When Polly Met Fleming: Part 6

Image of Polly and Fleming
Polly and Fleming

In Part Five , Fleming learned from Polly that an approaching German submarine was carrying a torpedo armed with a nuclear warhead. Fleming insisted it must be stopped. He plans to enlist Polly’s aid.


Polly had just finished her second breakfast when Fleming returned. “Did you get had enough to eat?” He asked, sitting at his desk.

“For now, I guess,” Polly shrugged.

“Let me know if you’re still hungry.”

“I’ll let you know,” Polly replied, stroking her chin and squinting, “is there something you’re not telling me?” She added.

“I’ll get to the point,” Fleming said, pressing his palms on the desktop and leaning forward. “Polly, how are your swimming abilities?”

Polly laughed. She looked at the weird object buried just beneath the skin of her forearm. “Before all this crazy shit happened I only knew how to sink … now … now, I’m world fuckin’ class.”

“Jolly good,” Fleming smiled.

“What’s on your mind, Commander?” Polly asked.

“Polly I need you—your country needs you—to use your abilities to destroy that Nazi sub.”

“It’s nice to be needed,” Polly replied in a sarcastic tone. Polly saw the disappointed look on Fleming’s face. “Okay, what’s the plan?”

“The plan is to attack the German submarine singlehandedly,” Fleming beamed.

“Seriously, that’s your plan.”

“Well, there’s more to it than just that.”

“For fuck’s sake, I certainly hope so.”

At that moment the door opened. The Royal marine stationed outside stepped in. “Smithers is reporting, Commander.”

“Very well, send him in.”

A heavyset, middle-aged man in greasy overalls walked into Fleming’s office. “Everything’s ready, Commander,” Smithers said with a thick cockney accent.

“Good show, Smithers,” Fleming nodded. “Do you have the tools with you?” He asked.

“Right outside, sir.”

“Very well, bring them in.”

Smithers left then returned, a broomstick in one hand and a knife in another.

“What this?” Polly asked, looking at Smithers then looking at Fleming.

“These are the weapons you’ll use against the submariners,” Fleming replied.

“This is a stick,” Polly shook her head.

“It’s more than that, girl,” Smithers assured Polly, “it has an 18 inch conical steel shaft embedded in the tip. The shaft has three-quarter inch diameter at the base and tapers to a one-eighth inch, razor sharp point,” he added.

“That’s nice, but it doesn’t make me feel any better about this?”

Polly’s cell phone vibrated. It was her sister’s sonic bone conduction footprint. Polly removed the wireless implant from the side of the case and placed it in her ear. “Hi Bridge,” she said. “Excuse me, I’ve got to take this call,” Polly said to Fleming and Smithers. She turned and walked to the porthole.


“Yes, Bridgette.”

“I’ve been monitoring your reception. I can see what’s going on.”

“Oh, then you can see the cluster fuck I’m in.”

“I have an idea,” Bridgette said.

“I’m listening.”

“Use that thing in your arm to transport you out of that time and into another time.”

“That would be great, only I don’t know how to control it,” Polly replied. “Any other suggestions?” She asked

“Tell Smithers to attach a piece of heavy duty surgical tubing to the bottom of the stick.”

“What will that do?”

“You should have a loop at the base of the stick. Place the free end between your thumb and forefinger. Choke up on the stick, pulling the loop at the same time. When you release your grip on the stick it will be propelled through the water, making it a more efficient killing tool.”

Polly turned around. She walked over and told Fleming and Smithers about the attachment to the broomstick. They looked at each other then looked at Polly. “Bridge, could upload some plans to my phone?” Polly asked.

Seconds later complete blueprints appeared on the home screen. Polly expanded the image. Smithers made a rough sketch on a notepad, jotted down some measurements, then left.

“Polly, I don’t know how to thank you,” Fleming said.

“I don’t either,” Polly exhaled and looked at the floor.

Smithers returned. He handed the broomstick to Polly. “Is this what you had in mind?” He asked.

Polly held the stick. She compared it to the blueprints on the her home screen. Polly gripped the rubber loop and reached three-quarters of the way up the shaft. The rubber, stretched almost to the breaking point, vibrated when a sea breeze blew in through the porthole. “I guess this will do,” Polly nodded as she relaxed her grip and guided the broomstick to a stop with the palm of her hand.

“What else have you got?”

“This,” Fleming said, handing Polly a long knife with an extremely tapered blade.

Polly balanced the blade in her hand, “You know I’ve never used one of these things before.”

“You’ve never used a knife?” Smithers asked, a puzzled expression on his face.

“I mean I’ve never used one against a person.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to, Polly,” Fleming said. “You should be able to dispatch the submariners with the modified spear.”

“I sure hope so,” Polly agreed.

Fleming reached out and asked “May I?”

“Sure.” Polly handed the knife back to Fleming.

“Polly this is a needle-point commando knife,” Fleming said, placing the blade against the back of his clenched fist. “Note the symmetrical tapered twin edge blade,” he continued. “It’s primarily a stabbing weapon. The narrow point provides excellent penetration; however, it can be broken if not used properly.”

“I think I get,” Polly said as Fleming handed the knife back.

“Polly, if for some reason you’re forced to do some in-fighting; try to ram the blade up into the ribs and towards the heart.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Polly said as she slid the knife into the sheath. She attached the sheath to her belt.