On The Edge by Maddy Bell
Copyright© 2021 Madeline Bell
|
Grönberg
I carefully swung the door open and despite the stiletto heels of my sandals crept soundlessly towards the figure rattling files in one of the large old fashioned teak file cabinets – I know its the digital age but some things really do need to be out of that particular loop. I made it about halfway before the figure stood up.
"You'll have to try harder than that Bond.”
"Damn, how do you do it Pennyworth, what gave me away this time?”
"Perfume,” she grinned turning from the cabinet with a thick folder in her hand.
"But I'm not wearing any today.”
"Exactly, I heard you walking along the corridor, there was a draft when the door opened but no perfume, it was either 005 trying another disguise or you, every other woman wears scent, even M. talking of which, you got it?”
That's the thing in Six, even the office staff think they're spies.
I opened my bag and withdrew the tiny bottle, "Chanel Number Seven for my favourite secretary.”
"Number seven?”
"So exclusive you can't buy it, I had to do a half day shoot for that.”
"Which you were booked for anyway,” she pointed out.
Well okay, I'll concede that, the other 00's get to be Playboys, businessmen, one's cover is a golf pro. Me, I get to be a model, not your run of the mill runway examples, I'm officially the house Mannequin at Jean Coupárd, clothier to the rich and even richer around the globe. In those circles no one asks how much, I get to be part of that world for my employer, HM Government, or to be precise MI6, me, little ol' Gabrielle Bond late of Dernau near Bonn although my English roots got me the job.
The intercom crackled, "Pennyworth, is Bond here yet?”
"Yes Boss, just arrived.”
"Well send her in then, you can discuss the latest fashions on your own time.”
"She's on her way.”
"Everything go okay in Switzerland?” M queried before I even reached her desk.
"As well as it ever does, its all in the report.”
"I know whats in the report, its what isn't that bothers me,” she noted, motioning me to take a seat.
"So what's the emergency?”
"What do you know about Edvard Grönberg?”
"Of Limon fame?” I checked.
M nodded agreement.
"Bit of a playboy, likes his exotic toys, mechanical and human, usually to be found in Monte Carlo.”
"Which is why a sighting by our Israeli 'friends' on the East Bank,” she slid a twelve by eight over the mahogany, "Has raised a few eyebrows.”
The photograph was a bit grainy, Tel Aviv need to buy some better cameras, but Grönberg was easily identifiable talking to another chap.
"Any idea who the other chap is?”
"Werner Staedtler, former SSD, when the wall came down he fled Germany and disappeared from our radars.”
"I don't suppose the Stasi had many friends.”
"Quite, which is why this meeting with Grönberg set a few bells ringing.”
"Is there a connection between them?”
"I'm glad you asked Bond, they're cousins.”
"But Grönberg is Swedish.”
"But his parents were from Dresden, they fled to the West even as the Wall was being built.”
"So you think there's something fishy with this family reunion?”
"Very, why now and why Israel?”
I shrugged, "They wanted to catch the sun? So what's our involvement?”
"The Americans have asked us to lend a hand, get someone close to Grönberg, find out what's going on.”
"Don't they have any agents?”
"Not that fit the profile of one of Grönberg's 'exotica'.”
A visit to Q's laboratory can be quite entertaining, where the boffins come up with this stuff is beyond me. I idly picked up what looked like a fountain pen, an expensive one, removing the cap revealed it to be a very nice Waterman Expert, but there must be more to it than that.
I was disturbed in my thoughts by the approach of Q and his sidekick, Marty.
"Bond, just be careful with that.”
"Whats it do? Single shot gun? Hyperdermic? Listening device?”
"Nothing Bond, it was a present from my wife.”
Well thats me told. I returned the cap and passed it to its owner.
"So I suppose this is just a biro too eh?” I suggested picking up an innocuous cheap retractable from the desk.
"Don't!” Q told me just as I hit the button.
Marty went down like a brick, the tufts of the tiny dart sticking out of his neck.
"Do that,” Q sighed.
"I haven't killed him have I?”
"No, its a fast acting sedative, he'll be out for a couple of hours. Come on, lets get you kitted out.”
I followed the tech wizard through the laboratory to where a table was already waiting for us with, to my disapointment, only a handful of items laid on it. Well who doesn't like fancy toys to play with at work? A quick glance confirmed that it would be my wits rather than technology that would be keeping me out of the mire on this mission.
