Shroud of Concealment (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) Read online

  “That’s blackmail.”

  “Exactly. Like I said, if that’s how you want to play it. So, what about it? I’d say it was a fair trade-off?”

  “You bastard! You know I can’t break a client’s confidence. It would be unethical and tantamount to committing commercial suicide. I’ll tell you what, you send the stuff back and I’ll forget it ever happened.”

  “I don’t think so, do you? Let me put it another way. I know who it was who hired you and I simply want it confirmed.”

  “No way.”

  “Okay, if that’s how it’s got to be. Let’s play the name game and the best bit is that you don’t have to say anything. Simply remain silent for ten seconds if I’m right. Charlie Hart.”

  Dillon watched the second hand of his Omega sweep round, knew that Samuels was still there and said, “Thanks, Sammy. You’ve be very obliging. I’ll send the stuff back by motorcycle courier first thing in the morning.”

  “You can keep your thanks. Because I wouldn’t have said anything whatever name you’d have given me. You really are grasping at straws, Dillon. Now be a good chap and return the stuff you stole from my man. And I hope for your sake that you haven’t done him any serious injury, or you’re going to be in deep shit, my friend.”

  Dillon ended the call and immediately rang Hart. Mrs. Pringle answered the phone and Dillon had to wait.

  “What do you want? You’re interrupting my dinner.”

  “I won’t keep you long. That private investigator you sent to keep an eye on me must have cost you. But I’m afraid your money has not been put to good use. He had to be carried off the field of play. Early.”

  “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Dillon found himself cut off, but felt extremely satisfied. Hart had sounded rattled. And that was exactly how he wanted him to be. As he went back through to the living room, he was more concerned for Issy’s safety, and that of Havelock. If McVey had remembered the car registration numbers, Hart would be able to quickly trace them. He could protect Issy and didn’t really think that she would be in any immediate danger. But Havelock would be traced back to the Home Secretary, and Hart might just put two and two together, and come up with three. As far as Dillon knew this was not a political issue. Havelock was definitely not capable of looking after himself in any physical way, and wondered if he should update him with what he’d just discovered.

  Issy looked up and closed the file she’d been reading just as Dillon walked into the room. She immediately saw that he had something on his mind.

  “Anything wrong?”

  “I think that Hart has managed to get hold of Havelock’s car registration number. And what’s worse, he may connect him with my visit to Dorset. Should I tell him, do you think?”

  “With my lawyer’s head on I have to say that for an innocent man, Hart has certainly made some strange moves, and appears to have taken this whole affair badly. Furthermore, I’ve seen men like him many times before and he’s showing all the classic signs of someone who has something to hide. If he thinks that Dunstan has been the one who initiated an investigation into his private collection of paintings, well, there might be a development. But that is only my opinion. Dunstan has never been in the firing line before, has he?”

  Issy stood up, went across the room to Dillon and placed her arms around him, stroking the back of his neck with the tips of her manicured fingers.

  “If Hart has Dunstan’s number then he’ll have mine.”

  “Well, if he does I wouldn’t worry about it. He’ll treat our relationship for what it is. Why should you be involved with any of this? But Dunstan is completely different and has connections that might worry Hart.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t going any further with this when Dunstan asked you to fly to Delhi. You’re starting to make it sound like it may turn into some kind of war or something.”

  “That depends on whether Hart is protecting his privacy or something else. And to be honest, Issy, I really didn’t want to get involved. Or that was the general idea, anyway. But it might not be something I can let go of now, because Hart won’t believe I’ve let it go. I think I’d better phone Dunstan and warn him.”

  He walked back to the study and dialled Dunstan Havelock’s private number.

