Raymond Benson: Doubleshot

The guide told the tour participants that they had ten minutes to wander freely around the chapel and examine the various memorials and artwork. She even encouraged them to use the time for silent meditation. Some of the guests remained to do so, while others chose to go back upstairs.

Jimmy Powers casually sat in a specific pew, reached down, and removed the white silk bag he had planted there the day before.

Margareta walked slowly around the back of the chapel and sat down on a pew, pretending to examine a stained-glass window. She, too, groped for and found the bag that was meant for her.

Nadir Yassasin had become engaged in a discussion with delegates from the Middle East. He tactfully led them to the pew where his weapon had been planted, and they sat there for a moment. Just as the tour guide announced that the ten minutes were up, Yassasin retrieved the silk bag and put it in his waistband.

Espada and Agustin were also successful in picking up their planted weapons. It was easier than Espada had imagined. With so many delegates in the chapel, no one was paying any attention to what the others were doing.

The man who had entered the building as “Peter Woodward,” obviously an expat now working as a bodyguard for Espada, found his weapon under the designated pew. The weight was familiar—it was the Walther PPK. He placed the bag in his waistband under the jacket. As he walked back up the stairs to the first floor of the Convent, he carefully undid the string on the silk bag and removed the gun. Once he was led back into the Ballroom, the Walther was loose in his waistband with the safety off, ready to be fired.

There was still another ten minutes before the British PM and the Governor were scheduled to arrive. Nadir Yassasin found Jimmy Powers by the string quartet and spoke to him.

“They are wonderful, aren’t they?”

Powers shrugged. “If you like that kind of music … me, I prefer good ol’ American rock ’n’ roll.”

Yassasin lowered his voice, even though the music was loud and the acoustics of the large room assured that they would not be overheard. “So, this is the moment of truth, yes?”

Powers shrugged again, as if he were hedging on a political opinion.

Yassasin seemed to be talking to himself, as Powers certainly knew the drill. “Timing is crucial. First, the assassin takes out the PM’s and Governor’s bodyguards, then immediately shoots the PM and Governor. Espada and Agustin will draw their weapons and shoot any other guards in the room. They believe that they will secure the room and hold everyone else hostage until the Spanish Prime Minister signs a pact with Espada. Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen.”

“Has the alternative plan been approved?” Powers asked.

“Yes. Le Gérant has given the order. Espada is to die. The assassin will kill him as soon as the PM and Governor are dead. Then Miss Piel will kill the assassin if the remaining guards in the room don’t blow him away first. The fool really thinks he’s going to get away with this.”

Powers shrugged again. “Such is life.”

“No, my friend,” Yassasin replied. “Such is death.”

At 10:30, everyone moved into the exquisite Banqueting Hall. Espada, Agustin, Margareta, and the assassin sat at the east end of the table. Espada took the seat at the head of the table. Agustin was on his right, the assassin on his left. Margareta sat next to the imposter Bond. The other delegates took various seats, but left designated chairs for the PM and Governor.

Margareta eyed the man sitting next to her and struggled once again with the resolve to make herself known. The man was a killer. He was unpredictable. If she didn’t defuse the situation right now, there was no telling what kind of carnage might erupt.

A minute went by, and she finally decided to confront the assassin with what she suspected.

Now.

TWENTY - FIVE

FAENA

MARGARETA LEANED OVER AND WHISPERED IN THE ASSASSIN’S EAR. “ALL right, Mr. Bond, I know it’s you. You think I can’t tell the difference between you and Peredur Glyn in bed? You gave yourself away last night with the one area of your body that the doctor in Hollywood didn’t alter.”

Nadir Yassasin was looking at the two of them with a furrowed brow. Bond swallowed but remained stone-faced. He had to keep his cover or the entire operation would be blown.

“Now, here’s the deal,” she continued as he felt the gun barrel digging into his kidney. “You’re going to do exactly what you’re supposed to do. Kill the PM and the Governor, as planned. If you don’t do it, I’m going to shoot you in the back, and then my cohorts will do it anyway. My job here was to kill Peredur Glyn after the assassinations. Whether it’s you or him makes no difference to me. That’s my ticket out of here. I’ll be the hero. You will lose, no matter what, the PM will be dead, and the Union’s plan will succeed. This isn’t about Espada. This is between the Union and your pitiful country.”

She sat back in her chair. An avalanche of doubt fell on Bond and smothered him.

She knew! Was the plan ruined?

He suddenly felt his heart accelerate as a wave of panic enveloped him. The pounding in his head was excruciating. Masses of darkness clouded his vision.

No! he willed. I must not black out now!

The aide-de-camp remained in place by the open door. Activity could be heard in the corridor as the PM, the Governor, and their bodyguards approached. Two Gibraltar Regiment soldiers entered the room, armed and alert.

Bond clenched his fists and shut his eyes, struggling against the attack.

The operation could still work! Concentrate, damn it!

Espada looked at Bond in anticipation, but Yassasin could see that something was terribly wrong. He glanced at Powers, who was also narrowing his eyes at Bond and Margareta. He reached for his weapon, ready to draw it at a second’s notice.

Bond opened his eyes as a tall, distinguished gentleman with white hair entered the room—the Governor of Gibraltar. Right behind him was a man in a suit whom Bond recognized as 001. Their eyes found each other and they shared a quick and silent acknowledgment, even though 001 could see the pain in Bond’s eyes.

The British Prime Minister stepped into the room and stood beside 001. He was a short man with a bright face and charming smile. He virtually lit up the room.

The aide-de-camp announced, “His Excellency, the Governor of Gibraltar, and the Prime Minister of Great Britain.”

The door had remained open. Another figure entered the room and stood beside the Prime Minister.

She was one of the Taunt twins, dressed in a smart business suit.

Margareta, Yassasin, Espada, and Agustin gasped simultaneously.

Agent 001 shouted, “Everyone down!” and time suddenly seemed to stretch into a slow, dreamlike eternity.

In the first second, 001 pulled the Prime Minister to the floor. At the same time, the soldiers tackled the Governor. Some of the delegates began to scream. Powers drew his gun, not sure whom to shoot first.

During the next second, Bond slammed his upper body forward onto the table as he pulled the Walther from his waistband. This maneuver provided a clear view of Margareta Piel. Nadir Yassasin began to draw his weapon.

At the beginning of the third second, the veiled Arab woman sitting across the table from Bond swung her right arm out from under the caftan. She was holding a Heckler & Koch USP45. A single round caught Margareta in the chest and threw her backward.