Thackeray’s voice boomed out over a loudspeaker: “Get them all, damn you! Take out that yacht! I’m lowering the sampan now!”
The man was probably at the helm or somewhere nearby. Bond would deal with him later. He had to reach Sunni first. The girl’s figure could be seen huddled just inside the sampan. She was tied up, unable to move. Another object was built into the sampan’s deck, beneath the hood. It was the bomb.
Before he could reach the hoist, however, Bond was confronted by one of the albinos, the big one he called Tom. 007 raised his gun to fire, but the albino adeptly kicked the Walther out of his hand. The man was big, but he had amazing agility. Bond attempted to return a blow with a back kick, but Tom grabbed his leg, twisted it, and effortlessly slammed Bond hard against the side of a cabin wall. He fell to the deck, only to be on the receiving end of three vicious kicks in the ribs.
Li Xu Nan was having troubles of his own. He had climbed one of the ropes on to the Glory and was struggling with the other albino henchman, Dick. They were of equal height and weight, and both of them were skilled martial arts practitioners. If their fight hadn’t been a life-or-death struggle, it would have been one of the most impressive displays of eastern fighting techniques imaginable. Each blow delivered by one man was calculated to kill or maim, but it was met with an equally considered counterblow from the other. They moved with great speed, forcing each other to think split seconds ahead of their actions.
Bond managed to get to his feet. He leaped for Tom and grabbed hold of the man’s head. The large albino simply locked Bond in a bear hug and picked him up off the deck. Bond used his free arms to deliver sword-hand blows to his opponent’s neck and shoulders, but they seemed to have little effect. Tom was squeezing him hard, and Bond began to feel the strain against his ribcage. My God, he thought, the man was strong enough to crush him with his bare arms!
If that wasn’t enough for him to worry about, Bond heard the hoist rumble into life. The sampan was being lowered into the water.
The fight was interrupted by a huge, deafening explosion that rocked the Glory. It caused Tom to release his grip on Bond and the two men fell to the deck. At first, Bond thought the bomb had detonated, but he soon realized that the Peacock had returned fire with its own Melara Gun. The Glory had taken a critical hit broadside. At least the Royal Navy were better marksmen than Thackeray’s crew!
Bond jumped up and leaned over the rail. The sampan with Sunni and the bomb was floating away from the ship. Large hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him away, and he was thrown back against the cabin wall. Tom was on him again. Bond gave the henchman everything he had. He knew a few tricks of his own, and delivered them with skill and determination. Bond struck the man’s abdomen with a Nidan-geri double kick, chopped him on the throat with vicious one-two spear-handed blows, then swung his body around, leaped, and kicked the man full in the face. Tom staggered back against the ship’s rail, broke it, and fell overboard.
Bond caught his breath and surveyed the situation. The Glory was on fire. Several of Thackeray’s men had given up the fight and were running to lifeboats. The Peacock was close. The Royal Navy forces had extinguished their own fire and Bond could see three RIBs—Rigid Inflatable Boats—with several men aboard and heading towards the Glory. Turning towards the Statesman, he could see that Li’s yacht was on fire and was sinking. He peered through the smoke on the deck of the Glory to try and find Li. Then he saw them. Li and the other albino, Dick, were fighting dangerously close to the flames. Bond tried to run towards them but a burst of machine-gun fire stopped him in his tracks. He leaped to the side of the cabin wall for cover.
“I’ll get you, you bloody bastard!” It was Thackeray’s voice, coming from a deck above him. Bond had to snake along the wall to avoid being hit. A companionway was twenty yards away from him. If he could make it there before Thackeray did …
Li and Dick continued their assault upon each other. Dick executed two brutal kicks at Li. The Dragon Head retaliated by jumping up, grabbing a low-hanging pipe, and swinging out towards his opponent. Li’s feet caught Dick in the head, knocking him backwards into the flames. Li jumped down to the deck and bulldozed the albino, head first. He hit the man in the stomach, successfully pushing him further into the fire. The albino fell to the burning deck. His clothes were on fire, and he was screaming. Suddenly, the wooden planks beneath him gave way and he fell into the inferno below.
