HE SURFACED BY the anchor line, pulled off his inflatable and the tank, then his fins, and fastened them to the line. He waited for a moment, then went up hand-over-hand.
He went in through the anchor chain port and crouched on deck, listening. There was the sound of laughter coming from the deck cabin and he went forward, stood and peered through a port hole. Salter was there, his nephew Billy, Baxter, and Hall. Salter was cutting open a yellow life jacket at the table. He took out the cloth bundle.
Two hundred grand.
Dillon unzipped his diving suit and took out the silenced Walther. He went to the door, paused, then threw it open and stepped inside.
God bless all here.
There was silence, the four of them grouped around the table like some tableau, Harry Salter and his nephew seated, Baxter and Hall standing, beer glasses in their hands.
Salter said, And whats your game, then?
Open the bundle.
Im fucked if I will. I dont think youve got the bottle to use that thing.
Dillon fired on the instant, shattering the whiskey glass on the table at Salters right hand, doing the same thing to the beer glass Baxter was holding. Billy Salter cried out sharply as a jagged splinter of glass cut his right cheek.
There was silence and so then Dillon said, More?
Okay, you made your point, Salter said. What do you want?
The diamonds show me.
Tell him to get stuffed, Billy said, a hand to his cheek where blood flowed.
Then what? Salter asked him.
He unfastened the cloth bundle. Inside was a yellow oilskin pouch with a zip fastener. Open it, Dillon ordered.
Salter did as he was told and tossed the pouch across where it fell at Dillons feet. He picked it up, unzipped the front of his diving suit, and stowed it away. He half turned and took the key out of the door.
Salter said, Ill find you. Nobody does this to Harry Salter and gets away with it.
And didnt I hear James Cagney saying that in an old gangster film on the Midnight Movie show on television last week? Dillon grinned. I know it doesnt look it right now, but Ive actually done you a good turn. Maybe you can do me one sometime.
He slipped out and closed the door. Hall and Baxter rushed it but too late as Dillon turned the key in the lock. He vaulted over the stern down into the water, retrieved his inflatable jack, air tank, and fins and pulled them on. Then he went under the surface and swam back to Harley Dock.
On board the River Queen in the saloon Baxter stood on the table and unclipped the deck hatch above his head. When it was open, Harry Salter and Hall gave him a push up. A few moments later and he was outside the saloon door and opening it.
Here, hows my face? Billy asked his uncle.
Salter inspected it. Youll live. Its only a scratch. Theres sticking plaster in the medical kit in the wheelhouse.
So what are we going to do? Billy demanded.
Find out who shopped us, Salter said. Lets face it, only a limited range of people knew about this job. So the sooner I run that bastard to earth, the sooner Ill find our friend. He turned to Baxter and Hall. Haul up the anchor and lets get out of here and back to Wapping.
DILLON HAD STRIPPED his diving suit, dressed in shirt, jeans, and his old reefer and was already making his way to Wapping. It was ten-thirty as he drove along streets that were deserted and lined by decaying warehouses of what had once been the greatest port in the world. Eventually he cut through a part of the city that was considerably more busy and eventually passed the Tower of London and reached Wapping High Street.
He parked the Toyota at the curb and proceeded on foot to Cable Wharfe. He had already checked out Salters pub, the Dark Man, earlier. It was almost eleven oclock and closing time. A drink would give him an excuse to be in the area, so he walked along the wharf openly and went into the saloon bar. There were two old women at a marble-topped table drinking stout and three men at the end of the bar with beer in front of them, who looked as if they might be seamen, but only just.
The barmaid was in her forties, blonde hair swept back from a face that was heavily made up. Whats your pleasure, sunshine? she asked Dillon.
Dillon smiled that special smile of his, nothing but warmth and immense charm. Well, if its only drink were talking about, lets make it Bushmills.
Sorry, but youll have to drink up fast, she told him as she gave him the Bushmills. Closing time and Ive got to think of my license with coppers around.
And where would they be?
The three at the end of the bar. Theyre no more seamen than my arse.
So what are they up to?
God knows.
Then Ill get out of it. Dillon swallowed his Bushmills. Ill say goodnight to you.
The two old women were leaving and Dillon followed them along the wharf aware of a police van parked in a courtyard to the left, a police car across the road.
A trifle conspicuous, he said softly, reached Wapping High Street, and doubled back. He found what he wanted, another disused warehouse, carefully negotiated stairs leading to the first floor, and crouched on one of the old loading platforms beneath a crane. He had a perfect view of the river, the wharf, and the Dark Man. He took out his infrared night glasses, focused them, and the River Queen came into view.
