Raymond Benson - The World Is Not Enough

‘You should never have rejected me, James. I could have given you the world,’ she said, spitefully.

‘The world is not enough,’ he said, wearily.

‘Foolish sentiment.’

‘Family motto,’ he explained.

She frowned and slinked toward him. Slowly, she leaned over him and ran her fingers through his hair. Her scent was strong and musky.

‘Isn’t this a lovely monument? It took some doing for my farther to rent it. The Turkish government didn’t want to let him have it. When he convinced them that their oil was more important than their history, they gave in.’

She moved in closer and nibbled his ear.

‘Mmm, you are delicious, James. It's really too bad we’ve taken opposite sides in all this.’

‘It’s not too late to change your mind,' he suggested.

‘Don’t kid yourself, James. You’re doomed and you know

it.’

She ran her fingernails down his right check, tracing the outline of the faint scar.

They were digging near here and they found some very pretty vases. They also found this chair . . .’ She casually reached behind his neck and unwound a leather strap from the back of the chair. It was attached to the chair with a wooden screw. ‘I think we ignore the old ways at our peril, don’t you?’

She fastened the garrotte tight around Bond’s neck, looked at him lovingly, and then turned the screw a notch. The effect on Bond was instantaneous as the bolt jolted into the back of his neck, tilting his head back. The idea was not only to strangle him, but to pierce his spinal cord as well.

He stared back at her. ‘Where’s M?’

‘Soon she’ll be everywhere.’

Bond kept his cool and said, ‘All this, because you fell for Renard?’

‘Seven more turns and your neck will break.’ She moved to the back of the chair and twisted the screw one notch. Now the pain was more noticeable.

‘I didn’t fall for Renard. He fell for me. Since I was a child, I’ve always had a power over men. When I realised my father wouldn’t rescue me from the kidnappers, I knew I had to form a new alliance.’

He realised what she really meant. ‘You turned Renard.’

‘Just like you,’ she said, smiling. ‘Only you were even easier.’

She removed the jewel from her ear and revealed the ugly scar that divided her ear lobe.

‘I told him he had to hurt me, he had to make it look real. When he refused, I told him I would do it myself. So I did.5

She reached behind him and turned the screw another notch.

Sweat was beginning to bead on Bond’s forehead. His eyes narrowed and he spat, ‘So it’s true. You killed your father.’

‘He killed me! First, he killed my mother with his neglect! He took her family’s oilfields, and then he abandoned her. She died a lonely, unhappy woman. Then he killed me the day he refused to pay my ransom!’ It was an outburst of emotion that she had thus far been able to conceal. Bond was getting to her.

He understood now. Renard had kidnapped her. hoping to get five million dollars ransom out of it. When Sir Robert didn’t pay up, she felt betrayed and decided to strike back. She had used her seductive charms on Renard and convinced him to enter an evil pact with her to destroy her father and take over the company.

‘I was already in the process of planning how to get rid of my father when I got kidnapped,’ she admitted. ‘At first, I was frightened - being bound, gagged and blindfolded and taken against my will — but it ended up being a stroke of luck for me. I was able to, as you say, turn poor Renard. I quickly saw the potential in securing his devotion. I could let him do all the dirty work. He was a vicious killer, yet I was able to find Iris weakness and exploit it. Like anyone, all Renard needed was a little affection. A man will do just about anything for love, wouldn’t you agree?’

Was this all about the oil?’

‘It is my oil! Mine and my mother’s! It runs in my veins, thicker than blood,' Her eyes were shining. She moved toward the view, gazing at the spectacular cradle of civilisation. All the while, Bond worked at the wristbands feverishly. ‘It was already yours, Elektra. Why are you doing all this?’

‘I'm going to redraw the map. And when I am through, the whole world will know my name, my mother’s name, the glory of my people.’

‘No one will believe this meltdown was an accident.’

She turned back toward him, impressed that he had worked out the plan. She lashed her hand out and tightened the screw another notch. Now he was having trouble breathing. The point was digging into the back of his neck bone.

‘They will believe,’ she said with amazing confidence. They will all believe.’

Another notch. Agony! Sweat was pouring off his face now as he struggled to keep focused

‘You understand? Nobody can resist me.’ She put the jewel back on her ear, then straddled his lap. ‘Not even you. Know what happens when a man is strangled?’ she purred.

‘Elektra,' Bond strained to speak. ‘It’s not too late. Eight million people needn’t die.’

She smiled and twisted the screw again. There was a nasty, grinding sound as Bond winced. He closed his eyes, then forced himself to remain as cool as possible. He felt her tongue gently lick the sweat away from his brow.

‘You should have killed me when you had the chance,’ she whispered. ‘But you couldn’t. Not me. A woman you’ve loved’

She pushed her pelvis into his. She could feel him beneath her as she rocked back and forth, breathing heavily.

Two more . . . turns . . . and it’s over, James,’ she said.

She twisted the screw, this time causing him extreme agony. His face was angled upwards but he managed to spit, ‘You meant . . . nothing . . . to me . .

She fingered the bolt and prepared to turn the last time. His hands strained at the bindings . . .

‘One . . . last . . . screw . . .?’ he choked.

She kissed his ear as she reached a climax. ‘Oh, James . . .’ she moaned, almost sadly, as she began to turn the screw.

Bond was on the edge of consciousness . . . but the sound of gunfire outside brought him back to reality.

Elektra froze. She caught her breath and listened. Then she stood up abruptly and moved to the window.

Outside, Valentin Zukovsky was getting off a boat and moving over rocks toward the entrance with three of his men. He was big, battered and bloody. All four of them were firing automatic weapons, killing anything in sight. Two of Elektra’s guards lay dead in his trail. The man was obviously determined to get inside and nothing was going to stop him.

The sound of gunfire was now inside the building and moving up the stairs. Elektra reached into a desk and retrieved a Browning 9 mm just as the stained-glass window shattered. Gabor, his body full of holes, fell through to the floor and caused a puddle of blood to spread over the stone. Two of her men stepped backwards into the room, firing at their opponents on the stairs. Zukovsky’s firepower was too much, though, and the two men were flung backwards in a hail of bullets.

Then Zukovsky crashed through the broken glass, wounded in the shoulder, his face set. He had a gun in one hand and his cane in the other. He saw Bond in the chair and looked at Elektra, who was holding the gun behind her back.

There was more gunfire outside the room. Zukovsky turned to see The Bull, who entered the room holding an AK-47.

‘Boss!’ The Bull said. ‘I’m glad to see you alive! These people tricked me into -

Zukovsky shot him without batting an eyelid. The Bull grunted and let off a round of fire, but his aim was way off the mark. He fell to the floor with a solid thud.

Zukovsky turned back to Elektra. ‘I’m looking for a submarine. It’s big and black, and the driver is a friend of mine.’