minutes. This place will be hit in less than fifteen now.
Go.” In the kitchen, Natalya pulled a chair to a point directly under the maintenance grille in the room’s ceiling, and started to work on loosening the metal. She had pulled it I, halfway down when she heard the rapid footsteps of Xenia coming hell for leather down the passageway.
Miles away, at the Anadyr air base in Siberia, three MiG23MDL “Flogger-Ks’ - hurtled off the main runway. The pilots had only just come on duty when the alarm sounded, and they received the target information literally as they were taxiing from their bunkers. In seconds they would be on their way to Severnaya Station.
Below the earth, in the small kitchen, one of the cupboard doors squeaked and opened as Natalya crawled out.
In London, James Bond was just entering the Operations Room below the Secret Intelligence Service’s headquarters.
Xenia kicked the kitchen door open, saw the broken cup and the spillage of coffee, then looked at the chair and the metal grille above it, now dangling, ripped from its setting.
She smiled grimly and lifted the Uzi spraying the entire ceiling, changing magazines and blasting away again.
Nobody hiding up there could possibly live.
Back at the console, she told Ourumov that she had dealt with the matter. He nodded with a tiny smile on his lips, then gestured towards the timers ticking down at what appeared to be a very fast pace.
“Time flies, Colonel.”
“They have a saying in the West” She grinned ~ at him.
“Time flies, particularly when you’re having fun.” He nodded again, slipped the GoldenEye disk from the console and placed it in his briefcase which he closed with the finality of a coffin lid.
“I think we should get out of here.” Using the voice print security system again, they left, once more marching in step, up the concrete stairs and out into the cold.
In less than four minutes the Tigre helicopter was starting to lift off in a cloud of snow, from which it emerged, black and sinister.
Bond went down to the Operations Room with Moneypenny who, he had to admit, was looking more than usually ravishing in a simple black dress with a gold clasp just below her right shoulder.
“Dressed to thrill,’ he murmured to himself as they got into the lift.
“I beg your pardon?” She had just caught what he had said.
Moneypenny’s hearing was almost unnaturally acute.
The old M used to say that she could hear the rumours from the powdervine directly from her office.
“I was observing that I’ve never seen you look so lovely.”
“Well, thank you, James.”
“Got some special assignment on tonight?”
“Well, I don’t sit around all the time waiting for you to call. I have a date, if you’re really interested. A date with a gentleman. We’re going to the theatre.”
“Nothing too taxing, I trust”
“Shakespeare actually.
Love’s Labours Lost”
“I’m devastated. What will I ever do without you?” She gave a coy little smile. “So far as I recall, James, you’ve never had me.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “No, but it’s often been my midsummer night’s dream.” Moneypenny turned her head away. “James, you know that kind of talk could easily be classed nowadays as sexual harassment.
“So what’s the penalty?” The lift came to a halt and the doors opened. As she stepped out, Moneypenny tossed a look over her shoulder, eyes twinkling. “Some day, James, you have to make good on your innuendoes.’ She led the way through to the Operations Room.
All the screens were active and the men and women who work below ground for the SIS sat at desks with smaller monitors, or listening through headphones, while senior officers examined maps and spoke quietly to each other.
Bond’s closest friend in the world of secrets, Bill Tanner, the old M’s faithful Chief of Staff, detached himself from the knot of senior officers and headed for Bond and Moneypenny, his hand stretched out. “Good to
Go.” In the kitchen, Natalya pulled a chair to a point directly under the maintenance grille in the room’s ceiling, and started to work on loosening the metal. She had pulled it I, halfway down when she heard the rapid footsteps of Xenia coming hell for leather down the passageway.
Miles away, at the Anadyr air base in Siberia, three MiG23MDL “Flogger-Ks’ - hurtled off the main runway. The pilots had only just come on duty when the alarm sounded, and they received the target information literally as they were taxiing from their bunkers. In seconds they would be on their way to Severnaya Station.
Below the earth, in the small kitchen, one of the cupboard doors squeaked and opened as Natalya crawled out.
In London, James Bond was just entering the Operations Room below the Secret Intelligence Service’s headquarters.
Xenia kicked the kitchen door open, saw the broken cup and the spillage of coffee, then looked at the chair and the metal grille above it, now dangling, ripped from its setting.
She smiled grimly and lifted the Uzi spraying the entire ceiling, changing magazines and blasting away again.
Nobody hiding up there could possibly live.
Back at the console, she told Ourumov that she had dealt with the matter. He nodded with a tiny smile on his lips, then gestured towards the timers ticking down at what appeared to be a very fast pace.
“Time flies, Colonel.”
“They have a saying in the West” She grinned ~ at him.
“Time flies, particularly when you’re having fun.” He nodded again, slipped the GoldenEye disk from the console and placed it in his briefcase which he closed with the finality of a coffin lid.
“I think we should get out of here.” Using the voice print security system again, they left, once more marching in step, up the concrete stairs and out into the cold.
In less than four minutes the Tigre helicopter was starting to lift off in a cloud of snow, from which it emerged, black and sinister.
Bond went down to the Operations Room with Moneypenny who, he had to admit, was looking more than usually ravishing in a simple black dress with a gold clasp just below her right shoulder.
“Dressed to thrill,’ he murmured to himself as they got into the lift.
“I beg your pardon?” She had just caught what he had said.
Moneypenny’s hearing was almost unnaturally acute.
The old M used to say that she could hear the rumours from the powdervine directly from her office.
“I was observing that I’ve never seen you look so lovely.”
“Well, thank you, James.”
“Got some special assignment on tonight?”
“Well, I don’t sit around all the time waiting for you to call. I have a date, if you’re really interested. A date with a gentleman. We’re going to the theatre.”
“Nothing too taxing, I trust”
“Shakespeare actually.
Love’s Labours Lost”
“I’m devastated. What will I ever do without you?” She gave a coy little smile. “So far as I recall, James, you’ve never had me.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “No, but it’s often been my midsummer night’s dream.” Moneypenny turned her head away. “James, you know that kind of talk could easily be classed nowadays as sexual harassment.
“So what’s the penalty?” The lift came to a halt and the doors opened. As she stepped out, Moneypenny tossed a look over her shoulder, eyes twinkling. “Some day, James, you have to make good on your innuendoes.’ She led the way through to the Operations Room.
All the screens were active and the men and women who work below ground for the SIS sat at desks with smaller monitors, or listening through headphones, while senior officers examined maps and spoke quietly to each other.
Bond’s closest friend in the world of secrets, Bill Tanner, the old M’s faithful Chief of Staff, detached himself from the knot of senior officers and headed for Bond and Moneypenny, his hand stretched out. “Good to
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