“That shouldn’t be too difficult. I can get you a report drawn up in twenty-four hours. I’m sure that you’ll understand that I’ll have to charge though. I need to use an analyst and that flags up a charge.”
Jago reached into his pocket. “That’s no problem. Just send the invoice to the email address on this card. Oh, and one other thing. I’d like some discreet information on a company by the name of Pontus Freight Forwarding Limited. Does the name mean anything to you?”
Hogg pondered before replying, “I can’t say that it does. Can I ask what your interest is in the company?”
Jago thought that this was a strange question as ex-colleagues wouldn’t normally pry. So he tucked away the comment for further digestion.
“Nothing really. I have a client that’s come into a bit of money and that was one company that caught their fancy. I just thought that while I was here asking for the other stuff that you might know something that would make it a safer investment, or not, depending upon the information. You know, are they compliant, consistently busy, growing, et cetera.”
“I’ll certainly have a look, although it may take a few days.”
“That’s fine, I’m in no rush. Like I said, it was an opportune moment. Anyway, it was good to briefly catch up. I don’t want to take up any more of your time. I’d better be going.”
“Maybe we could go for a beer sometime when you’re back in the city. Do you visit often?”
“Only when my work dictates really. But I’ll take you up on that the next time I’m over here.”
Hogg stood to let Jago out.
“Don’t worry, I can see myself out.”
As Jago left the office he faced Sue and, instead of talking to her, he made a gesture pointing to his watch and left the building.
***
Hogg picked up the phone and made an internal call. “Jim, I want you to follow the man who just left and report back to me only.”
Jim responded, “I’m on my way now.”
Jim was a slim, clean-shaven man in his mid-thirties. He leapt out of his chair and ran to the front of the building. Pausing by a window, he caught sight of Jago who was walking at a moderate pace. Jim rapidly descended the staircase and exited the building. He looked left and saw that Jago was up ahead, about forty metres away on the opposite side of the road. He was drawing level with Grosvenor Chapel, a simple yet imposing building. Jim followed at a distance.
Seeing that the main blue chapel doors were open, Jago entered. He went through the glass panelled doors and waited to one side. He spied Jim lurking over the road. Jim reluctantly passed the chapel but loitered nearby. Jago casually passed through the chapel and entered the rear of the building. He exited into a small courtyard and took a run at the six-foot brick wall, heaving himself easily over it into Mount Street Gardens. He swiftly crossed the gardens, located his motorcycle and took off into the city traffic, all the time keeping watch in his rear-view mirrors.
Chapter 7 - Book Covers
Jago decided to check on his wharfside apartment. He hadn’t been there for a few months and as usual his cleaner, Mrs B, had left it immaculate for him. On the pristine kitchen counter was a pile of backlogged mail. He looked around and opened the patio doors that overlooked the river. He made himself an Earl Grey tea and was sitting on the balcony sifting through his mail when he received a call from Abi.
“Hi Boss, you’re going to like this. It seems that Ian had high levels of asbestos contamination. The pathologist reckons that he’d been exposed to either major amounts of the material or had had regular exposure to significant amounts. He said that Ian’s lungs contain positive pleural plaques of around thirty-five per cent, according to the concentration of asbestos bodies and uncoated mineral fibres in his lungs.”
“I see, so we’re talking about toxic waste then?”
“Yes, and there’s more. We have recovered some photos that Ian sent to Kim. It seems that the ships that he was on were also subcontracted to carry on board containers and pallets for another shipping company, one that has a history of dumping. One of the photos features a large quantity of broken electronic devices. It seems that the pallets are weighted with concrete blocks which can only mean one thing — dumping. But here’s the thing, the cargo manifest for both ships involved stated that they were carrying plastic waste destined for Ghana, Africa.”
“So, who owns the ships and who manages the cargo manifests?”
“It seems that the ships change hands during the voyage. Both of the ships involved sail under the Liberian Flag, and their owner is a tax resident in Monaco. The commonality is that one name keeps appearing as either buyer or seller, or something called the exponent owner.”
“What name keeps reappearing?”
