Carte Blanche - Jeffery Deaver [99]
The reference to his physical well-being was suddenly clear. ‘Let me,’ he said.
‘We’ll both do it.’
Together they began to transfer the cartons, which smelt of food. ‘Left-overs,’ he said.
‘Didn’t you think it was rather ironic that we were serving gourmet finger food at a campaign to raise money for the hungry?’ Felicity asked.
‘I did, yes.’
‘If I’d offered tinned biscuits and processed cheese, they’d have devoured the lot. But with fancier stuff – I extorted some three-star restaurants to donate it – they didn’t dare take more than a bite or two. I wanted to make sure there was plenty left over.’
‘Where are we delivering the excess?’
‘A food bank not far away. It’s one of the outlets my organisation works with.’
When they had finished loading, they got into the van. Felicity climbed into the driver’s seat and slipped off her shoes to drive barefoot. Then they sped into the night, bounding assertively over the uneven tarmac as she tormented the clutch and gearbox.
In fifteen minutes they were at the Cape Town Interdenominational Food Bank Centre. Her shoes back on, Felicity opened the side door and together they offloaded the scampi, crab cakes and Jamaican chicken, which the staff carried inside the shelter.
When the van was empty, Felicity gestured to a large man in khaki slacks and T-shirt. He seemed impervious to the May chill. He hesitated, then joined them, eyeing Bond curiously. Then he said, ‘Yes, Miss Willing? Thank you, Miss Willing. Lot of good food for everyone tonight. Did you see inside the shelter? It’s crowded.’
She ignored his questions, which to Bond had sounded like diversionary chatter. ‘Joso, last week a shipment disappeared. Fifty kilos. Who took it?’
‘I didn’t hear anything—’
‘I didn’t ask whether you heard anything. I asked who took it.’
His face was a mask, but then it sagged. ‘Why you asking me, Miss Willing? I didn’t do nothing.’
‘Joso, do you know how many people fifty kilos of rice will feed?’
‘I—’
‘Tell me. How many people.’ He towered over her but Felicity held her ground. Bond wondered if this was what she had meant with her assessment of his fitness – she had wanted someone to back her up. But her eyes revealed that, to her, Bond wasn’t even present. This was between Felicity and a transgressor who’d stolen food from those she’d pledged to protect, and she was entirely capable of taking him on alone. Her eyes reminded him of his when he confronted an enemy. ‘How many people?’ she repeated.
Miserably, he lapsed into Zulu or Xhosa.
‘No,’ she corrected. ‘It will feed more than that, many more.’
‘It was an accident,’ he protested. ‘I forgot to close the door. It was late. I was working—’
‘It was no accident. Someone saw you unlock the door before you left. Who has the rice?’
‘No, no you must believe me.’
‘Who?’ she persisted coolly.
He was defeated. ‘A man from the Flats. In a gang. Oh, please, Miss Willing, if you tell the SAPS, he’ll find out it was me. He’ll know I told you. He will come for me and he will come for my family.’
Her jaw tightened and Bond couldn’t dislodge the impression he’d had earlier, of a feline – now about to strike. There was no sympathy in her voice as she said, ‘I won’t go to the police. Not this time. But you’ll tell the director what you did. And he’ll decide whether to keep you on or not.’
‘This is my only job,’ he protested. ‘I have a family. My only job.’
‘Which you were happy to endanger,’ she responded. ‘Now, go and tell Reverend van Groot. And if he keeps you on and another theft occurs, I will tell the police.’
‘It will not happen again, Miss Willing.’ He turned and vanished inside.
Bond couldn’t help but be impressed with her cool, efficient handling of the incident. He noted too it made her all the more attractive.
She caught Bond’s eye and her face softened. ‘The war I’m fighting? Sometimes you’re never quite sure who the enemy is. They might even be on your side.’
How well