Bond took the steps three at a time, his feet light as a cat’s. He was in his element now - the chase. Adrenaline flooded his system. He had to catch Zoeller. There was no more time for games - Bond knew he must capture Zoeller, kill him if necessary, but neutralize his threat. Zoeller and his organization could not be allowed to survive ( Read more... )

The hell of it was, Bond wasn’t sure if he hadn’t really been turned ( Read more... )

Bond cracked his eyes open and pain seeped in. Everything was too bright and washed-out for him to focus on anything; there was a luminescent rectangle made of agony that had to be an un-shuttered window, and the hateful bubble of torture to his right must be a lamp, while under his head ( Read more... )

It was late at night, and there was little static on the airwaves. “I’m sorry, Jungfrau,” Bond said over the C-47’s radio, “but I don’t have an encoding device handy. I can’t speak any more openly than I have. Over ( Read more... )

Bond and Susan huddled under a tarp they hastily pulled over themselves in the weapons compartment of the plane. A second after they had hidden themselves, they heard footsteps and muffled conversation. The voices didn’t sound like they were speaking English or German. Bond suspected he was hearing Slovak, but he couldn’t be certain ( Read more... )

Susan sat on the pier, dangling her legs over the edge. Her pants were soaked but her shirt was dry, because it wasn’t her shirt. The cargo truck’s driver had survived Bond’s attack and appeared inclined to be hostile when Susan had dragged herself out of the water. It had been necessary to kick him in strategic anatomical areas and club him ( Read more... )

For the record, I am projecting completion at part 20.Bond blinked rapidly. There was a pounding in his head. No, the pounding of footsteps. Perhaps both ( Read more... )

Zoeller stood up, reaching into his jacket. “Shoot him,” he ordered. “Shoot the waiter ( Read more... )

Bond nailed the last of the lids back on the boxes and paused to catch his breath. He and Susan had been working for the better part of the morning. They had tidied up the mess in the storage area, concealing the bodies of Archie and his cohorts in a disused closet in another part of the building. They had anonymously called for the airbase ( Read more... )

There was an open-all-night diner right there on the airbase. Bond and Susan B. Anthony ate, or rather Susan did, like a starving woman, and on Bond’s tab. Bond drank coffee but ate nothing ( Read more... )