Well, once again, the characters of Culley and Peter Wisdom are owned
by Marvel Characters, while Admiral Sir Miles Messervy (M.), Major
Geoffrey Boothroyd (Q), Penelope Smallbone, Miss Moneypenny, Bill
Tanner, and Rene Mathis are creations of Ian Fleming, owned by EON
Productions.  All other characters are mine, so get away before I
shoot.

Chapter Three:  One O'Clock and All is Well

What has come before: Jack and Wisdom have finished a blitz on a
safehouse run by Heinz Becker, in the process confronting a defector
from Sweden, who gives up valuable Intelligence, and is subsequently
crippled by Jack.

As they reached the cafe, Wisdom found it quite charming.  It was
small and cozy, with a number of secluded booths.  A busty, bouncing
waitress came up, and apparently recognised Jack.  She grabbed a pair
of menus and smiled at the pair.  "Hello, Jack.  How are you today?"

"Just the way I like to be, Yvette.  Breathing.  I must say, you look
as stunning as always.  Is the usual table free?"

"It sure is.  Please walk this way."  She turned back quickly.  "And
no staring, Jack."

He mimed being shot through the heart.  "Yvette, my dear, if I could
walk that way, I doubt I would have to stare."

She smiled and he followed her to a booth on the far side of the cafe.
They sat down and paged through the menus. They agreed upon a beef
roast, with a carafe of red Chianti.  Yvette looked up from her pad.
"And will you boys like a drink, before your meal gets here?"

Wisdom thought for a moment.  "I'll have a Rob Roy."

Jack waited until Yvette turned towards him.  "I'll have my usual
sweet Martini."

"I'm afraid we have a new bartender.  How do you make that again?"

"Two parts Vodka, one part Gordon's gin, a half of Sweet Vermouth -
Kina Lillet if you have it, and splash of the Dry variety.  Shake it
until it's ice-cold, and fill a deep wine goblet with it.  Got it?"

"Absolutely, I'll be right back with them."

After a few moments, she came back with the drinks, and Jack was
instantly dismayed by the rocks the Martini was on.  "Yvette, why did
your bartender ruin a perfectly good drink?"  He indicated the
crystals in the glass.

"I'm sorry, Jack.  As I said, he is new." 

"Well hit him over the head for me, will you?  You're supposed to show
that France is still civilised.  You're not doing a very good job of
that."

She took the Martini back, and after a moment, she returned with a
fresh, rockless one.  Jack took a sip, the amber liquid - tastefully
bruised by the shaker - swirled over his tongue.  "Excellent.  Just
remember that next time it needs a twist instead of the olive."

"Certainly.  I'll be back with your meal as soon as it's ready.  If
you need anything, just shout."

She left, and they finished their drinks in silence.  Wisdom rose.  "I
think I'll see a man about a horse."

"Well, don't burden me with it.  Go on."

Wisdom reached the men's room, finding only a row of stalls.  Even
France was freaking getting politically correct.  Wisdom sat in one of
the stalls, going through the papers in his briefcase.

Mostly bits about the end of SMERSH and various newcomers to the
smuggling and assassination rings that MI5 routinely blew out of the
water.  As he leafed through the memos, he heard a creaking on his
right, and his head turned in that direction.  He saw a seamless
opening appear in the side of the stall, and he drew the Walther,
thumbing back the hammer as he pointed it toward the opening.  The
white-haired head that looked back at him smiled a bit.

"You just don't calm down much, do you Wisdom?"

"I'm not even safe from you in the loo, am I Q?"
				

Wisdom allowed Q to hand a briefcase over to him.  "Well, Q, what's
this do?  Is it a spiffy new cappuccino machine or maybe a hand-held
H-bomb?"

"I really wish you'd take this more seriously, 002.  This is a
revamped device that is once again becoming standard for 00
operatives.  When you press this stud," he indicated a small bump
below the latch, "this Sykes- Fairbairn Commando knife will come out.
It's acceptable as a throwing knife, and it's extremely strong.  Now,
usually, to open a case like this, you would pull the latches
horizontally.  Well don't.  Twist them like this, then pull.
Otherwise this will explode."  Having opened the case by now, he
indicated a small aerosol deodorant bottle.

"Of course, Q.  The last thing I need is to get covered in Right
Guard."

