Work Text:
Bond stepped into the familiar junk-laden workshop and hailed its sole occupant, who waved at him once in acknowledgement and then returned to whatever trick circuit he was studying with a watchmaker's eyeglass. "I've just been talking with our new M. She sent me down here to pick up the latest thing I'm supposed to field-test for you."
"Ah yes." Q looked up, reached for something tucked behind a box file and handed it to him. "You should be familiar with this anyway. Bottle looks like shower gel, contents are actually an extremely powerful plastic explosive. The detonator is in the handle of your toothbrush as usual. Do read the instructions about how much to use before you go squirting it around, won't you?"
"When have you ever known me not to, Q?"
"Approximately 100% of the time, 007. Try not to demolish anything you don't actually have to, the field-tests have already been done."
"Don't I know it." Bond looked up towards the higher floors of the building with a sort of rueful wince, not for the first time that day. "All of us get our stuff from you, Q. You must have known. I don't suppose it ever occurred to you to tell me?"
Q grinned. "Need to know, 007. Need to know."
*****
Six Months Before ...
M had called 007 in to be briefed personally.
This was bad.
Moneypenny had seen it happen more times than she cared to think about. It always meant that the old boy was about to explain that utter disaster awaited, unless James could pull something out of the hat again.
"You sent for me, sir?" James exchanged brief glances with her as the Admiral nodded and turned to set up his viewing screen. He knew what the call meant as well as she did.
"Yes, Bond." M pressed a button and began to click through a series of slides. "We've received this note from an organisation calling themselves KREMVAX. They claim to be ex-KGB hackers who have compromised the control systems of an old Soviet nuclear-powered spy satellite network."
"And you believe them?"
"Since the message was delivered over the direct diplomatic net using obsolete codes from the old USSR-UK emergency protocols, and came complete with an attachment of a large amount of telemetry data that contained our top secret signals, yes we do."
Bond's eyebrows rose. "So why are the Cabinet choking on their gin and tonics over a few disgruntled ex-Soviet wunderkind playing at being SPECTRE, sir? Just change to a different cipher and claim any embarrassing revelations aren't important, same as we always do when somebody messes up."
"They're not threatening to reveal our secrets, 007," said M tersely. "And they're not playing. They have control of the guidance systems of the satellites as well, and they're threatening to bring them down from the sky and crash them onto British cities as dirty bombs in seven days' time, unless we meet their demands."
"Ah." The syllable conveyed total comprehension. Moneypenny kept her face impassive, but she shuddered inwardly. "And those demands are?"
"A billion pounds a year paid into Swiss accounts --"
"Unoriginal."
"-- plus the Crown Jewels."
"Now that's a new one. Amateurish, but new. Well, we'd better put a stop to it then. Can't let Her Majesty go out without the proper hat."
M glared at him. "This is no joking matter, Bond! Our own hackers have managed to track back the signals. They're using a decentralised server network, of course, but what gives us a chance is that the traces suggest they're using kit left behind in old KGB remote bases in former Soviet client states."
"Waste not, want not. So basically we need to locate and destroy?"
"Exactly. Most of them will probably be relying on anonymity for defence and be only lightly secured, but there's bound to be a master node that they've defended in more depth. We can't tell which is which, but knock them all out and we put a stop to this."
Bond examined the screen thoughtfully. "Kiev, Havana, Maputo, Hanoi ... quite a spread. I'm going to have to get a move on."
"We're mobilising our other top 00 agents for this one too, Bond," said M repressively. "Where will you start?"
"I think Havana."
"Bond ..."
"We have to work quickly to find them, sir. And when it comes to Fidel's backyard -- well, I know where to find a man who knows."
Moneypenny ushered him out. "Are you sure it's a man you know how to find there, James?" she asked innocently.
"Among others," replied Bond with a grin. "Anyone would think you didn't trust me around the fairer sex, Moneypenny."
"Only to be untrustworthy, James." She waved him off, and was about to sit down at her desk when she noticed the light on the intercom. That wasn't exactly unexpected. Sighing, she headed back to M's office.
"You called me, sir?"
M looked up; she could see the worry lines etched on his face. The job was definitely grinding him down these days. It didn't reveal itself in his voice, however, which was as brusque as usual. "Take a letter, Miss Moneypenny." He meant it literally; he passed her a handwritten letter. "Get this one dealt with, will you?"