Li moved away from the fire and saw Bond. 007 pointed above his head and shouted, “Look out!” Li looked up and saw Thackeray on the upper deck, aiming the machine gun at him. Bond couldn’t see the Englishman—he only saw Li’s expression change from shock to resignation.
The Cho Kun of the Dragon Wing Society looked death in the face and accepted it with honour. The machine-gun blast caught him in the chest. Li Xu Nan was propelled back into the flames, where five generations of secret society leadership finally ended.
Bond reached the companionway and climbed to the upper deck. He caught a glimpse of Thackeray running to the other side of the ship. The Glory was going down fast. There were no signs of any of Thackeray’s men left aboard.
He took off after Thackeray and chased him down a ladder into the depths of the ship. At one point, Thackeray turned to fire the machine gun at Bond, but he leaped out of the way, successfully dodging the bullets. Thackeray moved on. Bond followed him through a smoky passageway that was filling with water. It was difficult to breathe, and Bond knew it was extremely dangerous to continue. He could die of smoke inhalation before he got to the man. He pressed on, though, determined to stop Thackeray from reaching wherever he might be headed.
The answer to that question became obvious when Bond saw an open hatch at the end of the passageway through which Thackeray had jumped. Bond looked out of the hatch and saw that Thackeray had dropped into a speedboat, large enough to carry four people, which had been hoisted on the port side of the Glory, just as the sampan had been tied on the opposite side. It was about eight feet below the hatch. Thackeray was preparing to release the cables securing it to the Glory. This had been Thackeray’s planned escape route. He had intended to set the sampan and bomb afloat, then speed away in this boat, probably with his albino henchmen, and easily manoeuvre through the crowded harbour to a safe distance. He would have fled to one of the outlying islands, then flown to safety in a hidden ’plane.
Thackeray was fiddling with the controls of the hoist that would drop the speedboat thirty feet down to the water. His attention was not on Bond for a few precious seconds. 007 leaped out of the hatch just as the cables released the boat. As the speedboat dropped, Bond was falling just a few feet above it.
The boat hit the water hard, knocking Thackeray to its deck. A second later, Bond landed in the boat with force. He might have broken his legs if the recoil from the boat hitting the water hadn’t caused it to bounce and somewhat cushion Bond’s fall. Even so, his right leg was injured badly. His knee hurt like hell.
“You!” Thackeray shouted. He leaped on top of Bond, and the two men locked their hands around each other’s throats. Temporarily dazed by the fall into the boat, Bond was at a disadvantage. Thackeray squeezed hard, attempting to crush Bond’s windpipe. 007 almost passed out but managed to bring his knee up hard into Thackeray’s side. The man’s years of alcohol abuse probably saved Bond, for the blow hit Thackeray hard in the liver. Thackeray jerked in pain, then released his grip on Bond’s neck. He rolled off, clutching his side.
Bond sat up to catch his breath. Thackeray was doubled up in pain.
“All right, Thackeray, let’s go and disarm that bomb,” Bond said.
Thackeray, with a grimace on his face, simply nodded. Bond turned the ignition and got the outboard engine started, then something hard hit him in the head. The next thing he knew, half of his body was hanging over the side of the motorboat.
Thackeray had taken an oar from the bottom of the boat. He had hit Bond with it, attempting to knock him overboard. Thackeray hit
him again across the back, sending a jolt of pain up Bond’s spine. 007 willed himself to turn the pain into energy. He swung around and rolled just in time to avoid another direct hit from the oar. Now it was his turn. He lunged for Thackeray’s legs and tackled him. They both fell overboard into the harbour.
It was murky, smelly water, but at least it wasn’t freezing. In fact, it was rather warm. They clung to each other and thrashed around. Thackeray was struggling to get to the surface. Now Bond had the advantage, for he was an excellent swimmer. Despite his injuries and the pain in his knee, he was able to turn the water into his element.
