Double Bond

Chapter Two

“Have you found anything, Bond?” Tanner’s voice sounded tired, and he stifled a yawn.

“Very little. I think I’ve found the girl to talk to, though. She’s British.” There was a dead silence at Tanner’s end of the line.

“Are you sure?”

“Unless Oriental women have begun to speak with clipped British tones and have blue eyes, otherwise I’m certain. She’s engaged tonight, unfortunately. Do you want to know with who?”

Tanner sighed, and gave a deprecating little sniff.

“Do you know his name?”

“No, but I know that he is red-faced, extremely obese, and has an incredibly grating Cockney accent.”

“Does he have white hair in the shape of a rabbit’s tail on his head?” Tanner’s voice was suddenly alert.

“Yes.”

“Interesting.” James remained silent, hoping that Tanner would elaborate. His hopes were unrewarded.

“I think the best course of action is if you get, um, together with this girl. Finding out what her name is would be a good start. And then see what she knows about POHK’s plans. Do you think you can seduce her?” Tanner’s voice dripped sarcasm, and James just laughed, ending the phone call.

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The next morning, James made his way down to the servant’s quarters, following the directions given to him by his valet, who had appeared suddenly that morning with coffee. He looked around the corner and saw a girl coming out of a room, wearing a similar dress to the one of the evening before. At the same time, Oriental women came out of a door opposite. They walked up the corridor together, the girl wincing with every step. The Oriental lady smiled nastily, and said, in a mocking voice,

“Ahh. Is little Ghostie hurting after her night of rogering with the Fat Rabbit?” The girl just rolled her eyes, turning the corner and running straight into Bond.

He clamped his hands down on her shoulders to stop her from falling.

“Sorry, sir!” she gasped.

“Don’t worry, it was my fault.” He gave her a charming smile, to which she didn’t respond. James was distracted by the Oriental women, who had just struck a greatly provocative pose. He looked her up and down, consideringly. He normally would have gone for a woman who stood in such a position, but now he had two very good reasons not to. One was that he had a mission to complete, and the second was that he was strangely attracted to the reserved girl who he could feel shivering under his hands, and who seemed to be trying very hard to appear unattractive.

James transferred his gaze back to the girl’s face, his icy blue eyes locking on to her startlingly blue ones.

“Who do I need to ask for permission to have an engagement with you?” The Oriental lady sniffed deeply, and she stalked off down the corridor. The girl watched her go, before answering Bond’s question.

“That would be Mr. Samachio. I’ll take you to him.”

Bond grabbed her wrist as she began to turn, whirling her back round.

“Who do I need to ask for permission to get your name?” he asked her, and the girl’s face split into a grin, dimples showing on her cheeks. Her smile took James’ breath away.

“My name’s Rosie,” she informed him, bobbing him a small curtsey.

“I’m Bond. Oliver Bond.” James bent down to kiss her hand, noting the slight widening of her eyes at the mention of his name.

He straightened up again, proffering his arm to Rosie.

“Shall we?” he asked, and she nodded, slipping her arm through his and leading him up the passage.

 ****************

She was a great kisser. James had pushed her dress (a peach one this evening. It didn’t suit her much, either) up to her hips, and she had somehow managed to wrap her tiny legs around her waist.

“You look far more beautiful without make-up,” he murmured, and he felt Rosie’s smile through his lips. Bond’s compliments were usually insincere, but this one was true. She had washed off all her make-up at his request, and he had found that the chalk-white colour was actually paint, and that her natural skin colour was cream. Her lips were a delicate shade of rose, her eyes lined by long, dark lashes. She looked like a china doll.

Bond’s lips gently brushed her ear, before he pulled the dress over her head, flinging it to the floor. He frowned, his hand tracing over the top of her left arm.

“What’s that?” he asked, grimacing as he noticed a gentle ticking noise coming from somewhere in his room. God, he hated clocks. Rosie was shuddering under his fingertips, worry in her eyes.

“Oh, it’s just a tattoo,” she told him, running a hand through his blonde hair. James smiled at her, not mentioning it looked more like a brand than a tattoo. He fell forward onto the bed, trapping Rosie underneath him, as he began to unbutton his trousers.

 ****************

Later on, James couldn’t say what was so different about last night that had made it the best of his life. Maybe it was because she was, basically, a prostitute. She had seemed completely detached from the whole experience, and that had just made him even more eager to please her. He had never slept with someone who made sex for a living before. Or maybe it was just her. Whatever it was, it had been good.

He looked at her, to where she was dozing in the crook of his arm. There was the ghost of a smile playing about her lips, and her eyelids fluttered briefly, as if she knew James was watching her. He took a deep breath. He had to ask her, now.

“What do you know about bombs?”

Rosie’s eyes jerked open, and she flinched, sitting up suddenly, her eyes locked onto his face. The ticking noise was back, louder than before, and Bond glared around the room. Where was it coming from?

“B-bombs?” Her repetition held a faint note of incredulity, but it didn’t mask the fear that was also present.

“Yeah. I’ve always been fascinated with how little people know about bombs, how to defuse them and stuff.”

Rosie looked relieved.

“Oh, I don’t know anything about bombs,” she said, stressing the ‘anything’. James nodded, the ticking noise beginning to annoy him. He decided not to push the subject of bombs, as she was beginning to get quite jumpy.

“Ah well, I’ll have to tell you all about them sometime.” He smiled at her, and she grinned back.

A clock in the corridor struck two, and Rosie climbed out of bed, starting to pull her clothes back on.

“I need to get back to my room,” she informed James, pulling her dress over her head.

“Why do you have to go back to your room?” Bond asked, sitting up to watch her.

“Mr. Samachio’s orders. I’m not disobeying him.”

“Let me walk you back.”

“No!” Rosie’s response was too quick, too loud to be innocent. She took a deep, shaky breath.

“I don’t want to disturb you, you’d have to get up and dressed and everything.” She gave him a small smile, looking very upset, before turning and leaving the room.

James watched her go, contemplating his next move. He was certain she knew about the bomb, and he was almost positive that it was in her room. He just had to work out how to get in there.