An interview to kill for

He's late for our table for two at the Hilton lobby. He apologises but does not seem to talk about the reason for his delay. As much as he is known to be a man of secrets, he is also a man full of stories. "They" don't exactly like him talking about his operations outside the agency, but then how would they stop a man that has saved the world from evildoers over a dozen times.

Not surprisingly he orders a martini at the bar, but gets upset when the bartender asks him not to smoke in the hotel lobby.

Not used to the smoking-laws of NY?
"It's ridiculous, I tell you that! If I survived being shot at a thousand times, exposed to heavy nuclear radiation, huge explosions and sharks, a mere cigar sure as bloody hell isn't going to kill me. Things aren't as they used to be, and I guess I'm not exactly changing with the times."

So what was it that got you into the agent-business in the first place?
"I guess it began in school, in the lower grades. I was quite small back then and the bigger boys began picking on me for my accent. I originally grew up in one of the rougher neighbourhoods in Edinburgh and my sister taught me to pick locks, so I managed to get open their lockers and then urinated on their schoolbooks as a revenge."

They let you be after that?
"Oh no, they beat me to pulp. But that's when I decided to learn how to put people to sleep by one punch in the face. I didn't really have any father figure, so it was up to my mother and sister to raise me, which I guess affected me in many ways.
For example I could never have a normal relation to a woman, I just saw my mother and sister in them. I also developed a very stereotypical personality in the absence of a proper father-figure."

Who was your father and where was he when you grew up?
"He was some kind of archaeologist, travelled a lot and the few times he came home he was mostly drunk. He had a strong aversions towards Germans which, being one of the few things I ever heard from my father, obviously had a great impact on me."

And you also travelled a lot in your job. What about children?
"Yes, that's true. I have twelve kids, all with different moms in different countries. I'm afraid I haven't exactly been too great a father myself. My whole life I've just devoted my life to work, and what do I have to show for that now? A liver the size of a raisin and a terrible cough.
And of course the nightmares."

Nightmares?
"Yes, all the henchmen I've killed, they all come to take me with them in my dreams. Horrible."

Did you ever have any doubts in carrying out the jobs you did?
"Not really. Of course I feel sorry for all the lives I've taken, but after all I did save the world over and over again, it's not like I had a choice. Besides, I had lots of fun in the process, I've always been grateful to the opportunity I got to work with this, in many ways it's been amazing."
I notice he get more and more talkative with the martinis, but also more arrogant. After glancing over at the casino-table for about ten minutes, he asks me if I'd like to play a game. I turn down the invite with the excuse that I'm a bad looser, after which he calls me a cowardly pussycat.

You've been retired now for some years, do you ever meet up with your old friends and contacts?
"I actually play snooker every fortnight with Jaws, he's not good at all but doesn't mind me beating him. Apart from him I don't feel too welcome by anybody else, it's not exactly a business where you make lasting relationships, just ask the mothers of my children."

What is your relation to the MI6 today?
"Do you see that man reading over there?"
He points at a young man in his early twenties sitting by the bus-stop reading a MAD-magazine
"That's one of theirs, keeping a watchful eye of my every move. They wouldn't want me to leak any details that could harm the agency, you know."

At this point I find it harder and harder to get anything coherent and of substance out of him, and after a while he gets up and tell me good luck with the article. I still have a whole bunch of questions left (though I admit most of them was about the women in his life) but he just walks out on the street leaving me with the tab for thirteen martinis and the feeling that we haven't seen the last of him yet.