  * * *

  Dillon woke early the next morning. Issy was still asleep. He went to the kitchen, ground a handful of Columbian coffee beans and placed them into the cafetiere. Whilst the kettle was coming to the boil, he went down in the lift to the lobby to collect the mail from his private post box. By the time he had returned, Issy was in the kitchen pouring the coffee into brightly-coloured mugs. He sifted through the familiar bank statements and bills; tossing the volumes of junk mail unopened into the waste bin and everything else onto the table top. Amongst the pile of envelopes was a small white Jiffy bag, the address handwritten in thick black marker pen and one end sealed with brown packing tape.

  Dillon’s golden rule of survival: treat unexpected packages with extreme caution if they arrive through the post. He had to curb his impatience and hide his anxiety for Issy’s sake, and was relieved when she’d left for her office. The first thing was to carefully and very slowly peel back the tape that was holding the seal down with a pair of tweezers. Suddenly, he noticed the thin bare wire that had been woven across the seal beneath the brown tape. He gingerly turned the package around and peeled back the bottom flap instead.

  Part of Dillon’s army intelligence training had involved the basic understanding that many letter bombs are activated by the top flap being ripped open, or by the contents being removed. Both of these methods can be assessed by opening the bottom of the package.

  The contents of the Jiffy bag were safely pulled free and consisted of nothing more than a brand new deck of playing cards that were still in their cellophane wrapper. Once he’d taken the wrapper off, he discovered to his amazement that all fifty-two cards were the same: the Joker! Dillon slowly cut away at one side, which exposed the workings of the device and allowed him to see how it had been put together. It was a classically built and yet simple low-yield bomb that at the very least would have blown his hand off and almost certainly have left him permanently blind. The trigger had been made by using a tiny electronic switch, the same type that musical birthday or Christmas cards have inside them. The music mechanism had been replaced with a detonator and a small amount of C4 explosive. Dillon cut the wire connecting all of these, and immediately let out a huge sigh of relief.

  Hart had moved fast and Dillon was quickly learning the rules of his game. In a very short space of time he’d hired a private detective agency and posted a small, but still lethal, letter bomb to his private address as a graphic warning.

  Dillon put what was left of the Jiffy bag, along with the explosive and the playing cards, into a courier bag and phoned the motorcycle dispatch company that Ferran & Cardini used regularly. Whilst he waited for them to turn up, he pondered what had happened so far. He was worried, puzzled and angry. All this because of a stolen painting? At best, it was overkill.

  He sat in his study and wondered what to do. He picked up the phone and called the office, spoke to Vince Sharp for a number of minutes and went over the chain of events that had taken place since his trip to Dorset. He told him that he was sending him the defused letter bomb and asked if he could determine where the contents had been purchased. Vince wasn’t overly optimistic, but said he’d try his best. Dillon hung up. He had deliberately provoked Hart and couldn’t really gripe about what was happening. It was the extent to which Hart had gone that concerned him most. There was something crude about it and yet, at the same time, ruthless. It just didn’t add up. A hardened criminal would have been more specific if believing himself in real danger. The warnings would have been much more barbarous, like a direct threat to Issy or an attack
late one night, and he definitely would not have used a detective agency in favour of his own men. It was because none of these things had happened that made him think Issy wasn’t in any kind of danger. But now he was not so sure.

  Dillon pulled up in the street outside of the firm’s side entrance. Except for those personnel working in the Special Projects Department, nobody else ever used the solitary doorway at the base of the high-rise building; one of many that rose up high into the sky from the dock area like a bizarre film set.

  He placed his right hand onto the black panel in the wall, a moment later, the system had confirmed his biometric profile and the metal door slid back. Dillon went down to the department in the lift, stepped out into the busy artificial environment and headed straight for Vince Sharp and his verdict on the letter bomb. Vince was an overweight Australian with an enviable happy disposition that never faltered. He’d been saved by LJ from a lengthy prison sentence for hacking into HM Revenue & Customs’ computer database, which he did for no other reason than to prove that it could be done. It took him just two hours to crack the passwords. But the contents of the Jiffy bag were proving to be far more difficult.

