The Monte Carlo Trilogy - part one - Not A Day More

Not A Day More

It was a moonless night but the sky was clear so that it was not pitch-black.
James Bond checked his watch. It was time. He fitted his mask into place and
fitted the mouthpiece into his mouth. Silently he slipped into the peaceful dark water. The temperature was cold, and but for the wet-suit he was wearing he'd be suffering from a dangerous change in body temperature, for although during the day the sea around the Cote d' Azur was warm from the heat of the sun, when night falls it soon cools down and drops to temperatures that are more akin to the temperatures more common of the English Channel. A wet-suit at night was a necessity at this time of year, when the spring was only just beginning to take its
hold.
Hanging from his waist in a cloth bag was the device he'd chosen. He didn't
have a limpet mine, but what he'd managed to get would do the trick just as well. He went deep right from the start, going down to about thirty feet
before heading on his chosen course.
He knew his speed and had estimated the distance. He kept a steady count of
the seconds and minutes, knowing that at the estimated total if his calculations
were correct and the intelligence he'd been given was right, he'd be at that
given spot where hopefully this situation could be brought to a satisfying end the following day. The fish that were about him didn't pay him much mind as he cut through the depths. Some of them darted away and swooped back following his wake as if he was a shark or a dolphin, others just went about as if such forays into the sea at night were the norm.
The skein of nylon rope would hopefully do the trick. 007 knew it was a risk, but it was all he could do at such short notice. He swam beneath the two boats and paused before heading aft and rising to trail his fingers along he
Mallard's keel. He then swam to the stern and stopped with his left hand on
one blade of the port propellor, hoping no damned fool in the engine room
would punch the wrong button and start the engine. If the three big blades
began to turn he'd be sliced and diced in an instant.
Fumbling with the legnth of nylon rope, Bond began to go about his task. The propellor was roughly four feet in diameter, and the shaft was supported by struts before it entered the stern of the hull. He slipped the end of the rope in between a strut and the hull and coiled it around the shaft and then passed a loop around the shaft in between the propellor and the strut. When he tugged gently - it held well.
Now to try and sort out the other propellor. The coils of rope were difficult to control in the darkness and sometimes Bond struggled with it like he was wrestling with an evil serpent from the depths below, the 'tail' of rope sometimes being swept away from him by the current. Eventually however, he managed what he'd set out to do. The two propellors were tangled with such a cat's cradle that if the engine were to be started and those two propellors
began to turn, the coils would tighten - strangling the rear of the boat and
making it grind to a satisfactory halt.
With the job done Bond turned back towards the shore.
******
On his way back to the shore he thought about his mission. M had called him in that morning.
"Now listen here James. You have to go to Monte Carlo. There is a man there
who we believe to be a major arms dealer. He's a Count no less and we have to be careful that our facts are right before we deal with him or otherwise there will be a scandal of astronomic proportions. I want you to befriend him in the Casino and take a look at his new yacht that was built in this country in Bristol. Its called he Mallard. He has a daughter called Lauren. Get close to her and she may let something slip."
He'd smiled at that one. The photographs in the dossier had pleased him. Lauren D'aville looked stunning. This would be a nice break from the
humdrum life of the office that he'd endured these last few months.
"You've only got to keep them away from a major arms deal that we know
is going on off the coast of Sicily. With the Count out of the way, we can
send someone in to round up his mysterious buyers."
All he had to do was stop them from leaving – and keep them there for one
more day and not a day more.

