By: Alexander Auric Dust
James Bond had never felt
comfortable around those of wealth, he had once be-friended the former Governer
of Jamacia, but that was years before and sadly the Governer had passed. Bond
had always found the rich and powerful to far from interesting to be of any use
But now he found himself wedged
between a lather large bodied and large mouthed woman, and, what Bond reffered
to as a "Bowler and Umbrella" Englishman, at themassive dinnertable
of the former M, Sir Miles Messervey's flat, Quarterdeck. Sir Miles had invited him to a small dinner party he
was having. Bond would have chosen not to come, but the more he refused the
more Sir Miles insisted.
"Come along, James my
boy." He had said jovily. "It'll be fun, there'll be some nice girls
Bond cleared his throat, it wasn't
like M, no matter hard he tried Bond couldn't get used to Sir. Miles friendliness toward him. Still Sir Miles
didn't approve of Bond's womanizing, though one couldn't tell from his
So, now Bond ate hi dinner of the
tenderest steak and potatoes of his life, and listened silently to the boreing
drivle around him. When it finaly ended Bond had settled into Sir Miles' living
room with a glass of the Admiral's treasured chery.
"007, may I have a word with
you in my study?" It came as a whisper in his ear. He didn't turn, he knew
the Seadog voice as well as he knew his own, he merely nodded and finished his
As he walked slowly into the study,
"M", closed the door and motioned to a chair across from a large oak
desk. Bond sat and began to feel the flutter of danger and excitment in the pit
of his stomach.
"Well, 007," Sir Miles
said, taking his chair. " 'Bit like old times, eh?"
Bond nodded and noticed his excitment
continue to grow . "007", it was odd to hear Sir Miles reffer to him
as anything but, "James, my boy."
"I've no need to tell you I
feel terribly awkward about saying this, but, I've a favor to ask, 007."
He looked up, Bond said nothing, so he continued. "I don't know weither or
not you noticed, 007, but there was a gentlemen at dinner tonight you may not
Bond thought for a moment. Indeed,
there had been a largish man across the table from him. He was large, softening
around the jowls, and had a thick mustache, a Bulgar most likely.
"Well," Sir Miles
continued. "That was a fellow by the name of Carlof Gradski, he's former
Mentaly Bond went through the
services file ont the Stasi. An abbreviation for Staatssicheheitdienst, it was
founded in 1950, dissolvedin 1989, it was East Germany'sstate security, also
conducting foriegn intelligence, and Spy networks.
"To be frank," Sir Miles
broke into Bond's thoughts. "I think the mans up to no good." He
rattled through his dinnerjacket for his matches.
"Well, Sir." Bond cleared
his throat and corrected himself. "Admiral, with all do respect why is he
The Admiral gave a curt laugh.
"You know as well as I that since the end of the Cold Warthe line between
enemy and allie is more blurred than ever." Bond nodded silently and
watched his old chief lit his pipe, it all ways did take four to five minutes,
Bond reflected. This was no exception, after a good five minutes, "M"
looked again at Bond.
"And he's married to a good
friend of mine for the matter of that." Sir Miles tilted his head and
watched the pipe smoke rise to the celing. "I believe you know her, James.
Bond thought for a moment, yes, he
remembered the always cheerful face, the, now graying, blonde hair, He had
always thought of her as Sir Miles's second daughter.
"But I'd only met the man once
before, at the wedding. But tonight I noticed something that I hadn't
before." Bond slipped a hand into his jacket pocket. Sir Miles nodded and
continued. As he listened, Bond removed a three ringed Dunhill from his
gunmetal case and lit it silently. He still didn't dare smoke in Sir Miles
presence unless given permission.
He smiled and ran his thumb over the
almost unseeable scar in his cigarette case, and remembered the assassin's
bullet, and how his case had saved his life. Yes, just like the old days.
"Do you remember the Stasi
Lapel Pins, 007?"
He thought back, remembering the
Stasi of old, the "Big Brother" of the Cold War. He could remember
few personal encounters with the Stasi, he shook his head slowly. "Sorry,
si-" Bond caught himself, after years of calling his old chief
"Sir" it had become almost involentary, he still found it hard to
stop himself. "I don't."
"H'm, well, perhaps i can jog
your memory. During the height of the Cold War Stasi agents wore lapel pens
with small colored identification dot, this dot identified agents to each
other, and informants."
"Bond nodded slowly, he did
remember the method of ID, however vaguely.
"What I saw was the man's
watch." Sir Miles waited for a reply.
"His watch?" Bond
repeated. "An interesting Rolex Sir Miles?"
The Admiral grunted and sat
forqward, his palms flat upon his desk. "Don't be daft, 007," He
snapped. "His watch caught my eye when I shook the man's hand, it's
interesting because the last quarter of the watch face is gold , in the center
of which is a small blue dot. This design is almost identical to that of the
Bond sat straighter. "What are
you suggesting , Admiral?"
