And then Trevelyan raised the issue that Latimer had hoped would not come up. “What puzzles me, Julian, is how the bloody hell did Dillon discover the address in Lyme Regis?”
The question was a cloaked accusation that hung in the cool cement-tainted air with Trevelyan staring at Latimer with a cold, hard look formed across his unsmiling face.
“Well, he didn’t get the list from me,” Latimer said indignantly. “My copies are firmly locked away in the safe. And they’re still there.”
“I assume that you’ve checked?” asked Trevelyan, whilst pulling out a packet of black Russian cigarettes from his jacket pocket, which he believed gave him an air of sophistication and the international jetsetter. In reality he was just another sad old bugger with a serious smoking habit.
“Of course I have checked. They are all there.”
“So presumably the thought must have crossed your mind that perhaps someone had caught sight of them, at some time?”
“Why should it? After all, my copies never leave the confines of my safe and I have no others in my possession. Someone has obviously seen or been told about Hart’s, Hammer’s or your own.”
“Highly unlikely, I would have thought. Hart lives in a property that has a security system better than Fort Knox. Hammer is as paranoid as Hart about security, so that rules them both out. As for myself, someone would have had to get past dogs, bodyguards and a state-of-the-art security setup. So that just leaves you, I’m afraid, Julian.”
“You’re forgetting the Conners. Either of them could have been careless, let slip to someone.”
“Again, highly unlikely. I’ve known Harry Conner and his wife for nearly forty years. It’s not even a possibility, Julian. He did everything that he should have. It wasn’t his fault that it all went bloody pear-shaped from that moment.”
“You can’t be sure of that,” Latimer said nervously.
“I can and I am, Julian. Especially where Harry Conner is concerned. Now, are you one hundred percent sure that no one has been inside your flat? Nothing disturbed or in the wrong place?”
“Of course. I’m extremely particular about tidiness. I would have noticed immediately if anything were out of place.”
The truth was that once he’d checked that nothing was missing from the safe in his bedroom, he had taken the rest for granted.
“Yet Dillon has got hold of at least one address and we don’t know how many more he has.”
“Interestingly, the police didn’t find the room. Even though they had dogs with them when they returned later. Which, I suppose, tells us that the gold is safe.”
“They wouldn’t have been looking for anything like that. And anyway, everything is very well hidden. However, there’s been a serious breach of secrecy, which poses a problem to me, Julian. You should know me well enough by now to know that I can’t let this go without finding out who has been careless enough to, unwittingly or otherwise, assist Dillon in obtaining this information. I will have my people make enquiries. I’ll find the bastard, and when I do I’ll have him taken care of.”
Latimer had listened to the aging gangster in silence. He’d wanted to laugh at the melodrama, but part of him was terrified by what he was hearing.
“Taken care of, Tommy?”
“That’s right, taken care of permanently. You see, Julian, I think that someone helped Dillon to break into your safe. And when I find out who it was, I’m going to make his final time on this planet extremely uncomfortable.”
Latimer did not like Trevelyan’s assumption that his safe had been broken into, in spite of his denial. He could not see the point of any of this.
“Do you want the stuff moved to another location?”
Trevelyan smiled for the first time. “Now you’re talking. But that is up to Hammer. Let’s be absolutely sure first. My lads have been searching high and low for Dillon. And although they’ve not been lucky so far, there are not enough places for him to hide forever. He’s around somewhere; we’ll find him and his lawyer girlfriend who’s also done a bloody disappearing act. I’ll get him though. And when I do, he’ll wish he’d never stuck his nose into our business.”
* * *
Dillon stood in front of the mirror, putting the finishing touches to his new identity. He’d completely changed the way he looked by using the latex prostheses and make-up that Vince had given him before he’d left London. A new nose, slightly bigger ears, and bags under the eyes. In all he’d added twenty years onto his forty odd years. He adjusted the sandy-coloured hairpiece, making certain that it was firmly attached to his own hair underneath, and then also checked that the false moustache was securely fixed in place. He then went back into the master bedroom, pulled on a pair of brown corduroy trousers, a blue shirt, and a tweed jacket. He put on a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles and, glancing across the room at a full-length mirror on the wall, was pleased with the ever so slightly eccentric Home Office boffin who now looked back at him. He finished packing everything back into the canvas holdall and then went round the apartment checking that all the windows and doors were locked. He left the building and headed away from Lilliput in the direction of London and Dunstan Havelock’s home address.
Arriving there a little after 9.30 p.m.. Rachel answered the door – gorgeous Rachel who had tried to kill herself with drugs and booze, and whom Dillon had saved from doing so. Ever since that time they had become firm friends and had a deep rooted affection for one another that even with the passing of time had never changed.
He stood on the doorstep and at first she did not recognise him. He gave her a sharp warning look and said, “Mrs. Havelock? I’m terribly sorry to disturb your evening. I’m Colin Fairweather. Here to see your husband if he’s in? There’s some information he needs for his meeting with the Home Secretary first thing in the morning.”
