His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked away the blurriness swimming around him. At first sight, the room surrounding Bond appeared cavernous and white, sterile, like a hospital or laboratory. But this was no emergency room in London, or anywhere else, for that matter. He turned his head to one side and saw a stand with a heart monitor next to an IV drip. When he looked to the other side, he saw a woman with dark hair that was held back with a clip, keeping it away from her face and allowing it to flow down her shoulders like an elegant waterfall. As his focus sharpened, he noticed her soft cheeks and caring eyes, and that she was wearing a white lab jacket.

"Do I know you?" Bond said, his words rasping over his throat. He hadn't spoken in a while. How long he didn't know?

She offered a warm smile. "I'm afraid no one has formally introduced us."

"I think I would remember you." He attempted a grin and tried to sit up but winced when a sharp pain knifed through his skull.

"You need to take it easy. The area around the implant is still tender."

Bond narrowed his eyes, and when the pain died down, he said, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the details of your surgery, only to oversee your recovery. Now, if you will relax and behave yourself, Mr. Hinx will return shortly."

That name didn't ring a bell, but it sounded familiar. His short-term memory must have taken a hit when he struck the water. "May I ask your name?"

"You may."

Bond waited.

"Persephone Payne. Dr. Persephone Payne." She pursed her lips to one side. "Don't get any ideas, Mr. Bond. You're here for a purpose, one I'm sure you won't like."

With that, she left him alone in the room, passing through a door, through which revealed a hallway with a rocky wall. Probably granite, he surmised. He must be underground in a secure bunker, thus the reason they hadn't shackled him to the bed. They didn't consider an escape possible. They didn't know Bond very well. It wasn't wise to underestimate his uncanny ability to make an enemy compound go up in flames on his way out. He had done that before. He could do it again.

But first things first.

This time, after pressing a button on the side of the bed to raise it, he carefully nudged himself up to a better position on the slight incline. The room moved around him until his equilibrium leveled out. The pain flared in his head but subsided. He moved on to what came next.

A peek under the sheets made him wince. He was lacking in apparel. The good doctor had neglected to tell him anything about that.

A quick glance around the room and he discovered a charcoal gray suit, white button-up shirt, black socks and shoes. The clothes were just waiting there for him, and so he obliged his captors by getting dressed, as quickly as his achy head would allow.

He was straightening his tie when the hulking man who had pulled him from the water stepped into the room.

Memories flashed.

In no time, he remembered that the man standing before him was an assassin. "Hello, Mr. Hinx. I thought you were—"

"Dead? No. Sorry to spoil your party. The rope you wrapped around my neck slipped free moments after the kegs yanked me from the train. Took me a while to recover, but I never forgot that you tried to kill me."

"It was self-defense."

"Touché." He nodded nonchalantly. "It pleases me to see you found your clothes."

As athletic and defined as Bond's physique was, Hinx stood a full head taller and filled out his suit with muscles befitting a bodybuilder. He produced a gun from his jacket and took aim. "You woke up just in time for your execution, Mr. Bond. Now, if you will come with me."