Shroud of Concealment (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) by Andrew Towning Page A

was within earshot of his conversation.
    “My Porsche has been bombed. Blown to bits outside the theatre. Fifteen minutes earlier, and I would have been in it. Now listen carefully, Vince. The police are going to be here in a moment, along with the press; I have no doubt. What should I tell them?”
    “Absolutely nothing; is that clear?”
    “Okay.”
    “Give them Dunstan Havelock’s number at the Home Office and tell them to call him immediately. If they don’t, tell them that the next call you make will be to the Chief Constable.”
    Vince gave Dillon the number to call if that became necessary.
    “Don’t forget to call Dunstan the minute you hang up.”
    “Understood. Thanks, Vince.”
    Dillon disconnected and immediately called Dunstan Havelock. He answered almost immediately, and Dillon wasted no time in coming to the point.
    “Dunstan, my car has just been blown to bits outside the theatre. I’m okay, but I’m going to have the police crawling all over this place within minutes.”
    The question had no sooner been asked when two police cars pulled up and four Constables got out and headed straight for the burnt out wreckage of Dillon’s Porsche. They stood talking to the lead fire fighter for a moment, who pointed towards Dillon and then walked off inside the theatre.
    “Do you think it was Hart?” Havelock asked.
    “Who else do you think it would be? Look, I don’t mean to be abrupt, Dunstan. But I’ve got two burly coppers heading towards me and they’re going to want some pretty good answers to their questions. Now, do you mind if I give them your direct line number at the Home Office?”
    “By all means give them the number. In the meantime, I’ll speak with the Chief Constable and get him to slap a news blackout on the incident. I’m assuming you’ve already updated Edward Levenson-Jones or someone at Ferran & Cardini?”
    “Vince Sharp, I phoned him before I called you.”
    “Good, because Sir Lucius Stagg will need to be kept in the loop on this one. We’re almost certainly going to need his political clout if Hart starts throwing his weight about with those MPs who think the sun shines out of his arse. I’m very sorry that this has happened, Jake. Now, are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to call a doctor?”
    “That’s the best you can come up with, is it? To be blunt, Dunstan, I’m thoroughly pissed off with the way this Charlie Hart thing is evolving.”
    “Just stay calm, Jake. The police will be taken care of. Remember, you tell them that you don’t know of any reason why your car would have been blown up. And that you don’t have any enemies, or have had any disagreements with anyone that would warrant such an act of aggression. Simply state the facts as you know them. Oh, and Jake, please don’t think for one moment that if it was Hart who did this he’ll get away with it.”
    Dillon disconnected the call and had slipped his mobile phone back into his jacket pocket, just as the two police officers walked up to where he was standing.
    “Quite a mess,” the first policeman commented dryly as he gazed back towards the bulk of twisted metal, and then added, “Is that your vehicle, sir?”
    “It was,” Dillon replied. “Thankfully, I wasn’t in it at the time.”
    * * *

    Dillon met Havelock at Slinky Joe’s, a club in Soho frequented by the more dubious elements of the London criminal fraternity and located below the offices of a film company, a Chinese restaurant on one side and a lap dancing club on the other. The polished brass plate alongside the film company’s door stated that they were in the business of making movies of an artistic and erotic nature for the discerning client. Havelock, feeling completely out of place, was sitting with Dillon in the furthest, darkest corner of the bar. Realising from the glances cast at him that he was making a few of the regulars feel uneasy, possibly even cramping their style.
    The Champagne was remarkably good and so