Eye of the storm Page 0,78
took her own way out,” Dillon said. “I told you. It was her way of making sure they didn’t get anything out of her.”
“And this business you mentioned, the Belfast trip?”
“Taken care of. It’s all systems go, Josef.”
“When?”
“The War Cabinet meets at ten o’clock in the morning at Downing Street. That’s when we’ll hit.”
“But how?”
“You can read about it in the papers. The important thing now is for you to tell Michael Aroun to fly down to his Saint-Denis place in the morning. I hope to be flying in sometime in the afternoon.”
“As quickly as that?”
“Well I won’t be hanging about, will I? What about you, Josef?”
“I should think I might well make the flight from Paris to Saint-Denis with Aroun and Rashid myself.”
“Good. Till our next merry meeting, then, and remind Aroun about that second million.”
Dillon put the phone down, lit a cigarette, then picked up the phone again and called Grimethorpe airfield. After a while he got an answer.
“Bill Grant here.” He sounded slightly drunk.
“Peter Hilton, Mr. Grant.”
“Oh, yes,” Grant said, “and what can I do for you?”
“That trip I wanted to make to Land’s End, tomorrow, I think.”
“What time?”
“If you could be ready from noon onwards. Is that all right?”
“As long as the snow holds off. Much more and we could be in trouble.”
Grant put the phone down slowly, reached for the bottle of Scotch whisky at his hand and poured a generous measure, then opened the table drawer. There was an old Webley service revolver in there and a box of .38 cartridges. He loaded the weapon, then put it back in the drawer.
“Right, Mr. Hilton, we’ll just have to see what you’re about, won’t we?” and he swallowed the whisky down.
“Do I know Jack Harvey?” Harry Flood started to laugh, sitting there behind his desk, and looked up at Mordecai Fletcher. “Do I know him, Mordecai?”
The big man smiled at Brosnan and Mary who were standing there, still with their coats on. “Yes, I think you could say we know Mr. Harvey rather well.”
“Sit down, for God’s sake, and tell me what happened in Belfast,” Flood said.
Which they did, Mary giving him a rapid account of the entire affair. When she was finished, she said, “Do you think it’s possible that Harvey was Dillon’s weapons supplier in eighty-one?”
“Nothing would surprise me about Jack Harvey. He and his niece, Myra, run a tight little empire that includes every kind of criminal activity. Women, drugs, protection, big-scale armed robbery, you name it, but arms for the IRA?” He looked up at Mordecai. “What do you think?”
“He’d dig up his granny’s corpse and sell it if he thought there was a profit in it,” the big man said.
“Very apt.” Flood turned to Mary. “There’s your answer.”
“Fine,” Brosnan said, “and if Dillon used Harvey in eighty-one, the chances are he’s using him again.”
Flood said, “The police would never get anywhere with Harvey on the basis of your story, you must know that. He’d walk.”
“I should imagine the Professor was thinking of a more subtle approach, like beating it out of the bastard,” Mordecai said and slammed a fist into his palm.
Mary turned to Brosnan who shrugged. “What else would you suggest? Nobody’s going to get anywhere with a man like Harvey by being nice.”
“I have an idea,” Harry Flood said. “Harvey’s been putting a lot of pressure on me lately to form a partnership. What if I tell him I’d like to have a meeting to discuss things?”
“Fine,” Brosnan said, “but as soon as possible. We can’t hang around on this, Harry.”
Myra was sitting at her uncle’s desk going through club accounts when Flood called her.
“Harry,” she said, “what a nice surprise.”
“I was hoping for a word with Jack.”
“Not possible, Harry, he’s in Manchester at some sporting club function at the Midland.”
“When is he due back?”
“First thing. He’s got some business later in the morning, so he’s getting up early and catching the seven-thirty breakfast shuttle from Manchester.”
“So he should be with you about nine?”
“More like nine-thirty with the morning traffic into London. Look, what is this, Harry?”
“I’ve been thinking, Myra, maybe I’ve been stupid. About a partnership, I mean. Jack might have a point. There’s a lot we could do if we got together.”
“Well, I’m sure he’ll be pleased to hear that,” Myra said.
“I’ll see you then, nine-thirty sharp in the morning with my accountant,” Flood told her and rang off.
Myra sat there looking at the phone for a while, then she picked it up, rang the Midland