Lisa continued, 'And this is Anton Redenius, the movie producer."
"James Bond," 007 said, shaking the man's hand. Redenius had a viselike grip.
"What brings you here, Mr. Bond?"
"I work for Playboy Enterprises. I'm a lawyer in their UK office."
Redenius pulled away his hand as if he had burned it. "Aaiieee, a lawyer! God help us!" He laughed, and the girls laughed along with him. When the body guard, Estragon, didn't laugh, Redenius scowled at him. The thug forced a guffaw, satisfying his boss.
"You must forgive Estragon. He has no sense of humor," Redenius said to Bond.
The man was boorish, Bond thought. He was the type of person who used his power and charisma to bully people.
"Redenius ... that sounds German," Bond said.
"My father was German, my mother was Russian. I was born in what became East Germany, but I was raised in the Soviet Union," the man said. "Now I live in Hollywood, make movies and play golf!"
"I want to dance," Victoria said. "Anton, will you dance with me?"
"No, no, my dear," the man said. "I really must have something to eat. Please join me for some of this incredible food first."
"I'm not hungry. Mr. Bond, will you dance with me?" she invited.
Bond said, "Certainly," and allowed Miss October 1994 to pull him toward the dance floor.
It was a song with a heavy beat, something Bond had never heard. He normally disliked disco dancing. He preferred the more traditional ballroom and big band swing. But he had learned early on, when he was a young man in the sixth form, that being able to dance went a long way toward impressing the opposite sex.
Victoria began to bump and grind in front of him, then took his arms and pulled him to her. He followed along, -- gazing into her eyes. The sleepwear made the body contact extremely sensual. She pressed her breasts into his chest. The pearl necklace glinted in the mirror ball lights, a direct signal to her magnificent cleavage.
"That's quite a necklace," Bond said.
"Thank you," Victoria replied. "It was a birthday present from Anton."
"Really?"
"Can you believe it? He's asked me to star in his next movie! We're going to film it in Russia. We leave in two days. I'm so excited! I try to go back once a year anyway."
"I thought Miss Dergan said you have a law degree."
"I do. I'll continue that, of course, but acting might be fun. I still model, so it's really the same thing, isn't it? It's only for two months. I wouldn't want to make a career of it, because I need more intellectual stimulation. But he needed a blonde Russian girl who speaks English, so he asked me. I suppose it didn't hurt that we've been dating."
"Ah-ha," Bond said, "the old casting couch trick."
She shoved him playfully. "Stop, it's not like that. Besides, I date other men, too. I'm terribly unfaithful." With that, she moved closer to him. "You like the pearls? Anton wants me to wear them in Russia as part of the character. I'll be nervous traveling with something worth as much as these are. But I think pearls are sexy, don't you?"
They continued to dance silently, as Victoria slowly removed the pearl necklace and used it as a prop to tantalize Bond. She pulled it up along his face, over his head and down the other side. She rolled the pearls on his skin, allowing him to feel the smooth texture. Then she placed the string against his mouth. He opened his lips and sucked three pearls into his mouth. He bit them gently, noting their smoothness.
Bond reached up, removed the necklace from Victoria's hands and placed it around her neck. The song ended as he glanced up to see Martin Tuttle entering the tent.
"Thank you," he said to the girl. "That was thoroughly enjoyable. However, you must excuse me. There's someone that I must speak to."
"That's OK," she said. "I enjoyed it, too. I hope I'll see you later!" She quickly snared bandleader Ray Anthony from the sidelines as the music picked up with a disco hit.
Martin Tuttle was dressed in a white terrycloth robe that had big pockets. It looked as though it might have been provided by a hotel. His date was a young woman with a pierced nose and crimson hair. Behind them were two more couples of the same ilk.
Lisa Dergan stepped up to Bond and hooked his arm, saying, "Who is this handsome guy standing over here by himself? You want to get something to eat -- oh look, Martin Tuttle and Chocky Day!" She squeezed his arm. "Sorry, I'm a little starstruck. This is all pretty new to me! I knew being a Playmate would put me in contact with a lot of famous people, but I had no idea! Come on, Mr. Bond, let's go talk to them."
