“Good morning, James,” she said. She had a lilting Welsh accent, something Bond found extremely attractive.
“How are things, Helena?”
“I was called in the middle of the night. Again,” she said with a sigh.
Bond had been briefed about the Australian incident. By now every department was digging into the matter.
“It happens to the best of us,” Bond replied.
“I imagine you have no problem rising in the middle of the night,” Helena said with a twinkle in her eye.
Bond smiled and said, “Don’t believe everything you hear, Ms. Marksbury.”
“Well, if you ever find that you are up and can’t sleep, Mr. Bond, I have a very nice herbal tea that is very relaxing.”
“I avoid tea at all costs,” Bond said. “You should know that by now.”
“As a matter of fact, I have noticed. You don’t drink tea at all, James? How un-English of you!”
“I’d as soon drink a cup of mud.” He shrugged. “And besides, I’m half Scots, half Swiss.” He smiled warmly at her, then stepped into his office.
Bond had never been keen on office decoration. The one piece of artwork on display was an obscure artist’s watercolour of the clubhouse at the Royal St. George’s Golf Course. The one framed photograph on the desk featured Bond and his closest American friend, former CIA agent Felix Leiter, sitting in a bar in New York City. It was an old photo, and the two men looked surprised and slightly drunk. It never failed to make Bond smile.
He had no urgent messages, so he picked up the phone and dialled Miss Moneypenny’s line (one of the few women at SIS who still didn’t mind being called “Miss”). She answered after the first ring.
“Hello, James, welcome back.”
“Penny, you have a wonderful phone voice, did you know that?” he said. “You could start a second career entertaining lonely men with sweet nothings.”
“Hmmm, and I dare say you’d be a regular client. But I’d have to go the Chinese route and entertain you with sweet and sour nothings.”
“Now that’s an appetizing idea for a takeaway, Penny,” he said, chuckling.
She laughed too. “Listen, you’d better get up here right away. She asked for you just five minutes ago.”
“I’m on my way. Bill there?”
“He’s here too.”
“Right.” Bond hung up, left the sanctity of the one quiet place in the building, and took the elevator to the eighth floor.
Miss Moneypenny’s manner was no-nonsense, but her blue eyes betrayed how pleased she was to see Bond. Throughout the years, their relationship had been a mutually flirtatious one, and it had settled into a comfortable friendship. Like most of Sir Miles’s staff, she had been reticent about working for someone new after such a long time, but for her the new M was a pleasure. They got along splendidly, and Miss Moneypenny had decided not to transfer out but to stay on. It was a good thing, for many believed that SIS wouldn’t function properly without Miss Moneypenny’s vast knowledge of the entire organization and its history.
Bill Tanner, the Chief of Staff, was also a Service veteran who had been around even longer than Bond. He remained 007’s closest friend inside SIS and one of the few with whom Bond regularly socialized. They enjoyed the occasional game of golf, but the Chief of Staff’s forte was tennis. Tanner had originally resigned when Sir Miles retired, but he was asked by the new M to stay on during what was called the “transition period” of six months. Those six months became a full year, and now Tanner had no intention of leaving.
“Hello, James, welcome back,” Bill said.
“Bill … Penny …” Bond nodded with a smile.
“Sorry you couldn’t spend more time in Jamaica, James,” Moneypenny said. “I received a report on the exercise. It went well, I heard.”
“I have no complaints,” Bond said, vividly recalling the sight of Stephanie Lane stepping into his shower. “This is about Australia, I suppose?”
“Isn’t that appalling?” Tanner exclaimed, shaking his head. “No one knows what the bloody hell is going on. Unfortunately, it’s not officially in our laps yet. Australia wants it handled her way for the moment and the PM has agreed to stay away for the time being. God knows, America and Russia are sticking their noses into it. Anyway, that isn’t what she called you in for.”
Bond was surprised. The atomic blast, even in the few hours since it had happened, had become international news.
Moneypenny picked up the phone and buzzed M. “007’s here, ma’am.” The green light above the door flashed, indicating that Bond should go in. Some things never changed.
On the other hand, M’s office had changed drastically with the new regime. Sir Miles’s domain had been the “captain’s quarters” of a naval vessel, while the new look was more akin to a posh psychiatrist’s office. Sparse, ultra-modern furnishings filled the place with a stark black-and-white scheme that was surprisingly pleasing to the eye. There was a lot of shiny metal, glass, and black leather, as well as an array of artwork of all types, including an original Kandinsky on the wall behind the desk.
M sat at her glass-topped desk, looking down at an open folder. Bond stood in the doorway until she motioned to the black leather chair in front of the desk. Her eyes never left the page until Bond was sitting and facing her. Then she looked up at him. M’s striking blue eyes were much like Bond’s—very cool, with thin streaks of white in the irises. She was in her late fifties, had short greyish hair, and a rather severe face. Not a slender woman nor a tall one, M nevertheless possessed a charisma that commanded attention, due mostly to the obvious intelligence within her ice-cold blue eyes. Their shape hinted at some distant Asian blood, but that was only speculation on Bond’s part.
“Good morning, ma’am,” Bond said.
“Hello, 007, how was your flight?” Her voice was calm, even, and soft.
“Fine, thank you.”
“I understand the training exercise went well.”
Bond nodded.
“Your report can wait,” M said. “I’m sure 03 will fill us in. Or do you think 05 will have a more favourable view of events?”
M looked hard at Bond. He shifted uncomfortably. Sir Miles had never approved of Bond’s womanizing, and it was one of the bones of contention between the new M and 007. Bond swallowed and managed to say, “I’m sure either agent will give you an accurate reconstruction of the exercise.”
M frowned but nodded briskly.
Bond quickly changed the subject. “What do we know about this explosion in Australia?”
“Never mind about that, 007,” M said. “We’ve been told to stay out of it for the moment. Regardless of those orders, I have Section A doing reconnaissance. There’s hardly any information at the moment. Until we hear from the party or parties responsible, I’ve got something else for you to look into.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Bond, do you know what’s happening to Hong Kong on the first of July?” M asked.
“Well, yes ma’am,” Bond said. Didn’t everyone? “It reverts back to the People’s Republic of China after a century and a half of British rule.”
“That’s less than two weeks away, 007.”
Bond nodded, his brow creased. What was all this about? He vaguely remembered a report he’d read before leaving for Jamaica. Could it involve that solicitor who was killed in a bomb blast earlier in the month?