“I thought you might have called last night,” said the slight figure seated on the far side of the room.
“I’m told that you’re a man of action and was rather disappointed that you didn’t. You would have been perfectly safe.”
The English was clipped but otherwise perfect.
As Dillon walked towards the figure, he noticed that Devdas Shah Zafar was dressed in a suit that any Saville Row tailor would find hard to be anything other than complimentary about. Although diminutive in stature, the man had refined features and was smiling as if at some private joke. As he stepped towards Dillon to proffer his hand, Dillon took it, feeling a good deal of bone and very little flesh. But he did not put the sophisticated man standing before him as being older than Charlie Hart.
“Please, do sit down, Mr. Dillon.”
The little man gestured to the many comfortable-looking chairs positioned around the circular room.
With so many to choose from, Dillon had some difficulty in choosing one and when he did, it seemed to mould round him like a velvet glove.
“I can tell you are impressed. You should have seen Mr. Hart’s mansion. It made this one look like a hunting lodge.”
Dillon was impressed by the little man’s quiet exterior demeanour. In fact, after only having met him two minutes ago, he had no doubt whatsoever that it was nothing more than a façade which masked something quite different altogether. It did appear though that he had done very well for himself, but it was perfectly clear that he still had strong links with Hart.
“It’s kind of you to see me, Mr. Zafar, but I doubt now that you can help me.”
Zafar, now seated, seemed to have chosen the biggest chair in the room and was almost lost in it.
“That, Mr. Dillon, depends entirely on what it is that you want of me. Do not make the mistake of assuming my hospitality is a sign of goodwill.”
“Please call me Jake, everybody does.”
“That is not the way I conduct myself, Mr. Dillon. Now what it is you want? After all, you’ve not travelled halfway around the world for nothing.”
“You already know why I’m here. I can see that visiting you was a mistake. Please forgive my intrusion and that I could have been stupid enough to think that you might have been willing to talk candidly about your past employment with Charlie Hart. It’s now quite obvious to me that you are still in touch with each other.”
“You might also observe that it is unlikely that I was ever his employee. We were business partners, Mr. Dillon. We still are. We’ve always been close, as close as one can be with an Englishman. We are virtual brothers. We taught each other a great deal. You see, you’ve learnt something for your trouble after all. Do ask your question.”
Dillon remained silent whilst Baskhar came in with tea and small cakes. A cup was placed on a coaster beside him on a small occasional table.
“Do you take your tea as a Westerner, or as we do in India, Mr. Dillon?”
“Without milk, Mr. Zafar.”
“Excellent. Tea tastes so much better when not corrupted.”
“What sort of business are you involved in, Mr. Zafar? I hope I’m not being rude, but it must be extremely lucrative to provide such a luxurious lifestyle.”
Dillon felt the question was too bold and that he would get nowhere with this small cheerful character who knew that he was in total control.
“You are not being rude, Mr. Dillon. There is a lot of money to be made here for those prepared to work hard. I have lived here all my life. We also have one of the most active stock exchanges in the world. India is rich and, like so many wealthy countries, full of deprivation and discontentment. Does that answer your question?”
“How about dealing in arms?”
“Yes, of course we deal in arms. Mostly small weapons that can be transported with the minimum of fuss. But you of all people know that we are not the ones who create the need. We merely fulfil it by supplying those who want them, but only if we are able to obtain the right stock at the right price. But that has always been a relatively small part of our business. What you are dying to ask, is what was Charlie Hart up to when he was here. Why is this so important to you?”
Dillon felt that, whilst he had his head in the vice, he might as well go ahead and tell him.
“It’s his background. It seems to be in order, but it’s also obscure and it intrigues me. I’m sure he’s already told you of the strange circumstances in which we first met. But stranger things have happened since then. There have been a number of attempts on my life which I would like to get to the bottom of.”
“But Charlie likes you, even admires you, why would he want to kill you?”
“Because, like me, he’s a realist. And no matter how reluctantly he might do it, he looks upon me as a threat.”
“Are you a threat, Mr. Dillon?”
Zafar’s tea remained untouched whereas Dillon felt a great need for his. But he left it where it was and said, “I’m simply trying to stay alive. I believe that part of the threat to me is rooted in his past. I know it may be foolish of me to say that, but you must have heard from him already.”
Zafar spread his small hands in surprise.
“Mr. Dillon, I can tell you that there is absolutely nothing strange about Charlie Hart’s past. I was ten years old when I met him. Our fathers worked for the same company here in Delhi. And it was a very sad day when his parents were murdered. It was positively tragic that they died like that and it was a very distressing period in Charlie’s life. But he coped with it and focussed on building himself a business empire.”
“He was not left wanting and has been increasing his wealth ever since. He left India because he wanted Daniel to grow up and be educated in the country of his origin. There’s nothing odd in that, and he also wanted to be within easy reach of his son’s university. I miss him a great deal. He’s a very fine man.”
Dillon was eager to ask for more detail about the deaths. But decided that to do that would be to cast dispersion on what Zafar had just told him and it could be dangerous to question his word in that way. He was not going to learn anything that he didn’t already know and checking out old press reports or anything concerning the deaths would immediately get back to the little man. But he was right — he had learnt something which only increased his fears. His questions had been answered but he had effectively come up against a solid wall of granite. Dillon was also fully aware that to find anyone who had a grudge or dislike of Hart would be totally impossible. He was fairly sure that anyone who had, was sure to have been eliminated a long time ago.
When Dillon smiled at Zafar, the little man was smiling as if to say, ‘you will never hear a bad word about Charlie Hart.’
But Dillon felt in a more dangerous position than before. If Hart wanted to have him taken out of the equation, then this was most definitely the place to do it.
“You appear to be uncomfortable, Mr. Dillon. And you have not touched your tea.” Zafar laughed in a softly chiding way.
“It’s not poisoned!”
He picked up his own cup and drank from it to prove the point.
Dillon smiled at Zafar but didn’t touch his drink, although he believed Zafar was telling the truth.