“That would be fine, Dunstan.”
Dillon couldn’t fail to hear Havelock’s exasperation. In all the time that Dillon had known him, he’d never asked for such help. Havelock wanted to help, felt that he must, but on this matter he could not. He was well-aware of what he had got Dillon into and just how much danger he’d put him in, including all of those around him.
Dillon laughed. “I’m only kidding, Dunstan. I just thought it was worth asking. Don’t worry yourself. I’ll find another way.”
There was a long silence and Havelock finally said more calmly, “I’d forgotten. One of the more prominent committees that Latimer sits on is meeting this afternoon. It should keep him busy for a few hours as it’s a voting session. Sorry, I was looking beyond today. I suppose that’s too short a notice?”
Dillon couldn’t think how he’d be able to get Tony ‘Cracker’ De-Luca in time; Cracker always liked to make a thorough recce of his targets before going anywhere near a lock or security system.
“What time does the committee sit?”
“Two o’clock. Give or take ten minutes.”
“I’ll give it my best. Thanks for the help, Dunstan. I don’t like harassing you, but I’m being pushed into a corner and need some answers quickly. I’ll see you around.”
“You think I’m bloody crazy, man?” asked De-Luca bluntly. “No way!”
He had an Italian swagger about him, drove a fast car, had exceptionally good taste and always had a stunning woman hanging off his arm. Since the last time Dillon had worked with him he’d put on some weight and his jet black slicked-back hair was still as thick as ever. He appeared to be prosperous.
“You look as if you’ve been having a run of good luck. I’m glad to see you doing well, Tony.”
They were in a fashionable restaurant in Covent Garden and Dillon was picking up the bill for lunch. He had been lucky to get hold of De-Luca so quickly, but now it was looking as if it would not help.
De-Luca sipped the vintage Bollinger and wiped his lips.
“I don’t rely on luck, and you know it. I’m one of the best safe breakers in England.”
“I heard you were the best, Tony,” Dillon said quietly.
“Don’t suck-up, Jake. It doesn’t suit you, and it embarrasses me. I need time to assess the location; to find out what security systems the building is equipped with.”
“I’ve already recce’d the building, and the target won’t be around all afternoon. What could be easier than that?”
“I do my own reconnaissance. Anyway, if I remember rightly, working for you is not a profitable pastime. The last safe I cracked for you it had nothing in it except papers and porn magazines. I don’t work for nothing, Jake.”
“How much?” Dillon was losing his patience with the Italian.
“Seven.”
“Seven hundred?”
De-Luca choked on his Champagne and it was some time before he could get his breath to say, “Seven hundred? You’re a very funny man. Seven thousand pounds, Sterling. And that’s just for getting you in the building and opening the safe. Anything of value inside I have first refusal on.”
Dillon gazed around the room.
“Seven thousand?”
He leant across the table, and lowered his voice. “Two and a half and the contents of the safe stay where they are.”
“Three and a half plus any jewellery.” De-Luca leant back on his chair crossing his arms.
“The contents of the safe is not negotiable, Tony.” Dillon let the words sink in, before adding, “You’ll be protected at the highest level with immunity from prosecution, should things go wrong. I’ll also ensure that the firm pays you a bonus as compensation on completion of the job.”
“Subtle, I’ll give you that. But the answer’s still no.”
De-Luca was shaking his head, smiling.
“You should have been a con man, Jake. I’m not sure you’re not.”
“Okay, Cracker. No hard feelings. I can see you don’t need the extra cash right now. So I’ll do the job myself. You could do one thing, though. Would you come with me and give the place a look-over, just to see if there are any snags? At least give me the benefit of your opinion and experience. Obviously, I’ll pay you for your time.”
The years had been kind to Julian Latimer. He had aged well and carried himself with authority, still had a good amount of well-groomed silver hair, cut impeccably and brushed back at the sides. His good looks were only spoiled by a supercilious air and a condescending nature. And not even the exclusive Saville Row tailoring and expensive accessories could hide this fact. To speak to him made it easy to discover why he wasn’t liked by most of his fellow MPs.
He strode along to St. Stephen’s Square, the silver-tipped walking cane swinging with each step he took. It wasn’t that he had a limp or anything like that. It was merely for show and always attracted a fair amount of attention. He was a nobody who looked like a somebody.
As he passed the policeman at the gate, he received a salute and swung his cane up in return. It was small things like that which he liked about Parliament: a sense of importance. And to be recognised after so few appearances made him feel even better still.
Latimer resented having to attend these committee sittings at all, realising that nobody wanted his opinion and that he was disliked by most of the people there — a feeling he always sensed whenever he entered a room. Well, another eighteen months at most should see him free of his political shackles, although he would miss some of it. Like the chauffer-driven cars and having a policeman stop the traffic so he could pull away at speed during rush hour. Just some of the small perks.
On entering the oak-panelled room he looked around for a position near the door, which would allow him to sneak out later without being missed. But everyone had arrived early and was already seated. To his horror, there was only one chair available on the other side of the long highly-polished oval table, next to a rather large blustery lady from the opposition party, who he knew had a flatulence problem. He suddenly felt tired and a little nauseous. The thought of a session running into many hours sitting next to her was almost too much for him to bear. He would have to find his moment and excuse himself. He was good at manipulating.
They gazed across the street at the luxury building and in particular at Latimer’s penthouse apartment which covered the top two floors. Dillon was edgy, for the committee sitting had most likely already started.
“I thought I’d con one of the other tenants into letting me in through the main entrance. You know, the old motorcycle courier with parcel routine.”
“That old trick?” De-Luca snorted in disgust. “Everyone knows about that one, Jake. So, what happens once you’re inside the building and you don’t turn up at the apartment you’re supposed to be delivering to? No, it’s a straightforward enough job to slip that electromagnetic lock and get in without raising anyone’s suspicion, if you’ve got the right gear.”
Dillon glanced at De-Luca. “I don’t suppose for one moment you’d let me use this gear, would you?”
Cracker didn’t answer. He was still studying the building, and then scanned up and down the street.
“I must be off my head to even think about working in broad daylight. It’s asking for trouble. So this is how it’s going to work. You’ll do as I say and nothing else. First off, you’ll have to keep a look-out whilst I release that front door, and then we’re going to have to play it by ear from then on.”
“You mean you’re going to help me?” Dillon sounded like a mountain had just been lifted off his shoulders.