As he entered the kitchen, Conner looked up and immediately saw trouble.
“When did they collect it, Harry?”
“Collect what? What are you talking about?”
Dillon squatted in front of Conner and gripped his throat with his free hand.
“The game plan has just changed, Harry. I’m not feeling reasonable anymore and I’m extremely pissed off. Give me one more answer like that and you won’t be capable of giving any answers at all. And then there is Sheila’s well-being to think about, isn’t there? Now, when did they move the gold and all the other stuff?”
Conner was now really scared on two counts.
“Have you any idea what they will do to me?” he blurted out.
“Exactly the same as I’m going to do to you. But the difference is, Harry, I’m here and they’re not. And you’d better not forget that I’m the one who took out the best that Trevelyan could muster. Did they tell you that at least three of the five they sent down here were killed? They’re most likely fish food by now. Come on, Harry. Get it over with quickly, or I will.”
Fear overcame Conner and he said, “For God’s sake, don’t let Sheila know that I’ve blabbed.”
“She’ll not find out from me, Harry. Now get on with it.”
Harry’s mouth suddenly became as dry as parchment paper and the words came with difficulty.
“They left late last night, about midnight. Three of them, there was, in one of those big panel vans — the sort that tradesmen who fit kitchens and the like use. They took our van as well.”
“Where have they gone to?”
“It doesn’t work like that. I’ve absolutely no idea.”
“Have they taken everything? I mean, it would usually follow that if they had closed down this site for good, then they would have killed you and Sheila before they left.”
If Conner had been frightened before, he was now visibly trembling with genuine fear. Until now he had not considered the possibility, but could see that Dillon was right.
“I’ve no idea where they went. They wouldn’t confide in me. I’m just a caretaker, and that’s what they pay me for each month.”
“But why would they take your van? Wasn’t there room in theirs?”
“Oh, there appeared to be ample room. I don’t know why.”
“Perhaps they left it close by to collect later and didn’t want you to know it was still here, otherwise they would have left it in the garage. Did they mention when they would return it?”
“They just said they’d be back, but didn’t say when.”
Conner was suddenly quiet, contemplating those past events that had now begun to make sense and which only added to his terror.
“Where would they hide it, Harry? Where would you hide it if you were them and didn’t want to use it straight away?”
“There are loads of places hereabouts, I don’t know.”
“Think, Harry. And you’d better be quick because your life may depend upon it. They could return at any time. Think man, for both your sakes.”
“They went to the end of the lane and turned left away from the coast. There are plenty of places they could have hidden it. That stretch of road has gateways that lead straight into lightly-wooded areas along it before it reaches the main road to Exeter in one direction, and Bridport the other. You would have to drive it, making sure you keep your eyes peeled, as the woods come right up to the edge of the road on both sides.”
Dillon stood up.
“I’d like to untie you now, but I don’t trust you and most definitely not Sheila. If things work out, I’ll come back and release you. Otherwise you’re on your own, but I will leave both the kitchen and living room doors open. At worst you should be able to shuffle your way through.”
Dillon ran back to the Porsche and pulled off the camouflage as fast as he could. He drove out of the wooded area and onto the lane, turned left onto the narrow country road and continued along it at a snail’s pace, keeping his eyes peeled for the small white van. Dillon felt like he was chasing the end of a rainbow again, but the taking of the van when they already had sizable transport made no sense. They wouldn’t be short of vehicles. And the fact that the Conners had been left, indicated that someone would be returning or that Trevelyan had a reason for leaving them where they were.
The weather was holding fine. The clouds of earlier in the day had all but disappeared, allowing shafts of sunlight to shine through the leafy canopy of the treetops. He slowed to a virtual crawl at each gateway, staring intently for anything that resembled a van, and then he caught the faintest suspicion of a reflection. The van had been hidden well but not well enough for his trained eye. He took the Porsche through the open gateway and onto a grass standing on the other side before climbing out to investigate what he’d seen.
There was no time for niceties. He was in full view of the road and had to throw caution to the wind. He whipped off the camouflage, uncovering the van so that he could get a better look inside. All the windows were closed and the doors locked. Dillon went back to the Porsch, got the small crowbar from the rucksack and approached the rear doors of the van. Before attempting to jemmy them open, he got down and took a thorough look underneath for any booby traps. He went round to the front and, feeling around for the catch, popped the bonnet open to see if the engine had been tampered with. Nothing had been. Moving back and forth down both sides, he checked for any wires that shouldn’t be there. Whoever had hidden the van had been either in a tremendous hurry or arrogant enough to think that no one would come looking for it.
He placed the flat tip of the crowbar in the gap between the two doors and then pushed against it until the lock snapped and the doors sprang open with the leverage. He laid face down flat on the ground, his arms protecting the back of his head in case of any booby traps. When nothing happened he climbed to his feet to look into the back of the van, sensitive to the slightest movement. He peered inside and immediately saw why it had not been left in the garage for the Conners to find. A wooden crate was pushed right up to the rear and, because of its size, had only just gone in on its side.
Still wary of any booby traps, Dillon grasped the crate and gently pulled it towards him. It wasn’t as heavy as he first thought and he was able to carefully lift it out of the van and onto the grass. He took the crowbar and with extreme caution prised off the lid. The crate was filled with polystyrene baubles that were concealing three large plastic bags which were shrink-wrapped and heat-sealed at one end. Pulling each one out slowly, he placed them onto the grass and, throwing caution out the window, opened each one with the blade of his knife. Each bag was filled with a single parcel wrapped in brown waterproof paper and bound together with natural string cord.
It was no time to relax. He ran his fingers all around the paper and found nothing to make him suspicious. He cut away the cord of each parcel and took his time to carefully unwrap the layers of brown paper from each of them in turn. When he had finished, there were three plastic containers in front of him, which he instinctively knew would have either cocaine or heroin inside. He peeled back the lid from the first container, dipped his forefinger in and then tasted it. Cocaine, cut and ready, with a street value he would not attempt to evaluate. He lifted all three containers and carried them to the Porsche, carefully placing them out of sight in the boot compartment. He put everything else inside the wooden crate and threw it back into the rear of the van, ensuring that the opened lid was facing outwards and then loosely closed one of the rear doors, but left the other deliberately wide open.