The sly wink that he gave her would have gone completely unnoticed by anyone who may have been watching from afar, but Rachel played her part as the wife of a high ranking civil servant to perfection.
“I’m sure he won’t mind.”
She stood aside to let Dillon in, adding. “Please, come in, Mr. Fairweather.”
Once inside with the front door firmly closed, he dropped the canvas holdall and gave Rachel a hug.
“Oh, Jake. You had me going there for a moment. What a fabulous disguise. It’s really nice to see you. Dunstan,” she called up the stairs. “Come and see who’s here.”
Dillon took off the wig and moustache, placing them on the polished black marble surface of a long slender table standing in the middle of the hall. Havelock appeared at the top of the staircase and on seeing Dillon, came straight down to greet him. The two men shook hands and then disappeared back up the stairs to Havelock’s study as Rachel went off to the kitchen to make some fresh coffee.
They sat opposite each other in club chairs that had seen better days, but were remarkably comfortable. A large Georgian picture window overlooked the walled garden at the rear of the house, giving the room a light airiness and a timeless elegance. Bookcases adorned every wall – filled with hundreds of books, all neatly arranged in alphabetical order. Some were first editions, others had been block purchased at auction simply to make up the numbers on the solid oak shelves that seemed to come out of the floor and reach right up to the high ceiling. Dillon was always impressed by the opulence of the three storey townhouse located in one of the city’s most exclusive residential areas. A reminder of just how wealthy Havelock was. Dillon accepted a single malt whiskey and told him what he had discovered, explaining Vince Sharp’s present enquiries into the Poulter woman.
“Did you manage to find out which committees Latimer has been involved with?” asked Dillon eventually.
“Yes and no. The problem is this, Jake. It’s an extremely long-winded and very tiresome job, and I don’t really know how
far back I’m supposed to be looking. After all, I do have a heavy workload of my own. You know I cannot let that slip for one moment. The biggest problem is that I can’t delegate the snooping without some rather awkward questions being asked. The most efficient way would be to ask Latimer directly, but obviously that’s a non-starter.”
“So you haven’t come across anything to do with the movement of gold bullion or even fine arts, then?”
“No. And to be honest, it simply isn’t something that he would ever get involved with.”
Havelock swirled his whisky around in the crystal tumbler.
“You’re surely not connecting Latimer to the gold and all that other stuff that went on down in Dorset, are you?” he asked Dillon.
“That depends, Dunstan, on whether the other addresses hold the same secret as the one in Lyme Regis. In which case, I’d say it would be reasonable to assume that he’s into some pretty serious stuff with some very unsavoury people.”
“I wish you wouldn’t make such assumptions, Jake. After all, he has been a Member of Parliament for many years.”
“Dunstan, my whole life is based on making assumptions. I am telling you that he’s as dodgy as they come. Ask yourself: why was that list in his personal safe?”
“I haven’t the foggiest. Do I have to continually remind you that someone in my position cannot simply go around asking questions about a Minister and start delving into his personal files?”
“Then give me the access codes to the computer files and I’ll have Vince take a look. After all, Government departments lose that sort of information for a pastime.”
“Absolutely out of the question.”
He quickly scribbled a series of numbers and letters onto one of those sticky note things, folded it in half, and then, as if absentmindedly, left it on the top of his desk. He stood up and moved across to the door.
“I’ll just go and see where Rachel is with the coffee.”
He closed the door quietly behind him. Dillon unfolded the piece of paper, took out his mobile phone and using the built-in scanner, copied the information to the phone’s memory. He immediately sent it along with a short text message explaining what it was, to Vince Sharp. Two minutes later Havelock walked back into the room with a tray of freshly made sandwiches and a pot of coffee.
“I don’t know how you do it, Jake. But it’s just dawned on me that I not only seem to break the law, but also the oath of loyalty that I took like everyone else when I joined the service. But I do appreciate that you have taken an enormous risk by coming here tonight. It intrigues me as to what would be so urgent as to make you do that?”
“As the Home Secretary’s personal adviser, Dunstan, you carry a huge amount of knowledge and do a lot of highly confidential jobs best not done in Parliament. And who are you trying to kid here anyway, Dunstan? You even have the highest level of clearance, next to the Home Secretary and the Director General of the security service. This is something a good many MPs would resent.”
“Well, now you’ve lost me. What’s this all got to do with Latimer.”
“I believe that Julian Latimer has used his position to get himself into something that makes him vast amounts of money. He couldn’t give a monkey’s about allegiance to the crown or serving the people who voted him into office. I think that it dates back a good way which is why this is all so difficult.”
“But even if some or all of the other addresses did have the same cache of gold, wouldn’t it still be unlikely that Latimer would knowingly be involved? Having said that, if there were similar amounts at the other addresses, it would make a small mountain of the stuff. You’re not suggesting that he and Trevelyan are in cahoots together, are you?”