"All right. But you have to call me James."
They walked across the floor and caught Tuttle and his entourage heading for the buffet line. Bond and Lisa joined the queue behind them. Tuttle was telling Day a story about how his manager had swindled him.
"You're going to have to sue," Day said.
"Well, that's possible, but I just might not have to now," Tuttle replied.
"Oh? Got something up your sleeve?"
"Definitely."
"Excuse me, Mr. Tuttle?" Lisa interrupted. "I'm Lisa Dergan, Miss July 1998. I just wanted to meet you. I love your music."
Tuttle's eyes widened as he took in the lovely girl. "Well, hello." He held out his hand. "Nice to meet you."
"This is embarrassing, I swear, but can I have your autograph?" Lisa gushed.
She picked up a napkin with midsummer night's dream printed on it. "I don't usually do this, but I just had to ask." She was so charming about it that Tuttle laughed.
"Of course" he said. "Do you have a pen?"
"I do," Bond said. He handed the Sheaffer Levenger to Tuttle. The rock star took a second to admire it, then wrote his name with a flourish. He handed the napkin to Lisa and said, "Here you are."
"Thank you!"
Tuttle offered the pen back to Bond and said, "Thanks."
"Keep it."
"Huh?"
"Go ahead, you can have it," Bond said. "You might be accosted by more fans tonight."
"Why, thank you, this is a nice pen."
Tuttle stuck the pen in his robe pocket, as Bond hoped he would. "Say, you're from my side of the pond, aren't you?"
"That's right," Bond said without elaborating.
The buffet spread was the pièce de résistance of the party. Cubes of fruit formed a three-foot pyramid, cascading down mirrored blocks into a river of colors on the table. There were five Middle Eastern salads. Dinner consisted of roasted crown of lamb; grilled skewered swordfish marinated in lemon juice, olive oil and bay leaves; grilled kebabs of tomato and colorful bell peppers; moussaka made traditionally with extralean ground beef and lamb, eggplant, tomato and cheese; and a saffron-scented pilaf.
Bond and Lisa sat on cushions on the floor and ate at a low table. The place was packed now, and the scene reminded Bond of a sultan's harem. One woman in a bra and panties removed her top and began feeding grapes to a man lying on his back with his head in her lap. As the party progressed into the night, the amount of bare skin increased. The atmosphere became erotically charged as disrobed couples went swimming or disappeared into some of the more private areas such as the Grotto, the bathhouse or the more intimate rooms in the Game House. The older guests were more modest, but they seemed to be reveling in the spirit of the event as much as the younger crowd was.
"Isn't Hef a nice man?" Lisa asked. "For his birthday I baked him a chocolate chip cookie in the shape of a rabbit. It was big, too -- it filled a pizza box! Hey, do you golf?"
"A little," Bond replied with a shrug. He found Lisa delightful. Her girl-next-door wholesomeness was a contrast to Victoria's more worldly bad-girl image. When Lisa wasn't looking, though, Bond slipped the earphone into his ear and adjusted the volume on the receiver in his housecoat pocket. He immediately heard Martin Tuttle talking to his date.
"We'll go back to England as soon as I finish the job," he was saying.
"But you promised, Martin!" she said.
They continued the conversation for a few minutes, then Tut
tle said to his friends, "I'll be right back. Watch my plate, will you?" He slipped through the crowd and left the main tent. Bond concentrated on listening to Tuttle, but Lisa was attempting to make conversation. He did his best to pay attention to her, but when he heard Tuttle's voice whisper, "There you are, I've been looking for you," Bond held up his hand to shut her up.
"What?" she asked, confused.
"Shhh," he said.
Another man's voice, one with a thick accent, replied, "What are you worried about? We were bound to run into each other, Martin." Bond recognized the accent as that of the Russian filmmaker, Anton Redenius.
"Look, I delivered your stuff yesterday. You promised me my money tonight. A deal is a deal," Tuttle said.
"Quite so. Haven't you made plenty of money on our little deals? Fine, we are prepared to give you your payment for this one," Redenius said. "Estragon?"
