Her eyes never left his as she brought the fruit up to her mouth and bit into it. The juice ran down over her chin and dripped on to her shirt. The moisture spread until the erect nipples of her firm breasts clearly protruded through the fabric. Bond watched her eat the entire thing. Despite the heat, his thirst, and the awkwardness of the situation, he found the sight incredibly erotic.
When the fruit was gone, she did nothing to wipe the juice off her chin and neck. Then, suddenly, she laughed. Bond laughed with her, and nodded.
“Water?” he asked again. “Can you help me get water?” Once more he cupped his hands to his mouth.
The girl nodded. Confidently she squatted on the ground by the tree and began to dig with her hands. Her hands were tough and coarse, virtually tools with which to dig into hard dirt. In less than five minutes, she had dug deeper than Bond had done with the file. She pulled on some smaller roots, breaking them off of the larger vein Bond had found earlier. She stood up and showed them to him. She snapped one in half, then sucked on the broken end of one part. The girl made a loud slurping noise, indicating that there was indeed moisture within the root. She handed the other end to Bond. He placed the broken root in his own mouth and sucked. There was water inside! It wasn’t much, only three or four small swallows. He smiled at her and nodded. The girl squatted again and broke off more roots, then handed them to him. He sucked on a couple more, then stored the remainder in his pockets.
“Thank you,” he said.
She nodded and smiled, although it looked a little like a smirk.
“Uluru,” he said. “I’m going to Uluru.”
She nodded her head and pointed in the northeasterly direction Bond was travelling. He had been right.
They heard an animal’s cry in the distance. She turned around, waved, and made a similar shrill call. It hadn’t been an animal’s cry at all. Off in the distance, Bond could see two other human figures, obviously part of her family or tribe.
The girl turned back to Bond and did something very strange. She reached up and placed her hand on Bond’s face. She felt his features, tracing his eyebrows and the bridge of his nose. She ran a finger along the faint scar on his right cheek. Then she felt his mouth, pinching his lips slightly. She inserted her index finger into his mouth and touched his teeth, as if she was amazed he still had a full set. Bond ran his tongue lightly across the tip of her finger. It tasted salty. She didn’t remove her finger; instead, she giggled.
Then she spoke! “If you keep walking, mate, you’ll reach Uluru by sundown.”
“Christ, you speak English!” Bond exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say so?”
The girl laughed, then abruptly turned and ran towards her companions.
Bond watched her go. The girl turned and waved at him, and soon she had disappeared beyond the horizon. She had made him feel foolish, but she was one of the most sensual creatures he had ever encountered.
Bond continued his walkabout. The sun’s heat became worse as the day moved into afternoon. He applied more sunblock and used some more of the water-saturated roots. Around 3:00 p.m. he came upon a dirt road. It seemed to head in the same direction as his destination, so he followed it. At 4:00 he saw signs of civilization. An old tyre had been discarded on the road. There were telephone poles in the distance.
Finally, he saw it. At the edge of the horizon was a red bump. From this distance, it was a mere pimple where the earth met the sky. As he walked closer, the bump grew in size until it was a mountain. Uluru … Ayers Rock, the big red heart of Australia. It was a sacred shrine to the Aborigines, and the main reason why tourists ventured to the desolation of central Australia. The 348-metre-high monolith was indeed a breathtaking sight. Its fiery glow and haunting colours were at their peak, illuminated by the setting sun.
It was 6:00 p.m. Bond had spent nearly twenty-four hours in the Australian outback, and had made it to civilization. He nearly wept with awe, joy, and relief.
TWENTY-ONE
COUNTDOWN
JAMES BOND STUMBLED INTO THE ULURU NATIONAL PARK RANGER STATION and nearly collapsed on the floor. An Aborigine dressed in a park ranger uniform stood up in surprise.
“You all right, mate?” he asked.
“Water … phone …” Bond whispered.
