“You’re right I haven’t, not once. But now you mention it, perhaps a vigorous workout is what I need. Shall we…”
At that moment the phone rang. Tats laughed, and although I let it ring for some time I finally went to get it.
“It’s probably Jasper Lockhart, he’s decided to drop the price to eight hundred,” said Tats. “Poor sad Jasper Lockhart”.
“Thieves really must learn to cry,” I said.
I answered the phone. It was Zara, who didn’t mince her words.
“Mr Levenson-Jones says you’re both to come here right away, something urgent has cropped up.”
I looked over at Tats and said into the phone. “Give us an hour, Zara.”
“I’ll give you thirty minutes, and no more, Mr Dillon.”
Chapter 21
By the time we arrived at the firm’s wharf-side building the rain had eased off.
I placed my left-hand palm forward onto the cold black glass panel set in the wall. The heavy deadlock released with a thud confirming that my fingerprints matched with those on file. We took the stairs down to LJ’s office. Things were hectic, LJ had taken his jacket off, undone his top button and loosened his tie.
“Take those files off that chair and sit down,” he said. Zara poked her head round the door to ask if we would like any refreshments.
“Absolutely foul night,” said LJ. “Sorry to drag you into this fracas. I’ve missed the Wednesday evening backgammon game at my club for the first time in nearly fourteen years.”
“We must all make sacrifices,” I said.
“Yes, when our masters say jump, we must jump,” said LJ.
“Um, like puppets on strings” I said. Tats, shot me one of her looks.
“The New European Network plan, so it’s all your doing — is it?” said LJ in mock admonition. “We now have the Partner’s permission to go ahead with feasibility study” — he stared at the monitor screen in front of him
– “N.E.N. feasibility study.” He looked up and beamed. Behind the beam was a worried man.
“Subtle titling,” I said.
“Quite,” said LJ doubtfully, and then he was off into the administration — he was very good at the tactics of Partner bureaucracy — but then he has had a lot of practice.
“The Partners want to initiate four studies, Communications, Finance, Training, and Network Administration. Now we won’t be able to control all of those, so what we do is this. Let our friends across the river have anything they want, in fact we’ll nominate a couple of groups and lavish compliments on their suitability. Incidentally,” LJ blew his nose loudly on a big white monogrammed handkerchief, “don’t overdo the compliments; their controller of E.U. networks is beginning to suspect you of sarcasm.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said.
“Yes of course you will, now; when we’ve got them all fired up, and they’re in right up to their necks you will suggest a further study: a Compatibility Study — for coordination…”
“Are you as ruthless at backgammon?” I asked. “So it’s exactly the same form as you allegedly used with the Americans two years ago — you ended up controlling the lot. I’ve often wondered how you pulled that off.”
“Mum’s the word, old son,” said LJ, an extended forefinger tapping the side of his nose. “I’d like to try and pull it off again before I’m tumbled.”
“OK,” I said, “but when does all this begin?”
“Well, as it’s your brainchild, so to speak, I don’t see why the Partners shouldn’t appoint you as head of the training study.”
“I think I follow you all right, so that between the two of us we’ll have the situation well in hand; but what I actually meant was, when does it begin?”
LJ looked at his monitor screen. “The first meeting is this Friday at 11.30 am, and the Partners have insisted that it be held here.”
“No good for me I’m afraid, the Dorset situation is far too volatile. I need to be back there in the morning.”
“Ah yes,” said LJ. “I want to speak to you about that.” He sat down and typed in the command that brought up details of all current assignments. “I want you to complete your report on this assignment as soon as possible.”
He kept his eyes on the screen while he talked, avoiding my gaze as he always did in these situations. I knew that this was the real reason he had hauled me over here at this ungodly hour. The New Network was just a smoke screen.
LJ swivelled uncomfortably in his chair and pushed the intercom button on his desk.
Zara answered and he said, “Operational name for the Gin Fizz Assignment?”
Zara’s voice came through the speaker, “Poseidon,” she said.
“How very erudite,” I said to LJ. In Greek mythology, Poseidon was the chief god of the sea, brother of Zeus and Pluto who together dethroned their father Kronos and divided his realm. Poseidon took the sea as his kingdom.
LJ smiled and pushed the button on the intercom to tell Zara what I had said, then turned back to me. “We’re winding up ‘Poseidon’. I’ll need a full report for the Partners by the morning. That comes straight from the top.”
“You must be joking,” I said.
“I never joke — as you are well aware. Especially about matters concerning this department.”
“That assignment is at a critical stage — as you are well aware. We still have the loose ends to tie up.”
LJ tensed up. “Possibly, but you won’t be required to continue, and you should remember completeness is only a state of mind.”
“So is Partner interference a state of mind. If I have to I’ll go back to Dorset in my own time, I’ll take two weeks leave.”
“Be reasonable, Jake, what is wrong here?”
I brought the wad of scanned copies from my pocket. Thirty-one pages from a private diary, stolen from Oliver Hawkworth’s house in Hampshire.
Most of it written in the penmanship of busy professional men — badly.
There were cryptic dinner appointments and an almost obsessional compilation of entries regarding expenses. The reference to Italy concerned undefined sales of various pieces of machinery and numerical nomenclature of bank accounts in the Cayman Islands.
One page, however, contained something more specific.
‘Tell HC’ he’d written, then used some sort of cipher made up of letters and numbers on three lines, which meant nothing to me.
I’d given this coded concoction to Vince when we had arrived earlier. His computer had located the code in a matter or minutes. Now I told LJ about it.
“What this means, according to Vince Sharp, is that the hardware has been procured. Payment will be required in the sum of ten million Euros by the end of the month. The latter part of this code is something quite different, it relates specifically to me.”
I waited while LJ got the full implication. He took out another cigar and lit it.
I went on, “This message has been sent to HC. I believe that this is Harry Caplin, who I know has been keeping an eye on me ever since I arrived in Dorset. Our Cabinet Minister ends the message with a warning. He says to beware of me.”
“I know just how he feels,” said LJ. Solemnly he removed his glasses, cleaned the lenses with his handkerchief, replaced them and read the whole thing through again. “Zara,” he finally said into the intercom, “you’d better come in here right away.” While we were waiting for her to arrive, LJ added.
“This whole affair, Jake its all a bit odd, isn’t it? It simply doesn’t fit together. I mean, why would a high profile Cabinet Minister get himself involved with someone who was under suspicion of illegally trading in weapons and class A drugs, for that matter? Hell’s struth, what’s the fellow thinking?”