DISCLAIMER: The Bond universe is the creation of Ian Fleming. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

By trancer


Chapter Two

"Francesca! Get down!" Jane charged towards the woman, grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her to the floor. The first shot ricocheted off the wall. The second wasn't so calculating, or as quiet. The shot of a man who hadn't intended to miss and no back-up plan to complete the shot other than 'shoot everything'. The discharge grew louder and louder with every following shot - the bullets grinding away at the inner walls of the silencer. The slugs chipping blindly at the wall as bits of 1300-year-old castle rained down upon the two women.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Jane chastised herself internally. She'd been lax. Allowed Francesca to join her on the terrace, turning the Princess into an open target.

Jane reached into her jacket, pulling out her trusty Walther PPK. She counted three shooters now, with more probably on the way. And now they were stuck - between a stairway, a doorway and a shower of bullets.

"Don't move," she whispered into the Princess' ear. Jane crawled on her belly across the floor towards the railing. Dared to peek her head over the edge. Instantly, she was met with another hail of bullets. She could hear commotion from inside the castle, more chaos with the addition, and distressing sound of, more gunfire.

Her shoulder barely nudged the table next to her. Jane eyed it, a soft smile pulling on her lips. She reached into her jacket, this time, pulling out a Blackberry. With the touch of a button, used the remote to bring her car (an Aston Martin, fully loaded) to life. Used the remote touch screen to pull the car to the base of the stairs.

"Francesca," she called to the young woman as she pushed the table onto its side. It was metal, circular, heavy as Hell but it would do. She grasped it with both hands by the singular pedestal bracing her self. "When I say go, run down the stairs and towards the car. Do you understand?"

Francesca, eyes wide with fear, nodded.

"Ready?" Jane lifted the table, using the surface as a shield. Felt the impacts as bullets pinged across its surface. "GO NOW!"

Francesca shot to her feet, hands covering her head, Jane immediately at her side, holding the table as a shield. A shower of bullets blasted at them. Smashed angrily into the table, the wall beside them, the railing.

At the base of the stairs, Jane tossed the table to the wayside, shoving Francesca into the open door before hurriedly following. Slamming the door behind her, Jane jerked the car into reverse.

"Get down!" She yelled at the frightened Princess. The interior was whisper quiet compared to the bullets zinging off the bulletproof glass and body. It would hold, Jane knew, but not for long.

She continued pushing the car in reverse, driving over the expansive lawn of the Royal Castle; between rows of immaculately shaped hedges, past the reflecting pool, where cement cherubs played harps as water whistled through their puckered lips.

The rear wheels hitting pavement, the frame bucked and shook. Jane jerked the car hard to the left, fishtailing it around and slamming the gear into drive. The wheels protested in a high squeal as rubber met cement and the subsequent friction sent them shooting forward.

Jane gunned the engine, the road rushing towards them at breakneck speed. Immediately, one, two, then three cars joined them hot on their heels. Two flanked them on each side, while the other held the rear, attempting to box them in.

The windows of their would be assassins rolled down. Rifle barrels aimed at Jane and Francesca. The impacts grew louder with each hit. The glass weakened under the onslaught as tiny hair fractures began to splinter across the surface.

The cars flanking her closed in, attempting to knock her off course. Their body's Bounced against the Aston Martin's frame, metal grinding against metal, as the surface scratched and bent and dented inward.

A panel opened on the assassin's car door. Through the slit whirling saw blades extended themselves through the space between the cars. Sparks flew as the blades connected with the body of Jane's car. The teeth chewed through the metal, slicing deeper with each bump of the car.

"Jane?" Francesca's voice trembled. She sat low in her seat. Hand clutching the door as if trying to will it to stay attached to the vehicle.

"Don't worry," Jane reassured, even if she didn't quite believe it. "It'll hold."

Except, it didn't. Sparks filled the floor panel. Francesca screamed, legs jerking upwards to avoid the spinning blade.

Salvation came in the form of a tight s-curve.

"Hang on!" Jane jerked the car hard to her left, slamming into the blade-wielding vehicle. It jarred heavily from the swipe. Jane's hands unwavering on the steering wheel as the driver tried to push himself back onto the road. The curve widened, the pavement replaced by scree and soft earth as the roadside sloped into an embankment. The wheels unable to maintain their grip, the car veered wildly out of control, until flipping end over end, smashing into a tree and exploding.

She pushed on the brakes, placing the other flanked car ahead of her. Jane opened a panel by the gearshift, rows of multicolored buttons at her fingertips. Pressing a blue button, the front bumper divided horizontally as two barrels shifted mechanically into position. They fired tiny darts attached by long thin cables. The press of another button and 100,000 volts of electricity shot through the wire. Streaks of blue lightening danced across the surface of the vehicle, lights, interior and exterior exploding, the occupants jerking spastically, the engine rendered dead.

Jane slammed into the rear of the vehicle, pushing it into a fishtail and out of her way, the car spinning lifelessly out of control before exploding into a ball of yellow and red.

"Now," she gripped the steering wheel tight. "Let's see if we can do something about our friends back there."