"Yes, sir." Moneypenny retreated to her desk, sat down, and switched on her old-fashioned typewriter, flicking an innocuous-looking switch on the side as she did so. She ran the letter through the now-heated rollers, which brought out the one-time message inscribed on the special paper, and shook her head as she read it. "Here we go again," she muttered to herself.
She put the cover over her typewriter and dropped the message into the bin. Then, after waiting to make absolutely sure the paper had crumbled into dust, she took the lift downstairs and out of the building.
"Taxi!"
*****
The Casino del Rey catered for an exclusive clientele who required privacy above all -- high-rollers from the Orient, Americans who wanted something a little more exotic than Las Vegas could provide regardless of what their country's politicians had to say about it, and a small number of local gangsters with a strong preference for avoiding close scrutiny from the SDE.
Bond slipped in as the clock headed towards midnight and soon spotted his man, and took the first opportunity to slide gently into the next seat at the blackjack table. The man in question was playing with quiet concentration and remained oblivious to his presence, but when Bond deliberately chose to hit on nineteen -- and drew a two -- he looked up.
"Senor Callao," said Bond with a polite nod.
Callao looked him up and down slowly. He seemed discomfited by Bond's presence, but was doing his best not to show it. "Well, well. Mr Bond, I believe. What brings you here?"
Bond treated him to his best sharklike smile. "Oh, I like to have pleasant surroundings when I fancy a relaxing game of cards. Especially when they offer the chance to catch up on old friends and chat about what they've been up to recently."
"I see." Callao reached for a particularly large example of the local cigars, which he made a great show of lighting. "I am surprised that a busy man such as yourself is able to keep up to date on such things."
"I try to stay well-informed. As I'm sure do many others who couldn't be here with us tonight due to their official duties."
"Indeed. It pleases me that you remember a humble businessman such as myself." He didn't sound it.
"Oh come now, there's no need for false modesty, Senor. I hear that you know everything that goes on around here."
"I have that reputation." Callao smoked thoughtfully. "Is there anything with which I can assist you?"
"Some gentlemen from Senor Castro's former allies have been in town recently, I believe."
"Ah yes, I have heard that this is so. Would you like an introduction, perhaps?"
Bond nodded and adjusted his watch. "That's very kind."
Callao stood up and gestured to the large man in a ill-fitting suit who had been hovering in the vicinity of the table, who followed as he led Bond out of the rear door to a back alley behind the kitchens, where a large limousine was parked, crewed by a bored-looking chauffeur. They stopped abruptly as Callao clicked his fingers. "I did not think you would be so foolish, Mr Bond."
Three men emerged from the shadows and closed in on Bond, but as they reached him something odd happened; Bond flicked his wrist and with a whirr the watch exploded into a stream of flechettes. Two of them hit his potential assailants, both of whom collapsed with a groan. The third man, horrified, reached for his jacket pocket, but Bond's arm had followed through and his elbow took the man in the throat before he could reach his weapon.
The original bodyguard had his gun out now but a kick at his hand sent it spinning down the alley, and with that Bond grabbed Callao, threw him into the car, and jumped in himself. He put his Walther to the head of the chauffeur --who had lost his air of boredom and now looked as if he might faint at any moment -- and snarled "Drive." The man started the car with such haste that they had travelled halfway down the alley before he even remembered to take the handbrake off.
Callao seemed to have shrunk within his clothes. Even his cigar had gone out. "What will you do with me?" he asked quietly.
"You, Senor? Nothing at all. Provided you tell me everything, starting now."
"I -- very well. The Russians came to me, asking for protection for a particular building. I, of course, knew it was once used as a joint intelligence facility by the DGI and the KGB. There are members of the latter who remained here as -- consultants, shall we say? -- after their parent government fell. I know better than to interfere in security matters and bring the whole apparatus of the State down upon my head! Clearly, this was a test of my loyalty. What was I to do? I provided the protection they asked for."
Bond smiled again. "You're in luck, Callao. These goons are entirely private enterprise. I can't speak for what Senor Castro's people would say if they knew you'd helped them, but believe me, if you assist me now I can assure you that Her Majesty's Government will be inclined to be generous."
Callao relit his cigar and thought for some time as he smoked, while the car toured the streets of downtown Havana. "How generous?" he asked finally.
"Very."
He sighed and stubbed out the cigar. "What do you want me to do?"
