Carte Blanche

next weekend I went to the property mentioned in the note. As I’d expected, it was a vacant lot.’ Hydt was animated, enjoying himself. ‘It took me ten minutes to find the buried gun. I bought a fingerprint kit and, though I was no expert, it seemed that the prints on the gun and the note matched. I didn’t know exactly what the gun had been used for but-’

‘But why bury it if it hadn’t been used to murder somebody?’

‘Exactly. I went to see the Clerkenwell man. I told him that my solicitor had the gun and the note – there was no solicitor, of course, but I bluffed well. I said if I didn’t call him in an hour he would send everything to Scotland Yard. Was it a gamble? Of course. But a calculated one. The man blanched and immediately asked me what I wanted. I named a figure. He paid in cash. I was on my way to opening a small collection company of my own. It eventually became Green Way.’

‘That gives a whole new meaning to the word “recycling”, doesn’t it?’

‘Indeed.’ Hydt seemed amused by the comment. He sipped his wine and gazed out at the grounds, the spheres of the burn-off flames glowing in the distance. ‘Did you know that there were three man-made phenomena you could see from outer space? The Great Wall of China, the Pyramids… and the old Fresh Kills landfill in New Jersey.’

Bond did not.

‘To me discard is more than a business,’ Hydt said, ‘It’s a window on to our society… and into our souls.’ He sat forward. ‘You see, we may acquiresomething in life unintentionally – through a gift, neglect, inheritance, fate, error, greed, laziness – but when we discard something, it’s almost always with cold intent.’

He took a judicious sip of wine. ‘Theron, do you know what entropy is?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Entropy,’ said Hydt, clicking his long, yellow nails, ‘is the essential truth of nature. It’s the tendency towards decay and disorder – in physics, in society, in art, in living creatures… in everything. It’s the path to anarchy.’ He smiled. ‘That sounds pessimistic, but it isn’t. It’s the most wonderful thing in the world. You can never go wrong by embracing the truth. And truth it is.’

His eyes settled on a bas-relief. ‘I changed my name, you know.’

‘I didn’t,’ Bond said, thinking: Maarten Holt.

‘I changed it because my surname was my father’s and my given name was selected by him. I wished to have no more connection with him.’ A cool smile. ‘That childhood I mentioned. I chose “Hydt” because it echoed the dark side of the protagonist in Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, which I’d read at school and enjoyed. You see, I believe we all have a public side and a dark side. The book confirmed that.’

‘And “Severan”? It’s unusual.’

‘You wouldn’t think so if you’d lived in Rome in the second and third centuries AD.’

‘No?’

‘I read history and archaeology at university. Mention ancient Rome, Theron, and most people think of what? The Julio-Claudian line of emperors. Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius and Nero. At least they think so if they read I, Claudiusor saw Derek Jacobi in brilliant form on the BBC. But that whole line lasted a pathetically short time – slightly over a hundred years. Yes, yes, mare nostrum, Praetorian guards, films staring Russell Crowe… all very decadent and dramatic. “My God, Caligula, that’s your sister!” But for me, the truth of Rome was revealed much later in a different family line, the Severan emperors, founded by Septimius Severus many years after Nero killed himself. You see, they presided over the decayof the Empire. Their reign culminated in what historians called the Period of Anarchy.’

‘Entropy,’ Bond said.

‘ Exactly .’ Hydt beamed. ‘I’d seen a statue of Septimius Severus and I look a bit like him so I took his family name.’ He focused on Bond. ‘Are you feeling uneasy, Theron? Don’t worry. You haven’t signed on with Ahab. I’m not mad.’

Bond laughed. ‘I wasn’t thinking you were. Honestly. I was thinking about the million dollars you mentioned.’

‘Of course.’ He studied Bond closely. ‘Tomorrow the first of a number of projects I’m engaged in will come to fruition. My main partners will be here. You will come too. Then you’ll see what we’re about.’

‘For a million, what do you want me to do?’ He frowned. ‘Shoot somebody with realbullets?’

Hydt fondled his beard again. He did indeed resemble a Roman emperor. ‘You don’t need to do anything tomorrow. That project is finished. We’ll just be watching the results. And celebrating, I hope. We’ll call your million a signature bonus. After that, you’ll be very busy.’

Bond forced himself to smile. ‘I’m pleased to be included.’

Just then Hydt’s mobile rang. He looked at the screen, rose and turned away. Bond guessed there was some difficulty. Hydt didn’t get angry but his stillness indicated he wasn’t happy. He disconnected. ‘I’m sorry. A problem in Paris. Inspectors. Trade unions. It’s a Green Way issue, nothing to do with tomorrow’s project.’

Bond didn’t want to make the man suspicious so he backed off. ‘All right. What time do you want me?’

‘Ten a.m.’

Recalling the original intercept that GCHQ had decrypted and the clues he’d found up in March about the time the attack would take place, Bond understood he would have about twelve hours to find out what Gehenna was about and stop it.

A figure appeared in the doorway. It was Jessica Barnes. She wore what seemed to be her typical garb – a black skirt and modest white shirt. Bond had never liked women to wear excessive make-up but he wondered again why she didn’t use even the minimum.

‘Jessica, this is Gene Theron,’ Hydt said absently. He’d forgotten they’d met last night.

The woman didn’t remind him.

Bond took her hand. She returned a timid nod. Then she said to Hydt, ‘The ad proofs didn’t come in. They won’t be here till tomorrow.’

‘You can review them then, can’t you?’

‘Yes, but there’s nothing more to do here. I was thinking I’d like to go back to Cape Town.’

‘Something’s come up. I’ll be a few hours, maybe more. You can wait…’ His eyes strayed to the door behind which Bond had seen the bed.

She hesitated. ‘All right.’ A sigh.

Bond said, ‘I’m going back into town. I can drive you if you like.’

‘Really? It’s not too much trouble?’ Her question, however, was not directed towards Bond but to Hydt.

The man was scrolling through his mobile. He looked up. ‘Good of you, Theron. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

They shook hands.

‘ Totsiens .’ Bond gave the Afrikaans farewell, which he knew courtesy of the Captain Bheka Jordaan School of Language.

‘What time will you be home, Severan?’ Jessica asked Hydt.

‘When I get there,’ he responded absently, punching a number into his phone.

Five minutes later Jessica and Bond were at the front security post, where he again passed through the metal detector. But before he was reunited with his gun and mobile, a guard walked up and said, ‘What is that, sir? I see something in your pocket.’