James Bond 007 - No More Promises

Part 3 ~ Chapters 7-9

Chapter 7

Cocktails Without Ophelia

It was almost six o'clock and James Bond had been waiting for Ophelia Quivers for close to an hour. He was seated alone, where they had planned to meet, in a secluded booth in the D-Bar at the Ritz with his third drink sitting untouched on the table in front of him. They were meant to meet at five o'clock so she could give him more information about her findings.

Now was that quiet in-between time that hotel bars the world over have in common, the cocktail hour had ended, and the supper rush had yet to begin. The room was quite crowded when James Bond had arrived. Laughter and lively conversations in several languages filled the space, along with the sounds of clinking glasses and quiet music. There had been servers rushing about and all sorts of activity. Now it had quieted down, and Bond felt uneasy as he sat alone in the largely empty room, James Bond learnt long ago, that in this line of work, one must rely on one's initial gut feeling as it is often the most accurate. Ignoring it can cost lives. He had given Ophelia enough time to redo her hair and try on a different outfit or two, as women often did before leaving the house, but the time to expect her to come breezing into the bar fashionably late had come and gone. He rang her but there was no answer. It was time to act.

Striding out of the hotel onto Ringstrasse and moving quickly towards Ophelia's flat, James Bond mentally prepared for what he might encounter. The most likely scenario was that he would find Ophelia just getting out of the shower, oblivious to the time. They would have a laugh about it and go out for supper. But if there was trouble, James Bond was ready. His newly acquired gun was tucked into the waistband of his trousers.

James Bond checked his surroundings before entering Ophelia's building, it looked to be all clear. He ran up to the third floor, taking the stairs two at a time, and quietly jogged to Ophelia's door. As he approached, his stomach sank, the door was slightly ajar. Something was wrong.

Bond pulled the gun from his waistband and pushed the door open slowly and quietly while holding his weapon at the ready. The flat seemed silent and empty. James Bond crept inside, staying close to the wall and keeping the lights off, there was enough light coming through the living room window for him to see quite clearly anyhow, which also left him exposed, anyone already in the flat could see James Bond just as clearly as he would see them. He pushed the door closed behind him and moved into the kitchen, the living room, the rest of the flat. It appeared to be empty, but the place had been turned upside down. It looked as though a tornado had torn through it. Signs of a search, and a struggle.

Less concerned about making noise now, Bond did a more thorough search of the flat. Whoever had been there was gone now, most likely Ophelia was with them. He spat an expletive into the empty room and made another call. This one was answered.

"Winslow, Bond here. Ophelia is gone and her flat has been broken into. How soon can you get to the hotel? Fine, see you in ten minutes."

James Bond ran back downstairs and out into the street. He sprinted back to the hotel. As he approached the entrance, a man he had never seen before stepped in front of him on the sidewalk and put out his hand in greeting. "Hello, Mr. Bond." He said happily.

James Bond slowed his pace so as not to run into the man and at that moment he felt another presence close behind him and the barrel of a gun being pushed hard into his back. "Into the car, please." the man behind him said quietly. The man in front of Bond had taken hold of his hand and was gripping it tightly. A car pulled to the kerb, the three men got into the backseat and the car drove off.

They were in the back of a Kingfisher Blue Bentley Mulsanne with Bond squeezed in the middle between the two men who were roughly the same size as him, both were wearing non-descript black suits. The man on his left, who had initially stopped him on the street had blond, almost white, hair and the man on his right had a tousled dark brown mop of hair on his head. The men had been largely uncommunicative since getting into the car, Bond had asked them several questions including what their names were, but they had both sat stone-faced and silent. With no given names to go by, James Bond had taken to referring to them as "Blondie" and "Brownie" to himself.