Jago decided to check on his wharfside apartment. He hadn’t been there for a few months and as usual his cleaner, Mrs B, had left it immaculate for him. On the pristine kitchen counter was a pile of backlogged mail. He looked around and opened the patio doors that overlooked the river. He made himself an Earl Grey tea and was sitting on the balcony sifting through his mail when he received a call from Abi.
“Hi Boss, you’re going to like this. It seems that Ian had high levels of asbestos contamination. The pathologist reckons that he’d been exposed to either major amounts of the material or had had regular exposure to significant amounts. He said that Ian’s lungs contain positive pleural plaques of around thirty-five per cent, according to the concentration of asbestos bodies and uncoated mineral fibres in his lungs.”
“I see, so we’re talking about toxic waste then?”
“Yes, and there’s more. We have recovered some photos that Ian sent to Kim. It seems that the ships that he was on were also subcontracted to carry on board containers and pallets for another shipping company, one that has a history of dumping. One of the photos features a large quantity of broken electronic devices. It seems that the pallets are weighted with concrete blocks which can only mean one thing — dumping. But here’s the thing, the cargo manifest for both ships involved stated that they were carrying plastic waste destined for Ghana, Africa.”
“So, who owns the ships and who manages the cargo manifests?”
“It seems that the ships change hands during the voyage. Both of the ships involved sail under the Liberian Flag, and their owner is a tax resident in Monaco. The commonality is that one name keeps appearing as either buyer or seller, or something called the exponent owner.”
“What name keeps reappearing?”
“Van Dooren, Luis Van Dooren. He owns PAS Pacific, a Dutch-based holding company. Also, he has interests in some other businesses including Pontus Freight Forwarding Limited.”
“Abi, that’s very interesting, not least because his name was on the visitors’ book page that I signed at AS Marine Intelligence earlier. Interestingly, they claimed not to know too much about Pontus. Then they put someone on my tail as I left. Where will I find Luis Van Dooren?”
“We’re trying to locate him now. You don’t happen to have a time of his meeting, and any meeting afterwards, do you?”
“He signed in at 1030 hours.”
“That’s good. We can try and trace him from the building. I’ll have photos and files sent over to you within the hour.”
“Okay, I’ll be staying in the city tonight, so let’s hope that he is around for a while.”
“Okay, Boss. I’ll update you as soon as we have something more.”
“Thanks, Abi. Say hi to Bernie, will you?”
***
Jago easily found the Peace and Pilates studio on Lupus Street. It was
7.15 p.m. He was early and kept watch of the steady stream of multi-coloured clothing entering and leaving the converted building. And then Sue appeared, walking with half a dozen girlfriends. He held back until they had finished talking and parted their ways. She looked around for him, and he approached from behind.
“Are you looking for someone?” Jago asked.
She didn’t turn. “Only a dark, handsome stranger who I met today. That’s all, no one special.”
“And when that stranger appears what will happen next?”
“Nothing until I get home and take a shower. Are you coming?”
“I’m with you,” he replied, smiling.
She turned, grabbed his hand, and they started walking.
“It’s two minutes away. Just up the street.”
“I thought that I was taking you out to dinner?”
“Later, much later,” she replied.
They walked in relative silence and turned into Sunderland Street, a row of Georgian terraced houses.
Sue broke the silence. “Mine’s the second on the right. I’m on the first floor.”
***
They entered the elegantly furnished flat which Jago thought was definitely above her pay grade, but he also knew that there could be countless reasons for that. So, he’d learned not to judge. Standing in the hall, Sue pointed to the lounge area. “Pour yourself a drink if you want, and I’ll have a gin and tonic.”
His eyes swung to the lounge and then back to the sight of her undressing as she walked, presumably to the shower. He entered the room, taking in the titles of her books on the large oak bookshelf that covered the whole length of a wall. They were mainly referencing books of art and history. A range of autobiographies sat on the lower shelves showing her interest in the likes of Churchill, Thatcher, Montgomery, Branson, Malcolm X and Maya Angelou. A single bust of Napoleon took pride of place on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. The brown soft leather sofa looked well used, and one of the accompanying two chairs was positioned so that a reader sitting in it would gain maximum light from the large window. The other appeared untouched.
He poured himself tonic water and Sue’s gin and tonic and took it through to where he could hear the shower in full flow.
“Your G and T is served, madam.”
“Oh great, bring it in.”
“But the waiter will get wet.”
“Then tell the waiter to sort that little issue outsmart.”
Jago needed no more encouragement and promptly removed his clothing. He picked up the gin and tonic and entered the shower.
“Here’s your drink as ordered.”
She looked him up and down, took the drink, placed it on a shelf, and kissed him in a passionate embrace.
***
It was 10 p.m. and they were leaving the flat in Sunderland Street.
“What shall we eat? What do you fancy — Thai, Indian, Greek, French?”
“I don’t mind, as long as they have decent wine. You choose, you know the area better than me,” replied Jago.
They arrived at a nearby Thai restaurant, ordered and started eating and drinking.
“What do you do, Jago? Something mysterious?”
“No, not mysterious at all. I work in security. I have clients in different industries, and at the moment I have a client in shipping.”
“Do you know Hogg well? I mean, are you best buddies or something? I mean, I’m guessing not from his greeting today.”
“No, we were in the services together, that’s all.”
“Oh yes, the old boy's network. I see it all of the time. But it was different today.”
“Why was it different?”
“Well, after you left, one of our henchmen — that’s what the office call the gofers — left in such a rush. I thought that he might be following you.”
Jago was unsure as to where the conversation was going.
“Really? I didn’t see anyone.”
“But you’d be trained to evade surveillance, wouldn’t you?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s true. But I can’t say that I expected or saw anyone. Maybe he was late for an appointment.”
“I don’t think so. He returned a quarter of an hour late and got a right telling off from Hogg. I guess you saw him off quickly.”
Jago opened up. “Maybe I did.”
“Why did you ask me out? To get information?”
“No, I asked you out because you are beautiful and life is too short to miss opportunities. When I entered your building this morning, I didn’t even know if anyone could help me with what I wanted. So why would I have an ulterior motive?”
“Oh, that’s nice to know. But don’t get me wrong, I don't mind if you do have an ulterior motive or not. They don’t pay me that well to keep quiet. If you want to know anything you can always ask me, for a price that is.” She smiled and touched his hand.
“And would that be in pounds sterling?”
“Not necessarily.” She kissed him and pulled him near to her.
“You wanted information about Pontus, didn’t you?”
“I did. I want to see if they are a worthwhile investment for my client. Why do you ask?”
“Where Van Dooren is involved it’s all bad, trust me.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s always meeting with Hogg. I think that Hogg provides private security for him on some sites. And there always seems to issues.”
“So not a good investment then?”
“Definitely not. I mean, where does Hogg get his money? He has a penthouse apartment, flash car, Breitling watch, luxury holidays, the works. And it can’t just be from SA Marine Intelligence. He’s not even a director. And there’s not that much business.”
“You appear pretty clued up for a receptionist if I may say so.”
“I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”
“I know that. I've seen your bookshelves. What are you doing working there?”
“After a messy divorce, it serves a purpose until I can find myself again. It pays the bills. I’m lucky that I only have bills to pay. The apartment’s mine.”
“Hey, I’m not prying, and you don’t have to explain to me.”
“I know, but for some reason, I wanted to. I feel safe with you, and I don’t want you to doubt me. I knew that you’d wonder how I could afford the apartment. Go on, admit it. You did, didn’t you, even for a moment?”
“Yes, I did for a moment. But I also know that there can be many explanations, and it’s not my place to judge. But thanks for telling me about Pontus, I appreciate that. And my client will appreciate that too. It may not stop him from wanting to explore this a little further as he’s not averse to risk.”
“Oh, that’s easy. He needs to speak with Van Dooren himself. He always stays at the Highland Palace. Apart from spending unhealthy amounts of time in a plush Turkish bath, I think that he practically lives in the hotel sometimes.”
“Okay, enough of work. What’s for dessert?”
“The same as starters if you’re game?”
“That sounds good to me.”