"Take me to where they can be found. Call off your people. I'll do the rest."
*****
Kiev had never been 009's favourite city during the Cold War, and as far as the current location went, the joys of free enterprise had if anything left it looking worse. It was an old warehouse in a district on the outskirts of the city, and so dilapidated that a casual observer would have assumed it was abandoned. 00 agents were anything but casual observers, however, and the artistically blacked-out windows and brand-new locks gave the game away.
Breaking and entering were also part of their skill set and 009 found no problem in deactivating the alarms and getting past several locked doors to reach a server room. The reason for the surprisingly lax exterior security then became apparent -- this room was set in reinforced concrete that looked recently added, and well-secured by code locks. Just blowing the place up was an option -- but it might not be enough without access to the room itself, and it practically amounted to a calling card to say that MI5 was striking back. There were system access terminals on the outside which would presumably allow the systems to be shut down, but that would need an expert hacker to break past the software defences, and even if one could be despatched from London it would take far too long before they could get here and get in ...
This was something that would need to be tackled in two stages.
For Stage 1, 009 grabbed a few pieces of equipment that looked as if they might still have a resale value, reset the alarms, re-locked all the doors, then deliberately smashed open the front entrance. The noise of the alarm was surprisingly loud, and 009 retreated to the shadows to see what results it might produce. As hoped, within five minutes a pale-faced, geeky individual with a panicked expression arrived in the company of a couple of bored-looking security guards. They spent ten minutes inside the building before emerging, by which time the pale man's expression had turned to relief.
"Just thieves," he said in Moscow-accented Russian, seemingly uncertain of what to do. "Board it up," was his eventual instruction to the local heavies, who were beginning to grumble. "I'll replace the locks in the morning." When they left 009 moved to follow them, but all three men went in different directions.
Better and better. Now for Stage 2: recruit some help.
The Russian was calming his nerves with the assistance of a bottle of vodka when there was a knock on his door. He jumped about a metre, and with his heart beating at double the normal rate checked the security camera. To his complete astonishment, his nocturnal visitor turned out to be an attractive older woman in a housecoat, who herself had clearly been very thoroughly assisted by her own nearly-empty bottle of vodka. She waved it at the camera and blew him a kiss. "Hello!" she said through the intercom. "I'm Ludmilla from upstairs. I heard you go out and come back, you naughty boy, and I thought, if you're still up at midnight, and I'm still up here all by myself feeling lonely, why don't I come down and we can --" she hiccupped "-- be lonely together!"
She looked as if she would happily stay there all night if he didn't respond -- possibly collapsed against the door -- and he really didn't want to attract attention. He calmed considerably when he remembered that the whole point of choosing a base in this expensive block was that it was exclusive and well-secured and only those with a keycode could possibly get in. And besides -- from the look of her there was definitely some interesting potential there!
He hesitated, then pressed the button to release the lock. He opened the door and stuck his head out, then froze in reaction to the cold steel of the gun barrel that he suddenly found pressed against his temple.
"Moscow Centre never trained their hackers for field work, did they?" said 009 softly. "Or else you'd never have opened the door. And you'd have checked to make sure no-one could get into your building through the ventilation shaft. Let's take a little trip back to that warehouse of yours."
*****
Bond's first port of call in Maputo was the Embassy, where he took the opportunity to contact M over a secure line. The news turned out to be both good and bad.
"004's cleared out a bunker near Hanoi," M told him, "with a little ... unofficial help from some friends of his who had fought with the Viet Cong."
"Must have been just like old times for them, sir."
"Very funny, Bond," said M, sounding more strained than amused. "He took a bullet in the leg though, so he's out of action. 009's shut down a system in Kiev with the aid of the local KREMVAX member --"
"What?"
"Coerced aid, I should say. Unfortunately he then tried to pull a gun from under the terminal when he thought 009 wasn't looking, so he's not going to be aiding anyone from now on. And 003 managed to overload the electricity supply to destroy a base in Managua."
"Nice work," said Bond, impressed.
"Yes, but since it involved fusing the mains grid across three city blocks, he and the local embassy are now caught up in some very tense discussions with the Nicaraguan authorities."
"Ah."
"Is that all you can say, 007?" snapped M.
"No, sir. We've been very lucky so far. We seem to be dealing with wannabes rather than professionals. Makes a nice change, apart from the threat to blow us all up of course."
