Bond Movies 06 - The World Is Not Enough (6 page)

Find out who switched that pin. If your instincts arc right, Renard will be back — and Elektra is the next target.’

‘The worm on the hook again,’ Bond said. ‘Protect the girl, but kill Renard?’

M gave Bond a silent acknowledgement with her eyes that the latter deed was understood.

‘Elektra doesn’t need to know the same man may be after her. Don’t frighten her.’

A shadow operation’

M narrowed her eyes at Bond. ‘Remember - shadows stay behind - or in front - but never on top.’

She knew him all too well.

James Bond picked up the BMW Z8 in Turkey then drove East until he came to the southern range of the Caucasus, which forms the border between Turkey and Iran, and the former Soviet satellites of Georgia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan. The gigantic snow-capped peak of the volcano Mount Aergius floated above a layer of cloud, providing an overall effect that was breathtaking.

The Z8 had evolved naturally from the legendary BMW 507. It had been shipped as promised by the overly- efficient Q Branch Deputy (he also shipped the Aston- Martin, as he was sure 007 would ultimately need a backup). A two-seater open sports car with a sleek engine compartment and streamlined body design, the Z8 came equipped with a six-speed transmission and a 400-horse- power V-8 engine. Bond was so invigorated by the feel of its power that he had to continually remind himself to slow down.

After a while, the Z8 entered an area of desolate oil fields. The road snaked along an oil pipe that would ultimately lead Bond to his destination. He was all alone on the road, so he pushed the car to its limit. Still, he had a nagging feeling that he was being watched. He remained alert and vigilant, constantly checking his mirrors and heads-up display that would indicate the presence of other vehicles within a ten-mile radius. So far, though, he might as well have been the only person in the deserted valley.

The pipeline eventually moved into a dense, wooded area The car roared through the pines, keeping with the oil pipe. It wouldn’t be far now.

An icon flashed on the display. There was an aircraft above him. Two minutes later Bond could hear the sound of a helicopter. He looked out of the window and saw that it was a lifting aircraft, carrying a huge crate suspended beneath it. A King Industries logo was painted on the side of the crate.

The chopper passed Bond, moving ahead and beyond his vision. It was obviously headed for the construction site, too.

Still following the pipeline, Bond finally saw the end of the forest approaching. As the car emerged from the pines, a tiny speck on the vast landscape, Bond was fairly certain that his presence was already being announced by hidden guards, probably wearing forest camouflage.

The King Industries pipeline construction site was massive, teeming with ultra-modern robotic machines and vehicles, as well as an airstrip. It was a huge undertaking. Sir Robert’s intention was to open up a different oil pipeline to the west from the rich oil fields in the Caspian Sea. The project, which had already been running for a few years, had a long way to go. The difficult part would be digging through the mountains to the east and connecting with another part of the pipeline in Azerbaijan.

Bond pulled the BMW near the buildings marked as construction offices and stopped. He got out, squinting into the bright sun. A slim man in his early thirties stepped out of the office and smiled.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked. He had an accent that was somewhere between Ukrainian and Muscovite.

‘I’m looking for Elektra King,’ Bond said. He produced an ID card and showed it to the man. ‘My name is Bond. James Bond. Universal Exports.’

The man took the card, glanced at it, and then held out his hand. ‘Sasha Davidov. Head of Security. Nice to meet you.’ Bond shook his hand. The grip was firm. ‘And now you can call off the thugs standing behind me with the guns.’ Davidov was impressed. He smiled again, then made a motion behind Bond. Sure enough, three construction workers shouldered weapons and moved away.

‘Please don’t call them thugs,’ Davidov said. ‘It upsets them’

The two men shared a laugh just as the high-pitched whine of an executive helicopter filled the air.

‘I know Miss King is expecting you.’

The helicopter swooped in over the trees on its final approach. Bond put his hand to his brow. The scope of the site was staggering. Other helicopters were trailing giant saws that were cutting down trees to clear the pipeline right-of-way. Mammoth machines were dragging the trees away. It was a huge, awe-inspiring operation.

The lifting helicopter appeared overhead, still carrying the crate, and slowly descended. As soon as the crate touched the ground, workers moved in on it. A switch here, a lever there - and within moments, Bond could see that the object was, in fact, an expanding mobile office. The space within was increased by sliding the walls out; they operated much like filing cabinet drawers. Just as Elektra King’s helicopter landed on the runway in the distance, the mobile office had doubled its size and was ready for immediate operation.