Tuttle gasped and made a choking sound. Bond jumped up from the pillows, catlike and without saying a word to his bewildered Playmate companion, and ran past the pool and out of the tent.
Outside he heard the gurgling and wheezing sounds intensify.
"I'm sorry, Martin. This is your midsummer night's doom," Redenius said. "Keep him quiet, Estragon. We don't want anyone to hear us."
Tuttle continued to choke and gag. Bond raced past one of the security guards, who was dressed in a lightweight suit.
"Sir, you need to stay within the -- hey!" he shouted as Bond jumped across a rope barrier and ran into the darkness. The guard followed, but Bond was far ahead of him.
He ran past the caged squirrel monkey, causing an outburst of chattering, and into a grove of redwood trees. Then he saw them. Anton Redenius and his henchman, Estragon, were standing over the body of Martin Tuttle. Estragon was holding a wire garrote extending from his wristwatch. He looked up and saw Bond, then released the wire, which snapped back into his watch.
Bond drew his gun and said, "Freeze!"
"No, you freeze!" came a voice from behind him. It was the security guard, training his Beretta on Bond.
Bond didn't move but said, "These men are criminals. The tall one just murdered the man on the ground. I work for the British government."
"Don't be a fool!" Redenius said to the guard. "We found this man here. I think it was this Brit who killed him!"
"All three of you!" the guard said. "Hands up. You, drop the gun. Now!"
Bond did as he was told. The three men raised their hands. The guard kicked the Walther away and gestured with the Beretta. "All right, walk back toward the tents, slowly."
The guard reached for a walkie-talkie with his free hand and spoke into it. "John, I've got a dead man in the woods and three suspects. We're walking toward the tents from the redwoods. Send backup immedi ———"
His words were cut short as Estragon surprised him. The brute grabbed the guard's gun arm with a well-practiced maneuver and brought it down hard on his knee, snapping it in two. The Beretta flew into the air. Estragon deftly caught it, then kicked the guard in the chest. The man went down, crying in agony. Estragon swung the gun around to Bond and prepared to fire, but 007 was a second ahead of him. He lunged for the big man's waist, tackling him. The gun went off in the air. They struggled for control of the weapon as the guard writhed helplessly. Anton Redenius, meanwhile, slipped away and disappeared into the darkness.
Estragon punched Bond several times in the face, in rapid succession. The blows stunned him, giving the bodyguard time to get to his feet and run. Dazed, Bond stood up, got his bearings and chased after the man.
Estragon was big and agile, but he wasn't fast on his feet. Bond caught up to him inside the tent at the pool, just as other guards arrived on the scene. Bond leaped for the man and they both went into the water with a splash. Naked revelers screamed and jumped out of the way, climbing over the sides to grab their towels.
Two guards drew their guns and aimed at the men, but they were stopped by Hugh Hefner, who appeared behind them with his head of security. "Hold your fire!" he shouted.
The fight continued in the pool, where Bond was in his element. He was an expert swimmer and one of only three double-O agents who had taken a first in SIS' underwater combat course, and he quickly gained an advantage by using Estragon's weight and size against him. Bond got the man's neck in the crook of his arm and squeezed, pulling him below the surface. Able to hold his breath for an extraordinary amount of time, Bond had no problem keeping his opponent submerged until he began to panic. Bond had saved an ounce of strength for this very moment. He applied more pressure, locking Estragon's neck in a tight grip, forcing him to swallow water. The struggling continued for another minute, and then the bodyguard went limp.
Bond pulled him out of the water and rolled him onto the deck of the pool. Completely beaten, Estragon began to cough and gasp as two guards handcuffed him. Another pair of guards approached Bond with cuffs, but Hefner said, "Wait. Not him."
By now, a large, semidressed crowd had gathered next to the pool. They had heard the commotion and the gunshot. Lisa Dergan was there, as were Victoria Zdrok and her companion, Anton Redenius.
Bond pointed at Redenius. "He's the one you need to arrest," he said, fighting for breath. "He's a killer and a spy."