Bond could tell M was scowling, even over the phone. "Very dangerous wannabes. And since we agreed that they must have at least one well-defended facility, I think you're about to find out it's business as usual! Did the Embassy there make that list you wanted?"
"I'm just about to find that out too, sir."
The Second Secretary handed over lists of recent development sites and places with known Soviet associations in and around the city that they'd been asked to prepare. "We're not used to this sort of thing being in such demand," he said. He was obviously itching to know why it was required, but Bond simply grinned at him and walked out. He'd probably be happier not knowing anyway.
Finding a promising candidate for the KREMVAX headquarters proved to be a surprisingly simple task. It was on both lists; a decent-sized old colonial residence with an acre or so of grounds, which according to the Embassy's notes had been abandoned in 1975 and commandeered by the Russians for a time. It was, however, in a part of the city that had become run down during the civil war, because no-one had any particular interest in finding the resources to maintain it. The recent additions -- repairs to the heightened walls topped with barbed wire, a new set of heavy barred gates, and even visible satellite transceivers that had certainly not been left behind by Soviet spooks -- stood out like a sore thumb among the surrounding air of neglect. It reinforced Bond's increasing conviction that they were dealing with a bunch of backroom boys who missed the feeling of importance that came from having been technically part of the KGB, and were now playing way out of their league.
Very dangerous backroom boys though. M had been right about that.
A little way down the road there was a tallish building that had been converted into flats. Bond slipped in via a fire escape at the rear that had seen better days and made his way to the top floor, where as luck would have it the occupant of one of the flats chose that moment to leave for work. His lock presented no difficulty, and with the aid of a set of powerful light-enhancing binoculars Bond was able to get a good look at what he felt sure was the main KREMVAX HQ.
There were only a few lights on in the house itself, and the surrounding gardens were silent and dark, but every now and then there were the tell-tale flares of light that indicated a guard lighting a cigarette. The gardens themselves were planted with hedges that had become overgrown, and would offer useful cover. Familiar boxes every few yards on the top of the walls indicated that infrared beams would set off an alarm if they were broken, and there were raised lookout platforms on either side of the grounds, but their field of view was restricted and Bond reckoned that it would be possible to sneak up to the walls unobserved in several spots. Other than that, nothing -- not even the alligator-filled moat that was usually de rigeur for the international supercriminal in this sort of situation. Definitely amateurs!
Bond smiled to himself, but his smile faded as he focused the glasses on the grounds of the next building. There was someone quietly waiting in the shadows and watching the gates, probably posted there to attack from behind anyone trying to enter that way. Amateurs or not, the hackers had to know that their other bases had been knocked out, and that an attack was surely imminent.
Which seemed to suggest that the first order of business was to remove whoever was watching before they could take action.
A quarter of an hour later Bond was creeping up on the watcher's position with muffled footsteps. Very gently, he slid a commando knife from its sheath, braced himself, and started across the twenty-yard open gap. It wasn't quick enough. The watcher turned sharply, raised a gun, and then both of them froze in shock.
Bond grabbed the woman's arm and dragged her into the shadow of the wall. "Moneypenny?" he hissed. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Agent Eve to you, James," she hissed back. "Or 009 if you prefer."
"00 -- what?"
"Deep cover. They can only send me out when absolutely necessary these days," she added defensively, "I know too much about what goes on in MI5 HQ." They looked at each other for a moment, and then both began to laugh silently. It was just too ridiculous. "I could have killed you, James."
Bond tried to look apologetic. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I was expecting to kill you, Moneypenny. I'm glad I didn't though," he added.
"Understood." She glanced back towards the house. "Are we agreed that this is probably where they're hiding out?"
"Yes -- ah, you must have read the same Embassy lists I did."
"Arrived from Kiev, picked them up, came straight here." She paused, and continued in a conversational murmur that was more like the Moneypenny he was familiar with. "I've been watching the place for a while, James. The grounds aren't big enough to slip past the patrols without being seen -- they're only local heavies with AK-47s, not proper soldiers, but there are plenty of them and they're clearly twitchy. I don't blame them after what happened to the rest of the bases. Did you boys all have to be so obvious about it?"
"Well, you know how it goes, Moneypenny -- sometimes you can't resist putting on a show." Bond paused to contemplate what he'd just said. It wasn't an easy readjustment to make. "Actually, you do know, don't you? In your assessment, how will the lads with the guns react to an attack in several places at once?"
