Raymond Benson - Doubleshot

Bond seethed in anger.

“While all this was going on, a man named Peredur Glyn created the public impression that you were causing all kinds of trouble,” the Muslim explained. “After it had come to my attention that a Union mercenary working in Africa was a dead ringer for you, we had extensive photos made. No, you weren’t identical twins by any means, but Glyn was the same weight and height; he had the same body type, and he had similar enough features that one might mistake him to be a member of your family.

“So we turned to Dr. Iwan Morelius, a Swedish plastic surgeonwho is known for his high-priced and elite clientele in Beverly Hills and Hollywood. Perhaps you have heard of him? No? Dr. Morelius arrived in Hollywood with a very unique talent.He’s a true artist, this Dr. Morelius. He is a master of dermabrasion, in which outer layers of skin are removed by “sanding off” or abrading the layers with a carbon dioxide laser. Morelius is an expert with the laser—he can precisely “sculpt” a face. He has such a skilled hand that he can quite literally mold a person’s face into any shape or likeness. He got into a bit of trouble with the Screen Actors Guild when he created two uncanny look-alikes of famous movie stars. The real film stars sued and Dr. Morelius was forced out of business. Luckily for him, the Union learned of his talents and employed him. Dr. Morelius performed the rhytidectomy, or face remodeling, on Glyn. It was expensive, but certainly worth it. Dr. Morelius will no doubt be useful for the Union in the future.

“Glyn needed a fairly major overhaul for the outcome to be totally believable. Besides a complete dermabrasion, he was subjected to blepharoplasty and rhinoplasty. Fat tissue was removed from his cheeks to make them less full, and from his lips to make them thinner. The remodeling did the trick. Using computer-generated three-dimensional models of your head, adapted from Union file photographs, Dr. Morelius performed a Hollywood miracle.

“After six weeks, the face had healed. Glyn went through the next three weeks learning to be you—he memorized your daily routine, based on reports provided by Jimmy Powers. It didn’t matter that his voice is dissimilar to yours. It’s the visual effect that counts.”

“He is a murderer,” Bond said.

“And you’re not?” Yassasin asked. “Yes, you’re right. First, he murdered poor Dr. Feare, who had the unfortunate luck of being your girlfriend for the night.”

“You’re all bastards,” Bond muttered.

“Now, now, Mr. Bond,” Yassasin said. “There’s no need to insult my family. The next thing Mr. Glyn did was to shoot a few British tourists on a ferry. Again, you were blamed. By then, your people were surely convinced that you had become renegade. You had disappeared, disobeyed orders, and are now wanted for a number of crimes. Therefore, it will come as no surprise to the world when ‘James Bond’ commits a few more terrible crimes tomorrow morning.” He nodded to Margareta. She opened the door and the man whom Bond had dreaded meeting walked in.

“Mr. Bond,” she said, “meet James Bond.”

The man glared at Bond, the cruel mouth turning into a snarl.

Bond stared back and examined the imposter’s features up close and in bright light for the first time. The clear blue eyes, the black hair, the scar on the right cheek … it was all correct and flawless. Anyone who actually knew Bond would most assuredly perform a double take if they saw the imposter.

“How does it feel to meet your double, Mr. Bond?” the man asked. “Your doppelganger? And you know what they say happens to you when you meet your doppelgänger, Mr. Bond? It means you’re going to die.” With that, he punched Bond hard in the face. Blood spurted out of Bond’s nose and ran down his mouth.

“How does it feel to be hit by you?” he asked, laughing.

“That’s enough, Peredur,” Margareta said.

“Stop it with that Peredur crap. I’m James Bond now,” Glyn said roughly.

“Of course, James,” Yassasin said, humoring the imposter. “That will be all. Meet us in the ring in ten minutes.”

The imposter smiled coldly at Bond, then left the room.

Yassasin seemed pleased with himself. “As you can see, the results are most extraordinary. With the aid of a little brainwashing, Mr. Glyn will now do anything I command. He would perform a suicide mission, if he was told to do so.”

Yassasin stared fiercely into Bond’s eyes. “And he was told to do so.”

“Who’s he going to kill?” Bond asked, fighting back the horrible anxiety that was beginning to envelop him.

Yassasin nearly smiled. “The primary targets are two men. The Governor of Gibraltar and Britain’s Prime Minister. And their bodyguards, of course. He will kill the Spanish Prime Minister if he has to, for he will then follow Domingo Espada’s orders. Espada will make demands, such as the ceding of Gibraltar to Spain and his appointment as the new Governor. If the Spanish Prime Minister doesn’t sign the pact with Espada, he will die, too. The rest of the U.N. delegates, including me, will be held ‘hostage’ until Espada gets what he wants. We’ll make sure Miss Piel gets out alive. If the antiterrorist forces manage to free the hostages and kill Espada, so be it. The foolish man is willing to die for his cause.”

“Domingo has a martyr complex, that’s for certain,” Margareta said. “He doesn’t like becoming old. It’s what he really wants.”

“Domingo wants to make a political statement that will be heard the world over,” Yassasin said. “That’s all he cares about. That’s enough for him to justify the enormous amount of money he raised to finance his coup.”

“You’ll never get away with it,” Bond said.

“Correction, Mr. Bond,” Yassasin said. “Peredur Glyn will never get away with it, but he doesn’t know that. He thinks the escape plan is foolproof. Such is the power of suggestion. It is expected that he will die in that room in Gibraltar tomorrow. In fact, someone that he least expects will kill him. As for the rest of us, we will be released as soon as we provide our statements as to what happened. Diplomatic immunity is a powerful weapon. At any rate, after tomorrow ‘James Bond’ will be a blight on the history of British intelligence.”

“They’ll know he’s not me,” Bond said. “Anyone examining his corpse will know.”

Yassasin conceded. “Oh, you’re absolutely right. Fingerprints and dental records cannot be changed. But it will be at least a day or two before someone from London identifies the body, or rather, fails to identify the body. By then, though, the damage will be done.”

“All we have to do now is to make sure that there is no trace of you,” Margareta said.

“We thought we’d leave that unpleasant task to Mr. Glyn,” Yassasin continued. “He’s convinced that there can be only one James Bond, and you’re not him. Therefore, he wanted to see you perish personally.”

“Let’s go, amigo, ” Margareta said. “You have an appointment with destiny.”

Heidi moved as silently as possible toward the barbed-wire fence. After she had lost communication with Hedy, she abandoned the BMW and crept in the dark toward the front gates of the estate.

She had to roll into the ditch when she heard several vehicles start their engines. Headlights shone on the road ahead, and the guards ran to open the gate. Heidi raised her head just enough to watch as two Land Rovers, a Rolls-Royce, and the minivan drove out of the compound. It looked as if everyone in the place was leaving!

Of course, Heidi remembered. They were going to Gibraltar.

The guards were about to close the gate behind the caravan. Heidi crawled back to the road and walked calmly toward them. She drew a Heckler & Koch USP45 and held it loosely in her right hand.