Their heads broke the surface. Thackeray had a look of rage and terror on his face. He tried to reach for the motorboat, but Bond struck out and latched on to his adversary’s waist. Thackeray clutched Bond’s hair and pulled it as hard as he could. He squirmed and kicked, hoping Bond would loosen his grip. Bond swam away from the motorboat with Thackeray, lifeguard-style. Thackeray was yelling something, but Bond paid no attention. They submerged again, and this time Thackeray broke away from Bond. He reached for 007’s neck and locked his fingers around it. Bond tried to pry the man’s fingers away, but Thackeray’s adrenalin was pumping hard. If it was going to be a test of stamina, Bond thought, then so be it. He locked his own fingers around Thackeray’s neck and started to squeeze. It was now a matter of who would give out first.
The bodies rolled and twirled in the dark water, performing a grotesque underwater ballet as they tried to choke the life out of each other. For nearly a full minute, which to Bond seemed like an hour, they were locked together, somersaulting like a single jellyfish. Finally, Thackeray’s face changed. His eyes bulged, and bubbles began to escape from his mouth. The eyes rolled up into his head, and his grip on Bond’s neck relaxed. Because of his years of training and experience, Bond was able to hold his own breath for an uncanny amount of time. He kept his grip tight on Thackeray’s neck until he was sure that the man was unconscious. The taipan of EurAsia Enterprises, heir to a fortune won and then lost, drowned in Victoria Harbour at the hands of James Bond.
Bond let Thackeray’s body drift away, then he swam to the motorboat and climbed aboard. He looked at his watch. It was 11:45. Bond quickly got the boat going and sped around the sinking Glory to the other side.
The Peacock was broadside of the damaged cargo ship, and the RIBs were busy overtaking the enemy lifeboats and arresting Thackeray’s remaining men. Bond guessed that none of the Triads survived. With their leader dead as well, he thought that the Dragon Wing Society would most likely fade into obscurity, or be absorbed by some other secret criminal society.
The sampan had not drifted far. Bond reached it in minutes, cut the motor, and leaped aboard. Sunni was tied and gagged, her eyes wide with fear and surprise. Bond removed the gag.
“James! Oh, God, James!” she cried.
“It’s all right! Hold on,” he said, untying her. Once she was free, he gave her a quick hug and kiss. She didn’t want to let him go, but he broke away.
“Sunni, the bomb!” he said, then turned his attention to the large metal object fastened to the deck of the sampan.
The cone was screwed to the main casing. Bond removed his left shoe and opened it up. He took out the metal file, which was just the appropriate size to use on the screws. He removed the cone, revealing a digital clock face, its mechanism, and wires connecting it to the main casing and the conventional explosives surrounding the U-235 within. The clock read 11:55.
Before Bond could progress any further, the sampan lurched hard to one side. Someone was pulling himself on to the boat! Sunni screamed. It was Tom, the largest and strongest of the albino henchmen! Bond had forgotten about him after the man had fallen off the Glory.
“Stay with the bomb, James, I’ll take care of this creep!” Sunni shouted.
Fine, Bond thought. Do it, girl. He had to concentrate. What would be the quickest way to disarm the damned thing? Maybe he could simply stop the clock.
Sunni, who once displayed a knack for street fighting, used the frustration and pent-up energy from being tied up to attack the big man like a dynamo. She hit him hard in the face with a Mae-geri front kick, swung around and kicked him again, then leaned in and struck him hard in the solar plexus with a stiff spear-hand. Surprised by the girl’s ability, Tom was momentarily stunned. He swung at her, but she deftly dodged the blow, ducked, then brought herself up with a leap nearly as high as his head. In mid-air, Sunni kicked out hard at the man, knocking him on his back.
Bond remembered what Thackeray had said about the clock. It was run by a small battery: “the kind used in wristwatches.” Bond used the file to pry off the clock face, revealing the circuitry. A small, round lithium battery was encased in metal connectors. The file was too large a tool to pop it out. Bond tried using his fingers, but that was too awkward.
Sunni continued attacking the albino henchman as if she was making up for years of abuse, exploitation, and pain. She wouldn’t let up. The big man couldn’t get a manoeuvre in to save his life. With one great lurch, though, he managed to get to his feet. He was standing with his back to the side of the sampan, dazed and confused. Sunni, with one final dynamic leap in the air, double-kicked the man hard on the breastplate. It was enough to force him overboard and into the water. By that time, a Royal Navy RIB had arrived. A naval officer trained his gun on the albino and was prepared to arrest him, but it wasn’t necessary. Sunni had broken the man’s sternum and stopped his heart.