"With a hail of bullets, I should think." She looked at him sharply. "Oh, I see. They're probably not trained for this. Diversion tactics to pull most of them away from the gates?"
"All we've got to do is get inside for a few minutes. Finding the command section shouldn't be too hard, you know the Kremlin -- no imagination, they built their hideouts to a standard pattern. Got a better idea?"
There was a short silence. "No," she said with a sigh. "Let's put on a show, then!"
The relative calm of the Mozambique night was shattered some half an hour later by a series of explosions that blew holes in the walls in the defenders' blind spots, followed shortly after by panic-stricken fusillades at the gaps thus created. Meanwhile, the two 00 agents had taken advantage of the distraction of the two guards who had remained by the gate to scale it and despatch them before they realised they too were under attack. By keeping low in the shadow of the hedges they made it all the way to the front door before someone noticed them and pointed a gun; a quick shot from Bond picked him off, while Moneypenny blew the door open and they charged inside.
It seemed that the KREMVAX hackers had posted all of their security outside the house, possibly to keep them from discovering exactly what it was they'd been hired to defend. They saw no immediate sign of the hackers themselves, but a rapid search of the house soon showed that there was only one possible location for the command room, pretty much where they'd expected it to be. Bond and Moneypenny exchanged nods and then threw themselves round the corner, guns blazing in case the hackers had tried to set up some kind of ambush.
They hadn't.
Instead, they had evidently decided to rely on the defences of the command room itself, which was every bit as well-protected as the one in Kiev. A reinforced door slammed shut before they could reach it, and as Bond and Moneypenny tried to break through a toughened glass viewport that deflected their bullets with ease, the Russians made a triumphant and extremely obscene gesture at them.
Then they sat down at the consoles and began to enter commands.
There was a big screen taking up most of one wall. It showed a schematic of the Earth with a cluster of dots above the UK, which could only represent the current locations of the satellites. Bond watched in horror as the dots slowly began to change position.
"That's not fair," he muttered. "Normally the bad guys wait outside while I'm locked in with the countdown timer, Any ideas?" he added more soberly, taking a pen from his pocket and twisting it; a laser beam focused on the lock. "One of Q's little tricks, but I wouldn't bet on it working in time."
Moneypenny hesitated, then reached into her backpack. "There's this."
"Styling mousse?" queried Bond in a I'm-sure-you've-got-a-perfectly-good-reason-for-that sort of voice.
"Brand Q," replied Moneypenny tersely. "No idea how much to use though. I didn't have time to read the instructions."
"Ah." The syllable conveyed total comprehension. Shouts could now be heard from the general direction of the front door, which suggested that they would have company very shortly. "I don't suppose it matters. I think our hair's going to get ruffled anyway."
Moneypenny glared at him, took a hairpin from the top of her head and stuck it though the cap of the bottle, then gave it a twist. "Five minutes before that eats through the plastic and sets it off," she said, shoving the bottle into a nearby cupboard. "Let's see if we can lead them away from it."
"Right. Also --" Bond glanced back at the bottle with a wary look "-- if that's one of Q's little experiments, it's probably a good idea to get as far away as possible."
"Way ahead of you, James --"
Any further discussion was brought to a halt when two guards appeared at the end of the corridor; Bond and Moneypenny immediately opened fire, but were soon outnumbered and driven back through the house in a running firefight. "Any idea where we are?" she yelled, despatching a guard who poked his head too far round a corner.
"No!" Bond racked his brains to try to orient himself. "Wait a minute, yes! Through here! If this goes where I think it does ..." He kicked in an interior door and whooped in triumph when he saw it led into the garage. "Would you care to go for a drive with me, Miss Moneypenny?"
"Without a chaperone, Mr Bond?" she yelled. A bullet pinged against the wall next to her head. "Oh well, I suppose I'll have to trust you to be a gentleman," she added, slapping her palm on the button which opened the garage doors.
"And there I thought we'd already agreed I couldn't be trusted!" They clambered into the most robust-looking of the three cars present, a Volvo that gave the impression that it wanted to be a tank when it grew up. "Just hold tight to something."
