Nope, Vanderhoven7--no book.
This is my voluntary time-waster while I think up excuses to NOT finish the real book I should be working on.
Please post your link for your book!
My new James Bond novel
Nope, Vanderhoven7--no book.
Palmolive shaving cream
Palmolive? Palmolive? Make it Old Spice and your story will be much more believable.
Esse Quam viden: Here ya go!
A reviewer of the Bond continuation book, Trigger Mortis, complained that the author did not use
an authentic shaving cream:
The novel is the first continuation novel to include material by Ian Fleming, a sub-plot involving SMERSH’s plan to murder a British racing driver. M sends Bond to Germany’s famous Nürburgring circuit to foil the plot.
The story was written by Fleming for an aborted US television show. He later reworked a number of stories for the short story collection For Your Eyes Only (1960). While the motor racing scenes are exciting, I wonder if Fleming didn’t rework the story for a reason. It doesn’t seem conceivable that Bond, with just a few days’ tuition, is able to improve his driving skills to Grand Prix standard, no matter how talented.
Set two weeks after the events of Goldfinger (1958), iconic Bond girl Pussy Galore makes a return at the start of the book. While well publicised, it is unnecessary to the book, which may have benefited from leaving her as nothing but a memory.
Otherwise Horowitz avoids cramming in too many of Bond’s habits, tastes and idiosyncrasies. Ian Fleming drip fed us that information over fourteen books, but some of the other continuation authors lay it on with too heavy a hand.
The other quibbles are down to small details. In Trigger Mortis uses an orange and bergamot shaving cream from Floris. Fleming only mentioned Palmolive and I can’t help feeling that the Floris shaving cream just isn’t Bond.
Here is the link to my book now being sold in Canada and the USA
Thank you, Vanderhoven7, I'll check it out!
“A spy network has five levels.
There are the provocateurs, the disposables, others who do dirty work, the propagandists, and the ultimate aces planted in the heart of the enemy deck.” Sun Tzu-The Art of War.
To: 007 Eyes Only
Code name: Lickety-split (Name redacted = A.M.)
Operative A.M. is the daughter of a psychiatrist at the Menninger Foundation. She was born in West Germany where her Puerto Rico born father (ex-military) ruled her brother and sister with an iron hand.
She frequently took exception to his authority, feeling a responsibility to protect her siblings from his authoritarian over-discipline.
When her family relocated from Germany, she spent her teen years growing up in the Midwest of America. There the family represented themselves as an ordinary All-American exemplar of immigrants to friends, neighbors and the world.
Two of her siblings became F.B.I. agents while (name expunged) A.M. (Lickety-split) herself was recruited into the Cuban Intelligence Service and within a year hired by the U.S. Defense Intelligence Agency.
Her recruitment was the result of a special grooming program created by the K.G.B. under Russian Premier Nikita Sergeevich Khrushchev on 4 May 1946.
The young man who seduced A.M. was an illegitimate son of Minister of State Security in the postwar years.
Once A.M. was turned, indoctrinated, and psych-evaluated she was induced to use the influence of her siblings to obtain a job interview which she was certain to pass with flying colors.
A.M. was thoroughly vetted, hired and there (D.I.D.) she rapidly moved up through the ranks, receiving Top Secret clearance and accolades as their Top Security Analyst who was considered the finest employee in the lot of them.
A.M.’s abilities were rated and evaluated as nothing short of spectacular.
She arrived at work earlier and stayed later than others. Her output was said to be three times that of any other department. It was whispered her actual output was more like nine times as great.
A.M possessed an eidetic memory which she used to memorize Top Secret intelligence later transcribed and passed to enemy agents.
By night, she worked for Fidel Castro, receiving encoded messages by shortwave radio that she then passed on to her contacts in crowded restaurants, and made secret trips to Cuba when she was able to leave the United States, with a wig and false passport,
A.M. spied for Cuba for 17 years without knowing her boss was not Cuban but the Kremlin; SMERSH (the Russian Smyert Shpionam - Смерть Шпионам - "Death to Spies").
Completely ignorant of both the irony of being a spy for an agency in charge of destroying spies--but naive about helping the Cuban people in some noble and selfless crusade, A.M. fit the profile of a True Believer.
A.M. passed on many secrets about her colleagues, defense strategies, and advanced listening platforms which the American special services, NATO, and West Germany installed as surveillance relating to Soviet activities.
After the success of Fidel Castro in Cuba, Russia groomed El Presidente Castro for a major insurgency involving nuclear missile installations 500 km from Miami.
About this time the paths of several principle operatives crossed.
A.M., Auric Goldfinger II, and Lamont Drax.
(Note: Auric II is the son of an international criminal, Auric Goldfinger, a 42-year-old from Riga, Latvia, who moved to Britain in 1937 at the age of 20.
Goldfinger Sr. following naturalization as a British citizen, became the richest man in England, although his wealth is not in English banks, nor did he pay taxes on it as it is spread as gold bullion in many countries, it is rumored. Goldfinger was the treasurer of SMERSH before his termination at the hands of British Intelligence,)
Auric Goldfinger Sr. passed on secret passcodes of his vaults of Soviet Gold to his attorney, Sergei Andreevsky.
Sergei Andreevsky presently is in the exclusive employ of Goldfinger the younger.
James Bond heaved a heavy sigh and lay aside the ‘Eyes Only’ report M had forwarded by courier to Bond’s hotel, The Wellington, in Madrid.
He reached for his drink and downed it. Fresh-squeezed orange juice cleansed the stale tobacco from his palate and prepared his stomach for Bond’s favorite meal of the day: breakfast.
He took out the notepad from the desk beside his bed and scribbled a response for the courier waiting outside in the hallway. Then, he replaced the official report in the security bag along with the note and clicked the lock.
Securely handcuffed, the courier disappeared down the stairs rather than taking the elevator and James Bond closed the door to his room and checked the lock.
After a breakfast of eggs, preferably scrambled, sausage, marmalade on toast and black coffee--his only task for this day would be to intercept attorney Sergei Andreevsky before he entered the local men’s club for his daily chess game with the other expats. The coercion he had in mind for the lawyer would produce the necessary access to Goldfinger’s bouillon before nightfall.
What could go wrong with Smersh, Drax, Castro, and Goldfinger’s billions in gold at stake?. Bond wondered sarcastically.