The man laughed softly and cynically. ‘People are careless around us. We are simply people to shepherd folks around. We are camels. Beasts of burden. I’m referring to the fact that people think we don’t exist. Therefore whatever they say in front of us they believe we do not hear, however sensitive it might be. However
Bond held up more cash, then returned it to his pocket.
The driver glanced about briefly then said, ‘He’s flying to Cape Town tonight. A private jet, leaving in about three hours. As I told you, the restaurant downstairs is known for its sumptuous and leisurely dining experience.’ A fake pout. ‘But your questions tell me you probably do not want me to have an associate book a table. I understand. Perhaps on your next trip to Dubai.’
Now Bond handed over the rest of the money. He then withdrew the man’s business card and, flicking it with his thumb, asked, ‘My associate? The man who came in with me? Did you see him?’
‘Tough one?’
‘Very tough. I will be leaving Dubai soon but he will be staying. He most sincerely hopes your information about Mr Hydt is accurate.’
The smile blew away like sand. ‘Yes, yes, sir, it is completely accurate, I swear to Allah. Praise be to Him.’
30
Bond went into the bar and took a table on the outdoor terrace overlooking Dubai Creek, a peaceful mirror dotted with swaying reflections of coloured light, which utterly belied the horror he had witnessed at al-Fulan’s works.
The waiter approached and asked what he would like. American bourbon was Bond’s favourite spirit, but he believed vodka was medicinal, if not curative, when served bitingly cold. He now ordered a double Stolichnaya martini, medium dry, and asked that it be shaken very well, which not only chilled the vodka better than stirring but bruised – aerated – it too, improving the flavour considerably.
‘Lemon peel only.’
When the drink arrived, suitably opaque – evidence of a proper shaking – he drank half immediately and felt the oxymoronic burning chill flow from throat to face. It helped dull the frustration that he hadn’t been able to save either the young woman or Yusuf Nasad.
It did nothing, however, to mitigate the memory of Hydt’s eerie expression as he gazed, lusting, at the petrified bodies.
He sipped again, staring absently at the television above the bar, on whose screen the beautiful Bahraini singer Ahlam was swirling through a video edited in the jerky style fashionable on Arab and Indian TV. Her infectious, trilling voice floated from the speakers.
He drained the glass, then called Bill Tanner. He explained about the false alarm at the history museum and the deaths and added that Hydt would head for Cape Town that night. Could T Branch arrange a ride for Bond? He could no longer hitchhike on his friend’s Grumman, which had gone back to London.
‘I’ll see what I can do, James. Probably have to be commercial. I don’t know if I can get you there ahead of Hydt, though.’
‘I just need a watcher to meet the flight and see where he goes. What’s the Six situation down there?’
‘Station Z’s got a covert operator on the Cape. Gregory Lamb. Let me check his status.’ Bond heard typing. ‘He’s up in Eritrea at the moment – that sabre-rattling on the Sudanese border’s got worse. But, James, we don’t want to get Lamb involved if we can avoid it. He doesn’t have an entirely irreproachable record. He went native, like some character out of a Graham Greene novel. I think Six have been meaning to hand him a redundancy package but haven’t got round to it. I’ll find somebody local for you. I’d recommend SAPS, the police service, rather than National Intelligence – NIA’s been in the news lately and not in a good way. I’ll make some calls and let you know.’
‘Thanks, Bill. Can you patch me to Q?’
‘Will do. Good luck.’
A thoughtful voice was soon on the line: ‘Q Branch. Hirani.’
‘It’s 007, Sanu. I’m in Dubai. I need something fast.’
After Bond had explained, Hirani seemed disappointed at the simplicity of the assignment. ‘Where are you?’ he asked.
‘Intercontinental, Festival City.’
Bond heard typing.
‘All right. Thirty minutes. Just remember: flowers.’
They rang off, as Leiter arrived, sat down and ordered a Jim Beam, neat. ‘That means no ice, no water, no fruit salad, no nothing. But it does mean a double. And I could live with a triple.’
Bond ordered another martini. When the waiter left he asked, ‘How’s the head?’
‘It’s nothing,’ Leiter murmured. He didn’t seem badly injured and Bond knew that his subdued mood was due to the loss of Nasad. ‘You find out anything about Hydt?’
‘They’re leaving tonight. A couple of hours. Going to Cape Town.’
‘What’s down there?’
‘No idea. That’s what I have to find out.’
And find out within three days, Bond reminded himself, if he wanted to save those thousands of people.
They fell silent as the waiter brought their drinks. Both agents scanned the large room as they sipped. There was no sign of the dark-haired man with the earring, or of watchers paying too much attention – or not enough – to the men in the corner.
Neither man raised a toast to the memory of the asset who’d just died. As tempted as you were, you never did that.
‘Nasad?’ Bond asked. ‘His body?’ The thought of an ally going to such an ignominious grave was hard.
Leiter’s lips tightened. ‘If Hydt and the Irishman were involved and I called in a team, they’d know we were on to them. I’m not risking our cover at this point. Yusuf knew what he was getting into.’
Bond nodded. It was the right way to handle it, though that didn’t make the decision any easier.
Leiter inhaled the fumes of his whiskey, then drank again. ‘You know, in this business, it’s choices like that that’re the hard ones – not pulling out your six-shooter and playing Butch Cassidy. That, you just do without thinking.’
Bond’s mobile buzzed. T Branch had booked him an overnight flight on Air Emirates to Cape Town. It left in three hours. Bond was pleased with the choice of carrier. The airline had studiously avoided becoming just another mass market operation and treated its passengers to what he guessed was the quality service that typified the golden age of air travel fifty or sixty years ago. He told Leiter of his departure arrangements. He added, ‘Let’s get some food.’
The American waved over a waiter and asked for a
‘Yes, sir.’
Bond ordered a bottle of a good
