A case of mistaken identity

A case of mistaken identity&;#8230;

I remember it well. It was the 35th of Octember. Or, was it Septober?
Anyway, it was a beautiful morning when I awoke. I got up and dressed,
then went downstairs. After a light breakfast of boil-in-the-bag
octopus bollocks, in curry sauce, washed down with lashings of ginger
beer, I was fit for anything. I was about to go out for my morning jog,
when on checking my watch realised it was only 4am. I went back to bed
and read a few more pages of my rare copy of a first-edition
leather-bound1935 Hong-Kong telephone directory.

At eight precisely, I got up and went out jogging. I had gone some
fifty yards, when my path was blocked by a sinister trio. One of them
extended a hand.
'Coldfingers', he said.
'I'm sorry to hear it', I replied.
'No, you don't understand, I am Doctor Coldfingers'.
'Pleased to meet you'. I shook his hand. His fingers were cold.
'And you are?'
How remiss of me, I realised. He could not see my face, dressed as I
was for a workout. I removed my balaclava, welding goggles and duffel
coat, and my Rupert-the-bear scarf.
'Schpond, Jamie Schpond', I introduced myself. Coldfingers' companion
- the one with the boy-scout uniform and top-hat - stepped forward and
felt my pulse. He then checked my heartbeat with a stethoscope. He
thrust his fingers into my mouth and explored my larynx, with the aid
of a torch.
'Say ah', he said, and gripping my tongue between forefinger and thumb
squeezed hard.
'Aaaaaaaaaarrrgh!' I screamed in agony. The scout-boy stepped back and
muttered something to Coldfingers who produced a clipboard and pen,
from beneath his cycle-cape. He jotted down a few notes, then put it
away.
'We've been inspecting you, Mr Bond', he said.
'Actually', I corrected him, 'it's Schpond', Jamie Schpond'.
'Yes, of course, Mr Bond, er James, rather. Now perhaps we may repair
to your abode, where I shall put a proposition to you. Please, lead the
way', he gestured.
'Certainly', I feigned compliance. Then, suspecting that there was
devilry afoot, I turned and ran as fast as I could along the street.
Unfortunately, despite my efforts, Coldfingers and his entourage
managed to keep track of me, and in a jiffy the good Doctor lifted the
lid of my neighbours coalbunker.
'Ah, there you are, Mr Bond', he said. 'Now, shall we go
inside?'

In the living-room I mixed a cocktail - shaken but not spilled - whilst
waiting for Coldfingers to come to the point of his visit. He sauntered
across the room and stopped to stroke a small leopard, which stood atop
the sideboard.
'Remarkable', he commented, 'so lifelike'. He ran a thumb across its
glazed eyeball. The leopard snarled and lashed out, then ran from the
room.
'Tiddles, you naughty girl!' I shouted after her.
'Owyabastard!' Coldfingers yelped, squeezing a bloody hand under his
ockster. 'I thought the damned thing was stuffed'.
'Hmm, fooled me for a moment too', I confessed, 'must've been a trick
of the light'.
'Yes, quite', Coldfingers made light of the incident. 'Now then Mr Bond
- or should I call you double-o-seven?'
'No, no', I said, 'that's my neighbour down the road. I'm
double-o-zero'.
'Hmm, quite', Coldfingers muttered vaguely, whilst inspecting the
damage to his bloodied hand. 'Now then'. He snapped the digits of his
good hand at his top-hatted boy-scout companion. 'Bob-a-job, the slides
please', he instructed. Bob-a-job removed his top-hat and placed it on
my Jacobean occasional table - the one with the 3/4 inch plywood
veneer, and coloured with stainer that "does exactly what it says on
the tin".

Meanwhile, the third man stood quietly in a dark corner. He was so
nondescript that he blended in unnoticed. In fact I'm beginning to
wonder if there was a third man. Perhaps there were only the two of
them. Bob-a-job pressed a button on his top-hat, and a mini-projector
popped into view.
'May I?' Coldfingers asked. Not waiting for a reply he closed the
curtains, denying us the benefit of the morning rainlight. Bob-a-job
adjusted the lamp on his projector so that it illuminated the wall next
to the life-sized alabaster deathmask of Bob Geldof's hairdresser,
which my aunt Naggy had smuggled out of Ireland inside a stuffed
leprechaun.

Whilst Bob-a-job wrestled with the beam, Coldfingers wandered over to
my freshwater aquarium. He dangled a hand in the tepid water.
'Reminds me of my boyhood', he mused. 'My father taught me to guddle
trout with my bare hands. An invaluable, but sadly lost art, methinks'.
He suddenly pulled a wriggling, purple-eared shlunk from the tank, and
held it aloft for my inspection.
'I'd advise you to replace that fish immediately', I said.
'Oh, yes, why is that?' He held the shlunk proudly, like a father with
a newly born babe.
'Simply because it's one of the most poisonous species found in the
Southern Hemisphere', I informed him.
'Aaargh!' He tossed it back into the tank and wiped his hands
disgustedly on his jodhpurs. 'Nasty spines, I suppose', he said.
'No', not at all', I explained, 'but if not cooked properly it can
cause a particularly nasty stomach upset, such as I personally
witnessed when nineteen people were afflicted with chronic diahorrea,
in a Puerto-Rican brothel'.
'Pah!' He poo-pooed my warning, 'Hardly a cause for concern'.
'Well, it was for them. You see there was only one toilet. Not a
pleasant experience, I can tell you'.
'Hmm, quite', Coldfingers mumbled, 'now, to get down to
business'.