An hour later, Bond had showered, eaten a meal, and spent fifteen minutes with his eyes closed. He was dead tired and probably had a mild case of heat exhaustion. He would have liked to have crawled into a hole for a week, but there was just a little more than twentyfour hours left. It was precious little time, and he had to find the quickest way back to Hong Kong. The rangers had provided him with a clean uniform, as his clothes were soiled and torn. When he went through his pockets, Bond found the business card that Skip Stewart had given him in the pub in Kalgoorlie. Perhaps the man’s tourguide service would come in handy after all. Bond placed a phone call to Stewart and luckily found him in. Stewart agreed to fly to the Ayers Rock airport and pick up Bond for a small fee. He would arrive in about three hours.
Now it was time to call London. He dreaded M’s wrath, but it had to be done. He went through the usual security measures, was connected to Bill Tanner, and finally to M herself.
“007? Where the hell are you?”
“Australia, ma’am. I’ve found the source of the nuclear explosion, and it’s directly related to our man Thackeray and EurAsia Enterprises,” he said quickly.
There was silence at the other end. He’d expected her to say something about orders to remain in Hong Kong.
“Tell me more,” was what she finally said.
Bond gave a brief version of everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours, and how he had got to be where he was.
“You’re lucky to be alive,” she said. “I’ll put out an all-alert to our fleet in Hong Kong. Any idea where Thackeray is going to put this bomb?”
“No idea. Could be anywhere. We haven’t much time.”
“Precisely. How fast can you get back to Hong Kong?”
“I expect a ride back to Perth in a little while. I’m afraid the only transportation I can get back to Hong Kong is a commercial airline. Leaves tomorrow morning and doesn’t get in until the evening.”
“That’s cutting it much too fine,” she said. “All right, do what you can. When you get back to Hong Kong, contact Captain Plante aboard the Peacock. She’s one of our Peacock Class patrol craft, and she’ll be in Victoria Harbour. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I request permission to contact Li Xu Nan again. He may be able to help with this.”
“007, this department does not sanction your dealing with Triad members or any other criminal organization. We’ll deal with your insubordination and leaving Hong Kong against my orders when you’re back in London. Mind you, if you hadn’t discovered what you did, I’d have had your hide!”
She rang off. Without a second thought, Bond dialled Li Xu Nan’s private number in Kowloon.
Skip Stewart arrived at 9:30 p.m. He flew a Piper Navajo PA-310, an American-manufactured plane that had an all-weather and night capacity performance.
“Howzitgoin,’ mate?” he asked when he jumped out of the cockpit to greet Bond. “When did you become a park ranger? Never mind. How do you like her? I bought her from the Royal Flying Doctors a couple of years ago when their Alice Springs headquarters upgraded.”
“Just get me to Perth before morning, Skip,” Bond said. “I have a Qantas flight to Hong Kong that leaves at 8:30.”
“No worries, mate. My little Airy-Jane will get you there. We’ll have to stop in Kalgoorlie for a refill, ya know …” he said. “Wish I could help you out and take you all the way to Hong Kong, but my little bird, there’s only so far she can go. Say, did I tell you about my auntie who struck gold in Coolgardie when she was twelve years old … ?”
By 10:00 p.m., James Bond was in the air over the outback once again. The only problem this time was that he had to listen to three hours’ worth of bush stories.
ZERO MINUS ONE: 30 JUNE 1997, 9:30 P.M., HONG KONG
The news had hit the morning papers of 29 June. The South China Morning Post front-page headline declared CHINESE GENERAL IN DRUG-SMUGGLING SCHEME. The Hong Kong Standard carried the photographs Li’s men had taken, accompanied by the headline: MURDERED CHINESE GENERAL IN DRUG PLOT. The story detailed how Wong had been involved with “Triad societies” in a worldwide drug-smuggling plot that also involved EurAsia Enterprises. The general was also implicated in the several terrorist acts that had occurred in the territory over the past few weeks, including the car-bomb murder of Guy Thackeray. Wong’s own assassination was being attributed to a disgruntled EurAsia employee. According to the article, the assassin had been caught and killed at the border. Even the official Chinese news agency, Xinhua, issued a statement denouncing General Wong’s involvement with a criminal organization. Although Beijing stopped short of an apology for accusing Britain of Wong’s murder, the official word was that the general deserved what he had got.
