Solo

Blessing. Seeing the two of them in ardent discussion had hardened his feelings again, remembering their near-lethal double act in the Janjaville control tower.
    He watched Blessing rummage in her bag and take out a pack of cigarettes. She stood there smoking as if in deep thought, pacing to and fro in small circles. Bond moved the cross hairs to her breast. Tempting. Two inches below the right collarbone, exactly where she’d shot him. Just as well he didn’t have a bullet in the chamber—
    The click by his ear was unmistakeable. The hammer of a revolver being cocked. He could feel the snub muzzle cold on his jawbone.
    ‘No, Mr Bond. Take your hands off the gun then stand up slowly, arms raised.’ There was the hint of a Southern drawl in the voice.
    Bond did exactly as he was told, standing slowly, turning and raising his arms above his head.
    Two young men stood there covering him with their handguns. They both wore navy blue suits and striped ties. One was blond and one was dark, their hair cut short in military style. CIA, Bond guessed at once. What the hell was going on? How did they know his name?
    ‘The gun isn’t loaded,’ Bond said. ‘You can check. I wasn’t going to shoot.’
    ‘Good to know,’ the blond man said. ‘She’s one of us.’

·6·
     

CIA
     
    Bond lowered his arms, his brain in some kind of manic overdrive. ‘One of us’ . . . ? One question at a time, he told himself.
    ‘I’d like to see your ID,’ he asked. ‘If I may.’
    The blond man took out his wallet and showed Bond his plastic card.
    ‘I’m Agent Brigham Leiter,’ he said. ‘And this is Agent Luke Massinette.’
    Bond smiled. ‘So you’re the famous Brig,’ he said. ‘How’s Uncle Felix?’
    ‘He’s well, sir. In fact I know he wants to talk to you urgently.’
    ‘How did you know my name? How did you know I was here?’
    Brigham Leiter holstered his gun, as did his partner.
    ‘The lady you were aiming at is called Aleesha Belem. She told us you were in DC – she saw you in a restaurant, by chance, and gave us your name. We traced the hire of a Ford Mustang to one James Bond at Dulles airport then we lost your trail. Luckily we have this whole plaza staked out. We took your photograph. Aleesha identified it. My uncle confirmed it. James Bond, British agent. We found where you’d parked your Mustang. Followed you to these offices. Followed you back to your hotel. It wasn’t hard to make the connection to a Mr Bryce Fitzjohn.’
    Bond couldn’t blame himself for sloppy procedure – it was no lapse on his part, just bad luck. How was he to know that Blessing–Aleesha was a CIA agent? He thought further.
    ‘So this Aleesha Belem is working for you. Since when?’
    ‘Over two years now, I believe.’
    ‘She shot me in the chest. In Africa a few weeks ago. Tried to kill me.’
    ‘I don’t know anything about that,’ Brig Leiter said. ‘She’s sound – one of our most reliable people.’
    ‘What’s she doing in AfricaKIN?’
    ‘I’m not authorised to disclose that information,’ Leiter said.
    ‘I think I’d better talk to your uncle,’ Bond said. ‘Is he back in the CIA or is he still with Pinkerton’s?’
    ‘He “consults” for us from time to time. He’s still with Pinkerton’s, though.’
    Bond thought fondly of Felix Leiter – one of his oldest friends and colleagues. They had endured many a tough assignment together over the years. Felix had been badly injured on one of them, back in Florida in the early 1950s, had even lost an arm and part of a leg. Bond glanced at Felix’s nephew, Brig. Felix had often talked about him, a ‘chip off the old block’. Bond thought he saw something of Felix in the set of Brig’s jaw, the thick blond hair, the grey, candid eyes. He wasn’t so keen on the other guy, though. Massinette stood back, surly, watchful.
    Still, Bond’s head was loud with unanswered questions. If Blessing had been in the CIA for two years how had she managed to . . . ? He stopped himself. There would be time enough to settle these issues later.
    ‘I can hook you up with my uncle,’ Brig said. ‘He’s in Miami.’
    Bond broke up and packed away the Frankel and followed Brig and Massinette out of the Alcazar and along the street to the temperance hotel, the Ranchester. They rode the elevator to the fifth floor and Bond walked in on a major CIA surveillance team in a room at the front overlooking the whole of Milford Plaza. There were telescopes,