Carte Blanche Part 16

Bond's mobile buzzed. T Branch had booked him an overnight flight on Air Emirates to Cape Town. It left in three hours. Bond was pleased with the choice of carrier. The airline had studiously avoided becoming just another ma.s.s market operation and treated its pa.s.sengers to what he guessed was the quality service that typified the golden age of air travel fifty or sixty years ago. He told Leiter of his departure arrangements. He added, 'Let's get some food.'

The American waved over a waiter and asked for a mezze platter. 'And then bring us a grilled hammour. Bone it, if y'all'd be so kind.'

'Yes, sir.'

Bond ordered a bottle of a good premier cru Chablis, which arrived a moment later. They sipped from the chilled gla.s.ses silently until the first course arrived: kofta, olives, hummus, cheese, aubergine, nuts and the best flatbread Bond had ever had. Both men began to eat. After the waiter had cleared away the remnants, he brought the main course. The simple white fish lay steaming on a bed of green lentils. It was very good, delicate yet with a faint meatiness. Bond had eaten only a few mouthfuls when his phone hummed again. Caller ID showed only the code for a British government number. Thinking Philly might be ringing from a different office, Bond answered.

He immediately regretted doing so.

31.

'James! James! James! Guess who? Percy here. Long time no speak!'

Bond's heart sank.

Leiter frowned at the glower on Bond's face.

'Percy . . . yes.'

Division Three's...o...b..rne-Smith enquired, 'You well? No altercations requiring anything more than a plaster, I trust.'

'I'm fine.'

'Delighted to hear it. Now, things are proceeding apace here. Your boss has briefed everyone about the Gehenna plan. You were perhaps too busy fleeing the jurisdiction to be in touch.' He let that hang for a moment, then said, 'Aha. Just winding you up, James. Fact is, I'm calling for several reasons and the first is to apologise.'

'Really?' Bond asked, suspicious.

The Division Three man's voice grew serious. 'In London this morning, I'll admit I had a tac team ready to grab Hydt at the airport, bring him in for some tea and conversation. But it turns out you were right. The Watchers picked up a sc.r.a.p and managed to decrypt it. Hold on I quote from the record. Here we go: something garbled, then "Severan has three main partners . . . any one of them can push the b.u.t.ton if he's not available." So you see, James, arresting him would have been a disaster, just as you said. The others would have scurried down the rabbit hole and we'd've lost any chance to find out what Gehenna was about and stop it.' He paused for breath. 'I was a touch whingey when we met and I'm sorry about that too. I want to work with you on this, James. Apologies accepted? Bygones turned to bygones with a swipe of Hermione's magic wand?'

In the intelligence world, Bond had learnt, your allies sought forgiveness for their transgressions against you about as often as your enemies did. He supposed that some of Osborne-Smith's contrition was based on staying in the game for part of the glory, but that was all right with Bond. All he cared about was learning what the Gehenna plan was and preventing thousands of deaths.

'I suppose.'

'Good. Now, your boss sent us a signal about what you found up in March and I'm following it up. The "blast radius" is pretty obvious an IED so we're tracking down any reports of stray explosives. And we know that one of the "terms" of the deal involves five million quid. I've called in some favours at the Bank of England to check SFT activity.'

Bond too had thought of calling the Bank with a request to flag suspect financial transactions. But nowadays five million pounds was such small change that he'd believed there would be far too many responses to plough through. Still, it couldn't hurt for Osborne-Smith to go ahead.

The Division Three man added, 'As for the reference to the "course" being confirmed, well, until we know more, there're no aircraft or s.h.i.+ps to monitor. But I've put the aviation and port chaps on alert to move fast if we need to.'

'Good,' Bond said, without adding that he'd asked Bill Tanner to do much the same. 'I've just found out that Hydt, his lady friend and the Irishman are on their way to Cape Town.'

'Cape Town? Now that's worth chewing over. I've been peering into Hydt's recesses, so to speak.'

This was, Bond supposed, what pa.s.sed for a comradely joke with Percy Osborne-Smith.

'South Africa is one of Green Way's biggest operations. His home from home. I bet Gehenna must have some connection with it Lord knows, there're plenty of British interests there.'

Bond told him about al-Fulan and the girl's death. 'All we learnt specifically is that Hydt gets a kick out of pictures of dead bodies. And the Arab's company probably has something to do with Gehenna. He's supplied equipment to arms dealers and warlords in the past.'

'Really? Interesting. Which reminds me. Take a look at the photo I'm uploading. You should have it now.'

Bond minimised the active-call screen on his mobile and opened a secure attachment. The picture was of the Irishman. 'That's him,' he told Osborne-Smith.

'Thought it might be. His name's Niall Dunne.' He spelt it out.

'How did you find him?'

'Footage from the CCTVs at Gatwick. He's not in the databases but I had my indefatigable staff compare the pic with street cameras in London. There were some close hits of a man with that weird fringe inspecting tunnels that Green Way's building near the Victoria Embankment. It's the latest thing underground rubbish transfer and collection. Keeps the roads clear and the tourists happy. A few of our boys pretended they were from Public Works, flashed his picture and got his real name. I've sent his file to Five, the Yard and your chief of staff.'