  “I’m afraid I’ve had no luck with that package, Jake. The explosive could have been obtained from any number of criminal sources. The clever little device they used for the switch is obtainable from virtually any retailer who sells musical birthday cards and the like. And as for the Jiffy bag, well the same applies, available virtually anywhere.”

  “I thought that might be the case, Vince. But thanks anyway for trying. Mind if I borrow one or two items from the prop’s room?”

  “No, you help yourself chum. But don’t forget to sign for everything you take out.”

  Dillon walked through to an area where an array of uniforms was hanging neatly on rails. He walked round them and selected the uniform of a Colonel in the Queens Royal Hussars Regiment. From another section, he picked up an assortment of theatrical props, including various wigs, false beards to match, and an assortment of hats, jackets and trousers. He placed everything into a large canvas holdall, and walked back out to where Vince was sitting on a swivel chair at a long workbench.

  “Strewth mate, you must be worried,” he said, delving his pudgy hand into the holdall. “Where are you going, a fancy dress party?”

  “Let’s just say that Jake Dillon may need to disappear for a while, and quickly, without any hassle,” Dillon remarked.

  He picked up the holdall, and walked off to his office to phone Issy. He asked her to run a check on Hart through the national legal database to see if he might have an involvement, or sit on the board of directors, of any UK companies. He hung up before she had a chance to say no or argue with him. He logged on to the firm’s secure server and instantly,the computer screen in front of him opened with the Ferran & Cardini home page. He clicked on one of the icons and was immediately viewing the latest update of ‘who’s who’ in the UK and Europe, but found nothing on Charlie Hart. It was becoming clearly apparent to Dillon that Hart was something of an enigma and most likely wanted it to stay like that.

  Dillon drove back across the city to his home, parked and carried the canvas holdall inside, dumping it in the guest bedroom in case Issy saw it. He went round the apartment checking all window locks, and tested the alarm; he was becoming paranoid, which annoyed him.

  He went into his study and mused over the plans for the next stage of the theatre’s refurbishment. That evening he cooked pasta, finding this an immensely enjoyable way to unwind at the end of a busy day.

  When Issy came home she found Dillon in the kitchen, went straight to him and gave him a big hug and kiss and then led him through into the living room for a well-deserved pre-dinner drink.

  “Dinner will be another five minutes, I’m waiting for the Pappardelle to cook.”

  “Pappardelle?”

  “Tagliatelle to you. Got it fresh from Max at the Italian restaurant round the corner.”

  “And what do you call this dish of yours?”

  “I hadn’t really thought of naming it. It’s simply Pappardelle, with skinless fillets of smoked trout, flaked into large chunks, tomatoes and garlic. Oh, and a tad of what Max calls ‘his secret seasoning’.”

  “Sounds interesting, but I’ve got something important to tell you. Charlie Hart had one of his people contact me today.”

  Dillon almost choked on his single malt whisky. Before he’d recovered, Issy added, “He, through his intermediary, wanted to know if I would be interested in taking on some work for him.”

  Dillon didn’t say anything for a while, then he asked, “And what did you say?”

  Issy laughed.

  “He’s really got to you, hasn’t he? And I do believe that he’s actually outsmarted you, Jake Dillon.”

  She sipped at her gin and tonic and then added, “That element of uncertainty that you like to have over your opponent. He’s playing the same game.”

  “Then he will not be expecting you to turn him down, will he? And be in no doubt about one thing: he’ll compromise you if you do anything for him. You know as well as I do that he’s only approached you for one reason – to antagonise me.”

  Dillon took a gulp of his drink

  “Well, he’s certainly done that, hasn’t he? Just listen to yourself and the state you’re getting into over it all.”

  “It simply doesn’t add up, Issy. Why is he taking this all so personally and what’s he got to hide? Because that’s the real issue here.”

