007 travels to Miami to protect a son he never knew he had. As he plays bodyguard to the boy, he uncovers a sinister plot that could lead to a planned apocalypse.
James Bond 007 sighed as he continued to go through the mountain of paperwork on his desk. He hated that going on a month long mission meant having to spend a month cooped up in an office going through paperwork related to the mission. Bond had just spent the last month in Russia tracking Russian separatist leader, Sergei Radic. Radic was wanted for several bombings and political assassins, not to mention countless acts of terrorism towards the Russian military. MI6 believed Radic was connected with several black market rings that had been supplying some of the most ruthless terrorist cells with weapons for the past six years. MI6 believed that if they caught Radic and sweated him enough he would turn on his dealer or dealers. The trail had gone cold after 003, one of Bond's closest allies, had been exposed while undercover as a mercenary in Radic's camp and executed. Bond had been pulled out immediately. Thus ending a month long undercover operation. Bond had managed to come up with a list of names however. Most of the dealers unfortunately were either dead or incarcerated.
Bond jumped as his phone rang. He groaned and picked up the ringing phone, praying it was 008 or someone asking him to join them for lunch or for some target practice.
"Bond here," said Bond.
"Is this James Bond?" asked the caller.
"Yes. Who's asking?" answered Bond, leaning back in his chair.
"My name is Prescott. I work for the CIA. I'm afraid I have some bad news. It seems that an agent of ours who you had a relationship with about eleven years ago has died," explained the caller.
"Who?" asked Bond, frowning at the loss of a former lover.
"Marion Nash," replied Prescott. Bond felt his heart sink. Marion Nash. One of the few women who had actually stolen his heart. They had worked together on exposing a ring of corrupt CIA agents who had been selling secrets to the highest bidder. After the mission was over, Bond and Marion spent two months together in the Bahamas. Bond had considered leaving MI6 and spending the rest of his life with Marion. But when a disgruntled former MI6 agent bombed headquarters, Bond had to race back to London to save his comrades. Soon after that Bond had to deal with the Goldeneye crisis and soon after he tracked down an African warlord who had managed to get a hold of a nuke. Bond and Marion never reconnected but she left a lasting impression on him. He was devastated to hear about her death.
"How did she die?" asked Bond.
"Seems she overdosed on sleeping pills. It's being ruled as a suicide," replied Prescott.
"Were you her supervisor?" asked Bond.
"Yes. She left a note. Seems she was dealing with depression for awhile," explained Prescott. Bond sighed deeply.
"Thank you for calling," said Bond quietly, fighting back tears. Marion had committed suicide? Why?
"The funeral is in two weeks in Miami. We're giving the boy time to deal with the grief," replied Prescott. Boy?
"What boy?" asked Bond.
"Marion's son, Luke. She's been off field work since he was born," explained Prescott.
"How old is he?" asked Bond.
"Eleven," responded Prescott. Bond suddenly felt sick. Oh no. He always knew this day would come. He had been with too many women for it not to be inevitable.
"Do you know who the father is?" asked Bond. There was a pause.
"Mr. Bond, why do you think I'm calling? Luke is your son." Bond closed his eyes and sighed. This had been bound to happen soon. He had always worried about in the back of his mind. He wondered how many other women out there were raising his children.
"I have urgent business to attend to, Mr. Bond. I will see you at the funeral. Good day." Bond hung up the phone after Presscot had said goodbye. Bond had a feeling that Prescott had already contacted M but he called her up anyway. Sure enough M was fully aware of the situation.
"See what happens when you sleep around, 007. I hate to say it but I told you so," snapped M over the phone.
"Fair enough. Point made," groaned Bond in reply. This was great. He was going to hear about this one for awhile.
"Agent Prescott did inform me that Marion Nash was working undercover at the time of her death. She was investigating McCord Industries," explained M. Interesting, thought Bond. McCord Industries was one of the biggest companies in the world. John McCord, the CEO, was one of the ten richest men in the world and possibly the richest man in the United States.
"Maybe it wasn't suicide. Maybe McCord had her killed because she dug something up," offered Bond.
"That's one theory. The CIA has requested your assistance in continuing Marion's assignment. Seems Marion talked about you quite fondly on a regular basis."
"I'm sure she did." Bond grinned a little. He could imagine M rolling her eyes at him.
"Report to my office in an hour for a full briefing. Maybe you're right and Marion found something incriminating against McCord."
"I'll be there in an hour."
"Goodbye, 007." M hung up. Bond sighed and hung his own phone up. His mind was racing. Marion had committed suicide during an undercover investigation? That just didn't sound likely. She couldn't have been that depressed. And why would she do that to her son? No, she had to have dug something up. Something John McCord did not want out in the open. What secret was he hiding that was worth killing for?