Sensing they were next, the car to the rear backed off, opening a space between the two cars. Shots still rang out. The rear window pocked and webbed

Jane finally slowed the car to a stop inside the ruins of an old castle. The old stone walls, aged by time, the elements and neglect, rose from the foundation like blackened chipped teeth. The only structure still intact was the tower keep, standing silent and tall like an abandoned sentry. Jane would have preferred something a bit more secluded. But, the 360-degree view gave her a welcome vantage point.

The North wall edged a high steep cliff that dropped off into a large black lake, its waters rippling under the quarter moon.

They both exited the vehicle. Francesca held a hand over her bosom, keeping the remaining tatters of her dress in place. She followed Jane around to the rear of the vehicle, the Agent opening the trunk.

"Here," Jane tossed the gym bag at Francesca.

"What's this?" Francesca pulled on the zipper, peering inside the bag. "These are my clothes."

"As much as I enjoy watching that dress disintegrate, it's not very practical for being on the run."

"You think of everything, don't you?"

"I'm an agent of Her Majesty's Secret Service," she pressed a hidden button on the rear of the car. The false floor inside the trunk lifted, revealing a compartment below filled with weapons, gadgets and clothing. "I'm always prepared."

"Like a Boy Scout with breasts," Francesca grinned cheekily. She nonchalantly pulled the straps of her dress off her shoulders, letting the material cascade down her frame and onto the ground.

"Oh, I'm much better than a boy or a scout," she stepped towards Francesca, picking a sweater from inside the gym bag and handing it to her. "You're not so bad yourself."

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Is it always like this?"

"Like what?"

"The afterwards part, the 'I just looked Death in the eye and survived and now I'm so horny I could hump a tree' part."


"Sometimes?" Francesca lifted a brow. "And what do you do during these sometimes?"

"I could tell you," Jane wrapped one arm around the blonde's waist, with the other, lifted her hand and cupped Francesca's cheek as her lips grew closer. "But, it's much more satisfying if I show you."

She pressed her mouth against Francesca's, lingered, explored the smooth silky texture with her own lips. Just as exploration turned a bit more demanding, a bit hungrier, just as hands drifting over the swell of curvaceous hips moved upwards –

Jane's phone began to ring.

"Bond," she spoke coolly into the phone.

"Where are you?"

"Ah, Miss Moneypenny," Jane sighed wistfully. "Impeccable timing as always."

"M's looking for you. Why aren't you at the safe house?"

"Don't worry," she sighed a bit solemnly watching perfect breasts disappear behind a beige knit shirt. "The Princess and I were just about to come."

"Mmm-hmm," Moneypenny tutted in her ear. "I have M on the other line. I'm connecting you now."

"Always next time with you, isn't Miss Moneypenny."

"Where the Hell have you been, Bond?" M's voice clipped authoritatively in Jane's ear.

"I thought it would be best if the Princess and I," she paused just as Francesca bent over to pull up her jeans, an eyebrow raising at the view, "went undercover."

She could hear the disdainful harrumph in M's voice. "You are to report to the nearest safe house at once, is that clear?"

"Why? The Princess is unharmed."

"The Princess may be unharmed but," M growled disdainfully. "Unfortunately, not all of the Royal Family can say the same."

Jane listened intently. Her gaze still focused on the Princess, turning professionally blank with each word poured into her ear. The conversation ending, she closed the device and tucked it back into her pocket.

"I know that look. What's going on?"

"We have to go."

"No," Francesca stood firmly. "Not until you tell me what's going on."

"There's a safe house 30 kilometers from here. I'm taking you there."

"Jane," Francesca marched around the other side of the car, standing in front of Jane. "Tell me!"

"It's your brother. He's been shot," she paused, watched her words sink in. "And now I need to take you someplace safe."



"Take me to my brother."

"Francesca, someone just tried to assassinate you and your brother. The two of you in the same place just makes it easier for whoever's.."

"I don't care," Francesca cut her off, voice wavering between anger and pain. "You know I can be an unrelenting bitch when I need to be. Take me to him or I'll make your life Hell."

"And if I have to render you unconscious," she stepped towards the Princess, her voice low and warning. "I can and will. My job is to keep you safe."

"No," she jabbed a finger angrily into Jane's chest. "Your job is to do what I tell you. Take me to my brother!"

Jane grabbed the offending finger. Yanked it hard and twisted it, along with the attached arm, until it was behind Francesca's back. She pushed the protesting Princess around the car, dumping her unceremoniously into the passenger's seat and slamming the door.

She walked back around, sliding into the driver's seat. Made every attempt to not look at the blonde next to her, and failed. Francesca sat, holding her wounded hand with the other, head slightly bowed in defeat.

"He's my brother, Jane," she sighed solemnly, a slight tremble in her voice.

"Bloody Hell," Jane mumbled. Her one Achilles Heel and Francesca had wounded her as easily as David to Goliath. "Fine," she jammed the car into gear. And in the process, caught the makings of a smile on Francesca's lips.

"Hopefully, we won't get killed in the process." She pushed the car forward. "If M doesn't kill me first."

To Be Continued

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