over the whole seaside city, its plateau looking just like the natural UFO landing pad in Close Encounters of the Third Kind with a few extra hills on either side.
His gaze moved southeast of the city to Cape Flats, where its white beaches looked pleasantly beautiful, innocuous enough from this distance. His brows furrowed as he remembered what he’d left there only two hours ago.
A side door to the office opened. He straightened his tie, then turned to face the CEO of Pincer Industries.
Downtown Cape Town
Lucy drove a rented Corolla down St. John’s Street. She had rented six vehicles for the stay in Cape Town: the Corolla, three Jeeps and two vans, all at different rental places, all fees paid with cash, and all under assumed names. She tugged at the short black bangs of a wig, making sure her auburn eyebrows were covered. Cao had her disguised with a Roman nose, black glasses, and sideburns. She’d wrapped her breasts so they wouldn’t show beneath the male pin-stripped suit she wore. She was just tall and muscular enough to pull it off, with the help of shoulder pads. How did men get used to all these layers of tight clothing?
She glanced in the rearview mirror. The white van carrying the rest of the team cruised several car lengths behind her. It reassured her, but it didn’t stop the adrenaline strumming her veins.
She neared the target, Plus Suisse Worldwide Depository, a monolith of steel and glass that shadowed half a block.
She approached the cement-lined ramp to the underground parking deck and slowed. “Okay, going in,” she spoke into the bone mic.
“Passing you,” Tommy said as the van eased past her.
“Turning.”
Cao, Betsy and Tommy all wished her luck, and she heard the worry in their voices. Tommy pulled the van into an alley across the street, next to a sleek modern law office. Cao slid a tiny portable dish onto the roof.
She paused before the electronic podium and gate. An LCD screen spewed out directions in Afrikaans, French, Dutch, German, English, Xhosa, Zulu, Sesotho, Setswana, Muslim, Hindu…and the languages kept rolling.
She spoke more than ten languages, a necessity from having lived in many impoverished Asian and African provinces with her mother, so she had already pulled out the mini modem.
“Okay, in we go.” She slid it in. It fit perfectly. No alarm went off. Always good.
Would it work? Her faith in Cao had never wavered until this moment. She counted the seconds by the steady pulse in her temple.
Waited. Held her breath.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
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