Dillon lifted his glass to drink.
Hart said, “You’re the only other person on earth who knows about Rosie Poulter. I found out that she was my only other living blood relative, apart from my son that is, when I first returned to England. Did you know that she is an obsessive and has spent virtually all of her adult life trying to find out about her past? But that is by the by. She is not what she seems, you know? I discovered shortly after meeting her that she is nothing more than a drug-taking sponger who turns tricks with strangers in cars to generate cash to buy her next hit.”
He paused, “I feel very sorry for her daughter, having a mother like that. But I’ll give Rosie credit, though. She’s somehow managed to keep that part of her sordid life a deeply hidden secret from Sarah. She is not aware that her mother is a common street whore. And do you know what the sad fact is, Jake? I made the mistake of believing her sob story and tried to help her financially. I must admit that for me it was nothing short of a vain attempt to get her off the street. I threatened to tell Sarah, you know? Who, I might add, I to this day have never been allowed to meet. That was a very low period in my life and shortly after, she broke off all contact with me.”
“I only go over there now to make sure she’s okay and to remind myself of what my mother used to look like. Rosie has an uncanny likeness to her, but every time I go, I’m racked with a mixture of guilt, sadness and torment. Sorry, I’m straying away from the point. I’m still not sure how she found me even to this day, but she did. And although sceptical, I had my people check out her story. Needless to say I was extremely pleased when they told me that she appeared, on paper anyway, to be genuine. So I decided to meet her, find out for myself what my half sister was like and to get to know her. From that point on my life became a living nightmare for about a year and a half. At first I just assumed that she wanted to get to know her only living relative. But it soon became apparent that she only wanted whatever she could get from me, and that was large sums of money. I purchased that building she now lives in, just so she would always have a roof over her head and an income from the other tenants. The problem is, Jake, some people, and Rosie is one of them, simply don’t want to be helped.”
“Like you say, Charlie, it’s sad.”
“Sad. Yes, I suppose you’re right. It is sad, but at the same time it’s strange as well. Because after we’d met a few times, I became conscious of the fact that something was not quite right with her. I’ve always prided myself on being able to sum people up quickly. But she was good — kept the façade going right up to the point when I confronted her with my suspicions.”
“Suspicions?”
“Tommy Trevelyan, Jake.”
“Trevelyan? What’s he got to do with Rosie Poulter?”
“He’s got everything to do with her and the reason why I’m still involved with that East-end lout. When I came to England I was all fired up and ravenous for success. Sure, I was already fairly wealthy, but greed does some very strange things to men. So I put myself about, heard a few rumours and then found out who was looking for big construction project investors in the city. That’s how I met Trevelyan.”
“I knew from the minute I set eyes on him that he was a villain of the worst kind, but he was also very persuasive and talked soundly about the projects he was personally involved with. He never made promises he couldn’t keep, and always paid top dollar for investment money. I could never have made so much money in such a short space of time if I’d just been wheeling and dealing as was the norm for me. Anyway, on completion of the first project he transferred over ten million pounds into one of my South American bank accounts, which I was obviously elated about, especially as my investment was no more than a million.”
He continued, “Of course, I’m not naive and kept my association with Trevelyan very quiet. I was fully aware that he was sucking me deeper into his hideous world with every project. I allowed that to happen simply because I’m not afraid of men like him and would have no hesitation in sorting him out — permanently. I was about to do that when two things happened. Trevelyan invited me to join his secret society that called itself The Hell Fire Club. He calls it his inner circle of trust. On the second Wednesday of each month we luncheon together and discuss topics of interest to us all. But as you’ve no doubt discovered, I’m not really a club sort of man, Jake. I like my own company too much. This is when I met Julian Latimer and Paul Hammer. Paul and I hit it off immediately, but Latimer was a very strange man in more ways than one. But that is of no interest now that he’s dead. Believe it or not, Trevelyan is on occasions a clear-thinking drug baron, who immediately focussed on how useful we all might be to him with our contacts. Hammer with his vast hotel chain, and my network of import and export companies all over the world. Jake, I’m not trying to justify anything here, or even trying to fudge the issues at hand. But both Paul and I were not aware of the terrorist funding element of Trevelyan’s enterprise. He was exceptionally clever in hiding that from us.”
“Did he recruit you all in this way?”
“Oh yes. I later discovered that from my dear friend Gideon Lihiri. He was also invited to join the club, by the way. He politely declined, but he did know that Trevelyan had chosen both myself and Hammer very carefully. He had been particular about certain elements of our social standing and wealth, as I say, for both of our international networks. But not so with Latimer. He’d known Trevelyan for many years and there was much vagueness surrounding their relationship. I for one always suspected them of being lovers, a thought that gives me the creeps and not for obvious reasons. No, I have no issues with that. It’s merely the thought of Trevelyan. Disgusting little man.”
“So, tell me about Rosie knowing Trevelyan. What’s all that about?”
“It’s a long time ago, Jake. I’ll give you the potted history, if you don’t mind?” Dillon nodded.
“She was down on her luck and looking for work, had lost her hotel job and went to work in one of Trevelyan’s clubs in Brighton. She didn’t know that he was a villain then, someone who has a huge network of runners, petty crooks, pushers and pimps. That’s how she got hooked on heroin, which led to her turning tricks to fund the habit. But she managed to cut herself loose and fled to Bournemouth. Not forgetting, of course, that she was struggling to bring up Sarah on her own. In between staying off the streets and keeping herself clean from the drugs, she did a bloody good job of it as well. And you’re right, she is a nice girl.”
He continued, “I’ll not bore you with the details, but when Rosie found me she didn’t immediately tell me about that side of her past. However, I was unknowingly about to lead her right back to Trevelyan and the life that she had escaped from. The man is paranoid about security. He has his men keep tabs on whoever Hammer or I meet, talk to in the street, or even who we go out to dinner with. That’s how he discovered the link between Rosie and me. After that it didn’t take him long to put two and two together, and then he found out where Rosie was living and was very specific about one thing: That if I should ever decide not to support his efforts with the drug distribution racket, he’d make sure that something fatal happened to both of them. Like I said, I’ve been living a nightmare ever since she came into my life and that’s one of the reasons. As family I cannot and will not let anything happen to either of them. So I simply bide my time with Trevelyan and wait for the right opportunity to arise. And it will.”