He gestured to Bob-a-job, who handed him a remote-controller for the
projector. Coldfingers aimed at the projector and flicked a switch. An
image of a large Spanish-style villa appeared on the wall.
'This', Coldfingers pointed, 'is the summer residence of one Professor
Marmaduke Schorttschafft, multi-zillionaire, Pokemon collector, and
serious contender for world dominance. And this&;#8230;' He conjured
up a shot of a small man in a Santa Claus outfit, handing out presents,
from behind a tree, to scruffy looking orphan types, 'is the man
himself'.
'Can't see much', I said
'Yes, I'm afraid the Professor tends to shun publicity', Coldfingers
replied, 'this is the best we could do at short notice'. He flicked
onto the next slide, which showed Coldfingers himself, with his arms
around a couple of young men who were dressed in leather bondage-ware
and sported thick moustaches. 'And this is the local gay bar in- eh?
wait a minute. I&;#8230; em&;#8230; How did that get in there?'
He flashed a quick glare at Bob-a-job, as he fumbled with the remote
controller, and switched to the next slide. It showed a motley
assortment of desperadoes, looking like they had just stepped of the
film set of "The Godfather". 'This', he indicated, 'is the Professor's
inner circle. The Professor is the one hiding beneath the table, his
left leg is clearly visible'. He continued on through the slides,
showing and describing more shots of the villa. In some, various parts
of the Professor's anatomy were visible, as he sought to avoid being
captured on camera.
'This is all very interesting', I interrupted, 'however, I do have an
appointment with my colour therapist, so I must ask you to get to the
point'.
'Ah, yes. I do apologise', coldfingers apologised. 'Anyway, as I have
already indicated, Professor Schorttschafft is a dangerous genius. He's
hell bent on world domination, an ambition which has the CIA and MI5
worried'.
'And?'
'Well, Mr Bond, the Professor's up to something, at that villa of his -
but we don't know what. That's where you come in'.
'I do?'
'Yes, indeed. You see, we want you to infiltrate the villa, and find
out what's going on'.
'You do?'
'Yes. And we've got financial backing - from HRH'.
'The Queen?'
No, no. His Royal Highness the Sultan of Uloongawoonga - a small
dictatorship in Central Africa. He's keen to eliminate the
competition'.
'I see', I saw, 'but Dr Coldfingers, how do you expect me to get inside
the villa. I mean am I to go disguised as an Avon lady, or-?'
'No, no, no, Mr Bond, it's simple. The Professor has commissioned a
contractor to install a new security system in the villa. I've arranged
for you to intercept the technician, and take his place'.
'But I'd be rumbled immediately! I complained, 'I know nothing about
installing security systems in Spanish villa's!'
'Fear not, Mr Bond, I've got that covered. 'Here', he produced a book
from his cycling-cape pocket, and passed it over to me. 'I picked it up
from the local library on the way here', he added.
It was entitled, "How To Install Security Systems In Spanish Villa's"
by A.S. Park.
'I see you've thought this through', I said, 'but what about
tools?'
'Here's a blue one'. He tossed a crumpled five-pound note to me, 'pop
into B&;Q on your way to the airport. You're to leave today'.
'And my fee?' I enquired, as I tucked the banknote into my
sporran.
'?25,000 now, a further ?25,000 on submission of your investigation
report', he offered.
'No', I protested, 'that's no good. I'll need the whole ?50,000 up
front. I'm a heavy gambler'.
'Very well, Mr Bond', he said. He tossed me a Safeway carrier bag
containing ?50,000 in used notes. 'Now, Mr Bond, if you'll kindly
excuse us , we really must be going, or I'll miss Emmerdale'.
'Fine', I said.
'Oh, and we'll leave by the back door, if you don't mind. I'm being
followed, you see'.
'Oh, by whom', I asked, intrigued. The KGB? Mossad?'
'No. Worse, I'm afraid', Coldfingers shook his head sadly. His eyes had
the haunted look of a tormented soul. 'I'm afraid I'm being stalked by
an overzealous salesman from Weatherseal Windows. He's keen to sell me
a conservatory'.

When they'd gone I gathered up my most prized belongings and stuffed
them into a suitcase. I put a note for the milkman on the doorstep,
then left the house for good. I flagged down a passing motorist and
sold him the house for cash. He only coughed up ?8000, plus his car,
but I can't complain. After all, the house belonged to the town
council. I drove down to Milton Keynes, where I lay low for the next
thirteen years, under the guise of an unemployed lamplighter. You see,
I had decided to decline Dr Coldfingers' assignment. It just seemed
like too much bother. Besides, I didn't know the address of the Spanish
villa. However, I opted to retain the ?50,000.