Well gang, a select band of you might remember from the old MI6 my 'Lazenby' Bond takes which were at the end of the day, just a bit of fun. Fleming would spin in his grave but there you go. Nowadays, fanfic is something I seem to use to kickstart 'serious' fare and thusly, here we are. Struck me it's been pretty much ten whole years since the 'original' Lazenby DAF on the old MI6 forum and some here asked for that back which sort of ended over a year ago.
I've never been entirely happy the older I get with what I did for that story. So, if I keep this going somehow, this anniversary edition will be tweaked and whatnot.
And yes, there are as what IMDB would call 'crazy credits' below.
Anyway gang. Enough ramble.
TENTH ANNIVERSARY EDITION.
Inspired by the film and book of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, as well as elements of Ian Fleming’s You Only Live Twice and elements of the film “Diamonds Are Forever”
Music by John Barry
The coast road out past Silveira in Western Portugal was ordinarily quiet even at the height of summer. With its stunning views of the Atlantic on one side and the Zambujal countryside on the other, the road was ideal for drivers on a honeymoon. Today, as the sun began to settle, the road was closed. Police cars –small little Austin’s imported at great coast from Britain- blocked the road in both directions leaving a mile long area between. On a ledge that jutted slightly over the rocky drop to the coast, sat a British racing green Aston Martin DBS. Such a car turned heads at the best of times, yet now it looked desolate. The windscreen was partially shattered, what had not broken away was dotted with bullet holes. The doors were open revealing the carnage inside. Bullet marks across the passenger seat for the most part, one in the rear window with blood and gore on the headrest of the passenger seat. An ambulance from Lisbon had pelted full speed the twenty plus miles told that they really had to hurry this time for the head of the Union Corse wished it.
One did not live long or live comfortably if they displeased the Capo.
The ambulance crew had only just removed the body from the passenger side having been made to wait by the police and Union Corse men. Instead the paramedics in this time had tried to comfort the young British man in the wedding suit. He had been immobile when they arrived, holding the head of the young brunette on his lap and weeping softly. His face contorted in that way when a man does not want to cry and yet has no control over his emotions. Sat in the ambulance on a wooden bench the man said nothing still. Just stared and stared to the point that one of the medics crossed himself reverently. When they went to get the body, the young man stood so that the stretcher could be placed on the bench and secured. The woman’s white wedding dress was stained with blood; her head had taken the brunt of the bullets that had spat angrily from the passing Mercedes. The dress and face was covered by the woollen blanket.
“James! My God, James!”
James Bond’s head snapped upright like a puppet’s whose master was tired of being gentle. Bond stepped out of the ambulance, for once not shrinking from the bearhug that Marc Ange Draco gave him. When they parted both men had tears in their eyes. Draco’s men stood back respectfully, by the blue Rolls Royce with the top down. “I’m sorry, Draco. They…got her.”
Draco’s eyes passed from Bond’s face to the ambulance behind. “Let me see her.”
“No,” Bond took him by the shoulders. “You can’t see her like that.”
“Stupido! I must,” Draco got past him and went into the ambulance. Bond looked to the men who a few weeks ago had taken him to Draco at knifepoint.
Mystery tour, hmm?
They regarded Bond solemnly this time. In fact they seemed sorry for him as he stood there by himself. A black Rolls Royce Ghost tore down the coast road from the southern barricade kicking up dust as it came. It was stopped by Draco’s car. Bond grunted as he recognised the diplomatic plates from the British Embassy in Lisbon. Still in their wedding finery, Bond’s boss M, M’s secretary Miss Moneypenny and the armourer –Major Boothroyd, a.k.a. Q, walked quickly to Bond. M took charge as he did at times like this, getting in before a tearful Moneypenny could mother Bond.
“We left just after you and were almost at the embassy when we were stopped by Draco’s men. The ambassador loaned us his car to get back here. What the hell happened, James?”
“Blofeld,” Bond said heavily nodding to the Aston. “We stopped to get rid of the floral arrangements. We were talking about children…”
Three boys, three girls…
Mrs Bond…shut up…and don’t eat it all at once.
“A car came down behind us, I should’ve realised something wasn’t right as it slowed down. Next thing I know the windscreen’s gone, I jumped in to chase and…she…” Bond turned away face tight with emotion again. Draco was coming out of the ambulance ashen faced. Reaching Bond and company he shook hands with M. “Admiral, I had hoped to see you under different circumstances. Especially so soon after the wedding.”
“My condolences,” M said quietly. “Marc Ange, I regret to say now that this is a matter that must be handled between the Portuguese police and SIS.”
“No, no! The Union Corse will help with this. Blofeld’s already taken enough of my men to his SPECTRE. I want revenge.”
M saw the look on Bond’s face during this outburst. His own face going red he pointed. “James, you can forget going off on a revenge matter yourself. This is the British Secret Service not some band of buccaneers!”
Bond shrugged. “Then you can have my resignation, sir. I’m going after Blofeld and putting an end to him once and for all.” He felt Draco’s hand on his arm.
“James, please, let me do this.”
“I loved Tracy, Draco. I’m getting Blofeld. End of discussion,” Bond walked to his car. Ignoring the mess on the passenger seat he opened his glove box. Returning a short time later he handed Bond his Walther PPK. “Sir, in lieu of the fact I have no formal identification associating me with the Service I give you my weapon.”
“James,” whispered Moneypenny eyes wide. Q shook his head sadly.
“Your licence to kill is revoked,” M said quietly looking at the gun in his palm. “I say that but you won’t listen. Your pass-codes will be revoked so you will have no access to SIS in London or anywhere else. You’re on your own, Doub…James.”
When he looked up Bond had already walked off with Draco to the blue Rolls. The ambulancemen were closing the doors shutting the late Teresa Bond from view and the police were bringing in a tow truck to take the DBS away for forensic study. As the Rolls tore away at speed M shook his head.
“God help you, James.” Closing his hand around the gun he nodded angrily. “All right you two, let’s get the Hell out of it. Back to London. We’ll leave Station P to look after this mess.”
EON and SIR HILARY BRAY PRODUCTIONS PRESENT a PETER HUNT FILM
George Lazenby as IAN FLEMING’S JAMES BOND 007 in
“DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER”
Lee Remick as TIFFANY CASE, Jimmy Dean as WILLARD WHYTE, Jack Lord as FELIX LEITER (by special arrangement with CBS Productions), Ursula Noack as IRMA BUNT and Telly Savalas as ERNST STAVRO BLOFELD
Featuring- Bernard Lee as M, Lois Maxwell as MONEYPENNY, Gabriele Ferzetti as DRACO and Sammy Davis Junior
Music by John Barry (title song sung by Shirley Bassey and reprise of We Have all the Time in the World by Louis Armstrong)
Directed by Peter Hunt