Science Fiction Multi-Feature Picture Show

White Lies (Part 1)

The agent stroked his chin. M knew of his disdain for 'wire work'. "Fair enough, when shall we start?"

Jane exchanged a glance with M, nodding to one another. M turned to James. "You leave immediately. There is a car waiting for you."

***

James drove. The American didn't put much argument forth on the subject. They rode in silence for a while until Jane turned to him, an alluring smile on her face that pulled his attention from the curvy country highway.

"Mind if I turn on some music? Helps me think," said Jane. He nodded his assent. The radio flicked on to Iron Fire, right at the chorus for Left for Dead. He shrugged at Jane's raised eyebrow. It was hard to find a decent hard rock station in the country. She fiddled with the seek function, settling on a channel as the opening chords of The Used's On My Own.

Excitement flickered in her compelling green eyes.

"The things I've become, that something is missing," she softly sang along, periodically glancing up at him.

"You have a rather lovely singing voice, Jane," he remarked.

Her voice stuttered to a halt. "Thank you," she said. She stopped singing, staring out the window for the rest of the ride. Her reaction puzzled him. He couldn't quite shake the feeling something was off, as if she'd presented him with a test he'd failed. It stayed with him, perching on his shoulder as they drove further and further into the secluded country side. They spotted the innocuous facility miles away, mostly as their was nothing else surrounding it. It was nothing more than a massive concrete box, the monotony broken by barred windows. There was no mistaking it for a prison of sorts, though James wondered what sort of intel his partner would be able to find. It looked like a technological black hole.

He parked their ride a good two miles off, at a bend in the road that obscured them from sight. Their weren't enough surrounding trees to give them adequate cover, meaning their would have to wait until dark to make a go at the facility. He eyed the sky through the windshield.

"Looks like we have a few hours to kill," he pushed a button on the dash. The glove box opened, revealing a flask of fine brandy and two small crystal tumbles wrapped in black velvet. "How about a drink to relax and chat?"

Jane looked at him, a curious light in those eyes. He was grateful those distractions would be far away from him once they were in the facility.

"What would you like to talk about, Mr. Bond?" She accepted the glass of brandy from him, swirling it in her glass as he took a sip. The liquid warmed his throat.

"Well, your musical taste for one. I would not expect a lady such as yourself to be a fan of the Black Label Society," he nodded to the radio where All for You continued to strain through the speakers.

She chuckled at that, taking a sip from her glass. The amber liquid wet her full lips, drawing his eye to them. "You'd be surprised what I like."

"Tell me more," James murmured. Her tongue darted out, licking a drop from her bottom lip.

"Well, for one, I am a bit of an adrenaline junkie," said Jane, leaning forward for her secretive whisper. "Sky diving, bungee junkie, scuba, skiing, I love it all."

James smiled into his glass. "I do appreciate a woman who is into strenuous activity."

Jane rewarded him with a throaty laugh, her rich voice sending a shiver through him. Her eyes were evergreen warm when she looked at him, like Christmas morning. "You are incorrigible Mr. Bond," she said.

"Please call me James," he winked at her. "So, is there a Mr. White at home, waiting for your return?"

Her smile turned sad. She cupped the glass in her hands, her features smoothing to somber. "No, not for a long time now." He could read the sorrow in her face. Not the sorrow of divorce. He suspected the former Mr. White had passed from this world.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. She started at the touch, her eyes luminous for a moment, her lips so close it was a simple matter of closing the distance between them. He couldn't do it, not to a woman clearly still gripped in grief.

"He's not dead," she said, "only lost. I'll find him again one day." Fierce determination burned in her eyes, gone in a flash before she fell back into demure. "What about you Mr. Bond? Anyone special waiting for you?" If he had blinked, he would have missed that spark, but he couldn't look away from her, and as he processed her question, he noticed how she held her breath. Interesting.

"Afraid not. I seem to be an eternal bachelor."

Jane looked away, taking the smallest sip of her drink.