deadened. His mouth turned down on the same side and he was unable to smile. As a result, he was quite literally a man with two half-faces. It was a condition an unfortunate Syrian doctor had called Bell’s Palsy.
The girl approached him, but he didn’t move. A gas- operated Belgian FN FAL sniper rifle with an attached laser sight was propped against the doorframe. Binoculars on a tripod were trained on the rooftop below, where Bilbao policemen were now inspecting the shattered office windows.
‘Renard . . ’ Giulietta whispered.
The man seemed lost in thought. He rubbed and pinched his trigger finger, attempting to find a single nerve ending that might respond. He even brought the hand up to his mouth and bit the fleshy area between his thumb and forefinger. As always, he felt nothing.
Then he turned and inspected her. Finally, he said, ‘What’s his name?’
The girl had lost the ability to speak. Renard the Fox might very well kill her then and there.
‘Our friend from MI6,’ he said, quietly. ‘What’s his name?’
Giulietta swallowed and finally found her voice. ‘James Bond.’
Renard nodded as if he knew all about the Briton. ‘Ah. One of M’s more resourceful tin soldiers’
‘He ... he could identify me,’ she said.
Renard reached out and touched her cheek. She tensed at the cold tips of his fingers.
The man looked at the girl in front of him. She was attractive, certainly, but he felt no desire for her. She was merely an expendable soldier.
‘Then I suppose a death is in order,’ he said. He paused long enough for her eyes to widen, then dropped his hand. ‘His. When the time is right, I trust you won’t fail’
She sighed with relief. He was giving her another chance. Renard left the balcony and took a bottle of wine that was sitting on the bar of the suite. He filled two glasses and handed one to her.
‘Until then, let us toast this James Bond.’ He raised the glass. ‘We're in his hands now’
02 - Fireworks on the Thames
The Westland Lynx helicopter picked up Bond and made the short hop to central London, swooping over the spectacular Millennium Dome as it followed the river. Called the ‘dustbin lid’ by some critics, the dome was the largest in the world, having been constructed on the North Greenwich peninsula, bounded on three sides by the River Thames. As Bond looked at the Teflon-coated glass-covered structure from the window, he was reminded of a giant robotic beetle with antennae that might have come from an episode of Doctor Who. Part of a 300-acre former gasworks, the site had been derelict for more than two decades until it was sold to English Partnerships in 1997. Two Wembley stadiums could fit inside the dome which is tall enough to house Nelson’s Column, and big enough to accommodate forty thousand people. More significantly, the site was chosen because the Prime Meridian cuts across the west side, which is about two and a half kilometres from historic Greenwich.
As far as Bond was concerned, it added yet another eyesore to the scenery around the Thames. Another, of course, was the gaudy, layered-cake-like building that was the headquarters of SIS in London.
The Lynx banked along the snaking river and landed near the river entrance of the SIS building. Carrying the money
case, Bond disembarked, nodded at the police officer standing guard at the private entrance, then entered the secret, high- tech world that was MI6. Although all the security personnel knew Bond by sight, it was standard operating procedure that every precaution be taken. He passed through the metal detector, which clearly indicated that he was carrying his usual weaponry. An attentive staff member took the case from Bond and set it on a table. Bond opened it and began to scoop out the packs of cash. He wistfully flicked his finger through the last wad, then threw it down with the rest as a blue light scanned the money in three dimensions. Bond watched as the money was bundled into
The girl approached him, but he didn’t move. A gas- operated Belgian FN FAL sniper rifle with an attached laser sight was propped against the doorframe. Binoculars on a tripod were trained on the rooftop below, where Bilbao policemen were now inspecting the shattered office windows.
‘Renard . . ’ Giulietta whispered.
The man seemed lost in thought. He rubbed and pinched his trigger finger, attempting to find a single nerve ending that might respond. He even brought the hand up to his mouth and bit the fleshy area between his thumb and forefinger. As always, he felt nothing.
Then he turned and inspected her. Finally, he said, ‘What’s his name?’
The girl had lost the ability to speak. Renard the Fox might very well kill her then and there.
‘Our friend from MI6,’ he said, quietly. ‘What’s his name?’
Giulietta swallowed and finally found her voice. ‘James Bond.’
Renard nodded as if he knew all about the Briton. ‘Ah. One of M’s more resourceful tin soldiers’
‘He ... he could identify me,’ she said.
Renard reached out and touched her cheek. She tensed at the cold tips of his fingers.
The man looked at the girl in front of him. She was attractive, certainly, but he felt no desire for her. She was merely an expendable soldier.
‘Then I suppose a death is in order,’ he said. He paused long enough for her eyes to widen, then dropped his hand. ‘His. When the time is right, I trust you won’t fail’
She sighed with relief. He was giving her another chance. Renard left the balcony and took a bottle of wine that was sitting on the bar of the suite. He filled two glasses and handed one to her.
‘Until then, let us toast this James Bond.’ He raised the glass. ‘We're in his hands now’
02 - Fireworks on the Thames
The Westland Lynx helicopter picked up Bond and made the short hop to central London, swooping over the spectacular Millennium Dome as it followed the river. Called the ‘dustbin lid’ by some critics, the dome was the largest in the world, having been constructed on the North Greenwich peninsula, bounded on three sides by the River Thames. As Bond looked at the Teflon-coated glass-covered structure from the window, he was reminded of a giant robotic beetle with antennae that might have come from an episode of Doctor Who. Part of a 300-acre former gasworks, the site had been derelict for more than two decades until it was sold to English Partnerships in 1997. Two Wembley stadiums could fit inside the dome which is tall enough to house Nelson’s Column, and big enough to accommodate forty thousand people. More significantly, the site was chosen because the Prime Meridian cuts across the west side, which is about two and a half kilometres from historic Greenwich.
As far as Bond was concerned, it added yet another eyesore to the scenery around the Thames. Another, of course, was the gaudy, layered-cake-like building that was the headquarters of SIS in London.
The Lynx banked along the snaking river and landed near the river entrance of the SIS building. Carrying the money
case, Bond disembarked, nodded at the police officer standing guard at the private entrance, then entered the secret, high- tech world that was MI6. Although all the security personnel knew Bond by sight, it was standard operating procedure that every precaution be taken. He passed through the metal detector, which clearly indicated that he was carrying his usual weaponry. An attentive staff member took the case from Bond and set it on a table. Bond opened it and began to scoop out the packs of cash. He wistfully flicked his finger through the last wad, then threw it down with the rest as a blue light scanned the money in three dimensions. Bond watched as the money was bundled into
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