Sasha Davidov and his men went into action as the jet taxied to a stop. Tense and alert, they drew their guns and scanned the perimeter. Bond joined in, falling easily into his job as Elektra King’s protector. He still felt as if they were being watched, but everything looked clear.

‘Have there been any threats?’ Bond asked Davidov. ‘No,’ the Head of Security said with tight lips. ‘We had a lot of trouble with sabotage for a long time. Not so much here, but

in Azerbaijan. Here they just throw rocks. The countrymen in Azerbaijan blew up stuff. I guess they did not approve of a pipeline being constructed through their home. Sir Robert was very worried about it. As far as he was concerned, they were terrorists. Miss King is more tolerant of their feelings. Anyway, I put in extra security. It seems to be all right now.’

‘But nothing here? Nothing recently?’ Bond asked.

‘No. But since - “the incident” with Sir Robert, we all feel terrible . . . Responsible . . .’

‘Because it happened on your watch?’

‘Of course.’

Across the tarmac, the helicopter stopped, the hatch opened and the stairs swung down. The new CEO of King Industries stepped out, beautiful and elegant as ever. She was immediately surrounded by a phalanx of security guards. Not looking at Bond, she strode directly toward the mobile office and entered.

‘Shall we?’ Davidov asked Bond.

He followed the Ukrainian inside the fully functional office. Everything appeared to have been in use for weeks - computers, phones, a kitchen and a wall map of the pipeline. Elektra was in the middle of a group of workmen, dressing down a foreman.

‘Moustafa!’ she said, using a teasing, warmly affectionate tone to express her displeasure. ‘You promised me that clearing would be finished last week. Are you telling me we're not going to meet my father's schedule?’

The foreman sheepishly replied, ‘We’ve had some trouble with the villagers at Ruan. Some sacred burial plot . . .’

She looked away, exasperated, noticing Davidov and Bond for the first time.

‘Miss King?’ Davidov interrupted. ‘Mister Bond is here to sec you.’

She nodded, then returned to the foreman. ‘Find me the research on the limestone deposits, place these orders, bring me the budget reports and get the jeep ready. I’ll deal with the problems at Ruan myself. . .’ 

Davidov interjected, ‘Miss King, I wouldn’t recommend’

‘Sasha,’ she said, smiling at him indulgently. ‘I know what you would recommend. But I am going to Ruan. They’re my mother’s people. So prepare the jeep.’ She addressed everyone else in the room. ‘And the rest of you — out. Get back to work, while I deal with our mysterious guest.’

Turning her back on Bond, she opened the door and held it for all of the men to file out. Watching this, Bond found himself intrigued by the woman. He liked her style, the easy way she flirted with the foreman yet got her instructions across. She was settling well into her role as boss.

‘M told me she was sending someone,’ she said, closing the door and attempting to maintain the facade.

‘She has great affection for you,’ Bond said.

‘In many ways, she’s like a mother to me.’ She paused, then said, ‘I saw you at my father’s funeral.’

‘Yes. I’m sorry.’

‘Did you ever meet him?’

‘Once. Briefly.’

‘It’s funny . . . You go through an entire day and do not think about it. Then the tiniest thing - a sound, a smell - a stranger’s face — and it all comes rushing back. Have you ever lost a loved one, Mister Bond?’

‘James.’ He decided not to tell the whole truth. ‘I’ve had to give up loved ones.’

He could feel her searching his face, trying to assess him. Bond did his best not to give anything away and pressed on. ‘M sent me because were afraid you may be in danger.’

She laughed scornfully, walked to the map on the wall and said, ‘My father was murdered. I have a duty to fulfill the company’s goals. I’m trying to finish building his oil pipeline - eight hundred miles of it. Through Turkey, bypassing Iraq, Iran and Syria.’ She pointed to the map. ‘To the north, there

are three competing Russian pipelines and those people will do anything to stop me.’ She turned back to him and said, ‘And you - dear Mister Bond - are here to tell me MI6 thinks I might be in danger?’

In the face of her ironic attack. Bond realised that he had to divulge more than he wished. ‘We think it might be an insider.’

Before she could respond, there was a knock at the door. A large, imposing bodyguard popped his head in. His skin was black as coal and he wore his hair in dreadlocks.

‘Excuse me, Miss King, the jeep is ready,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ she said. The man’s eyes went to Bond, then back to Elektra, before he closed the door.

