Bond Girl (Fan-Fiction)

Alas is a dashing espionage-agent for America who falls in love with the mistress of a European drug-czar and wonders if his mission will force him to betray his Christian values.

I met a girl in Europe who was possibly a criminal, but I started falling in love with her, but we lost touch. She will always be in my memory as a 'Bond girl' like figure, which is why I couldn't retire form writing without writing a James Bond fan-fiction in her honor!

Thanks for reading (and Happy New Year's!),

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Alas worked for the CIA (Central Intelligence Agency) for 3 years and was sent on an assignment to Moscow (Russia) to crack an underworld narcotics syndicate managed by a ruthless drug-czar named Caesar Romanov (CR). He was Ivy League educated, very skilled with computers and explosives and weapons, and a master of immediate political negotiation. He was the perfect American James Bond. He was also quite handsome and wore spectacles/eyeglasses fitted with a tiny espionage mini-camera. He never married, even though he was now 31, and the CIA wanted him to detangle the drug-mess in Moscow which was slowly being tied to a black market munitions operation tied to the terrorist organization Cobra.

Alas arrived in Moscow with his gear and clothes and weapons, all smartly transported and carried. He was supplied with a sturdy modern Volvo car to drive around Moscow in and kept regular communications with his intelligence-office supervisor and mission-coordinator in D.C. (America). He carried a self-assembling miniature silencer-pistol hidden in the sole-heels of his sharp and expensive dress-shoe, and he almost always wore a blazer and expensive wrist-watch. Alas wandered around Moscow posing as a wealthy American prince looking to invest in the underworld through clever liaisons. He began mingling with the luminary heads and lovely ladies of the underworld.

It took Alas about 1 full year to infiltrate the dominion of the Moscow drug-czar Caesar Romanov (CR). Caesar lived discreetly in a multi-floor purchased hotel in Romania but made constant trips to Moscow while staying at the expensive apartment of his Russian drug-syndicate vice-president (Ivan Turgenev). Alas learned Caesar was cold, calculating, and ambitious, even at the relatively young age of 38. Caesar was a good-looking man with bushy hair and thick sideburns. Caesar constantly smoked cigars, which disgusted his beautiful raven-haired criminal mistress Franka Spassky. Caesar called Franka 'clover' because she brought him great luck.

Alas decided to get inside Caesar's head by convincing Franka to betray him. Alas made a profitable finance contract with Caesar, promising him $5 million over the next 10 years to obtain a share in his narcotics ring. Alas started spending lots of time together with Caesar and Franka, and ironically, he started developing a soft-spot in his heart for the whimsical and humorous, if cunning, Franka. One night, while drinking heavily together, Caesar exposed to Alas his narcotics ring link to the terrorist organization Cobra. Alas recorded the entire conversation and sent it to the CIA. He then turned his attention to Franka, cajoling her to tell him where Caesar's Cobra-gold was hidden!

FRANKA: Me thinks you got me drunk to trick me, Alas.

ALAS: Franka, I'm a prince of the night, not a scoundrel!
FRANKA: I suppose that's true enough.
ALAS: You're very beautiful.
FRANKA: You're a handsome young devil; you should find a belle.

ALAS: I've been on the look, and there're lovely dames in Russia.
FRANKA: Most of the dames in Russia are flower-petals of the underworld.

ALAS: I see.
FRANKA: Do you think I'm one of these flower-petals?
ALAS: Why do you ask?
FRANKA: I'm too drunk to be intelligent, but I sense you're critical of me.
ALAS: I'm an associate of your master Caesar, not a spy.
FRANKA: Caesar's not my master; he's my guru.
ALAS: I see.
FRANKA: You want to ask me something.
ALAS: Tell me where Caesar hides his Cobra-gold.
FRANKA: What will you do with such information, friend?
ALAS: I will take photographs and tell Cobra Caesar will betray them.
FRANKA: What?
ALAS: I'll sneak Caesar into Europe and out of Cobra's clutches.
FRANKA: Why?
ALAS: Caesar's a shrewd capitalist, but he's not a super-terrorist.
FRANKA: So you're trying to protect your new Russian friend, eh?
ALAS: And you.
FRANKA: What if you're some policeman trying to get terrorism evidence?
ALAS: That could be true too!
FRANKA: You're being smug now, because you know I'm charmed drunk.
ALAS: Right.

FRANKA: Very funny; well, Caesar's Cobra-gold is hidden in a vault under his bed.
ALAS: His bed in Ivan's apartment?
FRANKA: Right!
ALAS: Thanks, Franka.

FRANKA: If you endanger Caesar, Alas, I'll slit your throat and feed your body to dogs!
ALAS: I can clearly see now you're a 'flower-petal of the underworld.'
FRANKA: That was cruel and unnecessary!
ALAS: I find you extremely attractive.

FRANKA: Now you're 'making love' to me, Alas.

ALAS: I'm a good Christian.
FRANKA: We're both involved in an underworld of hell, so we have to be safe from betrayal.
ALAS: You would never betray me; I'm falling for you; you see, I'm drunk too!
FRANKA: You complete your mission, you handsome devil; perhaps we'll remain friends.
ALAS: Perhaps my mission is too distracting.

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