Bond gave her a disapproving look, but she continued, I mean, before we go any further, I just want to know. What’s the story with you two?’
Bond wasn’t about to answer. ‘Bond to Robinson. Come in!’ Then, to turn the tables on Christmas, he asked, ‘What’s yours? What were you doing in Kazakhstan?’
She nailed him with her answer. ‘Avoiding those kinds of questions. Just like you.’
Bond was about to say, ‘Touche,’ when the radio crackled. ‘I read you, Double-0 Seven,’ Robinson said. ‘Red alert. M is missing. Her bodyguard is dead. The pipeline control centre has been evacuated. The King Industries helicopter is missing, and Elektra King is nowhere in sight. We don’t know where they are. Awaiting instructions. Out.’
Bond closed his eyes. A bad situation had just become worse. Christmas was horrified. Bond’s face grew grim as he masked his feelings and looked away at the pipeline. She knew enough not to probe.
‘What do we do now?’ she asked.
A thought struck Bond. ‘There’s one critical element here I may have overlooked. We have to track it down.’
‘What? More plutonium?’
‘No,’ Bond said. ‘Beluga. Caviar.’
12 - Prisoner of the Past
The Bosphorus, the twenty-mile-long strait that connects the Black Sea with the Sea of Marmara, is the source of many tales. Jason of Greek myth sailed the ship Argo from the Aegean Sea, through the Bosphorus, and into the Black Sea in his search for the Golden Fleece. As it is the only outlet for the Black Sea, the waterways have, from the beginnings of recorded history, served as migration or invasion routes for the peoples of Europe and Asia. It has always been a strategic focal point in the magnificent city of Istanbul, the link between the two continents. The western shore is in Europe, while the eastern one is in Asia. The hilly shores on both sides are scattered with castles and extravagant villas — vestiges of its vivid past — as well as the more modem beach resorts that cater to leisure-seeking citizens of Istanbul.
The Kiz Kulesi, or Maiden’s Tower, is one such ancient monument, located on a tiny islet near the Asian shore. Also known as Leander’s Tower, the names were derived from legends. A Turkish princess was once confined to the islet by her father, who had learned from a prophecy that his beloved child would die of snakebite. Nevertheless, the princess met her fate on the islet, for a snake that had been smuggled in from the mainland eventually bit her. The English name Leander came from the mistaken belief that Leander drowned there when he tried to swim the strait to meet his lover.
In actuality, a Byzantine emperor had the tower built in the twelfth century. With a chain strung just below the waterline from the tower to Sarayburnu, or Seraglio Point, the emperor could close the Bosphorus.
At twilight a boat put in at the Kiz Kulesi. King Industries had leased the monument as an Istanbul office and very few people knew that the old place was occupied. Plans had been underway to open it up to tourists, but for the moment, the Maiden’s Tower appeared to be a neglected, derelict building.
Renard the Fox disembarked from the boat followed by several of his retinue, heavily laden with bags and cases. They entered the tower, an extraordinary space with stained-glass windows that cast myriad patterns over elaborate tile and marble surfaces. Pillars, iron lattice, velvet drapes and flowers covered the huge room. It was like entering a museum.
‘At last!’ Elektra King swooped across the floor into Renard’s arms. He embraced her passionately.
‘Uhhnn,’ she said as he squeezed her tightly. Then, she pushed him away. ‘You’re hurting me,’ she said. ‘You don’t know your own strength’
Renard hadn’t expected the cold shoulder. He let her go as he studied her face, sensing something was now different between them. She attempted to hide it by flirting. ‘Brought me something?’
He smiled, grabbed a case off one of his men and opened it. ‘The power to reshape the world,’ he said.
He pulled out a sphere of cobalt blue metal. She gazed at it with a wary fascination.
‘Go on,’ he said. ‘It's safe. Touch your destiny.’
She traced a finger along the metal.
‘Warm,’ she observed with a flicker of wonder.
‘Is it?’ A dark cloud passed over his face. The half-smile vanished. After an awkward moment, he said, ‘I have to get it to the boys. They’re going to reshape it into a rod.’
‘I’ve brought something for you as well,’ Elektra said, trying to be sensitive to his buried frustration. ‘Remember I said I had a surprise for you?’
She opened a heavy door and led Renard through a passageway and into a small room. An area filled with antique pottery, statues and other old works of art was set apart from the rest of the room by a wall of bars, creating a cell that also contained the defiant M.
‘Your present,’ she said. ‘Courtesy of the late Mister Bond.'
Renard stepped forward and peered through the bars at the woman who appeared tired, but was otherwise in good shape.
‘Well, well. My executioner,’ he said.
‘Over-praise, I’m afraid,’ M said. ‘But my people will finish the job.’
‘Your people?’ Elektra asked. ‘Your people will leave you here to rot — just like you left me. You and my father . . . Who didn’t think my life was worth the money he threw away on a bad night in the casino.’
‘Your father wasn't —'
‘My father was nothing!’ Elektra proclaimed with an uncommon shrill note in her voice. M could see that Elektra had obviously turned a comer. Now that the masquerade was over, the poor girl had lost all touch with reality.
‘My father’s kingdom he stole from my mother!’ she said. ‘The kingdom that I will rightly take back.’ With that, she turned on her heels and left the room. Renard was left alone with M.
‘I hope you’re proud of what you did to her,' she said.
Tm afraid you’re the one who deserves credit.' He tried to smile again, the gruesome half-face a commedia dell' arte mask in the dim light of the cell. ‘When I took her she was . . . promise itself. And you left her at the mercy of a man like me. Three weeks is a long time. Her father could have paid the ransom and she would never have been . . . corrupted. You ruined her. For what? To get to me? She’s worth fifty of me.’
‘For once, I agree with you,’ M said, her eyes as cold as steel. He shook his head, amused by her pluck. ‘Yes. And now we also share a common fate.’
He took a small travel clock out of his pocket, checked the time on his wristwatch, and set the clock
‘Since you sent your man to murder me, I’ve been watching time tick slowly away, marching toward my own death. And now, you’ll have the same pleasure. Watch these hands, M. At noon tomorrow, your time is up. And I guarantee you: I will not miss. You will die. Along with everyone in this city and the bright, starry, oil-driven future of the West.’
He placed the clock on a tall stool just out of reach through the bars. He then, looked M up and down and left the room. M stared in horror at the clock, which said 0800 p.m.
An hour later Renard and Elektra were in her bedroom in the tower. She was naked, lying face down, as he stroked her slowly, worshipping her skin. The tension he had sensed earlier was still present. She had hardly said a word to him. ‘So beautiful,’ he whispered. ‘So smooth, so warm.’
‘How would you know?’ she said, cruelly. It stung him. He pulled back.
‘Why are you like this?’ he asked. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Don’t lie to me. It’s Bond, isn’t it?’
‘What?’
‘Is it because Bond is dead?’
She set her jaw and was silent.
Renard was flustered. ‘It’s what you wanted!’