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“Bond.”
“Q.” Bond lounged gracefully against the worktop as he looked down at the mess of wires that the quartermaster was working his way through, “Or can I call you Smithers now?”
“You can save my life as many times as you like, and I still won’t let you use my name at work.” Smithers replied, not looking up from his soldering, “You know that isn’t how it works.”
“Maybe it should be.”
“Maybe it shouldn’t be.”
It was a moment later that James Bond realised what was bothering him about the scene. Q looked positively unsettled.
“Something bothering you?” The secret agent asked, eventually, not wanting the silence to stretch out, “I’ve not seen you this bothered since we were dealing with that nasty business in Paraguay.”
The soldering stopped.
“How old were you when you joined the service, Bond?”
“Twenty, give or take a few months.” It was younger than most, but there wasn’t the slightest sign of a boast in what the agent was saying. It was simply a matter of fact, “I graduated early from Oxford, came straight here. My father wanted me to go to the military. He was very disappointed.”
“That would make you one of the youngest agents to ever join the service, yes?”
“The youngest, I think. At least in terms of field agents. I haven’t been made aware of any that came in younger than me.”
“Definitely not the youngest.” Smithers corrected, “At least not any more.”
“A new agent on the block then?”
“On a completely unrelated note,” Smithers bulldozed through James’ curiosity in a way that made it very clear that things were very related, “What do you think of our new mission command?”
“M is M, no matter who is behind the letter.” Bond said, “This one is a bit colder than most, perhaps, but we were unusually privileged with Olivia. She always had a way of making sure the details didn’t get lost amidst the big picture.”
“I do miss her.” Q admitted, “But you dodged the question. What do you think of the new mission command? Are you still loyal, Bond?”
“To Queen and Country? Always.”
Smithers picked up on the message. Bond was not entirely pleased with the new M. And coming from a man as stoic as Bond, that meant that Bond was about three steps away from arranging a quiet accident for their new mission controller. Four steps away from not bothering to keep it quiet.
“Would you mind terribly testing out some new technology for me?” Smithers closed the case of the device in front of him. Bond blinked. He did not expect to see the quartermaster working on a Gameboy device. “Perhaps in Training Room B?”
“I normally use the Double-O rooms for that.” Bond said, delicately picking up the toy in his hands and turning it over. It was fragile. Very fragile. It felt like he could crush it in his hands in the blink of an eye. It seemed wrong to turn something like this into a weapon, “Why Training Room B?”
“It’ll do the junior agents some good to see an experienced operative at work.” Smithers kept his face studiously blank. There was always a camera watching. “It might be instructive for you to do some teaching even. Train the next generation before you’re too old to keep up.”
“I’m thirty two, not dead. I wasn’t planning on retiring until I was twice the age of the intake.”
Smithers turned back to his bench, closing his eyes to ward off the memory of a teenager staring up at him, scared and defiant.
“I’d be careful with your words, Bond. You don’t know what you might be wishing for.”
The door swung shut behind him, and Smithers relaxed.
He trusted Bond. Not to do what was right, but to do what was necessary . And in the end, that might be what it took.
It was Alec Trevelyan that flittered into his laboratory the following day.
“Is it true?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play games with me. James isn’t happy, and he isn’t telling me why, but the gossip mill speaks loud enough for everyone.”
“I couldn’t possibly comment , Agent Trevelyan.” Smithers gave him a withering look, “But if you’re looking to be useful, then perhaps you could give me a hand today.”
“I see.” Alec rocked back on his heels, considering it for a second, “Well, I suppose I have some spare time. I’m technically on medical leave, but I’m sure that no one will object to us doing a little collaboration. What’s on the plan for today?”
“I need some help testing some new gadgets.”
“Bond mentioned as much.”
“New challenges in the future of this department, you see.” Smithers pulled out a baseball cap. It was a garish red - the kind of thing you might cram onto the head of a child. “The new mission controller has some interesting ideas about the direction this country is going.”
Alec picked the hat up and turned it over in his hands. He put it down again without saying a word. If Smithers was any worse at reading the faces of the agents he worked with most, then he wouldn’t have been able to pick up the controlled anger inside his eyes. Inside the tension of his hands. Inside the squaring of his shoulders. Alec was truly an emotive man, for a double-oh.
“In fact, I’ve been told that our latest agent should be discouraged from carrying guns at all.” Smithers said, as if confiding a great secret, “Apparently guns pose too much danger. Someone might get hurt.”
“Poorly trained shooters can be like that.” Alec agreed, “It only takes a couple of missed shots, and then some child turns up dead.”
“I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that you agree with his methods.”