M had called a meeting of the top brass of MI6. Apparently the situation was reaching critical mass. The CIA had already started to hack into Marion's computer and had discovered she had uncovered evidence that McCord had been doing business with several notorious arms dealers in the past few years. It was possible Marion had been killed to cover up this information. Bond had the same feeling as most people. Someone didn't want to be exposed. The meeting of the minds had already begun once Bond arrived at the situation room.
"Glad you could join us, 007," exclaimed M as Bond sat down next to M's chief of staff, Bill Tanner.
"Sorry I'm late," apologized Bond. He looked around the room. There were three high level MI6 executives Bond didn't recognize. Moneypenny was acting as secretary of course, recording anything spoken during the meeting.
"The CIA has discovered that McCord has been in contact with several arms dealers over the past few years. The big question is why. What could he possibly be doing with these dealers?" began M.
"Have there been any attacks on McCord's rival companies in the past few years?" asked Bond.
"Actually yes. There was a nerve gas attack on an office building in Paris last month. The building is one of the main offices of Athena Enterprises, an industrial company out of Greece," answered Tanner.
"In fact there have been a few attacks on other Athena Enterprises buildings and work station in the past two years. Other companies have been targeted as well," continued M.
"Athena Enterprises is small compared to McCord's company though so it seems unlikely that's his primary target, if he's involved. And we have no evidence to link him to that attack or any of the attacks. This is all just speculation. The only thing we know is that had contact with several arms dealers," explained Tanner. Bond rubbed his chin. Something didn't seem right.
"Did we send anyone to investigate the nerve gas attack?" asked Bond, looking at M.
"I sent 009 to Paris soon after. He discovered it was a French terrorist cell looking to cause the collapse of capitalism in France," answered M.
"Do we have a full list of the dealers Marion exposed?" asked Bond. M slid a folder down to her prize agent. Bond caught it and started looking through it.
"That's what the CIA have managed to download off her computer at this point. There's also a list of names that they found but our concern is the files she created on three dealers," explained M. The lights were dimmed and the wall screen behind M came to life. M pressed a button and the first dealer came on the screen. He was a Japanese man with glasses and a completely shaven head.
"Nobu Tanaka. Deals mainly with chemical weapons. We believe he's responsible for supplying Chinese terrorist cells with Saran gas," said M, looking around the room. She switched to the next dealer. It was a woman with short black hair and stunning green eyes. Bond raised an eyebrow.
"Nina Chernov. Russian. She deals mainly in dirty bombs and small arms. She's suspected of supplying some African warlords with their arsenals," explained M coldly. Everyone in the room was stunned. This very public billionaire had been meeting with some of the world's most dangerous people. M switched to the third and final terrorist. Bond was struck the most by the man on the screen. He was American. He had dirty blonde hair and a somewhat stocky build. Bond had run across his name while investigating Radic. His blood froze. He bolted up. Vincent Davian. The so called Merchant of Death. Bond hadn't noticed his name in the file M had given him.
"Oh my God, Vincent Davian. He's the one," gasped Bond.
"Excuse me, sir?" asked one of the executives.
"That's Vincent Davian. Arguably the most dangerous arms dealer in the world. I am confident this guy is the main supplier of Sergei Radic's army. He has no morals and no mercy. He doesn't care who he arms with what or how many people die. Just as long as he profits. He's easily one of the biggest dealers working today. He's a very dangerous person." M stared hard at Bond. He was on to something.
"If Marion was killed for finding something, she was killed because she exposed this guy. We might have a chance to trap him, M," announced Bond.
"007, we don't even know if he's in Miami," argued M. As if on cue, a call came in from the CIA headquarters in Miami. M answered it right away and put the call on speakerphone. It was Prescott.
"M we have just confirmed that one of the dealers Marion exposed is coming to Miami in two days. A man named Vincent Davian. We want to try to trap him and would like 007's help." There were a few chuckles around the table. Talk about a weird coincidence. M sighed and nodded.
"He'll be there in 24 hours," assured M.
"Thank you, M," said Prescott. He hung up.
"Well that's that then. 007 goes to Miami and helps the CIA trap Davian," announced one of the executives.
"Meeting adjourned," said M. Everyone filed out of the room. Bond hung back.
"I'll try to get him alive. If we sweat him enough and offer him asylum, he might roll over on Radic," said Bond. M nodded.
"Bond, there's something I didn't bring up in front of everyone. Something not everyone knows about," announced M.
"I'm listening," replied Bond.
"Luke." Bond sighed. His supposed son.
"If Davian had Marion killed, he'll come after Luke. We can't allow an innocent little boy to be killed."
"I'll protect him." M nodded.
"He might know something so keep that in mind." Bond leaned against the wall.
"Are we sure he's my son?" M smiled and sat down at the computer nearby. She accessed the MI6 medical files and brought up the data on Bond's blood.
"Thanks to our technology we can perform blood tests via the internet and our system. Marion had Luke's blood type and DNA put in the CIA computer recently." M brought up the medical file on Luke. The computer performed a quick test against Bond and Luke's blood. Complete match came up on the screen. Bond sighed. M stood up.
