The Facts Of Death
Page 29
Then the Huey’s turrets went into action, battering their vehicle with bullets. One man was hit in the face. Blood splattered in all directions as he was thrown back against the cabin wall.
The pilot managed to get the helicopter side by side with Hera. Bond thought he could see her next to the pilot, but it was too dark to tell. It looked like Melina Papas was behind her, issuing orders to men in the back.
One of the Greeks’ other Apaches entered the arena from the other side, assaulting the enemy with a volley of turret fire. The Huey wavered, then lost height. Bond’s pilot attempted to follow, but it was a maneuver meant to trick the Greeks. As soon as they were even with the enemy, someone in the Huey launched another missile.
“Evasive action!” the sergeant shouted.
The Blackhawk swerved awkwardly, but it wasn’t enough to avoid the weapon entirely. It skimmed the bottom struts, blowing them off. The helicopter went wildly out of control.
“We’re going down!” the sergeant yelled in English.
Bond stepped into the open doorway of the helicopter and aimed the Stinger at Hera’s Huey. They were rapidly falling away from the target.
By God, Bond thought. He was going to hit Hera before they crashed if it was the last thing he did.
“Ask the pilot to try and keep the helicopter steady for just a moment!” Bond said to the sergeant. “Then hold on to my belt!”
The helicopter was losing height at a frightening pace. No one was sure if there was land or water below.
The pilot managed to get the Blackhawk back under some sort of control, but the aircraft was still rocking and falling.
“This is the best you’re going to get,” the sergeant told Bond.
Bond nodded and took a bead on the enemy Huey. He straightened his body and pivoted backward out of the opening, putting his trust in the sergeant to keep him from falling. Bond aimed directly at the Huey’s cockpit and fired the missile. The Stinger shot off with a loud whizzzzz and a flash of bright light, just clearing the Blackhawk’s rotor blades.
The missile hit the Huey dead on target. Bond winced when it exploded into a fireball brighter than the sun on a summer’s day. He prayed that the fireproof briefcase could be recovered.
The Huey plummeted ten thousand feet and crashed into the sea. Another explosion completely demolished it, sending all of its occupants to a dark and watery grave.
“Welcome to Hades, Hera,” Bond said to himself.
The Blackhawk’s pilot was having great difficulty keeping his craft in the air. It was inevitable that they would crash into the ocean too. Their only hope was that the pilot could keep the copter level so that the impact wouldn’t destroy the ship and everyone in it. One man began to distribute life jackets.
There was a tremendous noise as the Blackhawk hit the water. Everyone inside was flung in different directions, but the aircraft didn’t break apart. Water began to pour into the ship, and someone shouted, “Out! Everyone out!”
Bond followed the other men out of the hatch into the cold, dark water. He surfaced and saw that they had all made it, but the Blackhawk was sinking rapidly. The other wreckage was still floating on the water in flames, which provided a surprising amount of illumination. Much of the murky water was well lit.
The life jacket kept Bond afloat, but he was able to dive and swim underneath the Blackhawk. He saw a lot of debris floating down to the bottom of the sea. There were two bodies—guards—just beginning to float back up. Bond surfaced, took a breath, then continued his search for Melina Papas’s body. He saw a body in a tattered dress entangled in the struts of the sinking hulk. Bond swam to it and discovered it was one of the other Decada women. Most of her skin had been burned away.
Bond removed his life jacket and tied it to the strut, decreasing his buoyancy. He dived underneath the wreck again, pushed away the metal panels and tried to get inside. The flames were intense, but he forced himself to think of nothing but the metal briefcase. Too many lives were at stake.
He crawled into what was left of the burning hull and found three bodies, all charred and grotesquely mangled. The metal briefcase was handcuffed to the wrist of one. Bond held his breath and put his arms around the warm, wet body. He hauled her out of the wreckage and into the water, picked up his life jacket, and surfaced for air. After putting on the jacket, he draped Melina’s body over his shoulder and began to swim away from the floating sepulchre.
He saw some of the Greeks swimming several yards ahead of him. One of them shot off a flare into the sky, brightly illuminating the entire area. The water was rough and choppy, and Bond had a difficult time keeping afloat. He grabbed a bobbing piece of the aircraft and hung on to it, allowing it to carry him slowly toward the others.
