“Thank God for that,” Bond commented.
“Right. Now pay attention, 007. These shoes could save your life.”
“Major, I do believe you’ve found your second calling.”
Boothroyd went on: “The shoelaces are now easily inflammable, generating enough heat to melt a half-inch iron bar. There’s a spare shoelace in the heel.”
“Good thing, too,” Bond said. “Shoelaces break at the damnedest times.”
“There are pieces of flint and steel in there as well to start fires. Now take a look at the other shoe. You’ll find the same prying tool under the tongue. Open up the heel on that one, if you would.” Bond did as he was told and found yet another cache of objects.
“As you know, this one’s geared more towards first aid. In the heel you’ll find some vital medicines and supplies. There’s a bottle of antiseptic, a pair of tweezers, acetaminophen tablets, generic amoxicyllin, and some bandages that are folded neatly in the sole of the shoe. We’ve added small tubes of sunblock and petroleum jelly.”
“That’s great,” said Bond. “I can dispense with my sponge bag altogether and travel light for a change. What about an electric razor and toothbrush?”
“Why is it you never appreciate the things I do for you, 007? I work my fingers to the bone, put in extra hours at weekends, and what do I get for it? You think my salary is anything to write home about? Why can’t you ever say ‘thank you’ for once?”
Bond stood and patted Boothroyd on the shoulder. “Thank you, Major, but you’re beginning to sound like my dear old Aunt Charmian did back when I was in my teens.”
“Hmph. I imagine you were just as disrespectful to her.”
“Never. She had a temper worthy of SMERSH.”
Boothroyd stood. “Do you have any questions about the shoes, 007?”
“Only one,” Bond said.
“What’s that?”
“Do you have any socks to go with them?”
FIVE
THE PEARL IN THE CROWN
ZERO MINUS NINE: 22 JUNE 1997, 10:30 A.M., HONG KONG
There was once a pilot who described the flight to Hong Kong as “hours of ennui, followed by a few minutes of sheer terror!” Kai Tak, or Hong Kong International Airport, consists of a single runway yet there are an average of 360 movements a day, scheduled at twominute intervals in peak periods. Pilots consider it among the more challenging landings on the globe; for passengers, it’s one of the most nerve-wracking.
Though no stranger to daredevil aerial manoeuvres, James Bond nevertheless felt a surge of excitement as he looked out of the window of the British Airways 747 on its approach to the fabled city. Down below was a harbour littered with boats and surrounded by layered levels of skyscrapers. It seemed that the plane would fly straight into the buildings; but it quickly descended to make a steep, forty-seven-degree turn and touched down on the narrow strip of land on the Kowloon peninsula.
If India was once known as the “Jewel in the Crown,” then Hong Kong was perhaps the “Pearl in the Crown.” Its mere existence was one of the wonders of the modern world. It began as a barren island with very little population, and now ranked among the world’s fifteen largest trading entities and was Asia’s busiest tourist destination. The mix of British management and Chinese entrepreneurial enthusiasm made Hong Kong a cosmopolitan mixture of East and West. It was a commercial, manufacturing, and financial dynamo; and it was the communication and transportation intersection for all Asia.
In nine days, Hong Kong would no longer be Britain’s Pearl in the Crown. People had speculated for years what would happen when the colony was handed back to China. One school of thought was that Hong Kong was finally being returned to the China it had economically and culturally always belonged to. Britain had only borrowed it long enough to allow it to blossom. Bond had heard people ask, “What will China do to Hong Kong?” He thought the more intriguing question might be, “What will Hong Kong do to China?”
The airport terminal was noisy, crowded, and chaotic. Bond moved with the crowd into the Buffer Hall. The office had provided him with plenty of Hong Kong currency, so he didn’t have to bother with foreign exchange queues. Immigration went smoothly and quickly. Bond’s cover was that of a Daily Gleaner journalist covering the handover to China.
Bond took the third exit out of Buffer Hall into the Greeting Area, which was packed with the families and friends of incoming passengers. He spotted the yellow baseball cap, and beneath it the friendly smile of a Chinese man.
“No charge for ride to hotel,” the man said to Bond.
“But I have the correct change,” Bond replied.
“No problem,” the man said, turning his r’s into l’s the way Chinese often do. “I even take you on scenic route, uh huh?” His English was slightly broken but his vocabulary was very good.
“That would be lovely then,” Bond said and smiled. These code exchanges, though necessary, were sometimes ridiculous.
The man held out his hand. “T.Y. Woo at your service. How was flight?”
“Too long.” Bond shook his hand. “I’m Bond. Call me James.”
“You call me T.Y. You are hungry, uh huh?” He had an endearing habit of adding “uh huh?” to his sentences.
“Famished.”
“Your hotel has excellent restaurant. I take you, okay?” Woo reached for Bond’s carry-on bag, which Bond gladly allowed him to take. Bond held on to the attache case which contained documentation of his cover identity and other assorted personal items. His Walther PPK was stored in an X-ray-proof compartment in the case.
When the men reached the street, a red Toyota Crown Motors taxi cab with a silver roof screeched to a halt on the double yellow line edging the road.
“Quick, get in,” Woo said. He opened the back door and gestured for Bond to jump inside.
A policeman on the street blew his whistle and shouted something in Chinese. The driver, a young teenage boy, shouted something back. By then, both men were inside and the cab sped away.
“That was restricted zone. Cabs not supposed to stop,” Woo explained, smiling.
Bond noticed the meter wasn’t running. “Is this a company car?”
“Yes, James,” Woo said. Bond noticed that his new friend rarely relaxed his broad smile. “Meet my son Woo Chen—you call him Chen Chen, uh huh?” The boy grinned at Bond in the rear-view mirror. Bond nodded at him and smiled.
“Relax, we go for ride!” Chen Chen exclaimed enthusiastically.
The cab pulled in front of a Rolls-Royce, making room for itself in the congested traffic. Although the flow moved slowly, Chen Chen managed to swerve in and around vehicles to maintain a significantly faster speed. Bond held his breath a couple of times during the first few minutes of the journey until he assured himself that the boy knew what he was doing.
“Chen Chen too young to drive,” T.Y. said, still grinning. “I pull strings to get him licence!”
Bond cleared his throat and said, “He drives very well. How old are you, Chen Chen?”
“Fifteen,” the boy said, grinning just like his father. “Sixteen next month!”
The cab moved through the traffic and finally entered the Cross-Harbour Tunnel. It was a congested two-lane thoroughfare two kilometres long.
“Your hotel on Hong Kong side. Airport is on Kowloon side,” T.Y. explained. Bond knew that, but nodded as if he was learning something. “Very nice hotel,” T.Y. continued. “Expensive. They have good restaurant at top. Private. We can talk, uh huh?”