quarrelling: well I think I inherited that attractive trait from him. We could get into furious fights over business decisions, but it didn’t mean we didn’t love each other. I respect my father and he respected me. I earned my place in King Industries. I worked hard at university. And he knew I had what it took.’
‘My superior at MI6 thought very highly of him,’ Bond said.
‘Dear M,’ Elektra said. ‘What a lady. She is very maternal toward me.’
‘Tell me about your mother,’ Bond said.
‘She was very kind, but quiet and shy. Introverted. She spoke very quietly, almost in a whisper. She came from a very cultured family that wasn’t very smart in business, I’m afraid. My father, well, he saved their business, but he had to take it from them to do it. My mother died when I was six years old. It was one of those cancers that hit unexpectedly and spread rapidly. I don’t remember a lot about it except that it was a very painful time in my life. To tell the truth. I don’t remember too many happy times before then, either.’
‘Why is that?’
‘My parents . . . they quarrelled. A lot. It’s practically the only thing I remember about their relationship. Come to think of it, I think they mostly quarrelled about me. Sometimes I wonder why they got married. Oh, I’m sure they loved each other, but they were very different people. Two different cultures. Even so, my father was constantly at her side during the illness, and she died in the hospital, holding his hand.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I look back and I realise that I don’t have too many memories of my mother. After all, I was young when she died. I remember a lullaby that she used to sing to me. It’s one of the few pleasant memories I have of her,’
She began to sing, slowly and softly, a haunting melody. She looked up at him and smiled. ‘The first words have no meaning. The rest is “Calves entered the vegetable garden; gardener, drive away the calves, don’t let them eat the cabbage . . . Sleep my baby sleep, sleep and grow up, drive away the calves, nenni my little sweet baby nenni.” I never really got to know my mother. I don’t know why. She was afraid ... of something. I don't know what. Of life, perhaps.’
After a moment’s reflection, she continued. ‘As I grew up, I was the exact opposite. I couldn’t get enough out of life. I was my father’s princess. He promised me the would and I guess I got it before I thought I would.’
‘You seem to be doing a fine job running the company.’ ‘Thanks. You don’t know how passionate I am about finishing the pipeline. It’s something that will make history, I know it. I owe it to my father to finish it, certainly, but you
know what? I owe it to my mother more. If it hadn’t been for her family’s oil company, and their land that my father developed early on ... we wouldn’t be here today. My mother’s ancestors clung to their oil for years. It’s a matter of honour.’
She put into words what Bond found attractive about her. It was the passion she embodied — whether it was for her work, for sport, her love for her parents, or for the fervent sex that she so thoroughly enjoyed.
As he rubbed the muscles in her shoulders, Bond focused on an unusual jewel in her earlobe. It was the ear he had seen bandaged in the kidnappers’ Polaroid. The base of the diamond was wide, covering something on the skin.
Their eyes met. She knew what he was pondering. Tenderly, he reached out and touched the jewel. She didn’t stop him.
‘He used a pair of wire cutters on it,’ she said. ‘He said he was going to cut my whole ear off and send it to my father. I don’t know why he didn’t.’
‘Can you tell me about him?’
‘His name was Renard. I’ve heard him called Renard the Fox. I learned that from your people after . . . after it was all over. He was. . . horrible. He shouted a lot. He made me . . . do things. He hit me. He snipped my earlobe with wire cutters. It was
‘My superior at MI6 thought very highly of him,’ Bond said.
‘Dear M,’ Elektra said. ‘What a lady. She is very maternal toward me.’
‘Tell me about your mother,’ Bond said.
‘She was very kind, but quiet and shy. Introverted. She spoke very quietly, almost in a whisper. She came from a very cultured family that wasn’t very smart in business, I’m afraid. My father, well, he saved their business, but he had to take it from them to do it. My mother died when I was six years old. It was one of those cancers that hit unexpectedly and spread rapidly. I don’t remember a lot about it except that it was a very painful time in my life. To tell the truth. I don’t remember too many happy times before then, either.’
‘Why is that?’
‘My parents . . . they quarrelled. A lot. It’s practically the only thing I remember about their relationship. Come to think of it, I think they mostly quarrelled about me. Sometimes I wonder why they got married. Oh, I’m sure they loved each other, but they were very different people. Two different cultures. Even so, my father was constantly at her side during the illness, and she died in the hospital, holding his hand.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I look back and I realise that I don’t have too many memories of my mother. After all, I was young when she died. I remember a lullaby that she used to sing to me. It’s one of the few pleasant memories I have of her,’
She began to sing, slowly and softly, a haunting melody. She looked up at him and smiled. ‘The first words have no meaning. The rest is “Calves entered the vegetable garden; gardener, drive away the calves, don’t let them eat the cabbage . . . Sleep my baby sleep, sleep and grow up, drive away the calves, nenni my little sweet baby nenni.” I never really got to know my mother. I don’t know why. She was afraid ... of something. I don't know what. Of life, perhaps.’
After a moment’s reflection, she continued. ‘As I grew up, I was the exact opposite. I couldn’t get enough out of life. I was my father’s princess. He promised me the would and I guess I got it before I thought I would.’
‘You seem to be doing a fine job running the company.’ ‘Thanks. You don’t know how passionate I am about finishing the pipeline. It’s something that will make history, I know it. I owe it to my father to finish it, certainly, but you
know what? I owe it to my mother more. If it hadn’t been for her family’s oil company, and their land that my father developed early on ... we wouldn’t be here today. My mother’s ancestors clung to their oil for years. It’s a matter of honour.’
She put into words what Bond found attractive about her. It was the passion she embodied — whether it was for her work, for sport, her love for her parents, or for the fervent sex that she so thoroughly enjoyed.
As he rubbed the muscles in her shoulders, Bond focused on an unusual jewel in her earlobe. It was the ear he had seen bandaged in the kidnappers’ Polaroid. The base of the diamond was wide, covering something on the skin.
Their eyes met. She knew what he was pondering. Tenderly, he reached out and touched the jewel. She didn’t stop him.
‘He used a pair of wire cutters on it,’ she said. ‘He said he was going to cut my whole ear off and send it to my father. I don’t know why he didn’t.’
‘Can you tell me about him?’
‘His name was Renard. I’ve heard him called Renard the Fox. I learned that from your people after . . . after it was all over. He was. . . horrible. He shouted a lot. He made me . . . do things. He hit me. He snipped my earlobe with wire cutters. It was
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