The two men sat at the table for no more than two minutes, and then went their separate ways. The man on the left was one of CaliberX’s middlemen. Bond, with the help of MI6’s resident hackers, had discovered the location of this meeting. He was hoping this would put him on the trail of CaliberX himself. CaliberX was a high-level terrorist, and MI6 had been after him for a long time.
The meeting had been set up in “The Canon”, a top-secret chat room that acts like a virtual bazaar for terrorists, drug dealers, and gun runners to request or offer a variety of illegal goods and services. Bond had intercepted a message between CaliberX and someone logged in as Francis_Assisi. Francis was the man on the right. According to the message he was to take an item from the middleman and deliver it to CaliberX. Bond didn’t know what the item was, but it was in the briefcase now held by Francis.
Bond had focused mostly on Francis while the meeting took place, learning everything he could about his physical appearance. He was going to have to tail Francis through a busy mall.
Francis was about six feet tall, had shoulder length black hair, a fat face, and wore a small pair of glasses with silver frames and almost square lenses. He was wearing jeans, a baggy white T-shirt, a pair of nondescript brown boots, and a pair of thin black gloves. The briefcase he was carrying was small, black, and had silver clasps.
Bond left a five-pound note on the table to cover the small meal he had eaten before the two men had arrived. When Francis left, Bond followed at a distance. He would briefly stop and ‘window shop’ when he got too close. Bond thought that he was doing well until Francis began to show signs that he knew he was being followed. He didn’t do anything so obvious as to turn around, but his walk changed briefly before he could force himself to correct it. Francis picked up just a little speed and changed directions. He headed straight toward a crowd of people. Since Bond knew he was discovered, he closed the gap between him and Francis by half. He wouldn’t run or shout yet; he would let Francis make the first move.
Francis weaved in and out of the people. Bond kept a close eye on him, weaving his own way through the crowd. The jostling mass began to grow denser, and Bond was having trouble keeping sight of his target.
Suddenly, Francis made his move, bursting out of the crowd and around a corner. Bond was deeper in the crowd, and it took him several seconds to work his way out of it. Once he was free he ran around the corner and down the hall, looking for Francis. Bond couldn’t see him anywhere, but the only place to go was down the hall and left. Bond ran down the hall.
As he rounded the next corner Bond was looking down a very long hall way. He knew that Francis did not have time to make it all the way down the hall. That meant he had to be in one of the stores. A quick glance told Bond he was not in the first one. It was much too small. Bond looked longer in the second store, making sure to keep an eye on the hallway. He determined that Francis was not in that store either. Bond checked the third and final store, but did not find Francis. Bond decided that Francis must be in the back stockroom of one of the stores. Bond had originally discounted that idea, thinking that Francis would not be stupid enough to trap himself completely. Bond could tell from the layout of the mall that none of the stockrooms of those three stores had any back exits. Bond started to check the stockrooms.
* * *
Simon Templar was almost at his car, and the parking garage appeared to be almost empty. He hadn’t been expecting any trouble at the time of pick-up, but at least he was able to shake whoever had been following him. He could still complete his…
James Bond stepped out from between two cars, his gun ready. “Francis of Assisi is it?”
Bond had been ready to give up his search, assuming he had somehow lost Francis. However, something struck him about the man just leaving the second store. The man was wearing white gym shoes, jeans, a snug blue shirt, wore no glasses, and had short brown hair. The man also seemed a little shorter than Francis, with a thinner face. The shopping bag the man was carrying wasn’t a briefcase, but somehow Bond knew it contained the item that the briefcase had. He had found his man.
Bond had followed, this time at a much more discreet distance. When Templar removed the small red box from the shopping bag and threw the bag away, Bond was sure that he was Francis. That box was not the kind that would be found in most stores.
“My name is Bond. James Bond. I’m with MI6. Don’t try anything.” Bond had seen Templar’s hand moving toward his pocket. “I can easily incapacitate you before you can do anything you might regret. I need you to come with me. My superiors want to have a little chat with you concerning CaliberX.”
Templar was caught off his guard. He had not expected the man to find him again. He also did not expect that person to end up being a member of MI6, although that was better than one of CaliberX’s competitors. Templar knew of Bond, and didn’t relish the idea of taking him on. However, even if he explained to Bond that he planned on taking the disk he had and switching it with one that contained a virus, he wasn’t sure Bond would believe him. Templar, as The Saint, fought for good, but he was technically a vigilante. Templar knew even more about CaliberX than MI6. He knew that CaliberX, real name Travis Nadel, was president of XPG, the up-and-coming multi-million dollar software company. He also knew that Nadel was using the prophets of the company to fund his terrorist actions. Templar wanted to destroy the entire company. The removal of Nadel might not accomplish that. Besides, this way he turned a tidy prophet himself, which he could use to fight more battles.
Templar would never go so far as to kill Bond, and he was hesitant to harm him in any way. However, he could see a way that he might be able to escape without doing either. Bond was standing right in front of his car. Templar’s hand motion toward his pocket was meant to distract Bond from the movement of his other hand, which pushed a button on the key fob it held.
No matter how steady a person’s nerves are, a car horn suddenly blaring right behind him is bound to cause at least a small jump. Templar dropped to the ground and rolled toward Bond, gambling that if Bond did fire his aim would be at least slightly impaired. He hoped that he would be able to disarm Bond and then knock him out with a move he knew that would cause no permanent harm.
Simon Templar had many skills, but he underestimated Bond. Despite the fact that Bond was slightly rattled from the car horn, he still could have effortlessly placed a bullet in any number of Templar’s body parts. Bond didn’t fire only because he needed information from the man.
Bond dodged the sweep kick aimed at his legs, and was ready when Templar jumped to his feet, swinging a fist toward him. Bond blocked it and forced Templar back. After several more attempts by Templar to connect any of his hits on Bond, he realized his only option was to come clean. Bond had seen through his disguise, and was the much better fighter. Templar just had to hope Bond believed him.
The obligatory checklist:
Looks like the score is: SAINT = 3 BOND =4 WINNER = Bond
Vs. 
