Erotic Adventures of Sexy British Super-Spy Jane Bond
Returning home after her first day on her first assignment with British Intelligence, to find and stop notorious arms merchant W before he could broker his next deal, Jane Bond sat down in front of her home computer terminal. Miss Moneypenny had given her the access codes to dial into "The Agency's" extensive database from her home computer.
But where to start?
Jane leaned back in her swiveling arm chair, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her tight, navy-blue blazer, to get more comfortable. She remembered how, even at age 80, the roving eyes of her new boss M had given her the once-over in his office. If M could see her now, what would he think, the opened two buttons making it obvious that she had absolutely nothing on under that blazer?
She thought back to her earlier conversation with M, about W. Her well-trained memory had tape recorded everything they had both said, and now she mentally rewound to the beginning and replayed every word. She pushed her mental pause button when she reached the point where M had told her "Sometimes, we think he must have graduated from our academy, because he always enters--"
She had finished, "unobtrusively, gets the job done quietly, and leaves without anyone knowing he was ever there?"
Hmm, what if W was, like her, a graduate of The Academy, but had chosen to use his knowledge of British Intelligence against, rather than for, the good of the Crown?
M had told Jane that W's arms sales to terrorists had first become noticed 10 years ago. That put him at about the Class of 1988, or maybe a year or two earlier. She entered a database query to list all British Spy Academy graduates whose last name started with W, and just to be sure that she went back far enough, she asked for all male W's who graduated between 1980 and 1988. When the list came back, she realized that she had never before thought about how many English surnames start with W. The list seemed endless: Walker, Wallace, Washington, Watson, Weaver, Weber, Webster, Wentworth, Whitworth, Wickham, Williams, Wilson, and so on, all the way through Wyndham. How was she to ever figure out which one, if any of them, was the elusive and mysterious W?
Then she remembered something else. That old fossil M had preferred to call her Ms. Bond, instead of the more- familiar Jane. But her own generation did not stand on such ceremony, and everyone called everyone else by their FIRST name. Since the photos of W made him look to be in his Thirties, certainly no older than 40, he would likely have used his first name, not his last, in selecting to be called by the initial W.
Back to the computer, and a new database search. Jane asked The Agency's computer to show her all 1980 to 1988 Academy graduates, male, whose FIRST names started with W. Depressingly, the list was nearly as long: Waldo, Wallace, Walter, Warren, Wayne, Webster, William, Winston, and on and on.
Then one name caught her eye: William Washington Walker, class of 1987. All three names started with W. His two specialties at The Academy had been Weapons and Warfare: two more W's, and certainly good training for becoming a terrorist arms merchant. He claimed to be from Wallingford, and once worked for the reigning Windsors. Gee, this guy sure liked words with W in them. But could he be the W that she sought?
She decided to look through his Academy records. William Washington Walker had graduated with honors in 1987, but before he could be recruited into Her Majesty's Secret Service, Walker had dropped out of sight. Had he resurfaced a year later, she wondered, as W, and began selling weapons to terrorists?
The search of Walker's records produced another curious fact. The Academy's registrar noted that he had been unable to confirm anyone named William Washington Walker ever having lived in Wallingford. The Windsors had never hired a servant by that name. In fact, NONE of his personal references had checked out. But by the time the Academy had finished checking his references, Walker, or whatever his name really was, had proven himself such an apt student of spying, weaponry, and warfare, that The Academy (and by inference, the Agency) did not want to lose him on the mere technicality of an inadequate background check. Walker's records noted that M himself had been disappointed when Walker could not be found and recruited after his graduation.
That part seemed curious to Jane. How was it that British Intelligence had never been able to track down one of their own students, to recruit him into The Service? But then she remembered her conversation with M, about how her father, the legendary James Bond, possessed all the stealth of a rampaging elephant. Had her father, he wondered, been assigned to find and recruit Walker? Had the great James Bond, as usual, gotten involved in so many highly-visible car chases and explosions, that Walker saw him coming from miles away, and easily eluded her famous father? "Well, Walker," she thought to herself, "if you ARE indeed W, this is one Bond you won't escape from!"
She phrased yet another database inquiry. This time, she wanted a photo of this mysterious William Washington Walker, as he looked around the time of graduation. After the usual delay for her modem to talk to the Agency's modem, a photo began to emerge, pixel by pixel, on her home computer's monitor.
"All right," she calculated, "this photo was taken about 11 years ago." She loaded the image into her computer's photo- enhancement program. Then she typed instructions for the program to age the subject of the photo about 11 years. She looked at the photos M had given her, showing arms dealer W. "OK," she said, "let's put in a receding hairline." A few keystrokes later, and presto, William Wallace had lost a fair amount of hair. "Oh, and a thin, debonair moustache." More keystrokes, and the image on her screen changed again. She blinked in disbelief. She taped M's photo of W to the side of her computer screen, and her eyes switched from the computer-aged image of Walker, to the identical face in M's photo of W, and back again. No doubt about it, Walker was W, and W was Walker.
"Yee-ha!" Jane shouted, obviously having seen one too many old Hollywood western movies on late-night television lately.
