Hotel Islay

When left to his own devices, Peter is the kind of graphic, tactile thinker who likes to surround himself with tangibles. The room he shows Bond into at Hotel Islay reflects this. To an intruder it'll look like perfectly psychopathic and like nonsense, peppered as it is with codenames and editorializations in red pen, but to the trained eye there are papers in the mess that Peter definitely isn't supposed to have. Shelves full of files that are supposed to be locked in rooms far away, boldly stolen out from under everyone's noses.

If Bond didn't have enough to hang him, this would more than do it. Peter could be locked away in a dark room forever for this, no trial, no passing go or collecting two hundred dollars.

Feeling perhaps a little lightheaded, having let someone in, Peter moves right away to the scotch bottle on the sidebar, offering him a glass with a glance over his shoulder. In for a penny, in for a pound.