“Oh, well.” Alec demurred, ”He is the boss. What he says goes.”
There was an unspoken ‘ for now ’ at the end of that statement. Smithers politely ignored it. Agents were screened. There were only patriots in the double-oh department. The risks were too great otherwise. No one wanted to find out how much damage a double-oh could do if they set their mind on breaking Britain. It was much better to keep them focused on the international problems. Preferably far from home where the fallout wouldn’t take half the government with them.
Q had seen how much damage James Bond did during one evening in London. It was really quite terrifying.
“Have you ever been to Cuba?” Smithers asked suddenly, “I saw an email about it this morning. The CIA are asking for some assistance with an operation.”
“I can’t say that I have.” Alec replied cautiously, “Should I be prepared to head out that way.”
“Oh, I’m sure that you’ll be read into it if M wants you involved.” Smithers met the agent’s eyes meaningfully, “I wouldn’t rely on that, if I were you. Everything is on a need-to-know basis these days.”
“Confidentiality is very important.” Alec nodded carefully, “I’m about to go on leave in any case, of course. I suppose they might have decided to leave me alone whilst I take a holiday.”
“Really?” Smithers eyes widened a little too much to be genuine, “I didn’t know that field agents could take holidays?”
“Medical leave, remember?” Alec indicated his leg, “I’ve got a month of physio before they’ll let me back out.”
“Well, if you aren’t here next week then that’ll be why they didn’t read you in.” Smithers laughed, “Not much point reading you into some mission on the other side of the world when you’re going to be out of touch.”
“Quite.” Alec paused, “I was going to ask if there was anything I could take with me though. You know what it’s like. Agents always get into trouble.”
“Unless you’re planning on visiting Russia, I think you’ll be fine. You’ve always had a knack for knowing how to stay out of things.” Smithers smiled, casually, “You aren’t Bond, after all.”
“I had my eyes on America.” Alec confessed, “I haven’t been there for a while.”
“Could you test out this Geiger counter for me whilst you’re there?” Smithers pushed it over. “I’ve been putting them into all kinds of things recently. I imagine Bond mentioned.”
“He did.” Alec’s brow furrowed as he put together the hints, “He was quite impressed with what he saw.”
“Well, I aim to please.”
“I think there might have been some further feedback he wanted to offer.”
“He can email it to me, or we can try to arrange a time to deliver it in person.” Smithers turned back towards his workbench, “Though that might be hard. Schedules don’t always line up, you know. Always some homework to do.”
“I was afraid you might say that.” Alec hesitated again, “We could always do a house visit.”
“You aren’t supposed to have my address.” Smithers reminded the agent.
“When have agents ever listened to that?” Alec rolled his eyes, “We’re like cats. Curious until we’re dead, and sometimes even more curious then.”
“Let’s try to avoid anyone dying, shall we?”
“Worried about me? Don’t be.” Alec smirked, “Agents always look out for each other. Especially when they’re in over their heads.”
“Am I supposed to still pretend to not know about the secret communication networks that the Double-Ohs have been trying to hide from me for the last decade?” Smithers chuckled, “You know that I won’t help you with that. I’m not even involved with that. By design, I believe.”
“Surprising.” Alec placed the baseball cap back on the table. Smithers would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking, but Alec definitely slid a SIM card into the band of the hat as he did so, “I would have thought someone would have given you access by now.”
“I’m only the Quartermaster.” Smithers turned the cap over in his hands, sliding the chip into his sleeve as he did so. It would probably work in the smartphone he had in the top drawer of his desk, reserved for the next round of alterations. Maybe he could step that gadget up in the priority list a little. “Why would any of you bring me into it, right? What do I know, anyway? It isn’t like I spent my life training for mission support roles.”
“You look out for us more than anyone.” Alec said, suddenly far more serious than Smithers had ever seen the man before, “Agent deaths have dropped significantly since you took over from the old quartermaster.”
“That might have more to do with the bulletproof vests I insist you all wear.”
“Bulletproof vests were always an option during my time here.” Alec straightened up, “The question is why no one ever insisted on them before you.”
Smithers didn’t reply. They both knew the answer was money. Agents were expensive. Keeping them alive was even more expensive. It was much cheaper just to get a new agent. Especially one that had less seniority. It was cheaper. Much, much cheaper.
It became clear that neither of them was going to say anything. Agent Trevelyan left a minute or so later, as quietly as he had entered the first time. As the door swung shut again, Smithers felt some stressed corner of his brain begin to relax. He could do this. He could make this work. If Alec and James were both on board, then that meant that the other Double-Ohs weren’t far behind.
Alex Rider was not going to die on his watch.
Not if any of them had anything to say about it.