Carte Blanche Part 19

'Why, don't you trust him?'

'It's not a bad idea, mind,' Dunne said off-handedly. 'We've been talking about disposal of the bodies. But it doesn't matter for Friday. It just seems a bit dodgy to me that he shows up out of the blue. Makes me nervous.'

As if such an emotion would ever register with the icy sapper.

Hydt relented. He needed somebody to keep his feet on the ground and it was true that he'd been seduced by Theron's proposition. 'You're right, of course.'

They picked up their jackets and left the office. Dunne directed them up the street, to the address printed on the man's business card.

The Irishman was right, but Severan Hydt prayed that Theron was legitimate. The bodies, the acres of bones. He wanted to see them so badly, to breathe in the air surrounding them. And he wanted the pictures too.

They came to the office building where Theron's Cape Town branch was located. It was typical of the city's business district, functional metal and stone. This particular structure seemed half deserted. There was no guard in the lobby, which was curious. The men took the lift to the fourth floor and found the office door, number 403.

'There's no company name,' Hydt observed. 'Just the number. That's odd.'

'This doesn't look right,' Dunne said. He listened. 'I don't hear anything.'

'Try it.'

He did so. 'Locked.'

Hydt was fiercely disappointed, wondering if he'd given anything away to Theron, anything incriminating. He didn't think so.

Dunne said, 'We should get some of our security people together. When Theron comes back, if he does, we'll take him down to the bas.e.m.e.nt. I'll find out what he's about.'

They were about to leave when Hydt, desperate to believe Theron was legitimate, said, 'Knock see if anybody's in there.'

Dunne hesitated, then drew aside his jacket, exposing the Beretta's grip. The man's large knuckles rapped on the wooden door.

Nothing.

They turned to the lift.

Just then the door swung open.

Gene Theron blinked in surprise. 'Hydt . . . Dunne. What are you doing here?'

36.

The Afrikaner hesitated for a moment then bluntly gestured the two men inside. They entered. There had been no sign outside but here on the wall was a modest plaque: EJT Services Ltd, Durban, Cape Town, Kinshasa.

The office was small and staffed with only three employees, their desks covered with files and the paperwork that is the mainstay of such entrepreneurial dens throughout the world, however n.o.ble or dark their products or services.

Dunne said, 'We thought we'd save you the trouble.'

'Did you now?' Theron responded.

Hydt knew that the mercenary understood that they had made their surprise visit because they didn't trust him completely. On the other hand, Theron was in a line of work where trust was as dangerous as unstable explosives, so his displeasure was minimal. After all, Theron must have done much the same, checking out Hydt's credentials with the Cambodians and elsewhere before coming to him with his proposal. That was how business worked.

Scuffed walls and windows offering a bleak view of a courtyard reminded Hydt that even illegal activity such as Theron plied was not necessarily as lucrative as the movies and news portrayed it. The biggest office, at the back, was Theron's but even that was modest.

One employee, a tall young African, was scrolling through an online catalogue of automatic weapons. Some were flagged with bold stars, indicating a 10 per cent discount. Another employee was typing urgently on a computer keyboard, using only his index fingers. Both men were in white s.h.i.+rts and narrow ties.

A secretary sat at a desk outside Theron's office. Hydt saw she was attractive but she was young and therefore of no interest to him.

Theron glanced at her. 'My secretary was just printing out some of the files we were talking about.' A moment later pictures of ma.s.s graves began easing from the colour printer.

Yes, these are good, Hydt thought, staring down at them. Very good indeed. The first images had been taken not long after the killings. Men, women and children had been gunned down or hacked to death. Some had suffered earlier amputations hands or arms above the elbow a popular technique used by warlords and dictators in Africa to punish and control the people. About forty or so lay in a ditch. The setting was sub-Saharan but it was impossible to say exactly where. Sierra Leone, Liberia, Ivory Coast, Central African Republic. There were so many possibilities on this troubled continent.

Other pictures followed, showing different stages of decay. Hydt lingered on those particularly.

'LRA?' Dunne asked, looking them over clinically.

It was the tall, skinny employee who answered. 'Mr Theron does not work with the Lord's Resistance Army.'

The rebel group, operating out of Uganda, the Central African Republic and parts of Congo and Sudan, had as its philosophy, if you could call it that, religious and mystical extremism a violent Christian militia of sorts. It had committed untallied atrocities and was known, among other things, for employing child soldiers.

'There's plenty of other work,' Theron said.

Hydt was amused by his sense of morality.

Another half-dozen pictures rolled from the printer. The last few showed a large field from which protruded bones and partial bodies with desiccated skin.

Hydt showed the pictures to Dunne. 'What do you think?' He turned to Theron. 'Niall is an engineer.'

The Irishman studied them for a few minutes. 'The graves look shallow. It's easy to get the bodies out. The trick is to cover up the fact that they were there in the first place. Depending on how long they've been in the ground, once we remove them there'd be measurable differences in the soil temperature. That lasts for many months. It's detectable with the right equipment.'

'Months?' Theron asked, frowning. 'I had no idea.' He glanced at Dunne, then said to Hydt, 'He's good.'

'I call him the man who thinks of everything.'

Dunne said thoughtfully, 'Fast-growing vegetation could work. And there are some sprays that will eliminate DNA residue too. There's a lot to consider but nothing seems impossible.'

The technical issues fell away and Hydt focused again on the images. 'May I keep these?'

'Of course. Do you want digital copies too? They'd be sharper.'

Hydt gave him a smile. 'Thank you.'

Theron put them on a flash drive and handed it to Hydt, who looked at his watch. 'I'd like to discuss this further. Are you free later?'

'I can be.'

But Dunne was frowning. 'You're at the meeting this afternoon and there's the fundraiser tonight.'

Hydt scowled. 'One of the charities I donate to is having an event. I have to be present. But . . . if you're free why don't you meet me there?'

'Do I have to give money?' Theron asked.

Hydt couldn't tell if he was joking. 'Not necessarily. You'll have to listen to a few speeches and drink some wine.'

'All right. Where is it?'

Hydt looked at Dunne, who said, 'At the Lodge Club. Nineteen hundred hours.'

Hydt added, 'You should wear a jacket but don't bother with a tie.'

'See you then.' Theron shook their hands.

They left his offices and made their way outside.

'He's legitimate,' Hydt said, half to himself.

They were en route to the Green Way office when Dunne took a phone call. After a few minutes he rang off and said, 'That was about Stephan Dlamini.'

'Who?'

'The worker we need to eliminate in the maintenance department. He's the one who might've seen the emails about Friday.'

'Oh. Right.'

'Our people found his shanty in Primrose Gardens, east of town.'

'How are you going to handle it?'

'It seems that his teenage daughter complained about a local drug dealer. He threatened to kill her. We'll set it up to make it seem that he's behind Dlamini's death. He's firebombed people before.'

'So Dlamini has a family.'

'A wife and five children,' Dunne explained. 'We'll have to kill them too. He could have told his wife what he saw. And if he's in a shanty town, the family will live in only one or two rooms, so anybody could have heard. We'll use grenades before the firebomb. I think suppertime is best everybody will be in one room together.' Dunne shot a glance toward the tall man. 'They'll die fast.'

Hydt replied, 'I wasn't worried about them suffering.'

'I wasn't either. I just meant that it'll be a pretty easy way to kill them all quickly. Convenient, you know.'

After the men had left, Warrant Officer Kwalene Nkosi rose from the desk where he'd been scrolling through price lists for automatic weapons and nodded at the screen. 'It is truly amazing what you can buy online, isn't it, Commander Bond?'

'I suppose so.'

'If we buy nine machine guns, we can get one for free,' he joked to Sergeant Mbalula, the relentless two-finger typist.

'Thanks for that fast thinking about the LRA, Warrant Officer,' Bond said. He hadn't recognised the abbreviation for the Lord's Resistance Army a group that any mercenary in Africa would have been familiar with. The operation might have ended there and then in disaster.

Bond's 'secretary', Bheka Jordaan, peered out of the window. 'They're heading away. I don't see any other security people.'

'We fooled them, I think,' said Sergeant Mbalula.

The trick indeed seemed to have been successful. Bond had been convinced that one of the men the quick-minded Dunne, most likely would want to see his branch in Cape Town. He believed that a good, solid set a cover location would be critical in seducing Hydt into believing he was an Afrikaner troubleshooter with a great many bodies to dispose of.

While Bond had telephoned Hydt to talk his way into Green Way, Jordaan had found a small government office leased by the Ministry of Culture but presently unused. Nkosi had printed some business cards with the address, and before Bond had gone to meet Hydt and Dunne, the SAPS officers had moved in.

'You'll be my partner,' Bond had told Jordaan, with a smile. 'It'll be a good cover for me to have a clever and attractive a.s.sociate.'

She had bristled. 'To be credible, an office like this needs a secretary and she must be a woman.'

'If you like.'

'I don't,' she had said stiffly. 'But that's how it must be.'

Bond had antic.i.p.ated the men's visit but not that Hydt would want to see pictures of the killing fields, though he supposed he should have. The minute he'd left Hydt's office, he'd called Jordaan and told her to find photos of ma.s.s graves in Africa from military and law enforcement archives. Sadly, it had been all too easy and she'd downloaded a dozen by the time he'd returned from Hydt's office.

'Can you keep some people here for a day or two?' Bond asked. 'In case Dunne comes back.'

'I can spare one officer,' she said. 'Sergeant Mbalula, you will stay for the time being.'

'Yes, Captain.'

'I'll brief a patrolman on the situation and he will replace you.' She turned back to Bond. 'Do you think Dunne will return?'

'No, but it's possible. Hydt's the boss but he gets distracted. Dunne is more focused and suspicious. To my mind, that makes him more dangerous.'

'Commander.' Nkosi opened a battered briefcase. 'This came for you at Headquarters.' He produced a thick envelope. Bond ripped it open. Inside he found ten thousand rand in used banknotes, a fake South African pa.s.sport, credit cards and a debit card, all in the name of Eugene J. Theron. I Branch had worked its magic once more.

There was also a note: Reservation for open stay at Table Mountain Hotel, waterfront room.

Bond pocketed everything. 'Now, the Lodge Club, where I'm meeting Hydt tonight. What's it like?'

'Too expensive for me,' Nkosi said.

'It's a restaurant and venue for events,' Jordaan told him. 'I've never been either. It used to be a private hunting club. White men only. Then after the elections in 'ninety-four, when the ANC came to power, the owners chose to dissolve the club and sell the building rather than open up members.h.i.+p. The board wasn't concerned about admitting black or coloured men but they didn't want women. I'm sure you have no clubs like that at home, James, do you?'

He didn't admit that there were indeed such establishments in the UK. 'At my favourite club in London, you'll see pure democracy at work. Anyone at all is free to join . . . and lose money at the gaming tables. Just like I do. With some frequency, I might add.'

Nkosi laughed.

'If you're ever in London, I'd be delighted to show it to you,' he added to Jordaan.

She seemed to view this as yet more shameless flirting because she icily ignored the comment.

'I will drive you to your hotel.' The tall police officer's face wore a serious look. 'I think I shall quit the SAPS and see if you can get me a job in England, Commander.'

To work for the ODG or MI6, you had to be a British citizen and the child of at least one citizen or someone with substantial ties to the UK. There was also a residency requirement.