“So what, Mr Dillon – you wouldn’t dare try…”
It was my turn to laugh.
“They sound like famous last words,” Fiona said.
He shrugged. “What a ridiculous notion, it will be quite impossible to connect me to any illegal activities in any way, Miss Price.”
Over Flackyard’s shoulder I could see through the window across the patio.
The red and yellow bird was singing. Over the edge of the flat roof came a foot, slowly, waving from side to side looking for a foothold.
“Tell me, Miss Price, who is behind this outrage?” His voice had become hard with a razor sharp edge. “Perhaps it’s the Partners of Ferran & Cardini.”
“Have they forgotten about the arrangement I have with them regarding a certain currency transaction. After all I’m the only person who can make that possible.”
“At Hawkworth’s suggestion?” I asked.
Flackyard shrugged. “The fool has it all wrong. He just wouldn’t leave it to me to sort out. He always has to interfere.”
“I know exactly what he’s like,” I said.
Fiona, seeing the dangling foot, said. “Please forgive me, Mr Flackyard, but I’ve not had anything to drink since breakfast, is there any chance of some coffee? I just love the way in which they make their coffee here.”
Flackyard clapped his hands twice, the door that we had been shown in through opened, and a servant entered immediately. “Please arrange refreshments for our guests. Of course, I have friends both here, and in England who are very powerful, you know,” he added. “By here you mean Hassan?” I said.
The servant brought a big brass bowl and an ornamental kettle. He set the bowl at Fiona’s feet and poured water over her hands slowly and efficiently, then he repeated the process with me. It is still the Muslim custom before food is eaten. I hoped the servant wouldn’t turn to Flackyard too quickly. I washed my hands slowly and efficiently. The figure that I had seen on the roof was now suspended from the parapet by both hands.
“Actually, Hassan came to see us yesterday shortly after we arrived,” I said casually, trying not to look out of the window. The feet came a few inches lower.
“But, as I told him, I’m here purely as an observer, it’s Miss Price who comes here on behalf of the British Authorities. There are few governments that will hinder her, either.” The feet sought and found the grille of the first floor window.
“Really,” said Flackyard. “How fascinating.”
“Absolutely,” I said. Flackyard smiled. I finished my hand washing as DC Jason Stewart disappeared through the window above. The servant took the brass hand washing bowl over to Flackyard.
“You are an intelligent man,” I said to Flackyard. “You must have known what Caplin and Ferdinand were up to at the house in Sandbanks.”
Flackyard nodded.
I said, “So tell me, what were your impressions of Harry Caplin - and of George Ferdinand?”
Flackyard removed his simple but expensive gold wire spectacles, rubbing the bridge of his nose with forefinger and thumb. “Harry Caplin, well let me see, he’s witty, physically a little over-aware of himself. Naturally charming in a brash and brutishly unsophisticated way.”
“His business?”
“Managed with great care.” Flackyard answered immediately, and then paused. “He obeyed what I imagine are the basic rules of the drug trade.”
“Really,” I said, “What are they?”
“Nations the world over have to be seen to take a hard line against the illegal trading of drugs. But in reality they’re all guilty of being two faced about the narcotics industry,” he said, adding. “Few law enforcement agencies ever get to arrest those individuals who purchase drugs and then export them to another country. The rules are very simple, Mr Dillon: The first is that you should never sell them in the same country that you buy. Secondly, one should never process in the country where you sell. And the third rule, is to never sell in the country of which you are a citizen.”
Given these rules, my thoughts were with Harry Caplin. Fiona was right, he’d fed me a complete pile of bullshit that night in his cellar. The worse thing about it was that I’d fallen for it all. He wasn’t using the under belly of the cross channel ferry to bring the raw material in. He was exporting pure heroin over to France.
“Personality?”
“He was to my mind an idealist gone sour,” said Flackyard. “To be an idealist in this day and age, it is as well not to be born in America. Men like Caplin go through life acting like criminals, but deceive themselves into believing that they are being persecuted for their ideals.”
“What about Ferdinand?” I asked,
Flackyard smiled. “I’m tempted to say that men like George go through life acting like idealists but find themselves treated like criminals; but it would not be exactly true. George was a patriot, and he fell apart when the one thing he loved more than anything else in the world cast him out of the fold, for one indiscretion. Of course I’m referring to his army career and his subsequent court martial and dishonourable discharge. Anything that he finally became was due to the environment through which he passed. He was neither good nor bad; his misfortunes have always been due to the fact that he was always prepared to listen to the other side of the argument. Not a very grievous fault, I would say.”
I agreed.
Flackyard said, “And now you want to know why I did nothing to stop these two men plying their disgusting trade. That is why you have followed me, or rather followed my boat.”
I nodded.
He said, “My cruiser made extremely good time from England. But you already know that because of your satellite tracking, I’ve no doubt.”
“Unfortunately I knew that a boat of that size would cause a little excitement when it docked, and that’s why I chose Puerto Pollensa. It’s an area used to seeing luxury craft of that size. But I’d not taken in to account having Miss Price hot on my heels.”