"It seems unlikely that Davian won't try to kill Luke. This boy has a very dangerous man after him. Look after him." Bond brought up the picture of Luke that went with his medical file and enlarged it and brought it up on the wall screen. Luke had black hair that came down past his ears and light blue eyes. He looks like his mother, thought Bond.
"I swear that no one will harm a hair on that boys head." Bond felt himself getting choked up. He hadn't had any family in a long time. Not since Tracy, his late wife.
"Don't make this personal, James," warned M.
"It's too late for that. He's my son. And I won't let anything happen to him. I will stop at nothing to protect him. I owe it to Marion at least as well. She was probably counting on me getting involved."
"Davian is also a priority, 007. We need to trap him at all costs."
"Save for sacrificing Luke." M nodded. She sighed deeply, leaning back in her chair.
"James, what are you going to tell this boy once you make contact? Hi, I'm your father. Sorry your Mom died."
"I'll think of something, M. Maybe he doesn't need to know I'm his father. I just need to get close enough to protect him in case Davian attacks." Bond stared at M, waiting for a reply. He could tell she was hesitant to send him off. Double-o's weren't meant to be fathers. They were meant to hunt down the scum of the earth and take them out. They had to show no emotion and show no mercy. Queen and Country above all else. Not the type of person to raise a child.
"James, what are you going to do if you have to choose between saving Luke and trapping Davian?" Bond hesitated in answering. He had been thinking about that since finding out he had a son. Would he choose his job over his own flesh and blood? He didn't even know the boy and yet he felt he had a duty to protect him.
"I'll cross that bridge when I get to it, M." M nodded.
"You should probably get ready to leave. I'll gather up some information on McCord and Davian for you and meet you privately before you leave. Good day, 007." Bond excused himself and left, still wondering if he would let his own son die in order to complete the mission.
Vincent Davian watched as the sands of the Sahara desert whipped by underneath him. He had flown into Nigeria a day earlier to meet with an old friend and complete a routine transaction. Davian could always count on African warlords to pay a little bit more for the merchandise. They desperately needed it. Davian was now on his way to meet with a Middle Eastern terrorist leader working out of Cairo. Omar Azziz was interested in purchasing some nerve gas and an associate of his had suggested that Azziz get in touch with Davian. The nerve gas would be waiting for Davian at the secluded airstrip he was landing at. From there it was a two hour drive to the meeting place in Cairo. Davian looked over at his hulking bodyguard and right hand man, Brutus.
"How much longer now?" asked Davian.
"About twenty more minutes," answered Brutus. "We have a flight out of here at nine tonight."
"We wouldn't want to be anywhere near Cairo when that nerve gas is released," announced Davian. "Although it would be nice to see that the product is working." Brutus chuckled. One of Davian's men, another bodyguard named Gustav, poked his head out of the cockpit.
"John McCord just called. He said transportation will be waiting for us once we land in Florida," explained Gustav.
"Any word from Radic?" asked Davian. Gustav shook his head as he went back into the cockpit.
"He's probably still in hiding. MI6 was on to him for awhile," said Davian, trying to convince himself of the fact. Involvement from MI6 usually meant trouble. Davian had silenced many clients in order to protect himself. He knew that most government agencies would stop at nothing to track him down. Davian never stayed in one place for long unless he knew he was in friendly territory. A handful of countries in the world offered him asylum in case he needed a place to lie low for awhile.
"The CIA might still be investigating McCord," warned Brutus. Davian shrugged.
"We already got rid of one their agents. We can do it again if we have to," assured Davian. Gustav poked his head back out. He looked at his boss, a hesitant look in his eyes.
"Gustav, stop ogling me and speak up," demanded Davian. Gustav nervously nodded. He hated admitting a mistake to Davian. Davian did not handle incompetence well. Most were never given the chance to make a second mistake.
"Sir, um, I forgot to tell you. That CIA agent has a son," explained Gustav. Davian narrowed his eyes.
"Kind of a important detail to forget, Gustav," growled Davian. Gustav gulped. Davian had killed men over far less then this. Gustav hoped that the fact he and Davian had been working together for awhile would save his life.
"Once we're in Miami, we shall tie up all loose ends," ordered Davian. Gustav nodded nervously and returned to the cockpit. Davian restrained himself from going up to the cockpit and strangling the life out of Gustav. How could he fail to mention that the CIA agent who had tracked him down had a son? The boy could know something. Davian turned to his trusted bodyguard.
"When I'm meeting with Omar, please show Gustav why I don't tolerate mistakes that jeopardize my safety," said Davian quietly.
"Understood, sir," agreed Brutus. "How do you plan to deal with the boy once we're in Miami?" Davian gave a small smile. Dealing with one little boy would not be a challenge at all.
"By any means necessary."