"Actually, it's a cannister of tear gas.  Inside the case, you'll find
a telescopic infrared sight.  In these pockets," he pointed at a pair
of cloth strips, barely protruding from the red lining, "you'll find
fifty gold sovereigns, twenty-five per side.  This is a Walther WA2000
sniper rifle, with silencer and muzzle brake."  Q showed Wisdom how to
use the bullpup-configuration weapon.  When this was finished, he
showed Wisdom two silver screws on the underside, which, upon removal,
would each yield twenty rounds of the high-powered .30-calibre
ammunition in a long tube.  Finally, the armourer was finished, and
Wisdom decided to venture a question.

"Q, what's the chip on Wagner's shoulder?  And what did he have to do
with Five in the fifties?"

"Well, if he likes you well enough, you can ask him.  But he'll swear
you to secrecy, just like he did with me.  Either way, you'll have to
find out yourself."

"Great.  Well, thanks a load, Q.  I've got to get back.  See you back
in London."

He waved goodbye to the armourer, and headed for the door.  If he was
going to find out about his partner, he would have to do it directly.

				 *  *  *

Jack saw Wisdom approach the table, taking in the surroundings of the
quaint little cafe, obviously with something on his mind.  He lit his
twentieth cigarette of the day, and offered a light for one of
Wisdom's Morlands.  As Pete sat down, he saw that Jack's drink was
different now.  It had the twist, instead of the olive.  He figured
the fellow had finished his first drink already.  Wisdom finished off
his Rob Roy, and flagged down the waitress, getting a straight scotch.
It was some time before he spoke again.

"All right, Jack.  It's time I got some answers out of you.  What
involvement did you have with Five in the past?  And what is this job
about anyway?"

"Good questions.  Are you sure you want the answers?"

Wisdom started to reply, then found that his tongue seemed caught in
his throat.  He soon made the connection.  Jack had always spoken to
him in a cultured accent, with a hint of Scots.  Now he spoke with a
thick Cockney accent, almost a complete change of character.  Jack
seemed to read his mind.  "Years of traveling around the world can
really add to a fellow's acting ability."

"I'd imagine so.  Now answer my questions."

"Alright, I joined Five about a year after the war, and stayed until
about mid-'63.  I started doing merc work between them and the CIA,
until about '71.  That's when I joined SAS, and spent about four years
with them.  After that, well, I've been very busy.  With regard to the
second, we're here to weed out some of Heinz Becker's ex-Stasi boys."

"Becker?  But didn't he die in Mexico?"

"That's what he wanted everyone to think.  But the body they found was
about three inches too short, and didn't have Becker's scar on the
right side of his brow.  In addition, the arms of his operation my
partners uncovered in Barcelona and Sweden have his writing all over
them.  There's no real other possibility."

"How could you possibly get that old and still be going strong?"

Wagner crushed out his cigarette, and lit another one.  "Back near the
end of the war, I hit up against a special detachment of SS; to stop
me, they released the nerve gas they were planning to let out over
London.  It reacted with my body metabolism, and I haven't aged since
I was twenty-eight.  It also makes me immune to toxins of just about
every type."

Pete was suitably impressed with these details; they explained a great
deal.  Sure, they seemed a bit out of the ordinary, but then, so was a
man who could send jets of flame out from his body on command.  "So
why am I along on this job, then?"

"Simple, we all know that GRU and SMERSH have used mutants in their
employ, and we have evidence that the Stasi did, as well.  I requested
Five's help on this because Becker's network is probably rife with
mutants who can't go anywhere else.  They were forced in to service,
but nobody wants to believe that.  So they let Becker relocate them;
they just find out too late that his price is more of the same.  So
they have to kill us - or die."

"What was the other name you mentioned in the car?"

Jack smiled, notising the meal was on its way.  He refrained from
speaking until the entire selection was lain out.  As Yvette walked
away, he took a sip of the Chianti.  This variety was full-bodied,
with a crisp, dry taste.  It didn't lapse into bitterness, as many dry
wines did.  He swirled the liquid for a moment, then began when he was
certain it was safe.  "Eric Gould.  Remember it?"

Wisdom recalled the name from the Honor Wall at Headquarters in
London.  Missing presumed dead as of May, 1963.  He had to admit, the
plan was gutsy, but good.  That way, Wagner could retire from service
without being hounded by any old enemies acquired in the service.
Maybe he'd have to do it himself one day.

They finished the meal slowly, ready to get to work again upon its
completion.