‘Christmas!’ he called. He lowered an arm and pulled her up, then closed the door. Together they moved to the reactor and gazed inside.
Breathlessly, she said, ‘We’re safe from the radiation as long as the reactor coolant doesn’t burst. If he had got the plutonium in the reactor you could have written off the whole city.’
Suddenly, an arm locked around Bond’s neck, throttling him. Behind them, Renard had regained consciousness and mustered every bit of strength to surprise-attack his enemy. Christmas grabbed at Renard, but he flung her back. She nearly fell through the hatch but managed to grab a pipe and hang on for dear life.
Bond elbowed Rcnard hard in the stomach. It was like hitting a stone wall. He then snapped forward, causing Renard to flip over his back. The terrorist crashed into a panel. Bond jumped on him and punched him in the face, over and over. He didn’t give the man a chance to defend himself. He allowed his anger to overcome Renard’s strength and really damage him - anger at what he had done to MI6, anger at what he had done to Elektra . . .
After a minute of battering him, Bond snapped out of the trance. Renard was stunned. Bond pushed him away and went back to the reactor, but Renard revived quickly. The killer grabbed Bond and tossed him across the room as if he were a toy. Renard turned to ward off an ineffective blow from Christmas and back-handed her over the railing. She fell against the wall, which was now the floor, and lost consciousness.
‘Bond!’ Renard shouted. ‘You have decided to join me on this historic voyage. Welcome to my nuclear family!’
Dazed, Bond shook his head and eyed the plutonium rod on the floor, just out of his reach.
‘You’re really going to commit suicide for her?’ he asked.
‘In case you’ve forgotten,' Renard answered, ‘I’m dead already.’
‘Haven’t you heard the news?’ Bond spat. ‘So is she.’
Renard’s face screwed up into a grotesque mask of pain that he would never be able to feel in his skin. His scream of bloody murder echoed throughout the ship as if a wounded animal were howling in the bowels of the boat.
Renard gasped, momentarily shaken. ‘You’re lying.’
Bond grabbed the plutonium rod, got to his feet and swung it hard into the side of Renard’s head. It barely fazed him. He took hold of Bond’s shoulders and smashed him repeatedly into the steel mesh of the flooring, forcing Bond to drop the rod. Rcnard then threw Bond against an opening in the mesh. He fell through, dazed. Renard pulled the mesh closed and bolted it. Bond watched in frustration as the terrorist retrieved the plutonium rod.
Bond scanned the scene, searching for any idea that might save them. He saw one of the hoses that fed into the primary coolant loop had become uncoupled. It was thrashing violently nearby, as the steam passing through was under extremely high pressure. It was heated to literally hundreds of degrees and contained a great deal of motive energy.
Renard slowly inserted the plutonium rod into the reactor. Immediately the light around him became an even deeper blue, a horrible luminescence. The water coolant around the reactor core began to boil furiously.
The temperature gauge rose to 4500 degrees.
Bond could see the end of the rod being pushed through from the other side of the reactor. There was only one thing to do. He tore a piece of fabric from his shirt and wrapped it around his hand. He then grabbed the thrashing hose and attached it to the fitting on his side of the reactor. The pressure began to build.
Renard continued to force the plutonium into the reactor as the temperature gauge neared the red-lined 5000 mark.
Finally, the high-pressured steam dislodged the plutonium rod with such force that it shot out of the reactor and impaled Renard in the heart.
Renard stared at Bond in horror. The rod was sticking through his chest like a spear. Bond calmly said, ‘She’s waiting for you.’
Renard collapsed and fell in a heap next to Christmas, who was just beginning to regain consciousness. She recoiled at the sight of him, then gathered her wits. She got up and unbolted the steel mesh, freeing Bond, then found the original control rod lodged near the reactor. She gently picked it up and reinserted it into the fitting.
The temperature gauge immediately began to fall, but the H2 metre on the wall was in the yellow and rising towards red. Christmas spotted the needle and grabbed Bond’s arm.
‘The hydrogen gas level is too high. One spark and this reactor room will blow. It’ll cause a disaster!’
Bond took two seconds to think, then said, ‘We have to flood the reactor with water. Go up to the mine room. I'l be there in a minute.’
She climbed up to the next chamber as Bond opened the hatch leading to the control room. The water began to gush into the reactor chamber. Bond then fought his way to the machine room hatch, opened it, and climbed in. He sealed the hatch behind him, preventing the water from engulfing him. He made his way forward and found Christmas in the mine room. She pointed at another H2 metre, the needle of which was in the red.
‘This room is one gigantic bomb ready to explode any second. It’ll set the mines off!’ she cried.
‘I know,’ Bond said. ‘I’ve sealed the reactor so it will be safe from the blast. There'll be no radiation leakage.’
He motioned Christmas toward a mine launching tube.
‘Get in!’
She hesitated.
‘You have a better idea?’ he asked.
Wide-eyed, Christmas got into the tube. Bond examined the controls, set a timer to fire, and then followed her inside. The hatch automatically closed behind them.
The clock ticked down . . .
The launching doors opened as Bond and Christmas shot out into the water, streaking away from the sub, and then upward.
Inside the now empty mine room, a tom electric cable touched the bulkhead
The submarine blew apart with a horrendous explosion. What was left of the vessel began its slow descent to the bottom of the Bosphorus.
Bond and Christmas reached the surface, gasping for air. They looked around to see no boats coming to the rescue. ‘I don’t think I can tread water much longer,’ she cried. ‘Hold on to my shoulders,’ he said.
A tourist boat was a hundred yards away. Bond felt in his pocket and found the flare gun that he had taken off Renard. He shot it into the air. People on the boat waved at them and turned the vessel in their direction.
17 - Fireworks over Istanbul
Repair work on the damaged wing at SIS headquarters on the Thames was well under way. It was business-as-usual and had been since M had left for Castle Thane and subsequently Turkey. Bill Tanner had been left in charge, and when his chief had gone missing he had been forced to remain at the office non-stop. It hadn’t been the first time that the head of SIS had been in danger, but it was the first time for this M. The worst thing about it was that he had been totally helpless until the locator card had pinpointed her whereabouts in Istanbul.
The MI6 operatives had stormed the Maiden’s Tower after the submarine had exploded. M was rescued and immediately put on an aircraft back to London. At first she had refused to go until Bond was found, but the Prime Minister had ordered that she return without delay.
Prior to her arrival, Tanner had a chance to sleep for a good ten hours for the first time in at least two days. Feeling fresh, he got the Briefing Room looking as if nothing untoward had occurred in the meantime.
When M finally walked in, looking as efficient and steely as ever, all eyes turned to her. She looked at everyone and made the briefest of nods - all the sentiment that was allowed - and the work resumed.
Approaching Tanner, she asked, ‘Any word?’
‘Not yet,’ he replied. ‘All we know is that Bond and Doctor Jones were picked up by a tourist boat. We have no idea where they are now.’