Part 32 (1/2)

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. .h.i.t 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 a.s.sociates 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 you.' But the man led him past the R&D department to a large, windowless room. Inside were a few chairs, a work table and a desk. He'd been provided with office supplies like yellow pads and pens, dozens of detailed maps of Africa and an intercom but no phone. Corkboards on the walls displayed copies of the pictures that Bond had delivered of the decaying bodies. He wondered where the originals were.

In Hydt's bedroom?

The Rag-and-bone Man asked pleasantly, 'Will this do?'

'Fine. A computer would be helpful.'

'I could arrange that for word processing and printing. No Internet access, of course.'

'No?'

'We're concerned about hacking and security. But for now, don't worry about writing anything up formally. Handwritten notes are enough.'

Bond maintained a calm facade as he noted the clock. It was now eight twenty in York. Just over two hours to go. 'Well, I'd better get down to it.'

'We'll be up the hall in the main conference room. Go to the end and turn left. Number nine hundred. Join us whenever you like, but make sure you're there before half twelve. We'll have something on television I think you'll find interesting.'

Ten thirty York time.

After Hydt had gone, Bond bent over the map and drew circles around some of the areas he'd arbitrarily picked as battle zones when he and Hydt had met at the Lodge Club. He jotted a few numbers signifying the body counts then bundled up the maps, a yellow pad and some pens. He stepped into the corridor, which was empty. Orienting himself, Bond went back to Research and Development.

Tradecraft dictates that simpler is usually the best approach, even in a black bag operation like this.

Accordingly Bond knocked on the door.

Mr Hydt asked me to find some papers for him . . . Sorry to bother you, I'll just be a moment . . .

He was prepared to rush the person who opened the door and use a take-down hold on wrist or arm to overpower them. Prepared for an armed guard too indeed, hoping for one, so he could relieve the man of his weapon.

But there was no answer. These staff had apparently been given the day off, too.

Bond fell back on plan two, which was somewhat less simple. Last night he had uploaded to Sanu Hirani the digital pictures he'd taken of the security door to Research and Development. The head of Q Branch had reported that the lock was virtually impregnable. It would take hours to hack. He and his team would try to think up another solution.

Shortly thereafter Bond had received word that Hirani had sent Gregory Lamb to scrounge another tool of the trade. He'd be delivering it that morning, along with written instructions on how to open the door. This was what the MI6 agent had handed to Bond in Bheka Jordaan's office.

Bond now checked behind him once more, then went to work. From his inside jacket pocket he took out what Lamb had provided: a length of 200-pound-test fis.h.i.+ng line, nylon that wouldn't be picked up by the Green Way metal detector. Bond now fed one end through the small gap at the top of the door and continued until it had reached the floor on the other side. He ripped a strip of the cardboard backing from the pad of yellow paper and tore it, fas.h.i.+oning a J shape a rudimentary hook. This he slipped through the bottom gap until he managed to snag the fis.h.i.+ng line and pull it out.

He executed a triple surgeon's knot to fix the ends together. He now had a loop that encircled the door from top to bottom. Using a pen, he made this into a huge tourniquet and began to tighten it.

The nylon strand grew increasingly taut . . . compressing the exit bar on the other side of the door. Finally, as Hirani had said would 'most likely' happen, the door clicked open, as if an employee on the inside had pushed the bar to let himself out. For the sake of fire safety, there could be no number pad lock release on the inside.

Bond stepped into the dim room, unwound the tourniquet and pocketed the evidence of his intrusion. Closing the door till it latched, he swept the lights on and glanced around the laboratory, looking for phones, radios or weapons. None. There were a dozen computers, desk- and laptop models, but the three he booted up were pa.s.sword protected. He didn't waste time on the others.