Carte Blanche - Jeffery Deaver [88]
Bond was close to throwing him out. Still, it might just be worth picking his brain. ‘You heard about Incident Twenty, then. Any thoughts on how it could relate to South Africa?’
‘I did get the signals,’ Lamb conceded, ‘but I didn’t pay much attention since the intercept said the attack was going to be on British soil.’
Bond reminded him of the exact wording, which gave no location but said merely that British interests would be ‘adversely affected’.
‘Could be anywhere, then. I didn’t think of that.’
Or you didn’t read it very carefully.
‘And now the cyclone has touched down on my pitch. Odd how fate can strike, isn’t it?’
The app on Bond’s mobile that had verified Lamb’s identity had also indicated his security clearance, which was higher than Bond would have guessed. Now he felt more or less comfortable in talking about the Gehenna plan, Hydt and Dunne. He asked again, ‘So, have you any thoughts on a connection here? Thousands of people at risk, British interests threatened, the plan hatched in Severan Hydt’s office.’
Eyes on his glass, Lamb said thoughtfully, ‘The fact is, I don’t know what kind of attack here would fit the bill. We’ve got plenty of British ex-pats and tourists and a lot of business interests with connections to London. But killing that many people in one fell swoop? Sounds like it’d have to be civil unrest. And I don’t see that happening in South Africa. We’ve got our troubles here, there’s no denying it – Zimbabwe asylum seekers, trade union unrest, corruption, AIDS . . . but we’re still the most stable country on the continent.’
For once the man had provided Bond with some real insight, slight though it was. This reinforced his idea that, while buttons might be pushed in South Africa, Friday’s deaths could likely occur elsewhere.
The man had finished most of his gin. ‘You’re not drinking?’ When Bond didn’t answer, he added, ‘We miss the old days, don’t we, my friend?’
Bond didn’t know what the old days were and decided it was unlikely he would miss them, whatever they had been. He also decided too that he quite disliked the phrase ‘my friend’. ‘You said you didn’t get on with Bheka Jordaan.’
Lamb grunted.
‘What do you know about her?’
‘She’s damn good at her job, I’ll give her that. She was the officer who ran that investigation of the NIA – the South African National Intelligence Agency – for conducting illegal surveillance on politicians here.’ Lamb chuckled darkly. ‘Not that that’d ever happen in our country, would it?’
Bond recalled that Bill Tanner had chosen to use an SAPS liaison rather than National Intelligence.
Lamb continued, ‘They gave her the job hoping she’d fumble. But not Captain Jordaan. Oh no. That would never do.’ His eyes gleamed perversely. ‘She started to make headway in the case and everybody at the top got scared. Her boss at SAPS told her to lose the evidence against the NIA agents.’
‘So she arrested him?’
‘And his boss too!’ Lamb roared with laughter and knocked back the last of his drink. ‘She earned herself a big commendation.’
The Gold Cross for Bravery? ‘Did she get roughed up in the investigation?’
‘Roughed up?’
He mentioned her scarred arm.
‘In a way. Afterwards she was promoted. Had to happen – politically. You know how that works. Well some of the SAPS men who were passed over didn’t take too kindly to it. She got threats – women shouldn’t be taking men’s jobs, that sort of thing. Somebody chucked a Molotov cocktail under her squad car. She’d gone into the station, but there was a prisoner in the back seat, drunk and sleeping it off. None of the attackers saw him. She ran outside and saved him but got burnt in the process. They never found out who did it – the perpetrators were masked. But everybody knows it was people she was working with. Maybe still is.’
‘God.’ Now Bond believed he understood Jordaan’s attitude towards him – perhaps she’d thought his flirtatious glance at the airport had meant he, too, didn’t take a woman seriously as a police officer.
He explained to Lamb his next