‘Someone close to me?’ she asked. ‘Do you want to interrogate my bodyguard?’

‘His name is Gabor,’ Bond said, referring to the man they had just seen. ‘He’s from Fiji. A warrior — from Bcqa Island. He’s been protecting you since the kidnapping.’

Elektra’s eyes flashed at the mention of the word ‘kidnapping’. The stranger who was James Bond knew too much, and it angered her.

She turned, ready to walk out. ‘Mister Bond, thank you for coming. But I already have a bodyguard —’

Bond grabbed her by the arm. ‘Elektra —’ He pulled the burnt lapel pin from his pocket and showed it to her.

‘That was my father’s . . .’ she said, stunned. Tears welled in her eyes.

‘No. A duplicate. With a receiver inside that set off the bomb. Someone in your organisation switched the real one with this. I’m here to protect you . . . and find out who was responsible.’

She pushed it away from her. ‘My family has relied on MI6 twice. I won’t make that mistake a third time.’

With that, she opened the office door and left the building. Bond followed her outside to a jeep, where Gabor was holding the passenger door open for her. She turned and said, ‘Mister Bond, I am going to finish building this pipeline. For my father, and for myself.' She got in the jeep and looked at a clipboard that was on the dash. ‘And I don’t need your help. I hope you have a pleasant flight home.’

But Bond had already slipped into the driver’s scat. He reached over her lap and pulled the passenger door shut, leaving a befuddled Gabor standing outside the vehicle. Elektra looked at Bond, speechless.

‘I thought I might visit Ruan on my way home,’ Bond said. ‘Buckle up. It’s safer that way.’

The jeep took off before Elektra King could say a word.

They drove through the oil fields, a blighted, petrified forest of iron. She gave the directions, but otherwise didn’t say much. Attempting to break the ice, Bond commented, ‘I see we’ve taken the scenic route.’

Slightly insulted, she asked, ‘Do you know what you’re looking at? There was a time when this was the most coveted spot on earth.’

Bond nodded. ‘Yes. I know. The oil fields here were discovered at the end of the last century. The Soviets seized them in 1919. Hitler wanted them. Stalin and Khrushchev used them to fuel the cold war.’

She was impressed. ‘I see you’ve done your homework. But your treatise lacks passion.’

Bond waited for her to explain.

‘It was my mother’s people who discovered this oil,’ she said. ‘The Bolsheviks slaughtered them for it. And when the Soviet Union fell, this is the legacy they left us. Some say the oil is in my family’s blood. I say our blood is in the oil.’

It wasn’t long before they heard the sound of a helicopter above them. Bond looked up and saw a Eurocopter Dauphin with the King Industries logo on it. She said, ‘It's Gabor and Sasha. I’m sure they just want to keep tabs on me.’

The jeep passed from the derricks into a rock-strewn terrain. It was a moonscape not unlike the rocky deserts of Arizona in the United States, but with Stonehenge-like formations jutting out from the ground. They soon began to pass signs of civilisation. Amongst groupings of curious three-headed fairy chimneys was a row of souvenir stalls.

Soon they were in the village of Ruan itself, which once was a monastic retreat. The most striking points of interest, Bond noted, were the various churches and primitive cliff dwellings. Elektra explained that archaeologists had discovered cave paintings and other ancient artifacts in them.

‘It’s all pre-history, here. Noah's ark supposedly wound up on one of the mountains not far away,’ she said.

They came to a break in the pipe along the road where King Industries had set up a survey camp. The jeep arrived just in time, for the survey crew were cowering behind a four- wheel drive as men threw stones at them from a village carved into the rock. The people were shouting, ready to come out and storm the camp.

Before Bond could stop her, Elektra got out of the jeep and moved to the crowd. The stoning suddenly ceased when the villagers saw her. They knew who she was. Bond watched protectively as she took a few of the leaders aside and spoke quietly to them in their tongue. After a moment, the crowd parted, making way for an Orthodox priest who motioned to her.

‘Come’

She nodded and followed him through the tribesmen to a stunning Byzantine chapel hewn into the rock. Flames illuminated the mosaics and paintings on the walls. Bond stayed in the shadows, allowing Elektra to handle the situation. She was obviously quite capable at being an arbitrator. As she quietly talked with the priest, Bond stepped out and looked around. Davidov’s helicopter had landed nearby, and he and the bodyguard were walking up to the chapel.