He went to The Guardian offices and looked through their back issues for 2005. It was a laborious task, made worse because he wasn’t sure what he was looking for exactly or that it would be there. If he knew that, the staff could most likely have pin-pointed the relevant issues for him.
By lunchtime he’d had enough and went out to find something to eat. He returned half an hour later to continue and found something of interest dated November 17, 2005. He made some notes, realising that what he’d found might be totally irrelevant and could be considered as potentially misleading and therefore to be used with caution. It was late afternoon before he left, and he considered it good luck that he’d found the issue so quickly.
He phoned Havelock again at his office, because now that MI5 had disclosed their interest, any phone tap from that source would have been removed for fear it could create a stir if discovered. Although the home phone would almost certainly still be monitored, as a matter of routine. He briefed Havelock about his discussion with Brendon Morgan and explained that all MI5 wanted was to trade information in return for Issy. That he’d declined to meet with them for the time being, which put Havelock on edge and made him slightly irritated, not wishing to go as far as Dillon in his appraisal of the security service’s devilishness. Dillon asked Havelock to keep up the pressure on them because he was convinced they were holding Issy somewhere in the city.
He hoped that he was right about Havelock’s office phone not being tapped, but the time had long gone for being overly cautious. He knew that he was becoming reckless but he doubted that he had said anything that they didn’t already know. As Havelock’s home was obviously under twenty-four hour surveillance, it would be impossible for him to call there in person again, whatever the disguise.
He thought that some of the paintings he’d found, and had told Havelock about, were possibly connected to a number of high profile robberies from museums and art galleries throughout Europe and the United States. He neglected to say that he thought the art objects could have come from the looting of an Iraqi museum in Baghdad after the fall of Saddam Hussein in 2003. As far as he knew MI5 had no idea he had found any of it. He would have Vince Sharp investigate this possibility using the Most Wanted Stolen Works of Art database, compiled and held by the FBI.
After ending the call with Havelock he drove around a bit more, found another parking space in a supermarket car park and rang Grace, hoping she would be home. “It’s Dillon. I’ve got no news about Issy, but my hunch is that she might be safe. I hope I’m right, but that’s all I’ve got at the moment. I don’t suppose anyone has called, have they?”
“No. But a large white envelope has come for her. It doesn’t have a stamp on it, so I’m assuming it was delivered by hand. Do you want to see it?”
Dillon drove the Porsche across town and arrived at Grace’s apartment about twenty minutes later having used every side street he knew to get there as quickly as he could. Grace poured him a drink after handing over the letter, which he opened immediately.
It turned out to be a bundle of legal documents from the partner who was standing in for her at the firm. The note inside simply apologised for having to send it by motorcycle courier, but it required her urgent attention and return. Dillon was disappointed, but at the same time relieved to find it wasn’t anything sinister. Dillon thanked Grace for the drink and was about to leave when his mobile phone started to ring. It was Vince Sharp. He walked out into the hall, out of earshot of Grace, and answered the call.
“Jake, I just wanted to let you know that I’ve exhausted every avenue of enquiry concerning Rosie Poulter. And I’m afraid, chap, that I can’t find anything that connects her, in any shape or form, to Charlie Hart.”
“I thought that might be the case, but thanks for trying. Forget about that for now. I want you to concentrate on the photos I took at the house in Lyme Regis. In particular those images of the small figurines, seals and artefacts. See if any of them tally with those stolen from a museum in Baghdad in 2003. I’d also like you to dig around in the FBI database and check if any of the paintings I found in the wooden crates down there are on the list.”
“Only a small task then?”
“It’s nothing to a big fella like you. This is only a hunch, but I think I’ve discovered the key to what is so important to Hart and those other cronies; Trevelyan, Hammer and Latimer. If you can confirm this, we’re moving in the right direction.”
Dillon hung up and went back through to the living room and was standing for a moment, thinking about Rosie Poulter. He thought he was going mad and was aware of Grace looking at him strangely. What had any of this to do with this woman, Issy and a hidden cache of stolen gold bullion and works of art in Dorset? He was side-tracking. Whatever Hart’s interest in Rosie Poulter, it could make no difference to the real issues of the assignment. What were Hart and Trevelyan really up to?
“I’m sorry. You must wonder why Issy hangs about with a liability like me?”
“Because she’s madly in love with you.” Grace smiled wickedly. “But there’s no accounting for taste, of course and I suppose it’s the danger that surrounds you. It’s extremely attractive to some women, I guess.”
“Is it? Well I will get her back, you know?”
“I have no doubt about that. I wish someone would come along and look after me like that.”
Dillon felt slightly self-conscious and was left wondering why such a beautiful woman was still single. Back at The Old Colonial Club, Dillon put a call through to an old friend from his army intelligence days who was now working for the Metropolitan Police Art and Antiques Unit.
“Steve, can you run a routine check for me on a private collector by the name of Charles Hart? He has a penchant for Vermeers. I just want to tidy up something. I’ll send you a crate of that Burgundy red you like so much. And you can contact me on this mobile number.”
Steve Kirkwood was the only man outside of the firm who Dillon would give the number to. He hung up to Steve’s laughter; they had been serving intelligence officers together.
He had gone as far as he could for that day, and the frustration of inactivity set in as he went in search of a meal somewhere close to the club. All he could do was wait for information and, apart from being deeply worried about Issy, on a purely practical level he missed her help.
The small hours of night-time, unless he could go exploring, were becoming difficult to bear. He felt that things were on the move and yet he had to exercise a degree of patience until the moment was right. He really had nothing in terms of real knowledge, but there were all sorts of bits and pieces, and from experience he knew that they would all eventually come together. But there was one big factor missing — he felt he had come close to it but had somehow missed it. He was as satisfied as he ever would be that Trevelyan did not have Issy. If he had he would have wasted no time in letting him know through the grapevine. That MI5 most likely had her only showed how seriously they were taking this affair, to go to the lengths of abduction. But he couldn’t be absolutely sure and MI5 would know how to play it out.
There were times when he felt he should play ball with them, but he knew them too well and didn’t like the way they operated. They had snatched Issy, taken her hostage just to get at him and what information they thought he could give them — like spoilt children stamping their feet because they couldn’t get their own way. But there was a much larger question hanging over him: Just what business was it of MI5’s to search for a cache of painting and artefacts? Unless, that is, they believed that those people involved were involved in the generating of large sums of money to support terrorists in the UK. Only then would they have every right to be involved. Otherwise this would be left to the customs boys who would also work closely with the serious crime squad to deal with the matter. Unless MI5 really knew nothing and were just following up their own hunches and suspicions. But what sort of suspicion?