"I bet you say that to all your lady friends," muttered Moneypenny as Bond fired up the engine and slammed his foot on the accelerator pedal. They shot forward along the drive; although the car came under heavy fire, by great good fortune it seemed to miss everything vital, not least the driver and the passenger. Men ahead of them were rushing to close the gates, but they dived to one side as the Volvo slammed through the narrowing gap and shot out onto the road beyond. It didn't make it very much further before the engine failed, though, so Bond and Moneypenny bailed out quickly and began running towards the nearest house, which seemed to offer the best opportunity to get under cover before the shooting started up again.
There was a loud thump from behind them just as they threw open its gate.
The pressure wave from the explosion lifted both of them off their feet and sent them tumbling across the garden. Bond winced as hard ground slammed into his back, then winced again as something softer but moving at high speed slammed into his front and left him seeing stars. It took a moment or two for his head to clear, and then he realised that the soft object that had landed on top of him was Moneypenny.
With that realisation came an immediate and very pronounced awareness of what he was in contact with. He looked up and caught her eye; from her expression, he could tell that she'd come to exactly the same realisation.
Rather an awkward situation for both of them, really.
"Well then. I've always wondered how I could get to be in this position," said Bond eventually, trying to brush it off with a joke and a lascivious grin.
"Me too," replied Moneypenny, batting her eyelashes in an exaggerated manner. She clearly wasn't going to be outdone. Neither of them moved, however. "Pity it's neither the time nor the place," she said after a few moments.
"Very true," he sighed. They stood up and tentatively made their way back towards the road.
"Bloody hell, Q," said Moneypenny in reverent tones as they surveyed the pile of pulverised rubble where the hackers' house had been. "What did you put in that stuff?"
"Well, it would certainly make your hair stand on end," quipped Bond.
Moneypenny closed her eyes briefly and grimaced. "Hair today, gone tomorrow," she shot back.
Bond open to mouth to reply, but then they both suddenly came to full alert at the sound of sirens. That suggested they would be graced with the almost immediate presence of the local authorities. "We'd better go."
"Agreed. Best stay away from the Embassy?"
"On the whole, I think they'd prefer not to know what we've been up to."
The surviving guards were beating a hasty retreat, and Bond and Moneypenny followed their lead in putting as much distance between themselves and the scene of the devastation as they could. The storeroom of a local restaurant that had closed for the night provided a convenient place to hide until the police and military activity seemed to have settled down a bit. Eventually they found a taxi to take them to the tourist area, where they put the platinum Amex cards supplied by a generous Government to good use to book into a five-star hotel.
Neither of them saw any need to report back to M until the morning ...
*****
Slightly Less Than Six Months Later ...
Bond adjusted his tie, brushed his hair, and generally made sure his appearance was in good order for his first meeting -- well, not exactly first meeting, but ... He was still trying to get his head around the new arrangements when he knocked on the door. "Enter!" called a voice from within, and he opened it and stepped in.
Moneypenny greeted him. "Good afternoon, James."
"Afternoon, Mon -- er, ma'am."
"Well, you did say you'd always wanted to be underneath me, James," she said seriously, but with a hint of a twitch on her lips.
"I've said quite a number of things in the past that I'm probably going to wish I hadn't," he replied. He could feel his own face twisting into a sort of rueful wince.
"Water under the bridge, Ja -- 007." That set the parameters reasonably clearly. "I'm not going to start the job by reprimanding my best agent for a little banter."
"Well, that's a relief," said Bond, inwardly feeling like he'd just dodged a bullet. "Congratulations on the promotion, ma'am. It couldn't have gone to someone better qualified."
Moneypenny -- no, M! -- nodded. "The Cabinet wanted someone with recent experience of being out in the field, and with an in-depth knowledge of the minutiae of MI5 infighting," she said. "If anything, that's more vicious than ever the KGB were. And of course, there's an element of affirmative action about the position."
"Affirmative action?" said Bond, his eyebrows shooting upwards.
"Well, it has to be someone with the right initial, doesn't it?" said M demurely. Bond groaned.
"What orders would you like to give me, ma'am?"
"Ah yes." M was all crisp efficiency now. "There's a suspicious-looking group in Newfoundland who've based themselves next to one of our supposedly secret relay stations. We'd like you to investigate, and if necessary take whatever action you feel is appropriate. Q has something for you to take along."
"Message received and understood, ma'am." He paused by the door as he left. "At the risk of taking action that's inappropriate, and asking in a purely private and personal capacity --" he couldn't help but grin at the irony of it all "-- in all this time, didn't you ever think to tell me?"
M grinned back. "Need to know, 007. Need to know."