Jeffery Deaver - Carte Blanche

‘Your new friend Percy.’

‘Osborne-Smith?’ Bond nearly laughed.

‘He said if you had a lead you ought to be allowed to follow it up.’

‘Did he now? I’ll buy him a pint when all this is over. You too.’

‘Well, things aren’t as rosy as they seem,’ Tanner said glumly. ‘The old man put the ODG’s reputation on the line to keep you there. Your reputation too. If it turns out Hydt is a diversion, there’ll be repercussions. Serious ones.’

Was the very future of the ODG riding on his success?

Politics, Bond reflected cynically. He said, ‘I’m sure Hydt’s behind it.’

‘And M’s going with that judgement.’ Tanner asked what his next steps would be.

‘I’ll be at Hydt’s plant tomorrow morning. Depending on what I find, I’m going to have to move fast, and communications could be a problem. If I can’t learn anything by late afternoon, I’ll get Bheka Jordaan to raid the place, interrogate the hell out of Hydt and Dunne and find out what’s planned for tomorrow night.’

‘All right, James. Keep me informed. I’ll brief M. He’ll be in that security meeting all day.’

‘Night, Bill. And thank him for me.’

After they had rung off, he poured a generous amount of Crown Royal into a crystal glass, added two ice cubes and turned off the lights. He flung wide the curtains, sat on the sofa and gazed out over the snowflake lights on the harbour. A massive British-flag cruise ship was easing up to the dock.

His phone trilled and he glanced at the screen.

‘Philly.’ He took another sip of the fragrant whisky.

‘Are you in the middle of dinner?’

‘It’s après -cocktail cocktail hour here.’

‘You are a man after my own heart.’ As she said this, Bond’s eyes happened to be on the bed he’d shared last night with Felicity Willing. Philly continued, ‘I didn’t know if you wanted more updates on the Steel Cartridge operation…’

He sat forward. ‘Yes, please. What’ve you found?’

‘Something interesting, I think. Seems the whole point of the operation wasn’t to kill just any of our agents and contractors. The Russians were killing their moles within MI6 and the CIA.’

Bond felt something detonate inside him. He put his glass down.

‘With the fall of the Soviet Union, the Kremlin wanted to solidify ties with the West. It would’ve been awkward politically if their doubles were exposed. So active KGB agents killed the most successful moles in Six and the CIA and made the murders look like accidents – but left a steel cartridge at the scene as a warning to the others to keep quiet. That’s all I know at this point.’

My God, Bond thought. His father… his father had been a double – a traitor ?

‘Are you still there?’

‘Yes – just a bit distracted by what’s going on here. But that’s good work, Philly. I’ll be incommunicado for most of tomorrow but text me or email what you find.’

‘I will. Take care of yourself, James. I worry.’

They rang off.

Bond lifted the cold crystal glass, wet with condensation, and pressed it against his forehead. He now scrolled mentally through his family’s past, trying to find clues about Andrew Bond that might shed light on this appalling theory. Bond had been quite fond of his father, who was a collector of stamps and photographs of cars. He’d owned several vehicles but took more pleasure in repairing and cleaning them than in fast driving. When older, Bond had asked his aunt about the man. Charmian had thought for a moment and said, ‘He was a good man, of course. Solid, dependable. A rock. But quiet. Andrew was never one to stand out.’

Qualities of the best covert intelligence agents.

Could he have been a mole for the Russians?

Another jarring thought: his father’s duplicity – if the story were true – had resulted in the death of his wife, Bond’s mother, too.

Not just the Russians but his father’s betrayal had orphaned young Bond.

He started as his phone buzzed with an incoming text.

Late night getting ready for food shipments. Just left office. Interested in some company? Felicity.

James Bond hesitated a moment. Then he typed Yes.

Ten minutes later, after slipping his Walther under the bed beneath a towel, he heard a soft knock. He opened the door and let in Felicity Willing. Any doubt he might have had about whether or not they would pick up where they left off yesterday was dashed when she flung her arms around him and kissed him hard. He smelt her perfume, radiating from behind her ear, and she tasted of mint.

‘I’m a mess,’ she said, laughing. She wore a blue cotton shirt, tucked into designer jeans, which were crumpled and dusty.

‘I won’t hear of it,’ he said and kissed her again.

‘You’re sitting in the dark, Gene,’ she said. And for the first time in the operation he was jarred by the reminder of his Afrikaner cover.

‘I like the view.’

They stepped apart and in the dim light from outside Bond took in her face and thought it as intensely sensual as last night, but she was clearly tired. He supposed the logistics of marshalling the largest shipment of food ever to arrive on the African continent were daunting, to say the least.

‘Here.’ A wine bottle appeared from her shoulder bag – vintage Three Cape Ladies, a red blend from Muldersvlei on the Cape. Bond knew its reputation. He took out the cork and poured. They sat on the sofa and sipped.

‘Wonderful,’ he said.

She worked her boots off. Bond slipped his arm around her shoulders and struggled to put aside thoughts of his father.

Felicity slumped, and rested her head against him. On the horizon there were even more ships than there had been last night. ‘Our food ships. Look at them all,’ she said. ‘You hear so many bad things about people but that’s not the complete truth. There’s a lot of good out there. You can’t always count on it, it’s never certain, but at least-’

Bond interrupted, ‘At least someone’s… willing to help.’

She laughed. ‘You nearly made me spill my wine, Gene. I could’ve ruined my shirt.’

‘I have a solution.’

‘Stop drinking the wine?’ She pouted playfully. ‘But it’s so nice.’

‘Another solution, a better one.’ He kissed her and slowly began to undo the buttons of the garment.

An hour later, they lay in bed, on their sides, Bond behind Felicity. His arm was curled around her and his hand cupped her breast. Her fingers were entwined in his.

Unlike last night, however, in the after-moment, Bond was wholly awake.

His mind was racing furiously, past all assortment of topics. Exactly how much was the future of the ODG resting on him? What secrets did the Research and Development department of Green Way hold? What exactly was Hydt’s goal with Gehenna and how could Bond craft a suitable countermeasure?

Purpose… response.

And what of his father?

‘You’re thinking about something serious,’ Felicity said drowsily.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Women know.’

‘I’m thinking how beautiful you are.’

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 ship 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?’