****

The following morning Bond sat on the veranda of his hotel room, overlooking
the bay of Monte Carlo, and the marina below. On the table before him was a
cup of hot black coffee, a plate of scrambled eggs and a rack of wholemeal toast. The navy blue slacks he wore were topped with a pale blue, short-sleeved, Turnbull and Asser Sea-Island cotton shirt. It was open at the neck. Bond hadn't felt the need to wear a tie at breakfast. He absent mindedly
brushed back the comma of dark hair that seemed to have a mind of it's own.
Taking a sip of the black coffee he looked once more out over the bay of
Monte Carlo. The Mallard was still there. He picked up the binoculars that lay on the vacant chair next to him and peered through them at the luxury yacht.
There was activity aboard. It looked like it was getting ready to leave. Bond
smiled. Put the binoculars back down and ate his scrambled eggs. Once he'd
finished them he drained his cup of coffee and lit his second Morelands of the day. A screech from below made him pick up the binoculars once more. The screech had come from a startled Seagull, and was nothing to worry about. 007 focused on the yacht once more. Yes it was leaving.
The anchor came up and The Mallard moved off slowly. Bond was surprised
to see it move at all and it came as a shock. He drew his breath. "Damn it
isn't working!"
The Mallard turned towards the open sea, picking up speed so that a bow
wave showed white. Bond resigned himself to the fact that he'd failed. "Oh
well." He said to himself gloomily.
He then looked once more at the dissappearing yacht. The Mallard had
swerved suddenly and unnaturally as though someone had spun the wheel fast, and now she was heading back into the Marina. She slowed and water boiled at her stern as the engines were put into reverse. Then the bubbling stopped and she drifted helplessly, right into the path of another large yacht. The other yacht's klaxon sounded, demanding it's right of way, but The Mallard couldn't react. The other yacht altered its course slightly and the paintwork of The Mallard was scraped as it went by. The skipper of the large yacht hurled abuse at the floundering vessel as it passed.
Bond smiled to himself and thought . . . "Well, it's done and she'll be
staying another night. When they find out what's happened they'll be
cursing the idiot who carelessly dropped a line in the water."
******
The Casino was busy as usual. 007 entered wearing a handsomely tailored tuxedo and moved towards the Chemin De fer table. The game seemed quite lively - the large man in the white dinner jacket had the shoe, and seemed to be on a winning streak. To his left was a an arab gentleman and to his right a brunette wearing a red eveningdress with a plunging neckline revealing a full and firm cleavage, and
about her neck she wore a stunning diamond choker that sparkled beneath the equally oppulent chandelier that hung above the table.
The very attractive woman looked up from her cards and saw 007 approaching the table.
"Ah Mister Bond, it is good to see you again." She said smiling warmly.
"Miss D'aville. It's good to see you again." said Bond " I thought you
were leaving?"
"Ah Mister Bond. Perhap's you have not heard. My yacht mysteriously got
tangled up in a nylon line. The propellors are ruined and the damage caused is going to take some time to repair." Said Count Louis-Enrique D'aville, interrupting the conversation, taking the large Havana cigar from his mouth.
"I'm sorry to hear that Count. I presume that means you and your
beautiful daughter will be staying a little longer?"

"Just so Mr Bond, but only for a day more as I have friends who have kindly
given me a hand, and have ensured that the damaged components will have
been replaced by tomorrow ."

James Bond muttered to himself under his breath, "I'm glad to hear it."
and smiled. "Well as you are here for another night, do you mind if I take
your daughter to dinner?"
"Be my guest Mr Bond, I'm sure you will look after her."
With that the Count went back to his game and Lauren excused herself from the table, and taking Bond's arm allowed herself to be escorted to the restaurant.

"You have a twinkle in your eye Mr Bond, you look like the cat that's got
the cream." She said to him once they were out of ear shot of her Father.

" I insist you call me James. Let me just say 'fait accompli' my dear. I hope
you like Beluga caviar - I'm in the mood for an evening of fun and games."
He said smiling. The cruel set of his mouth softening momentarily.
"Me too James, I want my last night in Monte Carlo to be a special one."
"I'm sure it will. I'm sure it will." he said.

*****

Meanwhile the SAS team moved in and the arms deal was no more, the buyers
were rounded up and the contraband seized. M sat back in the chair and looked at the dossier on the desk. Signed the piece of paper next to it and slipped it into the
folder. With a finger held down on the switch the head of MI6 said,
"Moneypenny, let me know when 007 gets back, it should be sometime
tomorrow, and tell him I want a full report as soon as he can."

The end of

Not A Day More

James Bond will Return.
In The Monte Carlo Trilogy Part Two - When Tomorrow Comes