Carte Blanche

the filthy floor of this decrepit construction site, she radiated defiance, a caged, angry lioness.
    “How . . . how did you know?” she asked.
    They could hear the soothing yet powerful sound of the Atlantic crashing on the rocks, birds calling, a far-off car horn bleating. This place wasn’t far from the center of Cape Town but the city seemed a universe away.
    “A number of things made me wonder,” Bond told her. “The first was Dunne himself. Why the mysterious funds transfer to his account yesterday— before Gehenna? That suggested Dunne had another partner. And so did another intercept we caught, mentioning that if Hydt was out of the picture, there were other partners who could proceed with the project. Who had that been sent to? One explanation was that it was somebody entirely independent of Gehenna.
    “Then I remembered Dunne traveled to India, Indonesia and the Caribbean. At the fund-raiser you said your charity had opened offices in Mumbai, Jakarta and Port-au-Prince. Bit of a coincidence, that. Both you and Dunne had connections in London and Cape Town and you’d both had a presence in South Africa before Hydt opened the Green Way office here.
    “And I made the NOAH connection on my own,” Bond continued. When he was in SAPS headquarters he’d found himself staring at her card. IOAH. He’d suddenly realized there was merely one letter difference. “I checked company records in Pretoria and found the group’s original name. So when you told me you’d heard Lamb referred to as Noah, I knew you were lying. That confirmed your guilt. But we still needed to trick you into telling us what you knew and what Incident Twenty was.” He regarded her coldly. “I didn’t have time for aggressive interrogation.”
    Purpose . . . response.
    Not knowing Felicity’s goal, this deception had been the best response he could put together.
    Felicity eased herself toward the wall. The movement was accompanied by a glance out of the window.
    Suddenly several thoughts coalesced in Bond’s mind: the shift of her eyes, the “accident” blocking Victoria Road, Dunne’s genius for planning and the car horn, which had sounded about three minutes earlier. It had been a signal, of course, and Felicity had been counting down since it had blared in the distance.
    “Incoming!” Bond cried and launched himself into Bheka Jordaan.
    The two of them and Lamb tumbled to the floor as bullets crashed through the windows, filling the room with shards of glistening confetti.

Chapter 69
    Bond, Lamb and Jordaan took cover as best they could, which wasn’t easy because the entire north wall of the room was exposed. Table saws and the rest of the construction equipment provided some protection but they were still vulnerable, since the work lights and overheads gave the sniper a perfect view of the rooms.
    Felicity hunkered down further.
    “How many men does Dunne have with him?” Bond snapped to her.
    She didn’t answer.
    He aimed close to her leg and fired a deafening shot, which spat splinters of wood into her face and chest. She screamed. “Just him for now,” she whispered quickly. “He’s got some other people on the way. Listen, just let me go and—”
    “Shut up!”
    So, Bond reflected, Dunne had used part of his money to bribe security forces in Mozambique to lie that he’d been spotted in the country while he had remained here to back up Felicity. And to hire mercenaries to extract them, if necessary.
    Bond glanced round the breakfast room and the nearby lobby. There was simply no way to get to cover. Aiming carefully, he shot out the work lights but the overheads were still bright and too numerous to take out. They gave Dunne a perfect view of the interior. Bond rose but was rewarded with two close shots. He’d seen no target. There was some moonlight but the glare inside rendered outdoors black. He could tell Dunne was shooting from high ground, on the Apostles range. Yet the Irishman could be anywhere up there.
    A moment or two passed, then more bullets crashed into the room, striking bags of plaster. The dust rose and Bond and Jordaan coughed. Bond noted that the angle of those shots had been different; Dunne was working his way into a position from which he could begin to pick them off.
    “The lights,” Lamb called. “We’ve got to get them out.”
    The switch, however, was in the passage to the kitchen and to get to it one of them would have to run past a series of glass doors and windows,