Part 31 (1/2)

She lifted his hand to her face and gently bit his finger. 'The first lie you've told me.'

'My job,' he said.

'Then I'll forgive you. It's the same with me. Co-ordinating the help on the docks, paying the pilots' fees, working on the s.h.i.+p charters and lorry leases, the trade unions.' Her voice took on the edge he'd heard before, as she said, 'And then your speciality. We've already had two attempted break-ins at the dock. And no food has even been offloaded yet. Odd.' Silence for a moment. Then: 'Gene?'

Bond knew something significant was coming. He grew alert and receptive. The intimacy of bodies comes prepacked with an intimacy of mind and spirit, and you ought not seek the first if you're unwilling to take delivery of the second. 'Yes?'

She said evenly, 'I have a feeling there's more to your work than you've told me. No, don't say anything. I don't know how you feel but if it turns out we can keep seeing each other, if . . .' She trailed off.

'Go on,' he whispered.

'If it turns out we see each other again, do you think that maybe you could change just a bit? I mean, if you do go to some dark places, could you promise me not to go to the . . . worst?' He felt the tension that rippled through her. 'Oh, I don't know what I'm saying. Ignore me, Gene.'

Although she was speaking to a security expert-c.u.m-mercenary soldier from Durban, in a way she was also talking to him, James Bond, a 00 Section agent.

And, ironically, he took her acknowledgement that she could live with a certain degree of darkness in Theron as indication that she might accept Bond as he was.

He whispered, 'I think that's very possible.'

She kissed his hand. 'Don't say any more. That's all I wanted to hear. Now, I have an idea. I don't know what your plans are for this weekend . . .'

Neither do I, Bond thought sourly.

'. . . but we'll have finished the food s.h.i.+pments tomorrow night. There's an inn I know in Franschhoek have you been to that area?'

'No.'

'It's the most beautiful spot on the Western Cape. A wine district. The restaurant has a Michelin star and the most romantic deck in the world, overlooking the hills. Come with me on Sat.u.r.day?'

'I'd love to,' he said and kissed her hair.

'You really mean that?' The tough warrior who seemed so at ease fighting the world's agropolies now sounded vulnerable and unsure.

'Yes, I do.'

In five minutes she was asleep.

Bond, however, remained awake, staring out at the lights of the harbour. His thoughts were no longer on his father's possible betrayal, nor on his promise to Felicity Willing to consider changing his darkest nature nor on the antic.i.p.ation of the time they might spend together this weekend. No, James Bond was focusing on one thing only: the indistinct faces of those, somewhere in the world, whose lives despite Whitehall's belief he knew that he alone could save.

Friday DOWN TO GEHENNA.

53.

At eight forty a.m. Bond steered his dusty, mud-spattered Subaru into the Cape Town SAPS headquarters car park. He killed the engine, climbed out and entered the building, where he found Bheka Jordaan, Gregory Lamb and Kwalene Nkosi in her office.

Bond greeted them with a nod. Lamb responded with a look that bespoke intrigue, Nkosi with an energetic smile.

Jordaan said, 'Regarding Hydt's newly arrived a.s.sociates, we've identified them.' She spun her laptop and clicked on a slide-show. The first photos depicted a large man with a round ebony face. He wore a brash gold and silver s.h.i.+rt, designer sungla.s.ses and voluminous brown slacks.

'Charles Mathebula. He's a black diamond from Joburg.'

Lamb explained: 'From the new wealthy cla.s.s in South Africa. Some of them become rich overnight in ways that aren't quite transparent, if you get my drift.'

'And some,' Jordaan added frostily, 'became wealthy by hard work. Mathebula owns businesses that seem to be legitimate s.h.i.+pping and transport. He was on the borderline with some arms deliveries a few years ago, true, but there was no evidence of wrongdoing.' A tap of a key and another picture appeared. 'Now, this is David Huang.' He was slim and smiled at the camera. 'His daughter posted the snapshot on her Facebook page. Stupid girl . . . though good for us.'

'A known mobster?'

Nkosi qualified, 'A suspected mobster. Singapore. Mostly money-laundering. Possibly human trafficking.'

Another face appeared. Jordaan tapped her computer screen. 'The German Hans Eberhard. He came in on Wednesday. Mining interests, diamonds primarily. Industrial grade but some jewellery.' A good-looking blond man was pictured leaving the airport. He was wearing a well-cut light suit, a s.h.i.+rt without a tie. 'He's been suspected of various crimes but he's technically clean.'

Bond studied the photos of the men.

Eberhard.

Huang.

Mathebula.

He memorised the names.

Frowning, Jordaan said, 'I don't understand why Hydt needs partners, though. He's got money enough to fund Gehenna himself, I should think.'

Bond had already considered this. 'Two reasons, most likely. Gehenna must be expensive. He'd want outside money so that if he's ever audited he doesn't have to explain huge liabilities on the books. But, more important, he doesn't have a criminal background or network. Whatever Gehenna's about, he'll need the contacts that people like these three can offer.'

'Yes,' Jordaan allowed. 'That makes sense.'

Bond looked at Lamb. 'Sanu Hirani in Q Branch texted me this morning. He said you had something for me.'

'Ah, yes sorry.' The Six agent handed him an envelope.

Bond peered inside and then pocketed it. 'I'm going out to the plant now. Once I'm inside I'll try to find out what Incident Twenty is, who's at risk and where. I'll get word out as soon as I can. But we need a fall-back plan.' If they hadn't heard from him by four p.m., Jordaan should order tactical officers to raid the plant, detain Hydt, Dunne and the partners and seize the contents of the Research and Development department. 'This will give us or you, if I'm no longer in the game five or six hours to interrogate them and find out what Incident Twenty's all about.'

'A raid?' Jordaan was frowning. 'I can't do that.'

'Why not?'

'I've told you. Unless I have reasonable belief that a crime is occurring at Green Way, or a magistrate's order, there's nothing I can do.'

d.a.m.n the woman. 'This isn't about preserving his rights for a fair trial. This is about saving thousands of people possibly many South Africans.'

'I can do nothing without a warrant and there's no evidence to present to the court to get one. No justification to act.'

'If I don't turn up by four, you can a.s.sume he's killed me.'