Magnus Squeeze’s Yacht, Dawn

Magnus’s yacht, The Deckareus Colossus, sits majestically on the calm Caribbean Sea. Hardly any tide. The yacht is still.
Quiet as a stealth weapon, James Bond breaks the surface of the water. He lifts his snorkelling mask. He looks around in the just-breaking light.
A couple of seconds later, Foxy Lingua surfaces. She removes her mask, discards it in the water. Her long, dark hair is sleek against her back. Bond signals to Foxy. She nods, pointing round to the other side of the yacht.

On The Deckareus Colossus, moments later…

Bond, still in his wetsuit, fishes a sweeping device from the watertight kit bag slung across his body. He activates it as he sidles noiselessly along the deck. A flashing LED light: a reading. Bond presses a button. A message on the handset: “SURVEILLANCE EQUIPMENT NEUTRALISED”. Bond looks up. Motions Foxy to join him.  Foxy emerges from the shadows, her wetsuit clinging to her curves. Bond raises an eyebrow. Foxy fiddles with a communication unit. A wisp-thin wire runs from her ear to the corner of her ruby lips. She speaks in barely a whisper.

Foxy:

“Leaving you to aft, Bond. I’ll sweep starboard. Meet you at Squeeze’s Hub in ten”
Bond casts a longing glance at Foxy. Barely whispering back:

Bond:

“Can’t believe you’re leaving me already. I’ve hardly had a proper look at you in that rubber suit, let alone a little touch…”
Foxy rolls her eyes.

Foxy:

“Bond. Keep your mind on the job”
Bond grins.

Bond:

“Believe me, Foxy, I’m trying to.”
Foxy tosses her head.

Foxy:

“I mean keep it on this Deckareus Colussus. Not yours.”

Bond:

“Can’t out-Lingua you, can I?”
Foxy shakes her head.

Foxy:

“The Hub, Bond. Essential strategy documents. Meet you in ten.”
Bond watches as she moves back into the shadows and slinks silently down the deck, her sweeping device in hand. Bond draws in a breath, watching Foxy until she disappears down the deck. He lets out the breath and steals down the other side of the deck, melting into the shadows.

Minutes later…

Foxy presses a device onto the lock of the reinforced door to Magnus Squeeze’s Hub. The door yields with a soft click. She pushes the door, just a touch. Listens. Not a sound. Foxy reaches into her kit bag for a palm-sized gun. She’s ready. Alert, she creeps into the Hub.

A bank of monitors flicker in the dark, with images of different locations in the yacht. Foxy sidles slowly around the edge of the room, flicking her sweeping device into action with her free hand, all the time looking around for something. Magnus Squeeze’s safe. She spots it…

In the engine room of the yacht, Bond carefully disconnects wires for The Deckareus Colossus’s communication system. He lets out a satisfied sigh as he returns his tools to his kit bag. He glances briefly through the porthole of the engine room. Daybreak over the flat Caribbean Sea. Simply breathtaking.

A sudden, sharp blow to the head floors Bond. He looks up, dazed. A huge henchman is pointing a gun in his face. Bond fumbles for his sweeping device. Rubs his head. Blinks a couple of times to bring himself back to his senses.

Bond:

“My, you’re a big boy, aren’t you?”
The huge henchman glowers at Bond.

Henchman:

“On your feet. Mr Squeeze is expecting you.”
Foxy is photographing a set of secret documents with a mini camera. On the table, retrieved from the safe, a stash of diamonds and some bundles of cash. Suddenly, she touches her communication device.

Foxy:

“(Hissing) Bond…? Bond…?”

To be continued…