond was wearing now, only the Irish heavyweight looked three times bigger than
Bond.
"He completed most of the training," M continued, "but was never able to
pass the psychiatric testing."
"Anger issues?"
"Apparently," said M, not amused. "Now we have reason to believe that he
has been hunting down our agents."
"Which agents," asked Bond.
"The double O's."
"But all the double O's have been killed while on assignments," said Bond.
"That was the official version," said M. "Quite honestly, until recently, we
weren't sure who was killing them, only that they were disappearing here in
London."
"In London?" asked Bond.
"Yes. And last week we got footage from a surveillance camera that showed
who we think is O'Hara abducting 006." M picked up a remote, and turned on a
flat-screen TV that hung on the back wall. Bond turned to watch, and saw a
grainy black and white video of a well-dressed man walking down the street.
Behind him approached another man who was much bigger, but also well-dressed.
The bigger man came up quickly on the first man, wrapped one big arm around the
smaller man's neck and easily lifted him off the sidewalk. He jerked the smaller
man back and forth, very forcefully, then disappeared down an alleyway. M fast
forwarded the video until the bigger man walked out of the alley carrying a
metal crate on one shoulder. For a brief second, the big man appears to look
directly at the camera, then turns to cross the street and disappears from view.
"That's it?" asked Bond.
"That's it."
"Well, it did look like him, I suppose," said Bond, "but what happened to
06?"
"We believe he might be inside that crate."
"That little box?" said Bond. They watched the video one more time. Bond
shuddered to think that someone could have stuffed a full grown man inside a
container of that size. And then carry that container with such ease.
"And why call me back now?" Bond asked, sensing that he already knew the
answer.
"We need bait," stated M flatly.
"And that would be me?"
M nodded.
"Why can't you just have him arrested?"
"We can't find him. Ironically, after he left boxing, he returned to
Ireland and became a very successful real estate developer, and then parlayed
that money into an import/export business, and now owns numerous warehouses
throughout the world. He could be anywhere. Los Angeles, New York, London,
Thailand, Sumatra, Indonesia. He seems to be focusing his business interests
toward southeast Asia."
"So I am to hang around London until he shows up? That could take months."
"Hopefully not. We have reason to believe that he has found a way to
monitor our secret service emails, so we have sent out some inter-agency memos
announcing your promotion to an in-house position. He may want to make contact
with you before that were to happen. So you are to go about your life in London,
as if you are not on assignment, and see what that procures. But first, go see
Q, he has some things for you."
Down at the lab, Q asked Bond to remove his shirt. Bond stripped down,
and saw his reflection in the mirror. He was arguably in the best shape of his
life. He was lean and hard. His six-pack showed clearly and crisply. He had
trained hard with the martial arts trainers from the service before his last
assignment and was at the top of his game.
Q came back in and said, "You look superb, James," as he looked 07 up
and down. He handed Bond what looked like a normal dress shirt. "Put this on. It
should feel like a normal shirt, but the fibers are reinforced with a synthetic
polymer than might protect your bones from the blows of an extremely powerful
Irishman."
"You know about O'Hara?" Bond asked.
Q rolled his eyes. "Everyone knows. Now, take off your shoes, and put
these on. They look like your standard Oxfords, but the frame has been replaced
with a titanium alloy. One kick from these babies, and you'll put a normal man
thru a wall. Or at least shatter his sternum."
Bond put on the shirt and the shoes. The shirt felt a little stiff, like
it had been over-starched, but otherwise normal. The shoes were strikingly
heavier than normal shoes, though.
"Do I really need these?"
"Bond," answered Q, "have you seen this man? He's three times your size,
and could snap you like a twig, especially if he catches you off guard. He may
very well be taking the other double 0's and breaking their spirits with his
tremendously superior size and strength. So keep the shoes on and keep quiet."
Bond walked around the lab a bit, and figured he could get used to wearing
the heavy shoes. He took a quick kick at a support beam that came down from the
ceiling, hitting it about eye level, and leaving a deep dent. He had only used a
fraction of his kicking power. OK, he thought, the shoes stay.
"Nicely done, Bond," said Q, shaking his head and rolling his eyes once
again. "Now go out there, and bring back our boys."
(
geocities.com/westhollywood/park) (
geocities.com/westhollywood)