Fiona bowed her head.
He said, “I knew that there was a risk of it, but…” He shrugged his shoulders.
“I require the articles in the crates to enable me to fulfil certain obligations.”
“What is it that you really want, Mr Dillon? No, please do not answer. Let me guess what it is, and why you have followed me across Europe - Constantine’s List?”
“Ah, Constantine’s List. Well there’s no denying it Flackyard, a lot of very important people would sleep a whole lot better at night if that list were not in existence. But, I’m not so sure now; perhaps there is a much bigger picture to consider?”
I paused. “You say the cases you had unloaded from your boat will enable you to fulfil certain obligations. what are those obligations, Flackyard?”
I paused while I took out of my jacket pocket a folded sheet of paper.
“Yesterday I sent London a number of images taken of those crates on board your boat. They show them being opened and examined by you and your two associates.” I paused, just long enough to allow a little more tension to build up, and then added.
“I received a reply by email this morning. Let me read you their findings...”
“...no let’s skip to the interesting bit - here we are, says… ‘Image 2 received shows military equipment being examined. These weapons are of the laser-guided tank busting type. However it must be stressed that without further evidence to corroborate this, it can only be speculation, although this is based on an in-depth knowledge of this particular type of weapon. Image 4, an exposed crate with packing material removed. Digitally enlarged by four hundred per cent we find that it is without doubt holding automatic machine pistols and ammunition, and image 5, open case, unconfirmed - packages are similar to those used for transporting plastic explosives’”
I carefully folded the paper, and placed it inside my jacket, taking great care not to let him see the message.
“You come to the point very quickly,” said Flackyard. He smiled a great self-satisfied smile a
nd then added, “The military aspects do not interest me at all. The financial investment represented in those crates however is considerable and involves the type of people who you cannot even begin to imagine. Not even in your wildest dreams. So I congratulate your analysts back in London for spotting the weapons. How careless of my associates and me to leave them on show like that. But no matter how interesting this may all be, your digital photographs can be manipulated and changed, so they are completely inadmissible in any court anywhere. This you both know only too well. I will, needless to say, refute most strenuously through my team of lawyers any insinuation or accusation that I am, or my companies are, involved with illegal drug or arms trading.” He closed his eyes, rotating his neck back and forth, side to side, in an attempt to relieve his tension.
The servant had brought sweet pancakes with almonds and sugar inside.
He placed them in between the three of us, and Flackyard tucked into the plateful. I was wondering how to handle the next part while keeping an eye open for DC Stewart’s exit.
Flackyard leaned towards me. “You’ve come a long way to see me,” he said. Flackyard chewed into a honey cake. “I appreciate that, and I’m duly flattered. I’m given to understand in fact, that your peers, Mr Dillon, hold you in high regard. Well, whether you come here offering good or threatening ill does not change the compliment you pay me. I shall however give you a piece of advice to take back to your superiors: To meddle in my business is an extremely hazardous pastime.” I thought of taking that message back with me. I imagined walking into LJ’s office and saying to him, Flackyard wants you to know that meddling in his business will be extremely bad for your health.
He continued to eat the honey cake, and when he’d finished he dabbed the corners of his mouth with a silk napkin. Looking up, he spoke at both of us.
“It has taken over twenty years to form my connections at the highest level.”
“I’m not talking about the here today, gone tomorrow politicians. They are two a penny, and very easy to bribe. No I’m talking about the real people who matter, and who actually run the British Government. People who are able to influence and manipulate easily, because of who or what they are, people like me who see what is happening to our great country.” His eyes became almost unfocused as he stared in to nowhere.
“By people, you mean other fascists,” Fiona said with rancour.
“The people I’m talking about Miss Price, are those who actually run the country. People with culture and taste, not jumped up trade unionists or rabblerousers. These are men of breeding who have power running through their veins.” Flackyard was looking beyond Fiona in a fixed way. I dared not look round. His sharp, bony fingers were interlocked in front of him and his words were laden with spittle. “You dare to call me a fascist…”
“No,” Fiona said nervously, “I called you nothing of the kind.”
He hadn’t waited for a reply. “Perhaps I am,” he shouted, “perhaps I am a fascist! If you think that people like me are fascists, then I’m proud to be what I am.”
Two servants were hovering at the door. These were twice the size of the scrawny one that had served us the pancakes! I noticed that these were well over six foot seven of toned oiled muscle dressed entirely in black robes.
“Seize them,” Flackyard suddenly commanded.
The two burly servants moved the short distance from where they had been standing, with lightening speed, and pulled us roughly up from the floor.
“Take them down to the cellar,” he shouted. “Tie them up and make them very uncomfortable. Perhaps I’ll give you six lashes each. Maybe it will teach you to enter my home with a little more respect, and fewer accusations.”
His mouth was a foaming mousse of anger.
I said gently, “You’re an intelligent man of culture, and you know as well as I do that imprisoning us will serve no useful purpose. It will only calm the anger you feel now. You’re not a barbarian.”