AS THE RIVERQUEEN docked all hell broke loose. The police van and car that Dillon had noticed earlier drove onto the wharf and at the same time two River Police patrol boats moved out of the shadows where they had been waiting and pulled alongside. As uniformed police came over the rail, they found Hall and Baxter tying up. Salter and Billy came out of the saloon and looked up at the half dozen policemen on the wharf. The line parted and a tall man in his fifties in the uniform of a Superintendent came forward.
Why its Superintendent Brown, our old friend, Billy, Salter said. And how are you, Tony?
Brown smiled. Permission to come aboard, Harry, and he climbed down followed by the other police officers.
Brown smiled. Permission to come aboard, Harry, and he climbed down followed by the other police officers.
So whats all this? Salter demanded.
Well, Harry, I know there wouldnt be anything in the pub. Youre too smart for that and weve turned you over often enough. However, Ive reason to believe youre carrying an illegal shipment of diamonds on this vessel to the amount of two hundred thousand pounds. Very silly, Harry, to slip like that after all these years. Brown turned to the sergeant at his elbow. Read him his rights, and the rest of you, start looking.
Diamonds on the River Queen. Salter laughed out loud. Tony, my old son, you really have got it wrong this time.
IT WAS ALMOST ONE oclock in the morning when they finished. Salter and his crew were sitting at the table in the saloon playing gin rummy when the Superintendent looked in.
A word, Harry.
The police had finished their fruitless task and were getting into the van. The two patrol boats started up and moved away. It was raining now and Salter and Brown stood under the canopy on deck.
So what gives? Salter asked.
Harry, I dont know what happened tonight, but I had what seemed like the hottest tip in my life.
Well, whoever your snout was, I hope you didnt pay the bastard.
Brown shook his head. Youre getting old, Harry, too old to do ten years in Parkhurst. Think about it.
I will, Tony.
Brown clambered up onto the wharf and turned. Weve known each other a long time, Harry, so Ill do you a favor. Id be very careful in future about the Dutch end of things. He got in the police car beside his driver and they moved away.
Jesus, Billy said. We could all have gone down the steps for a long time. That bastard back there when he took the stones, what was it he said? That hed done you a good turn.
Thats right, quite a coincidence, Salter said. Only I dont believe in them. Anyway, lets go up to the pub and get a drink.
DILLON WAITED UNTIL all was quiet, then went back down the stairs of the old warehouse and walked to the pub. There was a light on in the saloon, and when he looked in he saw Salter sitting on a stool at the end of the bar. Billy, sticking plaster on his face, sat drinking at one of the tables with Baxter and Hall. Dillon moved on, turned up the side alley, and looked in the kitchen. The barmaid was drinking a cup of tea and reading a newspaper.
He opened the kitchen door. She looked up in alarm. I see the peelers have gone, Dillon said.
Christ, who are you?
Old friend of Harrys. If hes as bright as I think he is he might even be expecting me. Ill go through to the bar.
HARRY SALTER DRANK his Scotch and waited, looking at his reflection in the old Victorian mirror behind the bar. A small wind touched his cheek as the door opened, there was a sliding sound as the yellow oilskin bag slid along the bar and stopped in front of him.
There you go, Dillon said.
The other three stopped talking and Salter lifted the bag in one hand, then turned to look at Dillon standing there at the end of the bar in his old reefer coat. Dillon took out a cigarette and lit it, and Salter, a crook from the age of fifteen, knew trouble when he saw it.
And whats your game, my old son? he asked.
Its him, Billy cried. The fucking bastard.
Leave off, Billy, Salter told him.
After what he did? Look at my bleeding face. Billy picked up the Lager bottle in front of him, smashed it on the edge of the table, and hurled himself at Dillon, the broken bottle extended. Dillon swayed to one side, caught the wrist, and hammered Billys arm against the bar so that he howled with pain and dropped the bottle. Dillon held him face-down on the bar, Billys arm tight as an iron bar.
God, Mr. Salter, but he never learns, this nephew of yours.
Dont be a silly boy, Billy, Salter said. If he hadnt nicked the stones down river wed be booking in at Tower Bridge Division Police Station with the prospect of going down the steps for ten years. All I want to know is the reason for all this. He smiled at Dillon. Youve got a name, my old son?
Dillon Sean Dillon.
Salter went behind the bar and Dillon released Billy, who stood there massaging his arm, then went and sat down with Baxter and Hall, his face sullen.
Salter said, Youre no copper, I can smell one of those a mile off.
God save us, Dillon said, Ive had enough trouble with those bowsers to last me a lifetime. Lets put it this way, Mr. Salter. I work for one of those Government organizations that isnt supposed to exist.