Solo

crossing in front of a window. Blessing . . . ? Bond went back to his room and slipped his Beretta into his jacket pocket – he was taking no chances.
    He knocked on the door of suite 5K and called out ‘Engineer.’ It was always better than ‘Room service.’
    He heard Blessing come to the door and say ‘Please come back tomorrow.’
    Bond put on a Mexican accent. ‘The man below he say you got a leak comin’ from you bathroom. I gotta check it, Mam.’
    ‘OK, OK.’
    He heard the lock turn and he took his gun out of his pocket and held it behind his back. Blessing opened the door and gasped. Bond had his gun in her face and was inside in a second, closing the door behind him. He took the gun from her hand – she was taking no chances either, clearly – and tossed it on the sofa, pocketing his own. Blessing had regained her composure, smiling, shaking her head.
    ‘Yep, “Engineer” is good. I’m going to remember that one.’
    She was wearing an eau de Nil satin blouse with balloon sleeves and tight, bell-bottom pale blue jeans. Her feet were bare. She watched, amused, as Bond quickly checked the suite.
    ‘I’m alone, don’t worry, James.’
    Bond glanced in the bedroom. Suite 5K was deluxe and smarter than his room, designed in the Scandinavian style – all curved pale wood, the bed lower than normal, a thick pile navy rug on a slate-grey carpet, a console stereo, black and white photographs of DC’s historic buildings on the walls.
    ‘What do I call you?’ Bond asked. ‘Blessing or Aleesha?’
    ‘What do I call you? James or Bryce?’ She smiled. ‘Blessing will do fine. It’s actually my middle name, James.’
    Bond began to relax. They were on the same side, after all.
    ‘We’ve got a bit of catching up to do,’ Bond said. ‘Wouldn’t you say?’
    ‘What’re you drinking?’ she asked, going to the phone.
    Bond took the receiver out of her hand.
    ‘Let me do it,’ he said. ‘Bourbon good for you?’
    He ordered a bottle of Jim Beam, two glasses, a bucket of ice and a carafe of branch water and told room service to bill his room – Mr Fitzjohn.
    ‘You’re staying here?’ Blessing said, astonished. ‘Does Brig Leiter know?’
    ‘Not yet. I wanted to have some time alone with you.’ He smiled. ‘I like your hair like that.’
    ‘Thank you, kind sir.’
    The bourbon arrived and Bond mixed them both a strong drink. They clinked glasses and Blessing curled up on the sofa with her legs folded under her. Bond sat in an armchair opposite.
    ‘See if this makes any sense,’ Bond said. ‘Let’s start at the beginning. You were never recruited by MI6 at Cambridge. Instead you were recruited by the CIA when you went to Harvard. Maybe they paid for your graduate studies, just so the cover was good.’
    ‘You’re getting warm,’ Blessing said.
    Bond smiled and continued.
    ‘Then, after your training you were sent to Zanzarim and you got a job with Edward Ogilvy-Grant, UK head of station.’ Bond took a slug of his bourbon. ‘I would have hired you. Who wouldn’t, with your qualifications? You’re half-Lowele, you speak the language, your family live in Sinsikrou. Perfect. Somehow I doubt your father was a Scottish engineer.’
    ‘Hotter.’
    Bond stood up, lit a cigarette and began pacing around the room.
    ‘For some reason,’ he went on, ‘the CIA wanted to know what the British were up to in Zanzarim and you became their source. Spying on your ally – we all do it, by the way.’ He smiled drily. ‘Then you told them I was coming and was to be infiltrated into Dahum. What happened next?’
    Blessing reached for her pack of cigarettes, her blouse falling forward for a moment, and Bond saw that she was wearing no brassiere.
    ‘I shouldn’t really tell you anything,’ she said.
    ‘Then Felix Leiter will tell me when he gets to town. You might as well.’
    She sighed and lit her cigarette. ‘I miss Tuskers. Lucky Strikes don’t do it for me any more.’
    ‘I suppose they ordered you to come with me.’
    ‘Yes. It was a perfect opportunity. They wanted me to get close to Brigadier Adeka – to offer him asylum in the USA. A safe home, money. Everybody could see the war was ending – he had to go somewhere.’
    ‘Why were they so interested in Adeka?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    Bond looked sceptical.
    ‘Seriously, I don’t – all I had to do was make the offer to him. Make it seem real.’
    Bond poured himself another drink. Blessing declined.
    ‘So you