"I'm going to commit a murder! It's not that difficult. Lots of people do it. You can read what they did in the papers every day. Most of them get caught, of course, because they aren't smart enough."
He paused, considering her short skirt; it rode up above the knees as she perched on the bar stool; and her rayon-spun neck line dipped to an impressive vee. He raised his eyes a fraction to her face, and surveyed the deep blue eyes and her long raven black hair falling lusciously to below the shoulders.
She'd caught his attention as soon as he entered the room twenty minutes earlier. She seemed willing to entertain his banter, not yet weary of him and he had no intention of curtailing what was becoming a more and more interesting evening.
"So are you enjoying the conference? Do you think you'll get something from it?" he asked.
She looked at him, a deep penetrating look, as if there might be something deeper in the question. "Perhaps," she said.
"I always know what I want," he replied. "But you know how you come half way around the world and learn nothing you didn't know before." He finished drinking, returned the glass to the coaster, and dabbed away a tiny spot of liquid which had dropped onto his immaculate dark blue suit. She noticed the sparkle from the cuff links as his sleeve moved a few inches. "You see, international security means that people will have to die. If they get in the way they have to be removed. That's why we're here, isn't it? Your country and mine can work together to make the world a safer place but only if we cooperate. It is of course a fine philosophical point whether assassination is murder. You would have an opinion about that I imagine?"
She crossed her legs from right to left, considering the question. you have someone in mind?" she said.
"There are always people we have to remove," he said. "There are bodies in this room now we should consider. On my right and behind to your left: you'll catch his reflection in the mirror above the bar. Oleg Kerpinski, which is only one of his aliases. He's here to discover what the West is thinking but he has to go. I have instructions, quite detailed plans actually but I need assistance. By tomorrow night when we leave here he will have ceased to exist. No one will know where he's gone."
The girl eyed him impassively. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking. "What are you going to do?" she asked.
"It's too public here. People hear things. I'll go over the whole thing with you but I need your assistance. Meet you in thirty minutes. My room is on the second floor. 227."
A tiny glimmer of excitement flickered across her face. "And whom do I ask for? What is your name?"
"Bond. James Bond."