Bond knew that M was right. This would be the toughest assignment yet for the agent licensed to kill on Her Majesty's Secret Service. This could be mission impossible.
Now standing in Ernst Stavro Duchâtelet's secret underground headquarters located beneath a chocolate shop at Brussels railway station, he could hear his heart beat rapidly as he waited for the mad megalomaniac to show himself and reveal how he intended to take over the entire world of professional football via his evil EU based network.
"Ah Mr Bond, we meet at last, hah."
Bond swivelled on his heels making a move for the 9mm Beretta fitted snugly into the shoulder holster concealed under his Savile Row suit.
There was the much feared head of SPECTRE and public enemy number one to every sane Charlton fan left in SE7. A tall robotic figure with grey hair and a sneaky Belgium charm, Duchâtelet was stroking a white Persian cat held in his arms while sitting at a large desk covered with electronic components and back issues of Exchange and Mart.
"Why don't you tell me what you're up to Blofeld... I mean Duchâtelet" demanded Bond. "Why did you get rid of our Number 3 and then your Number 2. What happened to agents Powell and Riga?"
"My organisation cannot tolerate failure Mr Bond" said the head of SPECTRE with a sinister twisted smile, adjusting his eye patch as he dropped live white bunny rabbits into a swimming pool behind his desk, stocked with hammer-head sharks and piranhas.
He mumbled a musical ditty as the bunny's were eaten alive by the marine monsters which sounded to Bond like "chrissy powell's red and white army" as blood boiled in the pool water.
"It is time for change Mr Bond. We need a new agent in charge of the London section as we drive for world domination."
He stabbed at a red button on the desk and a beautiful young woman entered the office with long fair hair, dressed only in a tight fitting red leather jump suit, unzipped low at the chest and emblazoned with the Charlton Athletic club badge. She sat on Duchâtelet's lap seductively and offered Bond a provocative smile while stroking her (his) pussy.
"I think you may have met Ms Katrien or perhaps you know her by one of her pseudonyms Mr Bond, such as 'Pussy Galore' or 'Ms Goalmouth Action 2007'" offered Duchâtelet with a cruel smirk.
Bond felt an urgent tension in his trouser area as Katrien offered one of Duchalet's gold embossed soldering irons up to her ruby red lips.
" How is M...or should I really say how is Mr Richard Murray??," she asked playfully.
Bond was horrified that the secret identity of the head of MI6 should be known to Duchalet's sex- plaything so decided to counter attack with a daring bluff.
"We know all about the illegal serum developed in your secret laboratory in Antwerp, Blofeld, that you think will help you dominate world football. Only a mad old fool would try to get away with such a crazy plan," said Bond.
"So you know about the code-name 'hat -trick' serum Mr Bond," said Duchâtelet looking even more ghostly than usual. How very very clever of you ha..ha..ha..ha"
"Please let me remind you that this is a game of two halves Mr Bond and I am a genius..ha..ha..ha"
Duchâtelet shook his head back with a sinister lunatic's laugh that send a chill down Bond's trouser leg as he admired the lines of Pussy's red jump suit.
"Yes we have developed the perfect secret weapon- code-name 'Hat-trick'" whispered Duchalet. You see Mr Bond even completely inept players like agent Sordell and agent Harriot, take one swig of the secret serum and they score hat-tricks in every game. It is so easy for me now and they are my football slaves...ha..ha..ha"
"So now we will illegally traffic players from the lower leagues in Hungary and Estonia via my network, disguised as computers and when we give them the secret hat trick serum we can sell them for millions of Euros. Millions I tell you Mr Bond. Millions. I will be even more rich and powerful and will take over the world. Not even that senile old fool, agent Blatter at the Geneva section will be able to stop me this time."
Bond maintained a steely grimace while quaking in his boots because he knew what M and every Charlton fan knew in their heart. Without the secret serum and the backing of the sinister electronics meglomaniac from Ostende, Charlton would only score twice.
6
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