The cell phone displays an encrypted message. He uses an application and converts the message. Someone at the agency informing him about a possible security breach.

The Chinese already know about his presence in Shandong. But that was the least of his problems at the moment.

"James, don't be like this. It happens."

"It's never happened to me."

"Every man goes through it one day."

"Sixty years of history and I've always done my duty."

"Seventy if you count Fleming times."

"Absolutely, but it wasn't until after Kennedy that it all happened."

The almond-eyed young Thai woman hands over a martini to him.

""Shaken, not stirred?"

"Sorry, I forgot. I'll make another."

"Never mind. We have an urgent matter to take care of."

"The Chinese know that we are with the plans for the new hypersonic missel. Is that what the message says?"

He laughs buttoning up his striped shirt and knotting his tie.

"How did you guess? But that's not it. I need to solve that problem. It's more urgent."

"More!"

"Things can't go on like this. Britain's image can't be tarnished."

She laughs, taking a sip of her Thai Iced. She sits down stylishly on the wicker chair. Shows off her shapely, well-tanned thighs again. It's so much fun to study Westerners. Their men are so charming and yet so concerned about their own penises.

"Britain or you, darling?"

James raises a surprised eyebrow, instinctively straightening the knot of his tie again. A cynical smile appearing.

"And aren't we the same?"

I don't know what's bigger in men like James, the ego or the penis! She thinks licking the rim of her glass. A long, sensual lick. Just to make the spy more anxious.

"And what do you intend to do before the Chinese invade our room?"

"I'll need your support."

"My support? What do you mean?"

As if she didn't know. She opens a smile showing her bulging cheeks as she inflates her chest making her breasts look more provocative inside her dark blue sabai shawl.

James sits in an armchair that resembles a throne. The high backrest, the round arms, covered in a fine yellow fabric with rich golden pheasant designs.

"We can try again. I believe that with a little more concentration everything will be properly settled."

"James, can't we do this another time? They are after us, we could be arrested at any moment."

"Trust me Phailin. Everything will work out fine. I know how these things go, I always manage at the last minute. Rest assured."

"And you want me to do what, dear?"

The two of them stare at each other for a moment. James with his legs crossed at the knee. His right hand with a certain annoying tremor, he never recovered since he was injured that time he jumped off the moving train.

Phailin so young, elegant, a captivating smile. Short straight black hair. There is no way not to get a hard-on for a woman like that, and yet he is there looking forward to it as if it were his first time in the Durham brothel.

"I wanted you to encourage me."

"Encourage, you want moral support?"

"Something more physical. A more manual labor."

"A massage? Like the one I gave in Zhao yesterday?

"You don't have to be so radical, it's not to break my neck. Just..."

"Make you more hard, baby?"

Phailin kneels at the feet of that mythical figure, the best known in the world after the Beatles. Not even Charles III is so revered.

The young Thai woman, unzips and exposes the UK's most desired member. You could hear the sounds of the flutes, the oboes, the horns and the trombones playing like the soundtrack of a movie.

Phailin employed all her art, the most refined technique of her ancestors in the use of her hands to turn the most withered of phalluses into stone. Only, little or almost nothing happens.

She decides to resort to something more daring. It is not for many that Phailin offers her skills with the tongue. It turns out to be James, the most charming of spies to appear in the last few decades. An icon. And the sound of the soundtrack picks up pace, the brass become more acute, the spectator becomes more excited.

She hungrily swallows the agent's withered phallus. Deep, she sucks, sucks, licks it like the lowest whore in the back alleys of Ranong. The Englishman shudders, the phallus fills, hardens. Phailin feels the moment, licks around the sculpted head until she begins to taste the man flavor oozing from the tip.

The Thai woman faces the agent, he with his eyes closed trying to maintain concentration, but the erection fades. The hard phallus bends, softens.

"James. My darling."

Sobs are heard. The young woman commiserates. Tries a cuddle, the spy doesn't respond.

"Honey, I told, you're not the first. It happens."

"And who do you know who has experienced humiliation like that?"

"I've heard of Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, even Peter Parker has been through that kind of trouble. Everyone suffers one day."

"And how did you know about these guys?"

"Everybody knows! There are times when it doesn't work out. It's a lot of pressure on you, problems with the scripts, with the direction, the budget. Sometimes the critics, even with the public. You can't be sure it's always going to work out.

"It's decadence, I know, they want to change me. They are talking about replacing me with a woman."

"And what's the problem, if a woman takes over your post? It's a sign of the times. And besides, a period of rest will help you."

It's hear the hurried sounds of footsteps, nervous voices speaking in cantones. Someone tries to open the door, kicks and yells.

"James dear. We need to get out of here. The Chinese have found us."

The spy stands up pulling his PPK from his holster. The door is kicked in and he kills two figures with a head shot. Five more gaudy figures with portable machine guns appear. They machine gun all the furniture in the room except where the free world agents were.

Phailin kills two by stabbing the Chinese. She breaks the neck of another with a Muay Thai blow.

James tries to get dressed and ends up with a grazing shot to the shoulder, another to the forehead. Accurately, he shoots a man with a ridiculous mustache and punches the face of the last guy who ends up going out the balcony and who knows why throwing himself from the tenth floor to the pool.

"What now, James? How do we get out of here?"

"The fire escape."

"But at least, double zero, dresses like a man. Indecency in China is worse than stealing military secrets."