Flackyard stretched himself to a regal height. “I will take your message back to those concerned, but I can only do that if we’re allowed to leave here unharmed,” I coaxed. He looked through me for a moment or so and then gradually brought me into close focus.
He said, “And it’s only because of this that you shall leave here unharmed, Mr Dillon.” He was speaking a little more quietly now. I caught the scrawny servant’s eye and he gave a slight twitch of the shoulders that may have been a shrug.
After being released from the grip of the black robed manservants, Flackyard came over and shook my hand gravely. He said, “I apologise for my sudden outburst. It is unforgivable that I lost my temper. Please accept my sincere regrets at such behaviour. Perhaps it would be possible for me to see the message that your London office sent you?”
“The message? I’m afraid not. But you can have a look at this if you like.” I pulled out from my inside jacket pocket the folded piece of paper that I’d used earlier and handed it to Flackyard.
He took it from me and walked away to the other side of the room, unfolding the small square of paper as he went. As he turned to face me, I saw the fire in his eyes flare, but the self-control was securely in place as he came and handed it back, folded once again. Without another word, we were shown out into the brilliant sunshine of Marrakech.
“What was that all about,” asked Fiona.
I handed her the folded piece of paper as we walked back down the narrow side street towards our hire car.
“But - it’s blank?”
Chapter 40
“Delicious,” said Vince, “absolutely melts in your mouth.”
It was perfectly true. The pastries and cakes in the little café were superb and among the some of the best I’ve ever tasted.
“Did DC Stewart get it?” I asked quietly.
“Oh yes,” said Vince. He tapped the leather rucksack on his lap.
“Went like a dream. Just like I said it would. An astonishingly simple thing to get into. The people who make shoddy safes like that really should be locked up. It only took young Stewart forty-five seconds to open it up! But, although this must seem immodest, he did have the benefit of me talking him through the whole process with the bluetooth earpiece I gave him. This obviously made the whole job much easier, and of course we also had the added bonus of being able to use the Black Widow.”
“Black Widow, what’s that?” asked Fiona, leaning forward and lowering her voice to just above a whisper.
Vince lowered his voice conspiratorially. “The Black Widow, my dear, is a real piece of hi-tech gadgetry. Only got it last week through a chap I know in Brighton. Who, thinking about it, is a very strange and definitely unsavoury character with almost white hair and very red eyes, but he does know his stuff.” Vince always got excited when he was talking about gadgets, especially those that were illegal.
“This Fiona.” He held up a black flat box-like object about six inches square, “is the latest professional’s delight, direct from America. It uses X-ray images and magnetic impulse energy to re-align the tumblers, all you have to do is stick it straight onto the front of the safe. The rest, as they say, is history.” He took another fresh seed cake and devoured half of it in one mouthful.
“You did make the call?” I asked.
“Of course I did, I used the public phone in a near by hotel and dialled the boss’s unofficial direct line, like you wanted. LJ picked it up almost immediately as luck would have it. I told him that the meeting had gone as expected with no hitches and that we would be moving to another location imminently. Advised that the target ‘Hudson’ has been approached with success in Marrakech, and should be eliminated from the picture as soon as was physically possible. LJ confirmed that he understood what had to be done and hung up.” He smiled, “Do you think that Hussan will think Hudson means Hussan when he intercepts the call?”
“Only unless he’s more stupid than I think he is.” I replied.
“I know for a fact that his department is in charge of call monit
oring. That means every call made from a public telephone is routed through a central computer system.”
“This is programmed to do the work of a thousand people. He’ll get the message alright, but he’ll never be able to trace where the call was made to.”
Vince chuckled in between mouthfuls of honey cake. He’d taken an unreasonable dislike to Hassan and loved the idea of him looking for a non-existent assassin.
“So, how did it go with Flackyard?” asked Vince. “And why are you constantly looking at your watch, Jake? You weren’t followed here, were you?”
“No. Stewart is due to collect you in five minutes,” I said; it was 1.55 p.m.
“Well I’m sure he’ll get here as quickly as he can given the traffic out there.”
“Anyway you won’t get him here any quicker by interrogating the watch every few seconds. Tell me about your chat with our friend the gunrunner. And please have a honey cake. You are absolutely positive that you weren’t followed?”
“Vince for the last time, we weren’t followed.” I took a honey cake and told Vince about our conversation with Flackyard. “But that’s not true,” Vince told me at various places in the narrative.
“How do you know it’s not true? Either you want me to adapt the conversation, for your entertainment or not.” I jested.
“Best liar I know, you are,” said Vince with a friendly grin.
“And so he really is connected at the highest level of Government. But he’s saying that these influential back room Government boys are all fascists.”
“I think that’s only the tip of the iceberg, Vince. It’s not only the British Government who have been infiltrated over many years but the French, Italian and Germans, along with all the others no doubt and I think it’s a lot more sinister than just fascism.”
“So if it’s not just fascism – what is it?” asked Vince, like he hadn’t been running his fat sausage-like fingers through secrets for many years when he was with MI6.
Constantine Legacy (Jake Dillon Adventure Series) Page 23