Carte Blanche - Jeffery Deaver [131]
Bond said evenly, ‘Percy, that’s not what’s going on. He’s not going to use Green Way people directly for the attack. It’s too obvious. He’d be implicated himself.’
‘Then how do you explain our little find in the tunnels? Radiation.’
‘How much?’ Bond asked bluntly.
A pause. Osborne-Smith replied in his petulant lisp, ‘About four millirems.’
‘That’s nothing, Percy.’ All O Branch agents were well versed in nuclear exposure statistics. ‘Every human being on earth gets hit with sixty millirems from cosmic rays alone each year. Add an X-ray or two and you’re up to two hundred. A dirty bomb’s going to leave more trace than four.’
Ignoring him, Osborne-Smith said brightly, ‘Now, about York, you misheard. It must be the Duke of York pub or the theatre in London. Could be a staging area. We’ll check it. In the event, I cancelled the security meeting, moved everyone to secure locations. Bond, I’ve been thinking about what makes Hydt tick ever since I saw he was living in Canning Town and you told me all about his obsession with thousand-year-old dead bodies. He revels in decay, cities crumbling.’
Dunne was now walking slowly forward, making directly for the Subaru.
Bond said, ‘I know, Percy, but—’
‘What better way to promote social decay than to take down the security apparatus of half the Western powers?’
‘Dammit, fine. Do what you want in London. But have SOCA or some teams from Five follow up in York.’
‘We don’t have the manpower, do we? Can’t spare a soul. Maybe this afternoon but for now, afraid not. Nothing’s going to happen till tonight, anyway.’
Bond explained that the time of the operation had been moved forward.
A chuckle. ‘Your Irishman prefers the twenty-four-hour clock, does he? . . . Bit fine-tuned, that. No, we’ll stick with my plan.’
This was why Osborne-Smith had backed M’s stand to have Bond remain in South Africa; he hadn’t in fact believed Bond was on to anything. He had simply wanted to steal the thunder. Bond disconnected and started to dial Bill Tanner.
But Dunne was at the door, yanking it open. ‘Come on, Theron. You’re keeping your new boss waiting. You know the drill. Leave the phone and the gun in the car.’
‘I thought I’d check them in with your smiling concierge.’
If it came down to a fight, he hoped to be able to pick up his weapon and to communicate with the outside world.
But Dunne said, ‘Not today.’
Bond didn’t argue. He secured his phone and the Walther in the car’s glove box, joined Dunne and locked the car with the key fob.
As he once again endured the rituals at the security post, Bond happened to glance at a clock on the wall. It was nearly eight a.m. in York. He had just over two and a half hours to find out where the bomb was planted.
55
The Green Way lobby was deserted. Bond supposed Hydt – or, more likely, Dunne – had arranged for the staff to have the day off so that the meeting and the Gehenna plan’s maiden voyage could go forward without interruption.
Severan Hydt strode up the hall, greeting Bond warmly. He was in good spirits, ebullient even. His dark eyes shone. ‘Theron!’
Bond shook his hand.
‘I’ll want you to make a presentation to my associates about the killing-fields project. It’ll be their money too that’ll fund it. Now, you don’t need to do anything formal. Just outline on a map where the major graves are, how many corpses roughly are in each one, how long they’ve been in the ground and what you think your clients will be willing to pay. Oh, by the way, one or two of my partners are in lines of work similar to yours. You might know each other.’
The alarming thought now occurred to Bond that these men might wonder the opposite: why they had not heard of the ruthless Durban-based mercenary Gene Theron, who’d seeded the African earth with so many bodies.
As they walked through the Green Way building, Bond asked where he could work, hoping that Hydt might take him to Research and Development, now that he was a trusted partner.
‘We have an office for