The news literally saved Hong Kong from an early Chinese takeover. The troops had been prepared to march south across the border on the morning of 29 June. The Royal Navy fleet of three Peacock Class patrol craft had been joined by the destroyer and two frigates that had arrived on 28 June, and had combined forces with the Hong Kong naval fleet. Royal Marines had moved on to the peninsula and were now stationed in the New Territories, anticipating the crisis that ultimately never happened. The Hong Kong government breathed a sigh of relief at the news, for it meant that perhaps the handover, scheduled for midnight on the 30th, would be a peaceful one after all. Despite the averting of the immediate crisis, tensions were still very high and mistrust of China was rampant.
Festivities began early on the morning of the 30th. The Chinese New Year was of only secondary importance compared to the coming event. Shops closed and the population took to the streets. There were celebrations on every corner. Hong Kong Park was full of both pro-democracy and pro-China groups. The Royal Hong Kong Police had to provide a heavy presence to ensure that peace was maintained. Statue Square was blocked off from traffic in preparation for the night’s event, and visiting officials from around the world had flown in for the occasion. Every hotel was totally booked.
Once again James Bond disobeyed his superior’s orders and went straight to Li Xu Nan’s office building when he got to Kowloon that evening. The Dragon Head had assembled ten men, all outfitted with miscellaneous automatic weapons. They were ready to move at a moment’s notice.
Bond made contact with Captain Plante aboard the Peacock. Although Plante was perturbed that 007 was in Kowloon, he was willing to cooperate and do whatever he could to find Thackeray and the bomb. The Royal Hong Kong Police had been put on alert as well, and they were working double-time searching the Central District.
“Where could Thackeray place that bomb for maximum effect?” Bond asked Li.
“I have been thinking about that. I would suspect that it would be Central. That is where EurAsia’s headquarters is, and where all the important bank buildings and businesses are. It is the financial centre of Hong Kong. The police are already searching the area.”
“That’s what I thought, too. Somehow, though, I feel it’s wrong,” Bond said. “It’s too obvious.”
“Yes, I know what you mean.”
Something was nagging at Bond’s memory, and he knew that it was a clue to the bomb’s whereabouts.
“Think, Mr. Bond,” said Li. “Did Thackeray say anything about where he might put it? Did its shape or size indicate where it might be placed?”
Bond went over everything he could recall about his fateful meeting in Australia. Mostly he remembered an alcoholic madman with a childish lust for revenge.
“He’s also got Sunni,” Bond said. “He said that …”
And then he remembered. “My god,” he said. “Do you have a boat? It’s going to be in the harbour on a boat.”
“How do you know?”
“Thackeray said that Sunni would make a nice figurehead for the bomb. There was a sampan at the Kwai Chung warehouse, and I saw it again in Australia. They’re going to put the bomb inside the sampan and casually float it out into the harbour!”
Li nodded. “I have a boat. Let’s go!”
11:10 P.M.
Li’s Sealine Statesman 420 was a high quality British import equipped with twin 370-hp Volvo diesels and had a cruising speed of 27.7 knots and a top end of 33.5. A large yacht, the Statesman 420 was nevertheless sleek and sporty. She had sped out into the harbour at precisely 11:00, but quickly had to reduce her speed because of the congestion in the water. Bond and Li were on the upper deck, looking through binoculars at the hundreds of vessels crowding the relatively small body of water.
The Marine Police had given up directing the traffic on this particular night. Too many seagoing individuals wanted a good view of the fireworks display scheduled for midnight. A free-for-all was finally allowed, so long as everyone kept their speed down and didn’t crash into each other. Along with the numerous police and Royal Navy vessels, there were sampans, junks, tugboats, cargo ships, ferries, sailing boats, yachts, motorboats, and rowing boats—all jamming what was at that moment the world’s busiest harbour.
Bond was looking for a dark brown sampan with a red hood. Unfortunately, most sampans were dark brown. He prayed that the red hood would give it away.
