Even Death Can't Keep Us Apart

Chapter 7

A few hours later, James was sitting in the old wicker chair keeping watch. Suddenly a mouse scurried to the middle of the room, James held up his pistol and quietly cocked it, aiming it at the mouse.

"Who sent you?" James deliriously murmured to the mouse, delirious from lack of sleep and the liquor he'd drunken. "Who are you working for?" He murmured to the mouse again. The mouse scurried off into a hole in the baseboard of the wall. James stared at the hole in the wall for a moment, an idea common to him when he saw the crooked framed photo on the wall. He got up and took another swig of the liquor before walking over to the wall, and pouring the rest of the bottle of liquor in front of the hole the mouse scurried into. He noticed the liquor seep under the wall, he looked over at Vesper, making sure she was still asleep, and punched a hole in the wall. He punched again, making the hole wider and waking Vesper up, she didn't say anything, instead she just watched him pull apart the wall into a doorway. She got up from the bed and walked over to where James was observing the newly discovered room.
"Of course." James said, lightly chuckling as he stepped inside and flipped on the light switch. Vesper followed him inside looking around the room. Vesper stopped in front of a bulletin board and began examining the photos on it, while James made his way to a table at the back of the room. The table was cluttered with big black binders on it and a few old VHS tapes. The photos on the bulletin board Vesper was examining were all of the same person, Mr. White's daughter, Dr. Madeleine Swann. It had photos of her from when she was an infant to what looked to be her graduation from university. James was flipping through the VHS tapes, and suddenly stopped, staring down at the one in his hands. Vesper looked over at him staring at the tape in his hands.
"What is it?" She asked. He continued to stare at the tape for a moment before looking up.
"Nothing. It's not important anymore." He replied, before tossing it back on the cluttered table. If he'd found that tape a week ago, maybe he would have taken it. Maybe he would have sat down with a bottle of scotch and watched it, ignoring the sounds of his own torture, just to see her face again. But now, that face was here with him, just as cold as she'd been when they had met, if not colder.

He shifted his attention away from the cluttered table to the small desk across from it, where only a coordinate scanner sat. He sat down on the old metal chair in front of the desk and turned on the coordinate scanner.

Vesper saw a white piece with numbers on it on the bulletin board she was examining.
"James, these are coordinates, right?" She said, pulling the small piece of paper off the bulletin board putting it on the table in front of James.

"Yes, they are." He said, typing them into the scanner. "White was scanning for a particular satellite phone. He was looking for someone. He was looking for him. And he sent me here to finish the job." He said, staring at the coordinate scanner.

"Us. I'm coming with you." Vesper said.
"No, you're not. I like having you alive again." James said, standing up and looking her in the eye.

"I can look after myself." She stated forcefully, looking him in the eye.

"That's besides the point. I might not be coming back." He stated with equal force.

"I know. But I have spent the last nine years tracking these people. The same people responsible for my "death". I'm going." She said, glaring at him with her piercing eyes.

James didn't say anything. He knew better than to argue with her, instead, he just looked at her then turned back to the coordinate scanner. He began rifling through the maps on the table. He would never admit, but he felt some sense of relief that she was coming with. Because, to be honest, he was doing this because of her. To get the revenge he'd wanted all those years ago in Kazan, Russia. In his eyes, Yusef had merely been a messenger, not worthy of the dignity of being killed a swift death. He had merely relayed the messages that caused the events of Venice, Mr. White had been his handler, giving him the messages to relay, and his handler, at the top of the pyramid, was Oberhauser. He was the reason for all his pain, the reason he was here in the first place rather than somewhere in London with Vesper, having lived a comfortable life together for the past nine years.

Once he found the map he needed, he unfolded it in front of the two of them.
"So, where was he going?" Vesper asked, watching him find where the coordinates intersected.

"Nowhere."