'What's Dunne's story?' Bond asked. In front of him the fish cooled but he'd lost interest in it.

'It's curious. He was born in Belfast, studied architecture and engineering, came top of his year. Then he became a sapper in the Army.'

Sappers were combat engineers, the soldiers who built bridges, airports and bomb shelters for the troops, as well as laid and cleared minefields. They were known for their improvisational skills, building defensive or offensive machinery and bulwarks with whatever supplies were available and under less-than-ideal conditions.

The ODG's Lieutenant Colonel Bill Tanner had been a sapper and the soft-spoken, golf-loving chief of staff was one of the cleverest and most dangerous men Bond had ever met.

Osborne-Smith continued, 'After he left the service he became a freelance engineering inspector. I didn't know that any such line of work existed but it turns out that in constructing a building, s.h.i.+p or plane, the project has to be inspected at hundreds of stages. Dunne would look over the work and say yea or nay. He was apparently at the top of his game he could find flaws that n.o.body else could. But suddenly he quit and became a consultant, according to Inland Revenue records. He's a d.a.m.n good one, too he makes about two hundred grand a year . . . and doesn't have a company logo or cute mascots like Wenlock and Mandeville.'

Bond found that, since the apology, he felt less impatient with Osborne-Smith's wit, such as it was. 'That's probably how they met. Dunne inspected something for Green Way and Hydt hired him.'

Osborne-Smith continued, 'Data mining's placed Dunne going to and from Cape Town over the past four years. He's got a flat there and one in London, which we've been through, by the way, and found nothing of interest. The travel records also show he's been in India, Indonesia, the Caribbean and a few other places where trouble's brewing. Working on new outposts for his boss, I'd guess.' He added, 'Whitehall's still looking at Afghanistan, but I don't give a toss about their theories. I'm sure you're on the money, James.'

'Thanks, Percy. You've been very helpful.'

'Delighted to be of service.' The words that Bond would have found condescending yesterday now sounded sincere.

They rang off and Bond told Felix Leiter what Osborne-Smith had turned up.

'So that scarecrow Dunne's an engineer? We call 'em geeks in the states.'

A hawker had entered the restaurant and was moving from table to table selling roses.

Leiter saw the direction of Bond's gaze. 'Listen up, James, I've had a wonderful dinner but if you're thinking of sealing the deal with a bouquet, it ain't gonna happen.'

Bond smiled.

The hawker stepped up to the table next to Bond's and extended a flower to a young couple seated there. 'Please,' he said to the wife, 'the lovely lady will have this for free, with my compliments.' He moved on.

After a moment Bond lifted his napkin and opened the envelope he'd casually removed from the man's pocket in a perfect brush pa.s.s.

Remember: flowers . . .

Discreetly he examined the forgery of a South African firearms permit, suitably franked and signed. 'We should go,' he said, noting the time. He didn't want to run into Hydt, Dunne and the woman on the way out of the hotel.

'We'll put this on Uncle Sam,' Leiter said and settled the bill. They left the bar and slipped out by a side door, heading for the car park.

Within half an hour they were at the airport.

The men gripped hands and Leiter offered in a low voice, 'Yusuf was a great a.s.set, sure. But more than that, he was a friend. You run across that son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h in the blue jacket again and you have a shot, James, take it.'

Wednesday KILLING FIELDS.

32.

As the Air Emirates Boeing taxied smoothly over the tarmac towards the gate in Cape Town, James Bond stretched, then slipped his shoes back on. He felt refreshed. Soon after take-off in Dubai he'd administered to himself two Jim Beams with a little water. The nightcap had done the trick famously and he'd had nearly seven hours of blessedly uninterrupted sleep. He was now reviewing texts from Bill Tanner.

Contact: Capt. Jordaan, Crime Combating & Investigation, SA Police Service. Jordaan to meet you landside @ airport. Surveillance active on Hydt.

A second followed.

MI6's Gregory Lamb reportedly still in Eritrea. Opinion here all around, avoid him if possible.

There was a final one.

Happy to hear you and Osborne-Smith have kissed and made up. When's the stag do?

Bond had to smile.

The plane eased to a stop at the gate and the purser ran through the liturgy of landing with which Bond was all too familiar. 'Cabin crew, doors to manual, and crosscheck. Ladies and gentlemen, please take care when opening the overhead lockers; the contents may have s.h.i.+fted during the flight.'

Bless you, my child, for Fate has decided to bring you safely back to earth . . . at least for a little longer.

Bond pulled down his laptop bag he'd checked in his suitcase, which contained his weapon and proceeded to Immigration in the busy hall. He received a pro forma stamp in his pa.s.sport. Then he went into the Customs hall. To a stocky, unsmiling officer he displayed the firearms permit so he could collect his suitcase. The man stared at him intently. Bond tensed and wondered if there was going to be a problem.

'Okay, okay,' the man said, his broad, glistening face inflated with the power of small officialdom. 'Now you will tell me the truth.'

'The truth?' Bond asked calmly.

'Yes . . . How do you get close enough to a kudu or springbok to use a handgun when you hunt?'

'That's the challenge,' Bond replied.

'I must say it would be.'

Then Bond frowned. 'But I never hunt springbok.'

'No? It makes the best biltong.'

'Perhaps so, but shooting a springbok would be very bad luck for England on the rugby pitch.'

The Customs agent laughed hard, shook Bond's hand and nodded him to the exit.

The arrivals hall was packed. Most people were in Western clothing, though some wore traditional African garb: men's das.h.i.+kis and brocade sets and, for the women, kente kaftans and head wraps, all brightly coloured. Muslim robes and scarves were present as well and a few saris.

As Bond made his way through the pa.s.senger meeting point he detected several distinct languages and many more dialects. He had always been fascinated by the clicking in African languages; in some words, the mouth and tongue create that very sound for consonants. Khoisan spoken by the original inhabitants of this part of Africa made the most use of it, although Zulus and Xhosas also clicked. Bond had tried and found the sound impossible to replicate.

When his contact, Captain Jordaan, did not immediately appear he went into a cafe, dropped on to a stool at the counter and ordered a double espresso. He drank it down, paid and stepped outside, eyeing a beautiful businesswoman. She was in her mid-thirties, he guessed, with exotically high cheekbones. Her thick, wavy black hair contained a few strands of premature grey, which added to her sensuality. Her dark-red suit, over a black s.h.i.+rt, was cut close and revealed a figure that was full yet tautly athletic.

I believe I shall enjoy South Africa, he thought, and smiled as he let her pa.s.s in front of him on her way to the exit. Like most attractive women in transitory worlds like airports, she ignored him.

He stood for several moments in the centre of Arrivals, then decided that perhaps Jordaan was waiting for him to approach. He texted Tanner to ask for a photograph. But just after he hit send he spotted the police officer: a large, bearded redhead in a light-brown suit a bear of a man glanced at Bond once, with a hint of reaction, but he turned away rather quickly and went to a kiosk to buy cigarettes.

Tradecraft is all about subtext: cover ident.i.ties masking who you really are, dull conversations filled with code words to convey shocking facts, innocent objects used for concealment or as weapons.

Jordaan's sudden diversion to buy cigarettes was a message. He hadn't approached Bond because hostiles were present.

Glancing behind him, he saw no immediate sign of a threat. Instinctively he followed prescribed procedure. When an agent waves you off, you circle casually out of the immediate area as inconspicuously as possible and contact a third-party intermediary who co-ordinates a new rendezvous in a safer location. Bill Tanner would be the cut-out.

Bond started to move towards an exit.

Too late.

As he saw Jordaan slipping into the Gents, pocketing cigarettes he would probably never smoke, he heard an ominous voice close to his ear, 'Do not turn around.' The English was coated with a smooth layer of a native accent. He sensed that the man was lean and tall. From the corner of his eye, Bond was aware of at least one partner, shorter but stockier. This man moved in quickly and relieved him of his laptop bag and the suitcase containing his useless Walther.

The first a.s.sailant said, 'Walk straight out of the hall now.'

There was nothing for it but to comply. He turned and went where the man had told him, down a deserted corridor.

Bond a.s.sessed the situation. From the echo of the footsteps Bond knew the tall man's partner was far enough away that his initial move could only neutralise one of them instantly. The shorter man would have to shed Bond's suitcase and laptop bag, which would give Bond a few seconds to get to him but he would still have a chance to draw his weapon. The man could be taken down but not before shots were fired.

No, Bond reflected, too many innocents. It was best to wait until they were outside.

'Through the door on your left. I said you are not to look back.'

They walked out into stark sunlight. Here it was autumn, the temperature crisp, the sky a stunning azure. As they approached the kerb in a deserted construction site, a battered black Range Rover sped forward and squealed to a stop.

More hostiles, but no one as yet was getting out of the vehicle.

Purpose . . . response.

Their purpose was to kidnap him. His response would be textbook protocol in an attempted rendition: disorient and then attack. Casually working his Rolex over his fingers to act as a knuckleduster, he turned abruptly to confront the pair with a disdainful smile. They were young, deadly serious men, their skin contrasting sharply with the brilliant white of their starched s.h.i.+rts. They wore suits one brown, the other navy and narrow dark ties. They were probably armed, but overconfidence, perhaps, had led them to keep their weapons holstered.

As the Range Rover door swung open behind him, Bond stepped aside so that he couldn't be attacked from behind and judged angles. He decided to break the jaw of the tallest first and use his body as a s.h.i.+eld as he pushed forward towards the shorter man. He looked calmly into the man's eyes and laughed. 'I think I'll report you to the tourist bureau. I've heard a lot about the friendliness of South Africans. I was expecting rather more in the way of hospitality.'

Just before he lunged, he heard from behind him, inside the vehicle, a woman's flinty voice: 'And we would have offered some if you hadn't made yourself so obvious a target by enjoying a leisurely coffee in plain view with a hostile loose in the airport.'