There was no sign of the Taitai, and Bond wondered where she could possibly be. Keeping close contact with Captain Plante, Bond had made enquiries about the ship’s movements. Records showed that the Taitai had indeed left Singapore two days ago and was headed for Hong Kong, but no one had seen her since. Bond could only speculate that Thackeray was lying low, probably lurking near one of the outlying islands. The sampan was probably flown to Singapore in the same cargo seaplane that Thackeray and Sunni took from Perth. It made sense—cargo seaplanes had long been used to rendezvous with and smuggle drugs on to ocean-going vessels. The Taitai had sailed to the waters near Singapore, where the sampan was loaded on to the seaplane and then flown to Australia. The trip was made in reverse to get it back to Hong Kong. The sampan would probably be sent in by itself, piloted by an unsuspecting minion.
“Can’t we get this thing going any faster?” Bond snapped.
“I am sorry,” Li said. “You can see the harbour is crowded. This is as fast as we can go.”
“We’ll never make it across to the other side at this rate,” Bond said. He felt utterly helpless.
A call came in on the radio for Bond. It was Captain Plante.
“Uhm, Commander Bond?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“You say you’re looking for a sampan with a red roof?”
“Yes!”
“Well, there’s an odd thing over here by us. There’s a cargo ship—a British one, I think. Called the Glory. They have a sampan fitting that description tied to the side like a lifeboat.”
Captain Plante was calling from the Peacock, which was directly in the centre of the harbour, facing Central. Bond turned and scanned the area with his binoculars.
“Where’s the Glory in relation to you, Captain?” he asked.
“Due north, about a mile.”
Bond found the ship. The Glory looked exactly like the Taitai, except that it had red stripes painted across the hull. The Taitai had been entirely white.
“The bastard painted his ship,” Bond said. “He’s disguised the Taitai and renamed her. That’s it there!”
Li barked an order to the man at the helm of the Statesman and they turned towards the Glory/Taitai. They had about forty-five minutes to find the bomb and disarm it.
TWENTY-TWO
NO TEARS FOR HONG KONG
THE STATESMAN APPROACHED THE GLORY AND STOPPED THIRTY METRES away. The sampan was tied and hung over the starboard side of the ship like a lifeboat, ready to be lowered into the water. Bond wasn’t sure, but he thought he could see the outline of a figure inside the small boat. Was it S
unni?
The Peacock had pulled away from its position as well, and was heading towards the Glory. The Royal Navy ship’s movement must have alerted the crew of the Glory, for Bond and Li saw men appear on its deck. A tarpaulin covered a large object amidships. The men pulled off the tarpaulin to reveal a 76mm OTO Melara Gun. They began to swing it towards the Peacock.
“Captain Plante,” Bond said into the radio. “The Glory has a gun aiming at you. Take defensive action immediately. We’re preparing to assault the ship.”
Plante acknowledged the call and wished Bond good luck. He was going to radio the other ships for back-up. Unfortunately, they were all deployed evenly across the harbour. Due to the congestion, it might take half an hour for the ships to work their way through to the site. If Thackeray was going to be stopped before midnight, it would be up to the teams aboard the Statesman and the Peacock.
“Li, give the order to begin the assault,” Bond said.
Li shouted in Cantonese to his small band of dedicated gangsters-turned-patriots. He then gave an order to the man at the helm. The Statesman was brought as close as possible alongside the Glory. Then, three men aimed M-16 .233 semi-automatic gunlines and fired grappling hooks, attached to long ropes, at the deck of the big ship. The hooks stuck, and the men, dressed in black, immediately used harness and pulley systems to pull themselves over and board the enemy vessel.
Bond followed behind the first wave of men. He heard a siren wailing on the deck of the Glory, alerting her entire crew that they were under attack. Then the gunfire started.
Thackeray’s men were leaning over the side of the ship and firing machine guns at the Statesman. Two of the men on the ropes were hit and fell into the harbour. Bond clenched his teeth and kept climbing. He felt the hot air of a few rounds whizz past his head, but he kept moving. He reached the rail on the side of the Glory and hauled himself up. He was met head on by a man who attempted to push him back overboard. Bond swiftly dispatched him by punching him hard in the stomach, then slinging him over his shoulder and into the water. He moved to a metal ladder and climbed it to a higher vantage point and crouched behind a smokestack. Armed only with his Walther PPK, Bond began to pick off Thackeray’s force, one by one.
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