Pc - 007- Quantum Of Solace Page

The rain over Venice had not stopped for seventy-two hours. It fell in sheets, washing the centuries of grime from the marble and depositing it into the swollen canals. For most, it was a nuisance. For M, it was a funeral shroud.

The second: a woman. Blonde, pale, with eyes the color of a winter sea. Vesper Lynd. Treasury liaison. Deceased.

She stood beneath the arched colonnade of the San Giorgio Maggiore, her trench coat collar turned against the damp. In her gloved hand, she held a single file, stamped in crimson: . PC - 007- Quantum of Solace

“Ma’am,” he said, handing her a burner phone. “He made contact.”

M closed her eyes. She had seen this before. Agents hollowed out by grief, turned into precision instruments of revenge. They always broke. Sometimes they took others with them. The rain over Venice had not stopped for seventy-two hours

The mission would succeed. Bond would see to that. But PC-007 would remain open, a permanent stain on his file. A reminder that even 00-agents have a breaking point. And when they cross it, the only solace left is the one they refuse to take.

He hung up.

The third: Mr. White. A ghost in a tailored suit. The organization behind the ghost: Quantum.