Chapter 62: Bond's Good Will
After disembarking from the helicopter, William stepped forward, hugged Mrs. M, and greeted Bond, asking, "How did it go last night? I hope the lovely lady wasn't injured!"
"Fortunately, I killed three and captured one. Thanks for the gun," Bond said to William with a smile.
"Don't mention it, we're on the same team," William laughed.
"William, why wasn't your operation reported to me?" Mrs. M demanded. "How dare you act without my authorization, using a high-powered AWP at Miami Airport? Do you have any idea how much effort the cleanup took?"
William shook his head and apologized sincerely, "My apologies, ma'am, but the operation was authorized by the Security Council. And thank you for handling the aftermath. I thought the council's people would take care of it."
"Those people are always meddling. They think they know everything," Mrs. M complained. "When I report to Downing Street, the higher-ups are polite to my face, but they second-guess me all day long. God, I miss the days before the '90s. Back then, we didn't have so many suits trying to micromanage the Service. Do they think the country can run smoothly without us? A bunch of idiots."
William and Bond exchanged a helpless glance. He knew this was coming. William mused that in this day and age, you couldn't just do whatever you wanted anymore.
"Well, William, I assume you already know Le Chiffre's situation," Mrs. M continued. "Last night, the attack on the Skyfleet plane was thwarted. Skyfleet's stock will soar today. Le Chiffre shorted the stock, betting on its failure, meaning he stands to lose a massive amount of his clients' money. He can't afford that kind of loss. So, we received news this morning that Le Chiffre has organized a high-stakes poker game in Montenegro. Ten players, ten million dollars each, plus a ten million dollar buy-back if you lose. It's a tournament for the best players in the world, and I hope you can participate."
William nodded. Of course, he was confident in his card skills. Even a player like Bond wouldn't last a few hands against him. William readily agreed to what sounded like a free payday.
"So, that fellow Le Chiffre used his clients' money to short the stock, eh?" William said with a smirk. "If his clients find out he's lost it all, his life won't be worth living. Ma'am, do you want me to kill him directly, or just teach him a lesson?"
"We need you to win at the tables," Mrs. M said with a smile, clearly happy about Le Chiffre's misfortune. "When he loses and can't pay his debts, we'll offer him asylum in exchange for everything he knows."
"No problem. When does the game start?" William asked.
"It begins at 6 p.m. tomorrow. We've arranged for you to take the seat of another qualified player. I assume the buy-in isn't an issue for you," Mrs. M said, looking at William with a knowing smile. She knew the money from his game sale had arrived.
"Of course, there's a problem," William countered. "Why should I use my own money for a government operation? What if I lose? Who covers my losses?"
"But if you win, the two-hundred-million-dollar pot is all yours. Perhaps you can use it to fund that little bet of yours on the Nasdaq index."
"Bloody hell, I need to find that eavesdropping bastard," William grumbled. "I'm the laughingstock of the world right now, but that's fine. We'll see. When I make a fortune on the stock market, I can't wait to see the looks on their faces. Maybe I should send them some lemons—add some sour to their already sour grapes. That would be fun."
"And I'm supposed to go alone? You're not sending anyone to protect me?" he continued. "What if Le Chiffre tries to kill me? That guy is not a good person; he has a lot of mercenaries under his command."
"We're aware you have your own elite team, and I'm well aware of your skills, William," Mrs. M said coolly. "You're the elite operative who subdued Bond and three armed agents all by yourself. This time, you'll be going in a personal capacity. You cannot contact us. That will make it easier for us to approach Le Chiffre later. According to our intel, Le Chiffre already believes the Americans are after him. It's nice when someone else can take the blame," she added with a sly grin.
William winced. "Fine. I'll front the money, but you have to at least give me some intelligence support, ma'am."
M nodded. "No problem. Bond will accompany you; he'll provide support from the shadows."
"Then I'm off. Mr. Bond, I'll see you at the Casino Royale in Montenegro. Goodbye, ma'am. Mr. Bond," William said, before boarding the helicopter returning to Miami.
Mrs. M turned to Bond and asked, "What do you make of William Devinshire? Does he pose a threat to us?"
Bond considered for a moment before replying, "He already poses a threat. He can do as he pleases. As long as he can produce evidence to justify his actions, we can't control him. Ma'am, it's not the pre-90s anymore. Look at who we're fighting now: warlords, drug kingpins, and terrorists are our main opponents. Perhaps we can direct William Devinshire's energy towards those types. He might even enjoy it."
"Are you suggesting William Devinshire has no interest in politics?" Mrs. M asked, surprised. "How could someone so young be so apolitical?"
"Of course, ma'am. He's a smart man," Bond explained. "Look at his public persona. His reputation with women is a huge liability, but it's also a signal he's sending to the world. The Devinshire family is just him now, and it's in his best interest to stay away from politics. He has money, and he's set to inherit an earldom. What more could he want, given the current state of England?"
M nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps you're right. We could establish a special task force, 'Group W,' and let him handle the things we can't be seen touching. We could even outsource to him, have him specialize in dealing with those who traffic drugs and weapons."
The more Mrs. M considered it, the more she liked the idea. She always felt a sense of apprehension when dealing with William, an intuition honed over decades in the service. She preferred to keep William's attention away from MI6's official business.
If William could read Mrs. M's mind, he would probably want to hug her and give her a kiss. He was genuinely afraid of the powers that be, of crossing lines that should never be crossed.
William believed that even if he had the power of a god, he couldn't win a single round against fate itself.
That kind of power didn't need to snap its fingers; a single glance would be enough to erase him. It was better to stay off that particular radar.
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