Okay, so I've been busy the last couple of days trying to get my entry for the James Bond theme competition finished. I'm not quite there yet, but I'm confident I'll have it sorted out by Friday.
We were all supposed to submit not only the theme song but also an outline of the movie's plot, so here goes. Not really a plot summary, but rather the first chapter of the (unwritten) book the movie is based on. (It's basically the short part of the movie that comes before the Theme song sequence.) Hope that counts too.
James Bond 007 in A Hard Man To Kill "He is dead."
A tall man with broad shoulders, Mikhail Fedorov could not spend the better part of an hour lying under his black SUV, unable to move, without ending up with a sore back and bruised elbows. The dry desert air and temperature way beyond 100 degrees had not added any comfort either.
But the long wait had finally paid off.
Holding his mobile phone between his cheek and his right shoulder, he slowly removed the scope from his heavy Barrett M98B sniper rifle.
"Are you sure?" The voice of the elderly man on the other end of the line was trembling.
"Two shots through the heart. I'm positive." Fedorov had known his target long enough to know he could not take any chances.
"Good." A deep breath, making the tiny speaker on the mobile phone hiss. "Very good. You will return to the meeting point for debriefing. Don't waste any time, and don't stop until you're here!" The elderly man had regained his composure and was now back to his usual harsh and commanding tone.
"Yes sir", Fedorov replied and put his weapon back in its case. The barrel was still warm, though he could not tell if that was from the hot afternoon sun, or the deadly shots fired not two minutes ago. "Do you want me to take care of the body?"
"No! Let me worry about that! Your job is done and you have your orders."
He knew it was rather unhealthy to disagree with his boss. "Understood. I'll be at the airport at Oh Ninehundred." He ended the call and turned off his phone. Closing the trunk of the SUV, he thought about what he would do once he returned home. A cold shower. An even colder drink. The young brunette waiting for him in his hotel room, eager to make him forget the stress of a days work.
With her on his mind, he got into the driver's seat and closed the door.
The soft clicking of his car keys turning in the ignition was the last thing Mikhail Fedorov should ever hear.
An explosion thundered through the dusty valley. But here, in the middle of the vast Karakum desert, there were few people who could have heard it, and even fewer who would have cared.
On the bottom of the valley lay the body of a man in an expensive, but worn down black suit. Two large calibre bullets had ripped the fabric apart and left two gaping holes.
When the last echoes of the explosion had died away, and all that was left to hear was a faint crackling sound from the fire consuming what had once been an expensive SUV, James Bond, agent of Her Majesty's Secret Intelligence Service, opened his eyes and got up from the dusty ground.
Losening his dark blue tie, he slowly made his way out of the valley and could not help the smirk on his face.
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