The blood had dried on his lips, painfully sealing them together. With an effort that tore the gash apart once more, he forced his tongue through to lick his lips. The coppery taste of blood filled his parched mouth.
With a click, an elegant pair of leather boots suddenly filled his view, the slim metal stiletto heel tapping almost impatiently against the cold concrete floor.
Lucinda was crouching next to him, a tender hand stroking his short cropped hair.
'I'm sorry that this had to happen, Alec,' she was whispering to him, 'Truly I am, but you couldn't expect Caleb to just let you walk in here, could you?'
He gave a grim smile that cracked his lips further, alarmed Lucinda ran her thumb over the new flow of blood. 'I wouldn't have expected anything else, Lucinda, my dear.'
She gave no sign of having heard him, let alone the sarcasm in his voice, she just continued on with her whispery monologue. 'He wanted to kill you, you know? A single bullet there and then and we would have been rid of the biggest thorn in our sides. He's frightened of you Alec, frightened of who you are, and what your name still means. It's why he taunts you, because he knows that if you wanted you are the only one who could still rise against him, you are the only one he truly fears. C'mon Alec, rise up, oppose him, stand up against him, for every humiliation he has forced upon you, for every insult, for his daring to take your power, for this. Rise up. With me...'
Her hands had been stroking his arm as he had been sprawled on the ground at her feet. Her blue eyes, china blue, and as innocent and as wide as a doll's, blinked slowly at him, her thick lashes fluttering gently, pleading.
'We have always had fun together,' she smiled, 'Always. We have that history, Alec, you and I, we're two of a kind. We understand each other, we were so good together. We could be again. And we could take Hermes. Forget your silly little English spy...' Lucinda's fingers had involuntarily tightened on his ribs, and he gave a little shudder of pain and rolled onto his back, slowly, painfully. With an inward sigh of relief he thanked whoever it was that protected him that his back was still in one piece, that it hadn't crumbled in ruins again. Although it did ache more than he thought was good for him, and he could feel that a rib or two had been broken. He had been lucky, he had to grudgingly admit.
He gave a hollow laugh as he lay on his back. 'She...' he began, but Lucinda cut him off forcefully.
'Forget her. She is nothing now, she can't touch us now. Those who play with fire will only get burned. We are the future now. You, and I, and Hermes.'
He didn't ask how she had known about Ashleigh. She was now tucking something inside his jacket, carefully avoiding his ribs. 'These will give you and one of your men access...'
To where he wondered, but Lucinda didn't give him a chance to ask. He was fading once more, and he struggled to concentrate on her voice. 'Caleb won't be around much in the beginning, it will give you a chance to get on board, and conceal yourselves. The perfect opportunity will arise, I promise you... I won't fail you Alec, don't fail me...'
Her voice was cajoling once more, but was cut off as the door opened, she abruptly stood.
'You there!' She ordered, 'There is a car waiting outside. Take him to it. Gently you oafs! Can't you see he's injured?'
Strong hands were lifting him once more, holding him, but with care this time, and not a trace of malice. He felt himself being lifted, prayed this wasn't another trap, and with a sigh of relief, and a sudden surge of pain, he passed out again.
*
The docks where Gregory Fraser's body had been pulled from the water were just visible in the distance. Grey mist, damp and cold surrounded James and Ashleigh as they walked along the water's edge. Poor Fraser, Bond thought, in a rare moment of pity, he had simply been in the wrong place in the wrong time. He wondered how much Fraser had actually known, if anything? Killed for a swipe card, so Elliott and Deronda had been able to access the final component needed for Hermes. It was the only theory Bond had so far. Fraser would get a star on the wall, and a memorial service, all that any agent could hope for when killed in action.
