Send up Commander Bond straight
away, will you, Miss Moneypenny?’ It was the first time I’d heard M’s voice on
the intercom, clipped, commanding, as if he was issuing orders from the bridge.
Which I suppose he was: I just wish I’d had a primer in able-seamanship before
starting work as his private secretary.
I buzzed down to
C Section and was told he’d be on his way. I knew who Bond was from my days as a
cipher clerk, of course. He’s long been a favourite topic of Powder Vine
speculation, but I’d never paid much attention. So when...
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