The number was thirteen digits long. "I confess I have not," Bonf said.

"Fortright, 007. This number was discovered ten days ago by a Ashok Vindalu, an Indian doctoral student in mathematics. Most people will go an entire lifetime without having to use this number, which is fortunate, because this number is quite malignant."

"Malignant?"

"Let me demonstrate. We have a calculator, quite ordinary, except that it works with 15 digits. Try doing some sums with it."

Bonf punched a few keys. "It appears to work normally."

"Right. But look what happens when we use that number in a calculation." Q placed the calculator inside a glass partition. Using remote-controlled "waldo" fingers, he entered a calculation. "Observe." He pressed the equals key.

The calculator emitted a lazy spiral of smoke, then quickly burst into flames. "Calculating this number causes computer chips to catch fire. We've tested its effects on different calculating machines. In general, the larger the computer, the more violent the reaction. At any rate, an Indian separatist group have captured Vindalu for the number, which they plan to enter in financial transactions throughout the world.

"Your assignment is this: infiltrate the compound, rescue Vindalu, and destroy his notes. No one must remember this number. Your weapons are this sharpened screwdriver and length of piano wire. Good luck."

Eleven hours later, Bonf’s jet touched down in Bangalore. The streets were alive with children, fruit sellers, snakes and cows. He didn't make love to anyone; there wasn't time. He found the entrance to the compound behind a tapestry at the end of an alley. The door was guarded by two sinister robots, the words "Intel Inside" stamped on their breastplates.

Bonf presented a paradox from an old Star Trek episode to the androids, who immediately froze, stuck in infinite loops. He overpowered the remaining staff and rescued Vindalu.

Back at Vindalu's office, Bonf took a lit match to his notes. "What are you doing?" Vindalu screamed.

"There are some numbers man was not meant to know," Bonf intoned.

Back at MI6, Q was ebullient. "Brilliant, 007. Now that number will be a secret forever."

Bonf drew his pistol. "My job is not done. Don't you still know the number by heart?"

"Er, no," said Q nervously. "I seem to have forgotten it."