Again came the grunt. "I'm not
suggesting anything, just making an observation." He sat back, and tapped
his pipe into the ash tray, almost absent mindedly. "What I'm suggesting
is that it's pecular, thats all, pecular." Th grunt , once more. "I still
think the man's up to no good, never did trust the Bulgar."
Bond cleared his throat and crushed
his cigartette. "You said something earlier about a favor, Sir?"
Sir Mile's eyes had glazed over and
had bcome distant, as if lost in the past. At this he blinked hard and came to
his senses. "Yes, it's nothing terrible, I'd just like you to take a look
at the man and see what you think, what your take is on this. Just keep an eye
on him." He stood. "Perhaps I'm being paranoid but I never cared for
He opened the door and both men
melded out into the crowd. Bond hadn't taken his old chief to seriously, but
something nagged at his mind. Be it the ergencey in Sir Miles voice, or the
look of Gradski, he didn't know but he would agree with Sir Miles on one thing,
he didn't trust this man one bit. Perhaps this was worth a look.
It didn't take him long to to spot
his target. Carlof Gradski stood out like sore thumb in this crowd. Though he
stood by the mantle, a good five yards from him, Bond could clearly see the
Bulgar sweated profusly and fidgeted quite often , running his thumb along an
object in his coat pocket.
"Yes?" Gradski had the
look of a deer caught in the headlamps of an eighteen wheeler.
"Sir Miles has told me quite a
bit about you."
"Really?" Th man was
becoming the patronizing Bulgar Bond knew he would be. "And who might you
"Names Bond. James
Bond." As quickly as he knew how
Bond stole a glance at the man's watch. Yes, it was just as Sir Miles had said, identical to the
Stasi lapel pens. Despite his patronizing manner Gradski was obviously still
sweating openly, and constantly glanced over Bond's right shoulder. It was the
latter of the two practices that worried Bond most.
"Well, Mr. Bond, I hope the
Admiral told you something good about me."
"Nothing but, Herr Gradski,
nothing but." He laughed. Now he knew, now Bond knew what he didn't like
about Carlof Gradski, it was the way he seemed to be nothing more than a minnow
who persisted on posing as a whale. The way he carried himself, the way he
looked obviously nervous, yet would still talk down to anyone. Bond had bought
the tough-guy act as far as five seconds.
"Do you know where the Admiral
is?" Gradski asked, still fidgeting.
Bond glanced down at what the man
constantly played with in his coat, there it was, the unmistakable flat buldge
of a pistol. "No," Bond tried to stay calm, but couldn't keep the
edge from his voice. "I don't."
"If you see him, you tell me,
ja?" Gradski matched the edge, and with that turned and walked into the
crowd. Bond's mind whirled, he didn't want to confront Gradski, to many people
to get hurt. His only hope was to find Sir Miles. Bond rushed into the mingling
crowd like a man in race with the devil.He darted from person to person,
desprately searching for Sir Miles, his eyesflshed over shoulders, darting from
man to woman.
There, Sir Miles stood by a large
Grandfather Clock, and Gradski was faster than himself, he was already two
steps from the old man. He had to move fast, pushing through people, and
shoulders. But as quickly as he had begun he felt two hands on his elbow and
was quickly spun around.
"In a hurry, James." Ms.
Moneypenny cooed. "Don't you want to dance?" They began to sway with
the soft music, as they turned Bond glanced over her shoulder in time to see Gradski disappear into Sir
"Not now, Penny." Bond
pushed her away, and dashed toward the study, hi hand already grasping the
Walther under his coat. He turned the knob, it was locked.
He stepped back and shoved a foot
hard just to the right of the handle. There came a sharp crack as the wood
splintered and the door gave in. The comotion had taken Gradski by suprise. He
stood to Bond's right, a silver pistol Bond identified as a CZ27. It was a rare
gun, but it still had the same caliber as Bond's PPK.
Bond had only time to see the
suprise on the man's face as he leaped
at Gradski, bringing his knee forward and extending his foot upward at
the gun. There came the crack of bone as the steel caps of Bond's shoes connected
with the Bulgar's gun hand.
As he landed on his feet, Bond
watched the gun clatter to the floor and Gradski whimper, his wounded hand
shoved between his legs. Almost without thought Bond brought his right foot up
smashing Gradski's nose, and sending the man reeling.
"Good job, Bond." Sir
Miles slumped back into his chair.
An hour later all guests had left
and the Service's clean-up teamarrived to take Gradski into custody, but one
loose end nagged at Bond's mind; the watch. What had it meant? Were the Stasi
back? Or had they ever left?
WRITER'S NOTE: It has been my great
pleasure to follow in the footsteps of Ian Fleming, and I have tried to make everything in
this story historicly correct. The lapel pins the Stasi used were indeed real, as were their uses
and the history of the Staatssicheheitdienst. I hope again that I have carried on the tradition of Bond. If
you have any questions or comments, feel
free to e-mail me at: