Forever and a Day

by Anthony Horowitz

Part of the trouble is that the police – and that includes the SDECE – are riddled with informers. We thought he’d have a better chance on his own.’ ‘Did he come up with anything? Before he was killed?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ The chief of staff cleared his throat. ‘It seems that there was a woman involved.’ ‘There always is,’ M growled into the bowl of his pipe. ‘It’s not quite what you’re thinking, sir. 007 mentioned her in what would turn out to be his last radio transmission. He referred to her as Madame 16.’

In the last transmission he made, a week before his death, 007 said he had concrete evidence.’ ‘What sort of evidence?’ ‘Unfortunately, he didn’t say. If 007 had one fault, it was that he liked to keep his cards close to his chest.

How could 007 allow himself to be shot at close range in the middle of a crowded city?

But of course, it was he who had changed. Barely twenty-four hours had passed since he had taken a second life. In doing so, he had earned his licence to kill, joining an elite force, just four of them in the entire organisation. Three of them. Bond had heard about the death in the south of France. He was a replacement, not an addition.

He was entering the inner sanctum. He was actually going to sit opposite M, one to one, for the first time.

can’t say I’m ever comfortable dealing with the Swedes. You don’t know where you are. They were supposedly neutral in the war but that didn’t stop them supplying the Germans with iron ore. They lent their railway system to the Wehrmacht too, transporting howitzers, tanks, ammunition and all the rest of it through to Finland. On the other hand, they shared their intelligence with us and we were able to use their air bases in ’44. Maybe that’s what they mean by neutrality. Playing both sides.’

You and me may have got off on the wrong footing, but it looks as if we’re on the same side,’ Griffith said. ‘Welcome to the south of France.

‘So if this little tête-à-tête in a Marseilles café is anything to go by, it looks pretty certain that Madame 16 is in business with the drug syndicates.

For Bond, the casinos at Beaulieu and Le Touquet were less ostentatious and more welcoming. He was comfortable there. At Monte Carlo, he always felt as if he were auditioning for a part in a play he would never actually want to see.

The 100,000 francs that Bond had won should have been Sixtine’s. Scooping up his plaques, he nodded his thanks to the dealer, then followed her out of the room.

Bond and Sixtine were left with the drinks. ‘So now you know my name,’ Bond said. ‘Oh – I knew it already,’ Sixtine replied with a shrug of indifference. ‘You are James Bond of the secret service. You were recently elevated to the Double-O Section, which means you have a licence to kill. It makes me wonder who in this building has made themselves your target. Me, perhaps? I hope not.

How was that possible? There were only a handful of people who knew about the Double-O Section, let alone his promotion to it. Bond was impressed. Sixtine had to be incredibly well informed.

Bond put it out of his mind. He knew that in the new world to which he belonged, it was absolutely vital to have the edge over his adversaries. If he didn’t believe that he was stronger than them, he would never defeat them. That edge had just been ruthlessly torn away. Sitting there, dripping wet, exhausted, Bond wondered how he would ever get it back.