For Tomorrow I Die : [A James Bond Short Story]

Act III

As Bond approached, he witnessed two sentries planted at the marina driveway entrance watching the road with tight grips on black messenger bags slung over their shoulders. No doubt concealing pistols, or submachine guns, he surmised. On the side of the road was an empty bottle of wine someone tossed aside. It was empty, but it would do for the ploy. He held his pistol down behind his leg and held the bottle out in front of him as he stumbled his way towards the two guards in feigned drunkenness. As soon as they noticed them he shook the bottle in front of him.

"Would you two...gentlemen...like a drink...of...gentlemen—"

"Piss off," warned the man on the left. His British accent was impressive, but was fake and forced. "Docks are closed."

"I just...need to get to my...ship," Bond stammered in a sideways smile pointing to the wharf. "Drink?" Just a few steps closer.

The guard came up and grabbed Bond by the lapels slapping the bottle out of his hand. "Listen you—" 

Bond brought his pistol up and fired twice into the guard's belly, the man's grip going slack. 007 aimed at the other guard who was going for a weapon in his bag, and squeezed the trigger. The Walther spit again sending two .380 rounds out the back of the guard's head in two red mists. He finished off the opponent in front of him with a point blank shot to the heart. The man's body fell to the ground like the spent brass casings that clinked and rolled on the road. Quickly, he dragged the bodies into the shadows of the fence. He unzipped one of the bags. Inside was a Sig Saur 9mm pistol, spare magazines, and a med kit. On their persons, James found car keys for a rental, wallets, passports, mobile phones, a pack of Russian cigarettes, a book of matches, and a pair of cheap folding knives. He jammed one of the pistols into his waistband for backup and pocketed the magazines into his coat. Keep moving.

007 casually walked along the fence towards the white building using breathing techniques to return his heart rate back to normal. He snapped a fresh magazine into his pistol. Blocking his movement to the building now was the spotlight. With careful aim, he fired the suppressed Walther and the shot broke the light sending shards of glass to the dock below.  His battlefield plunged into darkness allowing him to get to the side of the building. He pulled out his mobile and looked at the display once again. He was at the west end of the long building, and Q was at the far east end. Bond snuck a peek in a nearby window. He couldn't see anything. He had no floorplan...no intel. He needed to even the odds.

Bond moved back to the docks and boarded a nearby cabin cruiser. He opened the maintenance hatch and popped the fuel line connection. Petrol sprayed everywhere and he tried to cover the boat's open seating area and motors as best he could. He grabbed a metal box as he jumped back to the dock and crept back to the building. He opened the metal box, removed the flare gun inside, and fired it into the fuel soaked boat. The flare hissed as it launched like a child's toy rocket. With luck, it landed directly into the open seating igniting the petrol and catching the boat on fire. Mere seconds later, the boat exploded in a deafening blast.

There was shuffling in the building, then some loud commands. The door next to him flung open and two guards came running towards the fire. They were both stripped down to white T-shirts that had splatters of blood on them. They brought up black G36 automatic rifles to their shoulders and were scanning the area. 007 took them out with quick precision. Two suppressed blasts from the Walther to the side of the body for the nearest, and one to the head and neck for the furthest one. The one with the body shots screamed, but Bond stifled him quickly with a head shot.

007 replaced his empty magazine with another fresh one and ducked his head into the door. There were rows of aisleways stocked with boating equipment on either side of a single center aisle leading straight to the east wall. At the end of the center aisle he could see Q tied to a chair surrounded by three men. Two wore tactical vests and had G36s in a single point sling configuration pulling security. The third was a big-bellied man in a black suit. He had a chrome revolver pointed at Q's head.