Dillon laughed and sipped his Champagne.
“As reassuring as that may be, Jake, for someone in my position to be found in an establishment such as this would cause an awful stir in Whitehall. Couldn’t we have met somewhere else?”
“No, not really. Your home is almost certainly bugged from top to toe; Issy is working from my home and I certainly don’t want her involved with any more of this stuff. She obviously knows a certain amount, but I don’t want her frightened with details of what’s gone on this morning. I told her that I’d be at the office until early evening.”
Havelock nodded in understanding; he would have exactly the same problem with his better half.
“What was the outcome with the police?”
“They were sceptical, to say the least. Then they tried to run me through their database and were immediately blocked because they didn’t have high enough clearance. One of them was rather pissed off about this, and was so narked that I thought he was going to arrest me. That’s when I thought it best to hand them your telephone number. The more senior officer called it and after you’d spoken to him, he remarked that I must be some sort of spook to have that much protection. He told me that they’d have to file a report and inform the bomb squad along with the anti-terrorist unit, who more than likely would want to pay me a visit and inspect the wreckage. Eventually, they packed up and drove off.”
“Could it have been anyone else other than Hart, do you think? I mean, whoever is trying to soften you up.”
“You don’t like the idea that it could be Hart. Don’t try to play games with me, Dunstan. It was not someone from my past, because if it had been, I would almost certainly be dead by now. A terrorist or professional mercenary would have used something a little more sophisticated and much more precise to blow up my car. And they would have made sure that I was securely belted in before remotely detonating it.”
“It’s damned lucky you weren’t killed.”
“That’s the big question, isn’t it? Was I meant to be? I suppose I’ll never know. If the bomb had been on, let’s say, a mechanical timer, there was no way that anyone could guarantee that I would be inside the car at the right time. If it was a remote detonated device it tells me that someone would have had to be in the vicinity of the theatre, and able to watch me arrive and get out of it. But I would have seen someone if I’d been followed. Unless I’m losing my touch. It wasn’t connected to the ignition or I would have been blown to bits the moment I turned the key.”
“So you think it was merely a warning?”
“Well, if it was, I’ve had a few of them these last couple of days. And, to be honest, if it was a warning then it was bloody extreme and you owe me a new Porsche. Maybe whoever it was deliberately used more explosive to make sure that there wasn’t going to be much left for the forensic boys to piece together.”
“I’m not in such a position that I could countenance a seventy thousand pound Porsche, Jake. I’d never get away with it, so I’m afraid that you’ll have to claim on your own insurance.”
Dillon glowered at the Home Secretary’s personal aide.
“Well, I’m most definitely in a position to tell you, Dunstan, that one way or another you most certainly will be footing the bill for a replacement. That car was only nine months old, and you can bloody well pay for another one.”
Havelock looked embarrassed and awkward.
“Oh now, Jake. I’ll never be able to convince them that it was a result of something a Ferran & Cardini field officer was doing for the Home Secretary, thereby for HM Government. Needless to say, I’ll obviously do my best, but it won’t be easy. In the meantime get yourself a hire car and have it charged to me personally.”
He was unable to meet Dillon’s piercing gaze as he added, “You know that if it were down to me I would not hesitate. I’m very sorry, Jake.”
He then lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I suppose you will not be going any further with the investigation?”
“When I spoke to LJ earlier he was all for dropping the assignment and, you personally, from a great height. But I don’t think that Hart will let this go now. I think that what has got him all fired up, is that he got wind of us snooping around into his commercial background and didn’t like it. But the ironic thing is that we didn’t really find out a bloody thing about him.”
Havelock reached for the ice bucket.
“Well, it tells me one thing, though: That there is without any shadow of a doubt something quite interesting to find at the bottom of all this. The question is though, what is he trying to hide from the world? Interesting, wouldn’t you say?”
Dillon walked Havelock the short distance from the club to his car, searching it from the tyres up for anything that resembled a bomb. He got down on his hands and knees to check the underside; then searched the inside of the boot and engine compartment areas. Satisfied that there was nothing to be found, he waited until Dunstan had driven off. He was conscious that someone may be watching and without too much movement scanned the immediate area for anyone. Once satisfied that there was no one obvious, he made his way back to Slinky Joe’s and instead of going back in he hailed a black cab and went straight home. On the way he occasionally glanced out of the rear window to see if there was anyone tailing behind. By the time he’d arrived at his apartment, Issy had finished working on the papers for Charlie Hart, and as he stepped out of the lift her warm smile immediately lifted his spirits.
They went out to an Italian restaurant in Covent Garden. It was somewhere they both enjoyed going to when neither of them could be bothered to cook. Dillon had got to know the owner and head chef, Giovanni, over the years and he always ensured that Dillon got the best table in the house; one which enabled whoever was sitting there to have a clear view of the entrance.
“So where’s your Porsche?” Issy asked casually, as she swung her long slender legs under the table.
“Manufacturer’s re-call. Something to do with the traction control system. Bit of a bore really, they tell me that it could take up to a week to get the parts from Germany. That’s why they’ve given me that Cayman to drive around in. Not a patch on the Carrera, but it’ll do.”
Dillon lied easily, broke his bread roll in two and helped himself to an olive from the dish in the middle of the table. Issy said no more, and he felt that he’d got away lightly with such a simple explanation. Dunstan had done his job well with the press black-out, because there hadn’t been any mention of a car being blown to bits in any of the press, radio or television.
“What’s the name of that man you deal with for Charlie Hart?” Dillon asked, as he bit into another green olive. Since the car bombing he’d been doing a lot of hard thinking.
“Gideon Lihiri. Why?”
“Indian? I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me, especially as Hart made his fortune in India.”
“Well it would seem logical, wouldn’t it? As he’s most likely to still have business interests over there. By the way, he gave me a potted history of himself during our first telephone conversation. Born in the UK, was sent to a top public school and got top grades in nearly all subjects. Went to Oxford where he gained an English degree with honours. And I have to say, his use of the English language is not only eloquent, but also as it was intended to be used. Unmolested by the vagaries of modern day clichés and buzz words.”
“Thank you; I wasn’t expecting so much information. So, where is Mr. Lihiri based?”
Dillon picked up a slender glass and sipped the crisp white Italian wine.
Issy looked across the table at Dillon and saw his dead-pan expression — the one she knew all too well. The one he knew was the perfect foil for hiding his true thoughts. She savoured her wine slowly, before saying, “He has an office just off the Bayswater road. Overlooks Hyde Park.”