  “I agree, he is an odd one. But to be honest with you, Jake, I like the sound of what he wants me to undertake. It’s right up my street, and the fee income wouldn’t go amiss either. One or two of the more senior partners have been rattling their sabres at my lack of new client input. Apart from Ferran & Cardini, I haven’t really bought in anyone of any calibre since I joined just over a year ago.”

  Dillon was irritated. “I thought the firm had people who looked after that side of things?”

  “Oh, they do. But when someone approaches a partner directly, there’s an obligation to assess what is best for the client and the firm. Hart has been recommended by an existing client, which puts a slightly different perspective on things. He’s also willing to pay twice our usual fee if we take him on.”

  “And by the sound of it he’s as good as taken on. But you’re wrong to have anything to do with him.”

  “It all seems to be straightforward and legitimate, Jake. After all, he’s got to use someone, so why not me?”

  “But why has he approached your firm and, in particular, you? He doesn’t even know you and yet he’s asking for you personally. Don’t you find that just a little bit odd? The way I see it, Issy, you’re not thinking this thing through.”

  Issy leant back into the luxuriously soft leather of the sofa and spread her arms along the back of it provocatively.

  “I think it’s you, Jake, who’s not thinking it through. There’s no valid reason why I should turn Charlie Hart away. It’s work. I’m told that I’ve been recommended by one of the firm’s best clients and to be perfectly honest with you, it would look very odd if I didn’t accept.”

  “But Hart without a doubt knows that you’re close to me. He’s simply having a go at me from every possible angle simultaneously. I have to admit, it’s the vehemence with which Hart has reacted that astounds me more than anything. And all over a painting that could have been stolen from a Boston museum more than ten years ago. But when you talk to Hart you realise that this isn’t the type of man that would normally do that sort of thing. He’s trying to stop me looking closer and is setting out to show me just how swiftly he can organise and implement things. As we’ve already seen, he can. For what it’s worth, my advice is for you to keep well away from this thing, or you may find yourself in over your head.”

  “
And if I say no he’ll know that you’ve warned me off. And who knows how a man like that will react? I know you’re only looking after me, but I’m going to use my professional instinct and say that I would guess I’m much safer accepting his offer than by refusing and insulting him.”

  “Bloody hell, Issy. You can be stubborn when you’ve a mind to be. But if that’s your final decision, I’ll have to deal with it.”

  Dillon felt he was losing control of the situation.

  “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see what else he comes up with.”

  However, he was talking to himself, and gazing across the city through the wall of glass.

  “Did you get the chance to take a look at his business holdings?”

  “I’m sorry, Jake. I had to pass it to one of my clerks, but he’s a real gem when it comes to digging around in the dirt. It shouldn’t take him too long in running Hart down. And if there is anything to find, rest assured he’ll find it.”

  Dillon was in no doubt what he’d find and so it came as no surprise a couple of days later when he was told that Hart was not listed anywhere. The man was truly an enigma, with not so much as a parking ticket offence found. And yet Dillon couldn’t help thinking why someone would go to such extreme lengths in order to keep their affairs completely private. Or perhaps it was simply that he liked to keep his money under the mattress, and every now and then invest it in priceless paintings.

  The following day Issy discovered, through one of her contacts at Revenue and Customs, that Hart had been in the past associated with a large company under investigation for alleged illegal importing and money laundering. But that was where the trail ran cold. Hart had withdrawn the investment capital that he’d put in almost six months prior to the investigation getting under way.

  Dillon was kept busy at the theatre for most of the day, going over the building works with the site foreman whilst these enquiries were being made, and nothing out of the ordinary happened to cause Dillon any problems. Issy had taken on some of the work that had been introduced by Hart, but was still not dealing directly with him. When she spoke to Dillon on the phone, she told him that what she’d been asked to undertake was perfectly straightforward and legitimate, but at the same time very mundane. This may have been Hart’s objective all of the time – simply to demonstrate that there was nothing underhand about his affairs.