‘The name’s Bond. Paulo Bond.’
Bond stood aboard the Orient Express. The train came around sixteen coaches long, and Bond shook the hand of the man who had just stepped onto it. His beige moustache and well-worn Macintosh gave him away as an English agent. Bond found himself staring into cold eyes that gave nothing away.
‘I’m Captain Nash, old man. M sent me personally. What’s this business about?’
As the train began to pull out of Belgrade, Bond slipped a sleek device out of his inside pocket. ‘This is an iPhone, Nash, the latest thing in mobile communications. Q tells me it can be programmed with both AS3 and Objective-C. I’m to show you the basics of the Objective-C method, and compare and contrast it with the AS3 method.’
Nash gazed coolly out at the city sliding by. ‘I have a contact to meet in Venice, old man. Can this wait?’
Bond slipped a gold-banded cigarette out of his silver case and lit it. ‘Of course, Nash. We’ll be in England in five days. I have a safehouse away from London we can use. Meet me at 7pm on Tuesday 6th April at The Werks in Hove and we’ll go through this together. Oh, incidentally this will be just the first of two such briefings. Make it on the 6th and a week later I can expand on it. Can’t tell you quite how yet – you never know who’s listening – but if you turn up on the 6th perhaps you’ll find out.’
‘Paulo, can’t you come back to bed?’ called a female voice from the cabin behind Bond. It might have been Russian, or South African. It was hard to tell. Bond smiled enigmatically.
‘If you’ll excuse me, Nash.’