Bond was just beginning to catch his breath when he was startled by the sudden appearance of a revolting, black, burned face. Hera, or what was left of her, broke the surface next to Bond. She looked like a demon from hell. Her red hair was completely gone, replaced by rolls of sliced, viscous flesh. One remaining eye bulged and her mouth was frozen in a silent scream. Sickened, Bond reached out to push the corpse away, but it suddenly came alive. Hera screamed and threw her hands around Bond’s neck. The fright caused him to let go of Melina’s body.
Bond fought her hard, kicking the mangled creature. She was grappling with all her might to bring him down. He chopped her in the neck with as much force as he could exert, then punched her in the face. The flesh on her cheek felt crusty and wet. She screamed again, and the vise around his neck loosened. Bond broke away, then lunged for her waist. Once he had a good hold on her, he shoved her head underwater and held it there. Hera struggled like a moray eel, but her wounds had taken their toll. She slowly weakened, and finally went limp after a couple of agonizing minutes. Bond let her go, and Hera Volopoulos sank to the bottom of the sea.
He then dived to retrieve Melina Papas again. She hadn’t drifted far. He grabbed the body once again and swam with it, and the briefcase, toward the other men.
They bobbed in the water for fifteen minutes before another helicopter arrived to rescue them.
The Decada’s headquarters on Anavatos were destroyed. Very little trace of their organization was left. Several burned bodies were recovered from the sea the next morning—three female skeletons and at least ten males. In the final reports filed by the Greek National Intelligence Service and the Greek military and by Bond, it was assumed that all of the members of the Decada had been killed.
The briefcase had indeed remained intact. The National Intelligence Service took possession of it and successfully opened it without releasing the deadly substance inside. It was immediately sent to a biochemistry lab in Athens so that the vaccine could be reproduced in quantity. Within twenty-four hours, hundreds of vials of the vaccine were on their way to the infected cities. One hundred and fifteen people had died in New York, 212 in Tokyo, and 186 in Los Angeles. Athens, London, and Paris had the least number of casualties—less than 60 in each city. It could have been far worse. In a week, the virus would have raged out of control and hundreds would have died, possibly thousands. Although it would be some time before anyone could be sure that the disease was totally contained, the authorities felt confident that they were off to a good start.
The virus itself was sent to the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta for study and breakdown.
Two days later, James Bond and Niki Mirakos lay in the king-sized bed in his suite at the Grande Bretagne in Athens. They had just eaten a basket of fruit and drunk two bottles of ouzo. Her leg was in a cast, but otherwise she was completely naked.
Bond glanced at his watch. “I have to call M.”
He slipped out of bed and walked naked into the sitting room. He dialed the number and went through the routine security checks.
“Double-O Seven?” M sounded extremely pleased to hear from him.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re right on time. I just received your report. Well done.”
/> “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Is the Greek agent badly injured?”
“It’s not too bad,” Bond said. “She had a bit of knee surgery. She’ll be fine in a few weeks.”
“That’s good to hear,” she said. “By the way, we all had a little surprise this morning.”
“Oh?”
“The Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus officially thanked the Republic of Cyprus and Greece for their roles in stopping the Decada. It was an unprecedented gesture.”
“Amazing.”
“Perhaps this will eventually lead to a new era of peace and cooperation between the two sides.”
Bond was doubtful, but he said, “Let’s hope so.”
Then there was a pause which said volumes to Bond. She was dying to hear anything at all about Alfred Hutchinson.
“Ma’am, you’ll be happy to know that Alfred Hutchinson was never a member of the Decada,” Bond said. “He did once have an illegal and clandestine operation going with Romanos, until his conscience got the better of him. He was trying to do the right thing in the end. I hope that information brings you some comfort.”
“Thank you, James,” she said.
She rarely called him James during what was, for all intents and purposes, a business talk. Bond thought she was beginning to act like old Sir Miles after all.
“James,” she said, “I want to tell you again how much I appreciate what you’ve done on this case.”
“Don’t mention it, ma’am.”
“Nevertheless, you helped me through this. Thank you.”
Bond hung up and went back into the bedroom. He poured some freshly squeezed orange juice for both of them, then propped a pillow up against the wall and sat on the bed. He stretched out his legs, and stared out of the window at the Acropolis in the distance.
After a minute of silence, Niki said, “What is it, James?”