"So what do we have?”
"Glad to see you're taking it seriously Bond,” he picked up a small jewellery box and snapped it open, "Paste I'm afraid, the earrings incorporate a short wave transmitter, the choker has a digital camera, shutter is the red stone.”
"Bit ostentatious,” I opined.
The pieces were a bit garish for my taste, big and sparkly, the pseudo stones set in white gold or something that looked like white gold, which at least gave the whole a slightly less chainstore appearance.
"Our intel suggests that Grönberg likes his er, companions to be bejewelled, even around the pool.”
"Oh joy. Whats next?”
Q picked up a key fob, "Transport to get you in the door,” he noded towards the garage area, "Bugatti sixteen four Veyron Pur Sang, we've added a few extras for you.”
"Well that should get his attention.”
It would get anyones attention, unpainted bodywork polished like chrome with raw carbon fibre providing the accents, all in all an eye turner of a car.
"So what do I get? Ejection seat, rocket launchers?”
"Nothing so dramatic,” he thumbed the fob and the car vanished.
"What the?”
"Cloaking device, hides the heat signature and renders the car almost undetectable.”
"Nice.”
"We've borrowed the tech from the RAF and the car is on loan so if you can avoid breaking anything Bond.”
"The Vantage wasn't my fault.”
Well okay, maybe the blame was partly on me, it was maybe a bit rash to jump a raised Tower Bridge.
"Oh, nearly forgot,” he picked up another jewelry box, "Locator, wear it at all times.”
"Er sure, so no arnament?”
"Its an intelligence gathering operation Bond,” M advised joining us, "I'd rather you didn't shoot up half the Pelopenese.”
Dang, and I was so looking forward to that bit.
"Grönberg will be in Heraklion, Crete on Sunday, a regular visit for poker. Find out what's going on between him and Staedtler and get out.”
"And my in?”
"Your other employer is holding a show on the island, its all legit, get noticed and Grönberg's team will do the rest.”
"So I'm Jerry to his Tom.”
"More like Tweety Pie.”
A tap of the paddle and the Veyron dropped a gear ready to accelerate out of the turn, Crete may not have the autobahns or endless tarmac to get anywhere close to the two hundred and fifty plus miles an hour top speed but there's no reason a girl can't have a little fun, right? Out of the corner and I let the eight litres loose again, being flung hard into the leather upholstery for my troubles.
Too soon I was navigating the streets of the old town, finally pulling the Bugatti into a parking space on the water front. I checked my makeup in the mirror then exchanged the air conditioned quiet of the interior for the noisy heat of a Cretian Saturday afternoon. I made my way over to the waterside taverna where my 'backup' was reading a paper.
"Max.”
"Gabrielle,” he returned, rising to accept the air kisses that 'money' uses for personal greetings, "Pretty car, good trip?”
"I think a few Gendarmes will be checking their equipment.”
Okay, so I used the 'cloaking' system to dodge the boys with blue lights but it was still a full day's drive even at Veyron speeds.
Max signalled the waiter, who was already heading our way.
"The usual?”
"Better not, I'm driving, make it a soda and lime.”
"Soda and lime for the lady, I'll have another of these,” Max told the help.
"So what's the intel?”
Max adjusted his sunglasses and motioned towards the bay with his chin, "That's Grönberg's yacht just coming around the headland, if he follows his usual arrangements they'll stop out in the bay then come into the town to eat this evening.”
"Any idea where?”
"The Minotaur, across there, by the church.”
"So I guess its Ntákos tonight then.”
"Try not to get in trouble.”
"Me, trouble?”
I checked my image in the mirror, my hair was a bit Farrah Fawcett but it went with the rest of my appearance, a printed chifon playsuit, the cut away front exposing my firm stomach and showcasing the bling in my navel. Of course I had Q's earrings and choker, supplemented by equally bling wristlets picked up in Mayfair after I left HQ, I'm more a jeans and t shirt kind of girl but this is what keeps me in silk knickers.
"Just be careful Bond,” Max told me as he threaded the Bugatti around the old town, "Remember its intelligence gathering.”
"I remember okay.”
"Yeah, well I know you.”
"Hmmph!”
We pulled up outside The Minotaur, not The Ritz but at least halfway decent. Of course, I could've walked from the Grand Hotel, it was only a few streets away but then I couldn't have made my grand entrance for Edvard Grönberg's entertainment. Max got out and I waited for him to assist my exit from the Veyron, he makes quite a good chauffeur and I got to make a more elegant exit from the transport.
"I'll call when I want you,” I told him in my best 'talking to the staff' voice.
"Yes Modom.”
I looked over the terrace, the Bugatti had certainly turned a few heads, they were still looking as I made my way up the steps. A sexy car and a beautiful woman kept that attention focused and there he was, Edvard Grönberg, at a table near the rear of the terrace, maybe not exactly handsome but money can compensate. His companion was, at a guess, South American, exotic in that almost cloned fashion, maybe showing a little more flesh, a few more too white teeth in an effort to hold Grönberg's attention.
An attentive waiter appeared and led the way to my own table, a prime location where I would be seen but could also see my quarry.
I was barely seated before another member of staff arrived at my table with a bottle of Dom Perignon.
"From the gentleman by the door Madam.”
"Tell him thank you.”
I lowered my oversize sunglasses as I looked over, Grönberg smiled in acknowledgement whilst raising his own glass. So, i've attracted his attention.
"Mr Grönberg asks if you would join him for dinner,” the waiter went on.
"What about,” I spared a glance, his companion was no longer at the table, "Never mind, of course.”
I know there's nothing remotely like a free lunch but if Edvard Grönberg is picking up the tab I get Brownie points with Accounts. And after all, this is why I'm on Crete. The little playlet continued as I moved tables, Grönberg standing as I was seated at his table.
"Edvard Grönberg, thank you for joining me, such beauty should never dine alone.”
I felt the colour rising in my face, well what woman doesn't like a bit of flattery, especially when its far from the truth. Okay, I'll admit to being quite easy on the eye, or so I'm told but I'm not beautiful, not in any classical way.
"Gabrielle von Strechau,” I offered my hand which he lightly touched with his lips. Well you didn't think i'd use Bond did you?
"You are German?”
"According to my passport,” I agreed.
"So,” he went on returning to his seat, "What brings you to Heraklion?”
"Work I'm afraid, my boss, the coutourier Jean Coupárd, has a show tomorrow, I am but a humble mannequin.”
"I can't believe that you are humble at all, I'm pretty sure most women in your line of employ don't get chauffered around in the latest model Bugatti.”
I gave a shrug, "A gift from an admirer.”
Food arrived, apparently unbidden, we ate lightly and drank sparsely, the conversation equally frivolous. We were onto dessert when one of his lackeys bent and whispered in his ear, the smile dropped from his face as he lifted a finger.
"Is something wrong?”
"Some business has come up which I must attend to.”
"Nothing serious I hope.”
"I'm sorry that I must cut short dinner, I was so enjoying your company.”
"These things happen,” I allowed.
"But I must make it up to you, would you join me on my yacht tomorrow evening, after your show?”
Bullseye!
"I'd like that.”
"I'll send Armand to collect you.”
"I look forward to it, I hope you can sort out your business.”
"We shall see, until tomorrow, au revoire.”
"Au revoire.”
Grönberg and his minions departed, leaving The Minotaur quickly and with the ease that come with familiarity.
I surreptitiously touched an earring, "You there Max?”
"Where else would I be?”
"He's left.”
"I saw, you want collecting?”
"Give me a few minutes for coffee.”
"How's it going Bond?” M asked without preamble when I checked in with London back at the hotel.
"I'm fine thank you.”
"Of course you are.”
Such caring employers.
"He's taken the bait, he took off back to his gin palace though, some urgent business but i've been invited for dinner tomorrow night.”
"Could be our man,” M opined.
"Well maybe we'll find out tomorrow.”
"Be careful Bond, intelligence remember.”
What is it with everyone today? Anyone would think I enjoy the 00 perks and responsibilities. Well maybe I do, just a little but it plays havoc with your hair and nails.
"Bond, you still there Bond?
"Er sorry, just thinking.”
"Not always your strong point Bond.”
I let that slide.
"Any intel on what Staedtler is up to?”
"Nothing new but we think he might be headed in your direction, he caught a flight to Athens this morning.”
"Interesting.”
"If we get anything more we'll pass it on to Max.”
"Okay, well I best get some beauty sleep, busy day tomorrow.”
Maddy Bell © 10.04.2021
Comments
What great dream scene
A bugati! Of course it's on loan.