The digital numbers read 11:58. Once again, Bond looked at the contents of the shoe that Major Boothroyd had given him. Was there another tool … ? Of course! The tweezers! Bond plucked them from their position in the shoe and used them carefully to extract the lithium battery. The digital clock blinked out at 11:59. The crisis was over. Thackeray’s bomb was a dud.
Bond and Sunni climbed into the RIB, which took them over to the Peacock. Captain Plante met them on deck.
“Commander Bond?”
Bond nodded. “The bomb’s defused. Your men can salvage it off that sampan.”
“Excellent, Commander. Your chief is on the line there on the bridge,” he said. “Just up those steps. I’ve orders to deliver you back to England.”
What about Sunni? Bond thought. What were they going to do with her?
Bond got on the line, and after a few pips, heard M’s strained voice.
“Well, 007, I see that you persist in disobeying my orders.” she said.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I assure you it won’t become a habit. It’s just that …”
“Never mind, 007. I understand you stopped that man Thackeray from doing whatever it was he was planning.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I imagine the handover ceremony is in progress as we speak.”
“It’s midnight here, ma’am,” Bond said. “I suppose so.”
“Good. You’re to accompany Captain Plante back to England. I’m putting you on three months’ suspension for insubordination.”
Bond closed his eyes. Fine, if that’s the way she wants to play it.
Then M added, “With pay.”
“Ma’am?” He wasn’t sure he heard her correctly.
“As for the girl, I’ve arranged for a passport in her name. Just give the details to Chief of Staff. We’ll need to know which country she prefers. She can choose between England, America and Canada.”
Bond couldn’t believe it. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll ask her. I’m sure she’ll be very appreciative.”
They rang off and Bond joined Sunni on the deck of the ship. It began to pull away, heading east out of the harbour.
He put his arm around her. “England, America or Canada?” he asked.
“What?”
“You have your foreign passport.”
“Oh, James!” She kissed him. “Do I have to decide this second?”
“No.”
They looked out at the magnificent skyline of Hong Kong Island. At that moment, its sovereignt
y was changing hands. The future of the fabled city-state was now in the hands of the People’s Republic of China.
Bond thought about T.Y. Woo and his brother, and the lives they’d given for the colony which was now lost. He made a mental note to contact Woo’s son in England and offer to provide any assistance that Chen Chen might need. As for himself, he would have to live with the guilt he felt for being forced to turn his back on T.Y. that fateful day in Guangzhou. He knew he could eventually bury it, for it was no different from what he’d felt when his friend Felix Leiter lost a leg at the hands of Mr. Big’s men in Florida, or when his colleague Darko Kerim was killed by Russian agents on the Orient Express, or when his companion Quarrel was burned alive on that island in the Caribbean. James Bond had lost many friends during his career with the Secret Service. He had learned long ago how to deal with it and turn the pain into an asset that contributed to his self-made shell—the hardened, tough armour that protected him from the inevitably maddening, and conceivably fatal, aspects of consciousness called human emotions.
He looked over at Sunni and saw that tears were streaming down her cheeks. Bond gently used his finger to wipe them away.
“You miss your mother, don’t you …” he said tenderly.
She nodded. “That’s not why I’m crying, though,” she said. “I’m crying for Hong Kong. I fear for its people.”
“No,” Bond said, kissing her softly. “The people will manage. Don’t worry about them. They are strong, and they are determined. So don’t cry.”
“All right.” Sunni smiled and wiped her face. “No tears for Hong Kong.”
She allowed him to encircle her with his arms as they looked towards the skyline to watch the fireworks.
ZERO: 1 JULY 1997, 12:01 A.M.
In Statue Square, the handover of the British Crown Colony known as Hong Kong was executed peacefully and smoothly. Formal statements were read by both sides, and the representatives from China shook hands with the representatives from Great Britain. As soon as the transition was declared official, there were tumultuous cries from the people standing in the congested streets. Some were cries of joy, and others were cries of sadness. The fireworks began, filling the sky with colours, noise, and celebration.
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