“Urgent is definitely good, Vince. We have to know who we are really dealing with and why the interest in me. See what official information you can dig up; use the Partners to encourage the process. In the meantime, can you make sure that L.J. is brought up to speed when he arrives first thing in the morning. Oh and Vince, well done.” I hung up just as Tats walked into the room swathed in a large white towel, having showered.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“It’s as I thought, the black Ford belongs to a firm who are almost certainly working for our Minister, but Vince has to dig a bit deeper tomorrow. As for the Porsche, well I must admit that one is a surprise. It’s registered to a Robert Flackyard from Bournemouth, a wealthy entrepreneur and playboy. I think that firstly, he is almost certainly linked with Hawkworth; and secondly, if that is the case, then he is the owner of the counterfeiting plates and cocaine on board the Gin Fizz, but that’s only a guess.”
“You say Robert Flackyard, that name rings a bell. I’m sure that a Mr R. Flackyard came to see one of the Partners last week.”
“Do you know who he saw?” I asked.
“No, it was an appointment that one of them made and then posted on the electronic diary. They sometimes do that when they’re working late, but there’s nothing unusual about it. They do it all the time.”
“I want you to check both Partners’ personal diaries for last week the minute you get in tomorrow. I want to know which one of them saw this character and why.”
Tats made a face at me and continued to paint a fingernail deep red. I put down my coffee cup, and walked over to where she was stood.
“My nails are still wet,” she said, feigning protest and holding her arms high above her head, adding. “Jake, you mustn’t.”
The towel slid easily to the floor ending up in a heap around her feet.
Chapter 3
Sunday eventually returned to something resembling normality. As evening approached the skies opened up for another thunderstorm, the man in the shabby check jacket and black Ford Mondeo decided enough was enough and left. Tatiana and I decided to eat out at a new Thai restaurant that had recently opened locally.
Monday was a clear bright morning at the end of May that warned you summer was set to pounce. I logged on to the firm’s secure server to receive my emails. A letter from the Rumples had been re-routed to me with confirmation that everything was in place and waiting for my arrival on the Tuesday. The only other in my mailbox was from LJ, instructing me to report at the office 9.30am sharp for his usual pep talk prior to an assignment. I nicked my chin while shaving and bled like I’d sprung a leak. I changed into another shirt. Arriving at the firm’s wharf side offices, I found LJ in a quiet rage because I had made him late for the Partners’ operational assignments meeting that takes place in that rather strange glass pyramid shaped room on the roof of the building the second Monday of each month.
It was a terrible day and it hadn’t even begun yet. LJ went through all the rigmarole of my new assignment: code words and priorities for communicating with him as well as the other members of the team based in London.
“I don’t know how she did it? But Tatiana has worked her charm on the Partners, and actually got them to agree to give you extra funding on this assignment. So please don’t let her, or them, down. I’ve suggested to all parties concerned, that it might be useful if you deal with Tatiana at all times.”
“After all, she does have the Partners’ authority, should you have to go outside of your brief. You’ll remember, that after South America last year they said they would never indulge you again with extra funding.”
“Big deal,” I said, eyeing the papers on his desk. “I had no options left open to me on that assignment, as you well know. Had I not paid off the local Police Commissioner I would probably still be rotting in a cell over there.”
“Anyway, they’re saving a bundle this time by reducing the size of my team to four people, including myself.”
“The nature of this assignment, old son, is such that the fewer people are involved, the better. Anyway, don’t be so touchy about that unfortunate incident, it could have happened to any of us.” To inflict extra pain LJ always gave a little smirk when referring to the South American incident.
“All right,” I said, “but you don’t have to be so bloody gloating about it.”
LJ turned over the next paper on his desk. “Equipment.”
He was looking at me over the tops of his glasses; I could see that a lecture was coming, so before he could read on, I interrupted.
“Yes, the matter of equipment. Are you aware the Partners have insisted that I am to personally insure all special equipment on this assignment?”
“Have they any idea how much that is going to cost me.”
“You do have a reputation, old son. I’m fully aware of the insurance, of course, but unfortunately the accountants have reported back to the Partners.”
“The fact is that last year alone, you destroyed and mislaid over two hundred thousand pounds worth of equipment. Admittedly, your assignments do tend to be, how shall we say, a little more arduous than those of the others. But you really must be more careful. Most of this kit is loaned to us by Her Majesty’s Government.”
“That’s as it may be. But who the hell in there right mind would insure equipment of this nature?”
LJ produced a document from a pile of papers, pushing it across the desk to me.
“If you could read the declaration, sign and date it, I will take care of the rest for you. Cover will start as of midnight.”
I signed and dated all the relevant boxes. “I suppose I should’ve known.”
I said with a nod. “There’s one other thing, while we are on the subject of equipment. I really do feel I should have a weapon, say a handgun.”
There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of LJ snapping his pencil.
“Handgun?” he said. “Are you going out of your mind, old son?”
“Just a thought, boys and their toys, you know,” I said.
“Quite so, old son,” LJ said, “but they really are nasty, noisy, dangerous toys. How would you feel if you pinched your finger in the mechanism or something?”
I picked up the copy of insurance along with the inventory of equipment to be used on the assignment and walked over to the door.
“Mr and Mrs Rumple will expect you tomorrow at 7.30am sharp,” he said from behind his desk; “I would appreciate it if you would have the new European Network blueprint finished and emailed to me before you leave, and…”
He removed his glasses and started to polish them very carefully. “That Glock 10mm automatic you have that I’m not supposed to know about. Please don’t take it with you, old son, we don’t want any accidents, now do we?”
“As if I would,” I said over my shoulder, as I closed the door behind me.
That day I completed my report for LJ on the new European Network. The idea was to have people in positions of usefulness feeding information back to the firm’s headquarters in London.
All of them would be switchboard and computer operators, personal assistants or telecom repair technicians working in embassies, foreign government departments and stock exchanges. It meant setting up a recruitment consultancy abroad, which would specialise in this type of personnel. As well as describing the new idea, my report had to outline the operational side, i.e. planning, communications and procedures to ensure that anyone who was detected could not lead to anyone else. The structure for sending messages up and down the network had to ensure that no contact was made between sender and receiver. As far as the Partners were concerned the most important factor of the report was the balance sheet, how much was it going to cost and how much estimated extra revenue it would bring in.