“So you had no other interaction with Mr. Welsh?”
“Nope, we were concentrating on the Italian, as he was terrified of the dogs. In some ways, it’s a bit of a performance, you know. They can snarl and growl almost on cue, and they were also ragged after a long drive ’cause we didn’t stop off or anything — we drove straight to the nick.”
“The company you worked for has said that they were shorthanded on this occasion and that you brought in another dog handler to do the journey.”
The big man gritted his teeth. “Yeah, yeah, I think so. It was a long time ago.”
“Another ex-Para.”
Dillane snapped his fingers and nodded. “Yes, that’s right. Great bloke, very experienced. Explosives expert — did thirteen years in the army, three in the Paras.”
“What was his name?”
Anna tensed up. This was the link that they had been waiting for. In the viewing room next door, Mike Lewis stood up, impatient to hear the name they were certain would be John Smiley.
“Is this connected to him?” Dillane asked. “Is this why I’m here?”
“Mr. Dillane, please give us the name of the ex-Para working with you on that Barfield run.”
In the viewing room, Mike Lewis turned toward the door as Langton walked in. They stood side by side. “They’ve been taking it easy with Dillane, but I think he’s just about to give up that John Smiley was with him.” Both moved a fraction closer to the monitor. On the screen, Dillane was cracking his knuckles again.
“Colin McNaughton. He’s still doing the same job, works for a company called Eagles, but he also does a lot of doors and celebrity hand-holding — drives him nuts.”
Barolli sighed, disappointed. Mike Lewis walked out of the viewing room. Langton kicked the vacated chair.
“You’re from Manchester?” Anna said, still speaking quietly.
“Used to be. Me and the wife live in Croydon now, have done for eight years. The parents died, and I sold their house.”
“When you did this trip or any trips to Barfield, did you return straight back to Croydon?”
Dillane shrugged, seemed a bit shifty. “We got overnight expenses, as it was a long drive there; from collection to drop-off, it could be anywhere between seven or eight hours.”
“So did you stay in a motel? I mean, you had your dog — right?”
“Like I said, we got overnight extra payment; mostly, the guys would claim it but drive back, like.”
“Did you?”
“Sometimes, yeah.”
“And on the occasion you were with Cameron Welsh...”
“I stay with a mate sometimes, and I stayed over with him.”
“What’s his name?”
“What’s this all about?”
“Just helping our inquiries, Michael. Who did you stay with?”
“Bloke I know lives in Manchester. Like I said, my parents’ place was sold up.”
“What’s his name?”
“John Smiley.”
Barolli closed his eyes. Anna kept her focus on Dillane. “With your dog?” she asked.
“Yeah. Nimrod was house-trained. Remember, I said he lived with me at home with the wife when I wasn’t working.”
In the viewing room, Langton was sitting with his full attention on the monitor.
“So you know John Smiley well?”
“Yeah. Fought in the Iraq war together — great bloke. We used to be close, but when he moved up north from London, I didn’t get to see him all that much.”
“Tell us about Mr. Smiley.”
Dillane leaned back in his chair. “He’s one of the best. We were in the same unit, and he was one of my closest mates. We did some drinking together at Aldershot. You know, I wasn’t married then, nor was he, and we’d party.”
“Tell us about when you stayed over at his house.”
“Not that much to tell you. We sank a few pints, talked about old times, and his wife cooked us dinner.”
“Go on.”
Dillane blew out his cheeks and then ran his hand over his shaved head. “There wasn’t a lot we could do. See, I’ve known him since we first joined up. I was with him when he met his wife, Sonja. She was a looker then, and she put it about a bit, I can tell you. Anyway, old John fell hook, line, and sinker for her. Nobody liked to tell him she was a slag. I don’t mean to badmouth about it, but none of us wanted to be the one to tell him she’d gone through the ranks. To be honest, I thought he’d sort of get over it, but the idiot went and married her. I didn’t see that much of him after we quit, because he was in London working for some company fixing up blinds — he got me and the wife some.”
“Go on.”
“That’s about it. I didn’t get along with Sonja, she was a moody cow, and Christ, she’d started to look like one. She’s enormous, and when I made a crack about her size, he went apeshit, so that time we didn’t part on all that good terms.”
“That time?” Anna repeated quickly.
“Yeah.”
“So you met up with him again?”
“Just the once, but not in Manchester. We had a pint together in London. Like I said, he’d got me a set of blinds, and he came and put them up for us.”
“When was this?”
“Be four years ago, ’cause I’d not got this job at the boot camp but was quitting security work and gave up Nimrod, like I told you.”
“What happened at this meeting?”
Dillane sighed and again rubbed his hand over his head. “I was short of a bob or two, and the wife was pregnant. I was gonna ask if John Boy could lend me a few quid.”
“Did he?”
“No. He said he was short himself. I gotta say, he’d always been a bit tightfisted, or careful with his cash. Anyway, we done a deal.”
Anna glanced at Barolli, and they remained silent.
“Is this about him, ’cause I don’t like putting him into anything,” Dillane said. “He was a great bloke and he did me a favor.”
“The blinds?”
“No, he bought me van for seven hundred quid. It wasn’t right for me if we were having a kid, and it still had the cage in the back, like. It was secondhand when I bought it, still had the logo on the side.”
“So John Smiley bought your van?”
“Yeah, paid me in installments, couple of hundred a week until it was done, and then he paid me a bit extra ’cause I drove it up to Manchester for him and left it in his garage.”
“Was he there when you left it with him?”
“No, he was working. I didn’t even see Sonja — just left the keys under the dashboard and got the train home.”
“Have you seen him since?”
“No. I got the job at the boot camp, so I’m away all week. Just come home on my days off and alternate weekends.”
“Could you give us the registration of your van and a full description of it?”
Langton headed into the incident room and gave instructions for the team to get on to checking out the white security van. If it was still registered to Michael Dillane at his home address, it would mean that John Smiley had never changed the ownership details into his name. Impatient as ever, Langton couldn’t bear to return to the viewing room but went straight into the interview room.
Dillane turned as Langton entered and took Barolli’s chair. Laid out on the table were the photographs of Margaret Potts.
Langton introduced himself, and Dillane straightened up, looking from Barolli, who stood by the door, back to Langton.
“Do you recognize this woman?” Langton asked.
“No, sir. I’ve just been asked. I’ve never seen her before in my life.”
Anna brought out the photographs of the three Polish victims, one by one, and Dillane glanced at them, shaking his head.
“No, I’ve never seen any one of them.” He looked at Langton. “I don’t understand what’s going on here. Why are you showing me these women’s pictures?”