Bond shrugged and shook his head, attempting to smile.
She took his hand and said, “It’s probably none of my business, but I think I know what it is.”
“Oh?”
“You’ve become jaded. The mission is over and you’re not looking forward to going back to your existence between assignments. I know how you feel, James. It’s like withdrawal from a drug. The threat of death hanging over you is what really makes you tick. Without it, you’re unhappy. My advice to you is to try and enjoy life too.”
Bond pulled her close and kissed her. Then he said, “But the world is not enough.”
“What?”
“That’s the motto on my family crest. ‘The World Is Not Enough.’ ”
She laughed gently. “It fits you perfectly.”
“It’s a curse, that’s what it is.”
“James, you’re entitled to feel that way. You are not like other men. You are human, but you have done superhuman things. All men know the facts of life, but you know just as much about the facts of death! You have thwarted Death many times. Someone once said that no man’s a god. I’m not so sure that’s true. Unlike Konstantine Romanos, you are a god.”
Bond laughed.
She laughed with him. “No, really! In ancient Greece, men would have proclaimed you to be a god. You would have been another Jason or an Agamemnon or even an Alexander the Great. There would be statues of you on display throughout the country and in museums!”
Bond pushed her face into the pillow. They wrestled playfully for a few seconds, then became still and quiet. Bond knew that even though he had thwarted Death many times, he had come to think of him as an old friend. Without Death standing behind him, scythe in hand and breathing down his neck, life was just a dreadful bore.
She pulled him to her gently. He turned and snuggled closer to her, wrapping his leg around her and pressing his loins into her thigh.
“Mmmm,” she said, as she pulled his body directly on top of hers. She reached down and held him. “I must add that what you know about the facts of life is pretty impressive too!”
Bond became aroused for the third time since they awoke. “I never told you before, but you’re one hell of a helicopter pilot, did you know that?” he said.
She grinned mischievously. “It’s just a question of knowing how to get it up.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE FACTS OF DEATH
The author wishes to thank the following individuals and organizations for their help in the writing of this book.
IN THE U.S. AND CANADA
Robert Coats; Susan Elder and Invacare; Dr. Ed Fugger and Fairfax CryoBank; James Goodner; Kathleen Hamilton and Jaguar Cars; Dan Harvey; Ambassador Namik Korhan; Stephen McKelvain and Interarms; James McMahon; Page Nordstrom and Chuy’s Restaurant; Charles Plante; Doug Redenius; David A. Reinhardt; Moana Re Robertson; Gary Rosenfeld; Thomas J. Savvides and National Travel Service, Inc.; Dan Workman; and my wonderful wife, Randi
IN THE U.K.:
Carolyn Caughey; Peter Janson-Smith; Lucy Oliver; Fergus Pollock (for the Jaguar design); Corinne B. Turner; Elaine Wiltshire; and the heirs of the late Ian Lancaster Fleming
IN GREECE:
Casino Au Mont Parnes; C. Dino Vondjidis and the Hotel Grande Bretagne
IN CYPRUS:
Zehra Basaran; Ambassador Kenneth Brill; Louis Travel Service; Valerie Mawdsley; Christina Mita; Ashley Spencer, Captain Sean Tully and the Sovereign Base Areas Administration.
A very special thanks to Panos Sambrakos, my guide in Greece, for the initial Inspiration.
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PROLOGUE
1
THE SMELL OF DEATH
2
A DAY IN THE CITY
3
AN EVENING IN THE COUNTRY
4
TOO CLOSE TO HOME
5
RENDEZVOUS ON CHIOS
6
TEQUILA AND LIMES
7
THE SUPPLIERS
8
MANSION ON THE HILL
9
THE SPERM BANK
10
OFFENSIVE ACTION
11
THE NEXT THREE STRIKES
12
HIDDEN AGENDA?
13
THE GREEK AGENT
14
THE NEW PYTHAGOREANS
15
BIOLINKS
16
ROMANOS
17
QUEEN OF THE GODS
18
A MURDERER’S TOMB
19
THE NUMBER KILLER
20
GODS NEVER DIE
21
BY THE SKIN OF THE TEETH
22
SECRETS OF THE DEAD
23
INDEPENDENCE DAY
24
GHOST TOWN
25
THE FACE OF DEATH
26
THE WORLD IS NOT ENOUGH
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS