Doubleshot

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THE CONVENT’S SECURITY OFFICER GASPED WHEN HE SAW WHAT CAME UP on the computer screen. Domingo Espada’s British bodyguard had given his name as “PeterWoodward,” but he was positively identified as James Bond, agent 007 of SIS.

“Better have a look at this, sir,” he said to the aide-de-camp, a tall young captain from the Gibraltar Regiment.

The captain looked over the officer’s shoulder at the monitor and recognized the face—it was indeed the man who had walked into the Governor’s Residence that morning with Espada and the rest of his Spanish entourage. He was now upstairs with the other delegates, politicians, and their aides.

“I’d say he has a lot of nerve coming here like this,” the captain said. “He knows we can’t arrest him because he’s here with diplomatic immunity. I had better get on to London and let them know about it. You’re sure he passed through the metal detectors all right?”

“Yes, sir.”

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