Tats finished typing the report by 6.30 p.m. I checked it through and then emailed it to LJ as well as taking two hard copies and backup disks, one to put in the firm’s strong room and the other for my safekeeping. I had only one other thing to do before we left, and that was to memorise my communications priority codes for my present assignment.
The firm’s switchboard is manned twenty four hours a day. Our department however has an automated system, which can be entered only by using our mobile phones and a series of touch-tone codes. The link is made via a satellite and filters the call through a random route of countries to any person, department or overseas office that you wish to speak to within Ferran & Cardini International. The call is then monitored, scrambled, and recorded; anyone trying to intercept or bug the call has a digital impulse spike sent down the line to destroy the phone or equipment being used.
We left discreetly by our own side entrance and walked quietly by the river.
Tatiana told me which Partner had seen Robert Flackyard the previous week, but could ascertain no further information about why. I asked her not to copy the new Network report to the Partners just yet and suggested an excuse that she could give them. I knew LJ would not approach anyone with the report until he had spoken to me in person on my return from the assignment.
Chapter 4
As I approached my destination the early morning air pressed its damp nose against the Mercedes windscreen. Ocean sand and water were thrashing together in endless permutations, and three miles out in the depths beyond was the wreck of the Gin Fizz that had brought me here.
For this assignment Rumple had thought of everything, including the other team member, Charlie McIntyre. LJ had relented and given in to his request to have him on board, on the grounds that as only the best would do, the minister could foot the bill. At twentynine years of age Charlie was a first rate wreck diver and extremely talented with a knife and explosives.
Ten minutes after I had arrived at the rented house, an old beaten-up VW beetle camper came to a halt at the gates. Driving it was a youngish male, with unruly fairhair. He got out of the bright yellow Volkswagen, walked up to the intercom and pressed the button.
Rumple answered almost immediately, his gruff voice booming. “Hello — state your name and business.” The voice at the other end was well educated and articulate. The monitor screen showed a tanned face with classic good looks, and an effervescent smile. Charlie McIntyre’s piercing blue eyes looked straight into the lens of the CCTV camera.
“Good to have on board again, Charlie,” I said, as he stepped out of the old van into the brilliant sunshine.
Charlie came over and gave me a big brotherly hug, we shook hands and I knew what was coming. His grip was solid, like a vice, and the pressure made my knuckles go white. But, as was customary, I returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm. His grip had strengthened since the last time we had worked together and I thought for a split second that I was going to have to give in. Which meant, that for the first time ever, I would have to buy him a very large drink at the local bar. Thankfully Charlie had never bested me.
“One of these days, I’ll do for you, Jake Dillon.”
“In your dreams, Charlie boy. But we really must get out of this dreadful custom of trying to crush each others’ fingers every time we meet.” Mr and Mrs Rumple just looked on in utter disbelief.
“Anyway, how’s your shoulder after your last assignment?”
“One hundred per cent now, thanks. Would you believe it though, I only finished the blasted physiotherapy about a month ago.” Lowering his voice conspiratorially, so that the Rumples couldn’t overhear, he went on. “But there was an up side to ripping my shoulder. As a bonus. This rather lovely therapist called Julia insists that I keep going back on a regular basis for what she calls a personal fitness assessment.”
“Like I said, it’s good to have you on board for this one, Charlie.”
After a spot of breakfast on the terrace we had coffee followed by Mrs Rumple going out and Rumple checking the Phantom and equipment down at the boathouse.
Charlie and I went over the plan for the dive. The gate monitor showed a woman looking up at the camera.
“Anyone else coming to play, Jake? Asked Charlie. “Only there is one very attractive female at the gate, just about to push the intercom.”
“No, I’ve got all the team here. What does she look like?”
“Well — let’s see now, mid thirties, dark hair, tall, I’d say about five nine to five ten, full lips and curves where they should be. Oh, and an extremely well tailored linen suit, with not much underneath — perhaps?”
“Very funny, let me see.” The buzzer from the intercom came alive.
“Hello, can I help you?” I said in a clipped tone.
“Yes, my name is Fiona Price and I’d like to see Mr Jake Dillon.”
Her accent had the faintest of Scottish brogue.
“There is no Mr Dillon here, are you quite sure you have the right address?”
“Quite sure, thank you. Mr Levenson-Jones of Ferran & Cardini in London gave it to me personally. It’s very important that I speak to Mr Dillon and give him this message.”
“Did Mr Levenson-Jones give you anything else to give to Mr Dillon?” I asked.
“Mr Dillon, I will play your little game for as long as you wish. The word that you require apparently is Tomcat. Now can we carry on this conversation inside, please. Preferably before you dive this evening.”
“OK, Miss Price, we have to be careful and there’s no need to use a loud hailer to tell everyone in the neighbourhood, why we are here.” The electric gates slid back silently, closing automatically a minute later.
Fiona parked next to Charlie’s old VW. I let her into the coolness of the tiled hallway. Enough light filtered through the draped voile for me to take stock of Miss Fiona Price. Immediately I noticed that her skin was smooth with not a blemish to mar her beauty.
“Miss Price, sorry about that cloak and dagger stuff just now. Let me introduce Myself. I am Jake Dillon and this is my associate Charlie McIntyre.”
“Mr Dillon, I’ll come straight to the point. I work for the British Government and I have been seconded to Ferran & Cardini in a technical capacity just for this project. I have also been fully briefed about you and your assignment — the Gin Fizz.”
“OK, Miss Price,” I said, “So you know all about me and the Gin Fizz.”
“What’s your message? You can speak in front of Mr McIntyre.”
She handed me an envelope with the firm’s official crest on it, and spoke very rapidly. “I’m a scuba-diver with wreck investigation experience and my brief is to retrieve the logbook from the boat, and to assist you and Mr McIntyre, as and where necessary. I have my own equipment in the car…”
I slowed her to a standstill with my eyes. “I’m sure you do, Miss Price,” I said.
I glanced over at Charlie, who was running his hand through his hair and smiling as usual. I said nothing; instead I turned and walked over to the window, ripping open the envelope. The message inside was simple. LJ’s instruction was to co-operate but be extremely wary of Miss Price. Looking over the bay, I took my time to turn and face her again.