Shroud of Concealment (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series)

by Andrew Towning

  The front door to the penthouse was ajar, but Dillon still rang the bell and then stood well back from the door. Latimer pulled open the door and stood there in a silk dressing gown, his right hand tucked in a pocket, in which Dillon was convinced he was holding a small handgun.

  “Identity card,” Latimer asked bluntly, holding his free hand out. He studied it carefully, looked up once to verify the image on the card matched up with the man stood in front of him. And then after a moment said, “I’ve never heard of this company and they are most certainly not my telecom supplier.”

  Dillon thought quickly.

  “We’re contracted to carry out emergency repairs for this building by the freeholder. All I was told was to get myself down here as fast as the traffic would allow, and fix the problem. Time is money, see?”

  Dillon remained calm and nonchalant, however he seriously suspected that his cover had been blown, and that Latimer had suddenly recognised him from their brief encounter before.

  “Well, as far as I’m aware no one has informed me or the residents’ committee about this arrangement. But I suppose you’d better come in and do whatever it is you do,” Latimer said, his hand shifting in the pocket of the silk dressing gown.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Dillon remained in character and gave the politician no indication that he’d spotted the weapon pointing at him as he was shown into the kitchen. Latimer opened the door of one of the wall cabinets to expose the penthouse control and distribution server unit which was located inside. Dillon went through the motions of taking off the cover and checking the connections with a small amp meter. All the time Latimer was watching him intently over his shoulder. Two minutes later Dillon told him that everything appeared to be okay, and that once the main junction box outside was reset the phone and broadband would come back on line.

  “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Latimer. The office will send you a conformity notice that will tell you what work was carried out and give you a reference number should anything go wrong in the future.”

  Latimer made no comment, except for a derisory huff of dismissal.

  Dillon saw an expression of contempt and distain cross the politician’s face, but he became more relaxed at the front door as he realised Dillon was leaving after such a short time. Dillon knew he would not get another opportunity. He moved forward quickly, hit Latimer hard on the jaw and then caught him as he collapsed. He pulled the unconscious body inside the hall and closed the door before pulling the handgun from Latimer’s dressing gown pocket.

  He dragged the politician into the living room and man-handled him onto a chair. He then went to the kitchen and returned a moment later with a jug of cold water which he threw in Latimer’s face, and then sat down on a dining chair opposite and waited for him to come round.

  Latimer shook his head and gasped for air as he started to come round. The colour had drained from his face and his jaw had started to swell; the immaculate Latimer suddenly looked more than his age and his usually well-groomed silver-coloured hair was now thoroughly soaked, clinging partially to his scalp. His eyes were glazed, unable to focus on Dillon who thought the older man was going to be sick. Latimer had always lived a comfortable life, had never been on the wrong side of violence and was now finding it an extremely uncomfortable and painful experience. He tried to pull himself upright and at the same time his right hand delved into the dressing gown pocket.

  “Is this what you’re looking for?”

  Dillon held up the small Russian PSM pistol, holding it by the trigger guard between forefinger and thumb.

  “I hope you’ve got a licence for this thing. Or did dear old Tommy Trevelyan supply it from what, one can only imagine, would be his considerable armoury? But I do congratulate you on your choice of weapon, Latimer. The PSM, or Pistolet Samozaryadnyi Malogabaritnyj to give its full name, is one of the thinnest small calibre self-defence guns ever made. As favoured by the KGB plain clothes operatives back in the bad old days when Mother Russia had them standing on every street corner.”

  “You must be Dillon. My God, you’re a distasteful piece of slime.”

  The words were slightly slurred and it must have been extremely painful for him to talk.

  “That’s right, Latimer. But if I’m distasteful, I’m not sure what you’d be. But priceless, you are. It’s rich coming from someone who takes the taxpayers’ hard-earned money and gives so little in return. You’re a rotten apple, Latimer. Everybody knows that you’re a waste of space and as corrupt as they get, but I’m the one who can bring you down and in the process, I’ll stamp on your head – hard.”

  “What is it you want? And you didn’t have to hit me like that.”

  Dillon watched carefully as Latimer tried to move into a more comfortable position. Dillon held up the gun again.

  “You might have shot me. You should think yourself a very lucky man that I decided to punch you instead.”

  Dillon pulled out the Glock from his jacket pocket.

  “I could have simply killed you with this. I dare say that my reflexes are a lot quicker than yours. I’ve been in this room before, you know?”

  Latimer was shaken by this revelation.

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Not at all. Went through everything, including your safe – the one hidden behind that full-length mirror in your bedroom. I found some very interesting documents and was just wondering if you wouldn’t mind giving me some background information on them.”

  “You’re lying, there’s nothing missing from that safe.”

  Latimer’s voice was bristling with anger and resentment. But he sounded unconvincing and was now worried that Dillon knew exactly where his safe was located.

  “This might come as a bit of a blow, Julian. But at that time I was in no particular hurry and managed to photograph everything. Where else do you suppose I got the Lyme Regis address from? Has Trevelyan worked that out yet? Because if he hasn’t, rest assured, he will.”

  Dillon was trying his best to compromise Latimer – to put just enough fear into him to make him talk.

  “I just need a little more information to fill in the gaps, that’s all.”

  He took a chance, knowing full well that it could easily backfire on him.

  “I know you got that list in 1983. I also know that you were sitting on a number of Parliamentary committees at the time. But the one that interested me the most was the one concerning independent security firms. In particular, Brinks Mat. Now I’m only guessing you understand, but I would imagine it went something like this: From sitting on that committee, you were then offered a small, unofficial retainer by the directors of Brinks Mat. I’d guess that it was for prior warning of any moves by the Government, which might be, let’s say, detrimental to their business. I’m sure that with your charm and a well-placed, impressionable young secretary, you would have been able to wheedle out all sorts of highly sensitive information – including timetables. That you did – and have, since that time, abused your position as an MP solely for the purpose of personal financial gain. I don’t know where that stands in the eyes of the law, but as sure as hell the tabloids will have a field day with you whatever else happens. I dare say that wouldn’t please Trevelyan either. Let’s face it, Julian. You’re in the shit right up to your fat little neck and however you look at it, there’s no escaping for you, old son.”

  Latimer was recovering, rubbing the painful swelling on his jaw. But his eyes were not yet fully alert and the years of experience in evasion, lying and bending facts to suit his own end, were forming a formidable barrier in his mind. There was also another aspect to give him comfort, but he would have to hold his corner first.

  “Your imagination is an extremely furtive one, Dillon. You’re also completely wrong about everything and have no idea what you’re messing with her
e. As for me being in deep shit, you’d better find a good lawyer, because you are guilty of breaking in and entering, as well as theft. As for your pathetic attempt to intimidate me, well it hasn’t worked. Now get out.”

  As he stood up, Dillon punched the politician hard in the stomach. Latimer instantly doubled up and started to retch. A moment later, he was sick over the living room carpet. Dillon leant against the back of a sofa, waiting for him to recover.

  “I suppose you’ve conned so many people for such a long time that you genuinely believe you can get away with it forever. Well how would you like both your kneecaps blown off? I only ask because it’s most likely what you’d expect from someone like me. I now want you to tell me what those lists of names and addresses mean.”

  Dillon pulled out the Glock and slowly attached the specially made silencer.

  “I can make a guess, but I want to be one hundred percent sure. Now, tell me what they represent.”

  Dillon slipped off the safety catch.

  “This is loaded with hollow point bullets, Julian. So that you’re under no illusion as to what they are, I’ll tell you. I like to use them because they don’t travel too deep into the flesh, but cause maximum tissue damage. Which means that you will most certainly never walk again if, indeed, you actually live through the ordeal.” Latimer was again sitting upright, but had both his arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

  “You’re bluffing, playing with that thing. You wouldn’t dare do anything to me and you certainly won’t fool me into saying anything.”

  Dillon sat back down on the chair in front of the politician, being careful not to tread in any of Latimer’s breakfast now lying on the carpet.

  “Did Trevelyan tell you that he had at least three people killed to protect those lists of names? Did he tell you that he’d sent five men down to the house in Lyme Regis? That I killed three, possibly four, if they didn’t get him to a hospital in time for a blood transfusion? And that I deliberately let two of them live to go back and tell the tale. Or does he protect you from the blood and guts end of his business and just give you the edited version? No, I’m definitely not bluffing, Julian. But you most certainly are. Please feel free to call the police. I won’t try and stop you.”

  Dillon levelled the gun.

  Latimer went as white as an Egyptian cotton sheet. It had now dawned on him just how much trouble he was in and that he wasn’t going to be able to slither his way out of this crisis by bluff or procrastination. Latimer now realised that Dillon wasn’t just another blunt instrument – that he had nerve and was tenacious. His audacity knew no boundaries and his ability to control was like nothing he’d ever encountered. It struck him that he’d most likely just heard the truth about the deaths in Dorset.

  “If I tell you I’m dead anyway.” The voice wavered.

  “Who needs to know? How would anyone else ever find out? What I hear in this room stays in this room, as far as I’m concerned.”

  Latimer was now fully conscious and extremely nervous. His eyes flitted around the room, not really focusing on anything in particular.

  “It would soon become evident that I was the one who told you.”

  Where were Trevelyan’s men? He had phoned for help before letting Dillon into the building. He realised he was beginning to panic, but he couldn’t help the feeling of foreboding that was now weighing heavily upon him. Dillon had the expressionless features of a hardened professional. Latimer’s head was spinning. Was he going to blow both his kneecaps off, or was it just an idle threat? The incredible steadiness of the gun pointing at him confirmed it would be the kneecaps.

  He added, “If I tell you, I’m finished. Trevelyan’s men will be outside by now. If I were you I’d get out of here as quickly as possible.”

  Although the statement was spoken with bravado, it was quite obvious that Latimer was as nervous as a man can get without wetting himself. However, Dillon did manage to pick his way through and pull the truth out of it. Latimer was waiting for something to happen and had reconciled himself that it was about to go down on his own doorstep. The politician was not only scared of him, but of what he might have started in order to protect himself.

  Dillon slowly moved across the room and stood with his back to the wall behind the door.

  “So tell me, what exactly have you done?”

  “I phoned Trevelyan for help from my mobile phone. I wasn’t sure at first when you were standing downstairs in front of the CCTV. The image on the screen wasn’t clear enough. But once you were outside the front door in the hallway, I was sure. Trevelyan is many things that I dislike in a person, but he is thorough. You see, he issued everyone with your photograph. Otherwise I would have sent the cancellation text. But it’s too late now. You’re trapped with nowhere to run.”

  “And you are very close to leaving this world for good. How will they get in? You haven’t released the front door.”

  He saw the uncertainty and fear return and added, “You’re not bullshitting a group of committee members now, Latimer. This is as real as it gets – your life or mine.”

  “They’ll use the emergency fire escape – it’s at the rear of the building and runs all the way up to the roof garden. Once they’re up there they’ll be able to access the penthouse through the French doors in my bedroom, which I unlocked earlier.”

  “Well it looks like there’s going to be some blood spilt then. That should go nicely with these cream carpets.”

  “Oh, God.” Latimer buried his head in his hands.

  “Is there anything you can do to call them off?” Dillon was listening intently for any unwelcome noises from above.

  “It’ll be too late, and anyway, they’ll be here by now. Why did you risk coming here like this? You’re a bloody fool and you’ll be outnumbered ten to one at least. Getting past them is going to be impossible.”

  “I’ve been in much tighter situations than this, Julian. And to be honest, ten to one are pretty good odds. But I’m forgetting something. You’re the one that does the talking and who likes taking the money, just as long as you don’t have to get your hands dirty.”

  Latimer was still sitting with his head in his hands.

  “I strongly suggest you stay exactly where you are, keep your eyes closed and pray to whatever God it is you believe in that you don’t catch a stray bullet when the shooting starts. I hope you’ve got the number of a firm of good cleaners, because you’re going to need them, old son. Anyway, what’s a few dead bodies between friends?” Dillon added.

  He gazed contemptuously across the room.

  “Are you so naive to think that there isn’t a physical side? There’s always the physical side where there’s vast amounts of illicit money – if not from you, then from someone else, like Trevelyan, who you had to go to for expertise and muscle. He’s only got to whisper the right words and there’s always extreme violence. You’re a weak lily-livered, conceited, self-obsessed arsehole Latimer. Damn everybody else. Well, your free-loading ticket has just expired, old son. If they’re out there, you are almost certainly one of the frontline targets. You’d better tell me how to get out of here, and quickly.”

  Latimer shook his head in despair.

  “There’s only the fire escape and they are sure to have it covered. As I said before, it runs up from the street at the back of the building.”

  “Okay, we’ll try it. And you’re going first.”

  “You must be mad. I’m not going anywhere. If you’re right, then Trevelyan will have given instructions to have me killed as well. The minute they set eyes on me they’ll simply shoot me.”

  “And you’re not scared of me shooting you? Because I won’t hesitate.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt that you would kill me. But I’m more scared of them, you see? I never wanted you dead and definitely not here in my home. By the
way, the gun you took from me is empty; I couldn’t shoot anyone.”

  “Don’t fret, I could tell it was empty by the weight of it. The problem is that you’ve spent your entire life bluffing and double bluffing. And you do it very well. I reckon we’ve got a bit of time still. If we sit it out long enough, you never know, they might even get bored of waiting and leave. So you can fill in time by telling me what those names and addresses are all about.”

  “I thought we’d covered that. It’ll not be you who has to stand in front of that ruffian Trevelyan after they’ve got you.”

  Dillon smiled ruefully.

  “You do realise that Trevelyan won’t believe a single word you say to him after this. He knows that you’re a hustler and a conman, and also knows that to be a truly brilliant conman you have to firstly con yourself into believing. Your usefulness expired a long time ago, Julian. You may have produced the goods back in 1983 and for that he took you into his fold. But you are simply a liability to him now and as sure as sugar is sweet, he will put a bullet in your head rather than run the risk of you talking. At least you’ll get half a chance of staying alive with me. At least, we should try.”

  “No. You might as well kill me right here and now.”

  Dillon’s instinct told him to put a bullet in Latimer’s thick skull and save the tax payer a whole lot of money trying to bring him to trial. But he knew better than to rush these situations.

  “Okay. Then I’ll tell you what I think. It’s all very simple and obvious, really. Each name and address represents a safe house where stolen goods can be covertly deposited prior to redistribution at a later date. I think that each location is different in size and level of security. Lyme Regis, I would say, is of the highest level of security. Some of the locations and names have been crossed off, indicating that these properties, and possibly their caretakers, may have been compromised in some way, or simply their usefulness expired. And then there are the new additions that appear to take their place. These safe houses have obviously been built up over many years and I daresay that under close scrutiny their ownership would make interesting reading.”