“Van Dooren, Luis Van Dooren. He owns PAS Pacific, a Dutch-based holding company. Also, he has interests in some other businesses including Pontus Freight Forwarding Limited.”
“Abi, that’s very interesting, not least because his name was on the visitors’ book page that I signed at AS Marine Intelligence earlier. Interestingly, they claimed not to know too much about Pontus. Then they put someone on my tail as I left. Where will I find Luis Van Dooren?”
“We’re trying to locate him now. You don’t happen to have a time of his meeting, and any meeting afterwards, do you?”
“He signed in at 1030 hours.”
“That’s good. We can try and trace him from the building. I’ll have photos and files sent over to you within the hour.”
“Okay, I’ll be staying in the city tonight, so let’s hope that he is around for a while.”
“Okay, Boss. I’ll update you as soon as we have something more.”
“Thanks, Abi. Say hi to Bernie, will you?”
***
Jago easily found the Peace and Pilates studio on Lupus Street. It was
7.15 p.m. He was early and kept watch of the steady stream of multi-coloured clothing entering and leaving the converted building. And then Sue appeared, walking with half a dozen girlfriends. He held back until they had finished talking and parted their ways. She looked around for him, and he approached from behind.
“Are you looking for someone?” Jago asked.
She didn’t turn. “Only a dark, handsome stranger who I met today. That’s all, no one special.”
“And when that stranger appears what will happen next?”
“Nothing until I get home and take a shower. Are you coming?”
“I’m with you,” he replied, smiling.
She turned, grabbed his hand, and they started walking.
“It’s two minutes away. Just up the street.”
“I thought that I was taking you out to dinner?”
“Later, much later,” she replied.
They walked in relative silence and turned into Sunderland Street, a row of Georgian terraced houses.
Sue broke the silence. “Mine’s the second on the right. I’m on the first floor.”
***
They entered the elegantly furnished flat which Jago thought was definitely above her pay grade, but he also knew that there could be countless reasons for that. So, he’d learned not to judge. Standing in the hall, Sue pointed to the lounge area. “Pour yourself a drink if you want, and I’ll have a gin and tonic.”
His eyes swung to the lounge and then back to the sight of her undressing as she walked, presumably to the shower. He entered the room, taking in the titles of her books on the large oak bookshelf that covered the whole length of a wall. They were mainly referencing books of art and history. A range of autobiographies sat on the lower shelves showing her interest in the likes of Churchill, Thatcher, Montgomery, Branson, Malcolm X and Maya Angelou. A single bust of Napoleon took pride of place on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. The brown soft leather sofa looked well used, and one of the accompanying two chairs was positioned so that a reader sitting in it would gain maximum light from the large window. The other appeared untouched.
He poure
d himself tonic water and Sue’s gin and tonic and took it through to where he could hear the shower in full flow.
“Your G and T is served, madam.”
“Oh great, bring it in.”
“But the waiter will get wet.”
“Then tell the waiter to sort that little issue outsmart.”
Jago needed no more encouragement and promptly removed his clothing. He picked up the gin and tonic and entered the shower.
“Here’s your drink as ordered.”
She looked him up and down, took the drink, placed it on a shelf, and kissed him in a passionate embrace.
***
It was 10 p.m. and they were leaving the flat in Sunderland Street.
“What shall we eat? What do you fancy — Thai, Indian, Greek, French?”
“I don’t mind, as long as they have decent wine. You choose, you know the area better than me,” replied Jago.
They arrived at a nearby Thai restaurant, ordered and started eating and drinking.
“What do you do, Jago? Something mysterious?”
“No, not mysterious at all. I work in security. I have clients in different industries, and at the moment I have a client in shipping.”
“Do you know Hogg well? I mean, are you best buddies or something? I mean, I’m guessing not from his greeting today.”
“No, we were in the services together, that’s all.”
“Oh yes, the old boy's network. I see it all of the time. But it was different today.”
“Why was it different?”
“Well, after you left, one of our henchmen — that’s what the office call the gofers — left in such a rush. I thought that he might be following you.”
Jago was unsure as to where the conversation was going.
“Really? I didn’t see anyone.”
“But you’d be trained to evade surveillance, wouldn’t you?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s true. But I can’t say that I expected or saw anyone. Maybe he was late for an appointment.”
“I don’t think so. He returned a quarter of an hour late and got a right telling off from Hogg. I guess you saw him off quickly.”
Jago opened up. “Maybe I did.”
“Why did you ask me out? To get information?”
“No, I asked you out because you are beautiful and life is too short to miss opportunities. When I entered your building this morning, I didn’t even know if anyone could help me with what I wanted. So why would I have an ulterior motive?”
“Oh, that’s nice to know. But don’t get me wrong, I don't mind if you do have an ulterior motive or not. They don’t pay me that well to keep quiet. If you want to know anything you can always ask me, for a price that is.” She smiled and touched his hand.
“And would that be in pounds sterling?”
“Not necessarily.” She kissed him and pulled him near to her.
“You wanted information about Pontus, didn’t you?”
“I did. I want to see if they are a worthwhile investment for my client. Why do you ask?”
“Where Van Dooren is involved it’s all bad, trust me.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s always meeting with Hogg. I think that Hogg provides private security for him on some sites. And there always seems to issues.”
“So not a good investment then?”
“Definitely not. I mean, where does Hogg get his money? He has a penthouse apartment, flash car, Breitling watch, luxury holidays, the works. And it can’t just be from SA Marine Intelligence. He’s not even a director. And there’s not that much business.”
“You appear pretty clued up for a receptionist if I may say so.”
“I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”
“I know that. I've seen your bookshelves. What are you doing working there?”
“After a messy divorce, it serves a purpose until I can find myself again. It pays the bills. I’m lucky that I only have bills to pay. The apartment’s mine.”
“Hey, I’m not prying, and you don’t have to explain to me.”
“I know, but for some reason, I wanted to. I feel safe with you, and I don’t want you to doubt me. I knew that you’d wonder how I could afford the apartment. Go on, admit it. You did, didn’t you, even for a moment?”
“Yes, I did for a moment. But I also know that there can be many explanations, and it’s not my place to judge. But thanks for telling me about Pontus, I appreciate that. And my client will appreciate that too. It may not stop him from wanting to explore this a little further as he’s not averse to risk.”
“Oh, that’s easy. He needs to speak with Van Dooren himself. He always stays at the Highland Palace. Apart from spending unhealthy amounts of time in a plush Turkish bath, I think that he practically lives in the hotel sometimes.”
“Okay, enough of work. What’s for dessert?”
“The same as starters if you’re game?”
“That sounds good to me.”
Chapter 8 - It Pays to Snoop
“Good morning, Abi,” said Jago brightly.
“Morning, Boss. I don’t have much more on Van Dooren yet apart from a photo of him and his personal protection, and vehicles. I’ll send them over to you now.”
“Why the plural of vehicles?”
“Video footage shows that there was a second car behind with two occupants. They never alighted, and I don’t have a quality image to give you, just the vehicle and its plates.”
“Okay, that makes sense. Anyway, a little bird tells me that Van Dooren’s staying at the Highland Palace and I’m going to pay a visit while I’m in the city.” Jago paused to view the message that Abi had sent.
“You don’t have a better image of his protection, do you? He looks familiar.”
“I’ll check now if you can wait?”
“Yes, I’m good to wait.”
Abi scanned the images on file and selected three.
“I’m sending you three more specifically of the protection.”
“Received.” He carefully scrutinised the images. “Oh yes, I thought so. It’s Tiny Lewis; he used to work closely with Hogg many moons ago. His real name is Claude Lewis; he’s an ex-paratrooper. He used to be handy to have around in a contact, although he’s aged a bit now. Abi, see what you find out about his recent life and any associates?”
“Will do, Boss. By the way, which little bird told you where Van Dooren would be?”
Jago smiled and replied, “Abi, you know that I can’t reveal my sources.”
“I know, I know, but a girl has got to ask. I’ll speak later.”
***
Jago entered the Highland Palace Hotel and headed for the concierge.
