“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.
The heating was shot to pieces and the lighting rigs were hanging on nothing more than the remnants of thin electrical cable over the stage area. Otherwise, the old West End theatre was slowly taking shape, although not at the pace Dillon had hoped for. And then there was the ever-present building mess everywhere that knew no boundaries. Words of appeasement did little to reassure him.
When the builders had left for the day, Dillon climbed the rickety old steps that led up from the orchestra pit onto the main stage, and immediately felt his heart race with excitement at the feel of the old, worn boards under his feet. And even though the old place was run down, there was still an electrifying presence of long-ago actors and productions, making the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He stood centre stage, turning around slowly, gazing up at the high vaulted ceiling and at the private boxes that looked austerely down at him. For a moment, he pondered Charlie Hart.
So here was an obviously wealthy man, influentially connected throughout India, who had senior UK politicians treading on eggshells whenever his name was mentioned. Yet, he wasn’t listed anywhere and didn’t appear to play the stock market, either. He had to make his substantial wealth work for him somewhere. Perhaps he’d put it in off-shore holdings. That would be a nightmare to look into and take far too much time. Especially as many are nothing more than elaborate and complicated façades, and that these would be guarded by a tangled mess of confusing companies, holding companies, false names and Dillon knew that even with a large team looking into them, it would still take months, if not years, to get a full account.
A few days later everything had settled back down to something like normality. Dillon hadn’t heard anything more from Charlie Hart and Issy had begun working on the extra workload that she had taken on. It seemed that Hart was a man who liked to make his point forcefully and with exceptional speed. Once he was sure that the message had been received and understood, he stepped back and left well alone.
At the end of the week, Dillon spoke to LJ and told him that he thought the firm should not proceed with the assignment against Hart on the grounds that there was not any real evidence against the man. From the offices of Ferran & Cardini, he drove back across town to the theatre and had a meeting with the architect. Afterwards, he stopped in the foyer and had a chat with some of the builders. He was stood talking to one of the electricians when an enormous explosion blew the front doors clean off their hinges and sent everyone, in the immediate area of the blast, reeling backwards.
CHAPTER FIVE
As Dillon was blown off his feet he heard the other men shouting behind him and the crash of falling glass. The building seemed to groan with the blast and then the erected scaffolding closest to the door was hurled sideward and sent crashing down onto the floor.
There were scaffold poles and lengths of timber planking strewn everywhere. Some of the men standing nearby had caught the full brunt of the platform as it crashed down on top of them, and were now pinned under the debris. Dillon was amongst them, laying flat on his back and looking up at the hanging plaster above him. He shook his head in an attempt to sharpen himself up, and then tentatively touched a tender spot at the back of his head. He must have fallen backwards onto the concrete floor, for it felt as if it was about to split in two and his mind was a jumbled mess. He tried to pull himself up into a sitting position but the effort was only inside his head.