“No.” Dillon was thoughtful for a moment, and then Rachel came in with more coffee. After she had gone the subject seemed to lose impetus for a bit until he said, “No. I’m suggesting that he’s inextricably involved with all of them. Trevelyan, Hart and Hammer.”
“Now that would be something.”
“Forget sifting through the files on the database, I’ll get Vince to do that. But I’d like you to take a look at what committees or advisory boards Latimer was sitting on during 1982 and 1983.”
“Anything in particular?”
Dillon finished his coffee and stood up.
“Transportation of precious metals. To move six thousand eight hundred bars of gold, Brinks Mat, would have had to notify someone in a Government or police department. The police report at the time of the robbery clearly state that it was an inside job. There were fifteen people involved with the planning and execution of the heist and only a handful of men were ever arrested and put inside. My hunch is this, Dunstan. That one or maybe all of them were involved with one of the biggest gold heists of our time. Now, it may not have been directly, of course, but if we dig deeper, we may just strike lucky and find something to link them with the robbery.”
“It sounds too fantastic to be believable. But I’ll grant you this, finding that gold hidden in the depths of the Dorset countryside was a masterstroke on your part. I must say that these four men are all of the right age to have been involved then. But I’m still dubious of Latimer’s involvement. But I’ll do what you ask and take a look at his files for that time.”
“Thanks, Dunstan. I’ll slip out quietly. Give Rachel my love.”
Havelock rose, too. “She’ll expect you to say goodnight.”
“Do it for me. I don’t want to lie to her about what I’m working on and I don’t want her to think that you’re in any danger.”
“Am I?” asked Havelock as they walked down the stairs and stood in the spacious hall talking, their voices lowered to almost a whisper. Dillon replaced the wig and moustache, looking in the oval wall mirror to ensure they were correctly in place.
“You have far too many powerful political and security service friends for you to be in any real danger. But if Hart or Trevelyan discovered that you were my contact in the Government, they might try to get to you and leave you with something to remember them by. I don’t think they would go so far as to kill you. Not because they wouldn’t want to, but because it would attract too much attention.”
“That’s a real comfort, Jake. It will make me sleep much easier tonight.”
“Best you know, Dunstan. I’ve always said that you’re not too hot on security.” Dillon held out his hand.
“Don’t come out onto the step – just show me out. I’ll be in touch.” He picked up the canvas holdall.
Havelock opened the door for Dillon to leave and said with a slightly raised voice, “Thank you for dropping round. Give my regards to your department head.”
The door closed behind Dillon who stood on the step buttoning up his tweed jacket and turning the collar up. He went down the path slowly, paused to decide which way to go, and then set off. The streets were discreetly quiet at this time of night in Kensington. He didn’t hurry and he already knew that someone was behind him. Keeping his pace constant, he turned corners as they came.
Suddenly he turned round and walked back the way he’d just come from. The man following him had no option but to continue walking towards him and as they passed each other, Dillon hit him hard in the stomach, dragged the gasping stranger into the nearest garden and went through his pockets to find a police identity card. Special Branch doing MI5 a favour, no doubt.
Dillon said in his most public school voice, “I’m ever so sorry. By the looks of it, we appear to both be on the same side of the fence. But I genuinely thought that you were going to mug me; official secrets and all that. Although it does pose the question of why you were following me.”
“My mistake. I thought you were someone else. Sorry. Bit of a mix up, but no harm done, eh?” The words came quickly between strangled gasps for air.
“Well be more careful next
time. Or I’ll have to report you.”
Dillon strode off before the police officer could recover enough to stand up and start questioning him.
He went straight to the nearest tube station, entered the public toilets, and in one of the cubicles, removed the wig and moustache again. He rummaged through the canvas holdall and pulled out a black hoodie and beanie, put them on and stood pondering on why only one man had been following him. He then decided that the look of an eccentric academic had thrown them – it had worked. They must be watching Havelock around the clock and had dispatched only one man to follow him on the you-never-know basis.
* * *
Charlie Hart was starting to worry about himself. For the first time since moving into the luxury waterside mansion, he was finding it too large and too empty. As he wandered aimlessly through rooms and along hallways he decided that the place was without a soul. Mrs. Pringle had gone out for the evening with a friend. Even when she was in she would usually remain in her private apartment, but he could hardly trouble her with his woes of worry. After all, he knew that she had a soft spot for him and to lean on her emotionally would almost certainly not be without some kind of repercussion.
The house had the space and minimalist qualities that he’d always wanted. Nobody crowded him and that was extremely important. He could change bedrooms as the mood took him, eat his meals in a formal dining room or usually in the breakfast room adjacent to the spacious kitchen, or by the indoor pool. Weather permitting, there was always alfresco on the pontoon which jutted quietly out from the lower gardens into the harbour. In fact, he only ever used the breakfast room, but the option was there. Freedom. What a magical word. But he felt like he was creating his own prison, physically and emotionally. Shackled by the chains of his past.
Shroud of Concealment (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) Page 25