“Where would I find a nice Turkish bath close to here? I bumped into one of the guests last evening, and he was telling me how marvellous the one he goes to is; I can’t remember the name though. Can you help?”
“Yes, certainly, Sir. Do you know the name of the guest?”
“I’m afraid not, although I think that he was a Dutchman and had a tall guy with him.”
“Oh, that sounds like Mr Van Dooren. He uses the Turkish Delight Spa in Belgravia every day at 2 p.m. I’ll get you the number and address. Would you like me to book you a session, Sir?”
“No, thank you. I have some meetings to schedule first. I’ll have a better idea of when I’m free later today.”
***
It was 1.30 p.m. as Jago watched Van Dooren get into his limousine, closely followed by a high-powered executive car with two occupants. The setup was virtually the same as the pictures Abi had provided. The only thing missing was Claude Lewis — a younger, more alert protector had replaced him. Jago wondered, Where’s Lewis then?
Jago made his way to the side entrance of the hotel where the deliveries arrived and the staff took their smoke break. He entered into conversation, and ten minutes and one hundred pounds later Jago was in the hotel with a passkey for Van Dooren’s room. As Jago rode the lift to access the pent
house suites, of which there were four, Jago felt uneasy about the missing Lewis. He nevertheless proceeded with his plan to see inside Van Dooren’s suite. He’d noticed that Van Dooren didn’t have a briefcase with him when he left the building but had had a black leather one in the photos provided by Abi.
He reached the floor and exited the lift to an empty hallway which was small and contained five doors, one for each apartment and one for the emergency stairway. Jago disabled the camera that was trained on the corridor before it could get a full view of him. He arrived at the door of penthouse suite number one and listened for sounds of movement. There were none. He knocked on the door. “Hello, customer service, is anyone in?”
There was no reply.
He placed the key card against the door and it flashed green. He entered slowly and shut the door behind him. Before he entered the spacious lounge area, he took out his phone and switched it to video mode. He made a quick video of the room, sweeping from left to right. He stepped silently and purposefully, scanning for anything resembling documents or information. There were holiday brochures on the table, and Jago photographed them before touching them. He then opened each of the three, one at a time, to look for any notes or clues as to Van Dooren’s plans. He then placed the documents in their original position, carefully checking his photo for their exact location.
Jago moved onto the master bedroom where a circular, rather opulent bed occupied the centre of the room beneath a round of mirrors. He quickly took another photo before rummaging through the wardrobes with sliding doors. Jago had opened the second wardrobe when he came upon the briefcase. It was open, and he flicked through the files. A leaflet describing an investment meeting caught his eye, and Jago snapped a photo of it and sent it to Abi. He moved some high-quality suits to one side, revealing a wall safe. It was locked, and Jago captured it on camera. Time was passing and it was time to leave. Jago carefully positioned everything as he found it, married up the photos that he’d taken and set to leave. Then he noticed a discrepancy in the main lounge photo. A couple of cushions on the sofa had been depressed as if someone had sat against them. They weren’t like that when he entered, and he knew that he hadn’t sat there or been on the sofa. That could only mean one thing: he wasn’t alone. With only one exit, he assumed that someone would be waiting for him at the main entrance door and a quick look through the spyglass in the door confirmed his suspicion. He caught sight of two persons, one either side of the wall of the recessed doorway. And he didn’t know if anyone was in the suite or not. Before drawing his pistol, he secured the door from the inside, being as quiet as possible. He thought that, should the men outside have card access, they would be slowed down. He then moved through the suite, room by room. Everything seemed okay, but he couldn't be sure. He entered the master bedroom once again, thinking that its structure lent itself to having an emergency escape stairway to the floor below. He opened the doors towards the outer corner wall and pressed panels, and looked for switches, levers and buttons. And then he found one on the underside of a shelf. There was a round red button. He pressed it, and a panel to his left, behind some hanging clothing, slowly swung open revealing an exit. He passed through, taking care to reposition the clothing before closing the panel. He cautiously descended the staircase to the next floor which was clear. He heard the unmistakable sound of suppressed gunfire and assumed that the men above were trying to access the penthouse suite before their boss returned.
The Plastic Paradigm Page 5