"How dare you!" Redenius said. "I shall sue you for slander! No one lies about me that way! "
Bond stood up and faced him. "You are involved in organized crime in Russia. Martin Tuttle stole classified strategic information from my country and gave it to you. You're planning to smuggle it into Russia when you go there to make your movie, then sell it to your Mafia friends. Martin Tuttle has been supplying you with data for sometime now, but instead of paying him off, you had him killed."
"Lies!" Redenius shouted. He turned to the shocked crowd. "He tells lies!"
Victoria was looking at him oddly. "Is this true, Anton?" she asked.
"Of course not! He can't prove anything he says!"
Bond calmly approached Victoria and said, "I can prove it. May I borrow your necklace, please?"
"What?"
"Your valuable pearl necklace. May I?" He held out his hand.
She hesitated for a second, then unclasped the necklace and gave it to him.
Bond asked one of the guards to shine his flashlight on the ground. Then, surprising everyone, Bond dropped the necklace into the pool of light. He squatted down, picked up a stone and crushed the pearls with one blow. Victoria screamed.
Bond sifted through the pearls' debris and picked up three tiny black objects.
"Miniature microfilm cartridges," Bond said, holding them in his palm.
"I'm sorry, Victoria, I couldn't tell you before, but these pearls are fake. This man was using you as an unwitting courier. If you had been caught, you could have gone to jail for the rest of your life."
"How -- how did you know?" Victoria asked.
"When you put the necklace in my mouth, I tested the pearls with my teeth. That's how you can tell if they're real or not. If they feel smooth, they're fake. Real pearls are gritty, like sandpaper. I knew immediately that they were hollow. I had to be sure that Redenius was Tuttle's man before I told you."
Victoria gasped and looked at Redenius. "You bastard," she said through her teeth, then slapped him hard on the face, almost knocking him down. Redenius was dumbfounded.
Victoria turned away, saw Dr. Saginor watching with amazement and said, "Come on, Doctor; let's dance." She took Saginor by the hand and led him out of the crowd.
"Wait, my dear!" Redenius called after Victoria, but the guards roughly descended upon him. He was cuffed and taken away as he shouted obscenities and protests.
Hefner addressed the rest of the crowd. "Please, go on with the party. I apologize for this disturbance. The party will go on!"
The guards helped disperse the spectators and the swimmers dropped their towels and jumped back into the pool. Lisa remained behind with Hefner and Bond. The head of security returned Bond's Walther PPK to him, saying the
crime scene in the woods had been sealed off for the police.
"You got what you came for?" Hefner asked.
"Yes," Bond said, pocketing the microfilm and holstering his gun. He gave the receiver and earphone back to Hefner. "You'll find your fountain pen in the pocket of Martin Tuttle's robe."
"I don't care about that. I have three or four of them," Hefner said. "You know, that was good advice you gave me in Jamaica. We had a nice club in Ocho Rios."
Bond was amazed. "I'm surprised that you remember that day, Mr. Hefner," he said.
"We have always kept up with you, James," Hefner said with a wink. "We're a lot alike, you and I. And please, call me Hef."
Lisa said, "James, you'll probably have to make a statement to the police when they get here."
Bond nodded. "That will kill the rest of the evening. We don't have much time."
Hef cleared his throat, shook Bond's hand and politely withdrew.
"Come on, let's continue that tour," she said, taking Bond's arm and leading him toward the Grotto.
It was a dimly lit and misty facsimile of a small cavern with a warm spring running through it. There were at least two other couples snuggled in the nooks and crannies. Lisa chose a small alcove that was lined with cushions.
They got comfortable, lying together arm in arm.
"This is wonderful," he said.
She kissed him lightly on the cheek. Then she rose a bit and slipped the straps of her slip dress off her shoulders, letting it drop down to reveal her firm, round breasts. She put her arms around his neck, reclined next to him and whispered, "I don't normally do this sort of thing, you know. But they say that the Playboy Mansion is a place where fantasy becomes reality."
Bond ran a hand through her hair and said, "I've heard that before. Whoever 'they' are, they have my vote of complete confidence."
Then he brought his mouth ruthlessly down on hers.
Midsummer Night's Doom Page 2
