Free Constantine Legacy (Jake Dillon Adventure Series) by Andrew Towning

on board that
boat belong to an associate of mine and he wants them
back – Mr Dillon – all fifty of those small packages. I
sincerely hope that no harm has come to them, and that
they are safe and sound or, I am afraid you will be the one
to pay the price.”
“I’m sorry, but what exactly are we talking about
here, Flackyard?”
He got up and went over to his desk again. “Please
do not insult my intelligence. I know that you and your
friends pulled up a large quantity of the finest raw opium
from the Gin Fizz. Furthermore, you will ensure that they
are available for collection by midday tomorrow at the
latest. I sincerely hope that I’m making myself clear. You
will be contacted in the morning to arrange the details of
the hand over. I think that concludes our conversation,
Mr Dillon.”
“My driver will take you back to your own car.
Oh, and please remember this; you really do not want me
as your enemy.” For just the briefest of moments I sensed
the hatred that he felt towards me, but his self-control
was impeccable, and soon there was only calm in his eyes.
Back at the house I poured myself a large vodka,
and downed another before I felt anything like relaxed
and before anyone had summoned the courage to ask me
what I had learned to our advantage. “Flackyard knows
that we have the opium, and that his associates, whoever
they maybe, want it returned by midday tomorrow,” I
said.
“Tomorrow, Charlie, you and I both return to
London. Fiona, I think it best if you also get back to
whatever it is you normally do.”
That night I lay awake turning over and over in
my mind, how Flackyard could have known about the
opium or how the mysterious George Ferdinand could
have found out about my pistol. The only way that either
of them could have known was if someone had told them.
But who, and to what end?

Chapter 8
    I woke early the next morning from a restless
night’s sleep, angry with myself for allowing LJ to ever
get me involved with this assignment. Also, I was still
wondering; who had a motive for leaking information
and whether it had been one of the team in Dorset who
had tipped off Flackyard, but for what reason, and what
gain? These questions kept going over in my head. I used
my mobile phone to call Tats who was still in bed.
“What time is it?” she said in a hazy voice.
    “Just gone six o’clock. Thought I’d give you a
wake up call. How are you?”
“I’d be a whole lot better if you’d have let me wake
up organically, especially on a Saturday. You know I’ve
never been good with alarm calls.”
I could hear her stretch and yawn; I imagined her
naked body warm from sleep under the sheet.
“How’s the seaside. You must be nearly through
down there, aren’t you?”
“Nearly, but not quite. We have a small problem to
sort out first. That’s the other reason for my call, I want
you to do a check on the Rumples, Charlie McIntyre,
and Fiona Price. Dig as deep as you can and see if any of
them have ever had any contact with Robert Flackyard,
no matter how trivial, because I want to know about it.
Call me back on this number as soon as you can. Oh and
Tats – see you soon.” I hung up, got dressed and went
down to breakfast.
Outside the day was starting dull, the grey wind
was breaking the points off the waves and white spray
was thrashing the big rocks of the headland.
Apart from me, the only other person at the table
was Charlie. My phone rang. It was LJ. “Jake, I want you
to go along with whatever Flackyard wants. I have taken
instructions from upstairs, the Partners feel that for the
good of the bigger picture and the assistance that he is
offering, you are to hand over the packages as requested.”
Without acknowledging or answering I said,
“Someone is leaking information to Flackyard.” At this
revelation, Charlie’s head came up from his cornflakes.
“What do you mean, a leak? That’s impossible.
Everyone involved with