ABOUT 30 yards from a machine-gun-toting policeman guarding the American embassy in London stands a smart town house. The nameplate by its door says Dalia Advisory Limited. The window blinds on all six storeys are drawn and no one answers the bell. But there are signs of life. A fresh cigarette butt rests on the basement fire escape. If you peek through the letter box, past the picture of a desert dune, down a corridor decorated in bland hedge-fund style, the lights are on, although no one will answer your shouts. It could be just another firm's office in London's plushest district. Except for the banner hanging outside, which reads, “Stop the bloodbath in Libya. Stop the war crime.” It is not clear who hung it there.

Dalia Advisory Limited has predictably banal origins—its ancestor entity was registered in July 2009 on behalf of Instant Companies Limited of Bristol. Yet its directors are prominent Libyans and its stated purpose is to advise the Libyan Investment Authority (LIA), the country's sovereign-wealth fund, which is tasked with investing Libya's savings abroad. The LIA is thought to have some $50 billion-70 billion of assets under management and owns several stakes in big European firms including 3% of UniCredit, Italy's biggest bank, and 3% of Pearson, a media group that is a part-owner of The Economist.

What will happen to all those billions, which amount to some $10,000 for every Libyan? With stories still fresh of Tunisia's former first lady stocking up on bullion from the central bank before fleeing the country (reports denied by the bank), the European Union is set to impose a freeze on Libya's foreign assets. Some companies have taken unilateral action—Pearson has suspended dividends on the LIA stake.

Yet whether funds can be prevented from disappearing in the chaos of a government collapse is debatable. The bulk of the LIA's assets, say two foreigners who served on its international advisory board, sit in cash and liquid assets. These may be harder for Western governments to identify. Another observer, Peter Cole, a political-risk consultant with experience in the region, reckons the LIA also has big investments in Africa. There, sanctions may not be imposed or fully enforced.

One hope is that the LIA is sufficiently professional that the money doesn't go walkies. The two former advisory-board members both say that the plan was to create a transparent organisation. “It was run in a perfectly sensible way and there was no Qaddafi on board,” says one, also noting that auditors and investment advisers had been hired. The other adds that “only a small part of the funds was driven by the will of the Qaddafis.” A European executive at a firm in which the Libyan central bank (which also invests overseas) had taken a stake echoes this view. Its governor, he says, was “very professional”.

Yet all these observers worry that this professionalism was only skin-deep. In any case chaos has taken hold. The governor of the central bank, who had gone missing, surfaced this week in Istanbul. According to the Financial Times, he says a government minister, believed to be Abdulhafid Zlitni, is now the acting boss of the monetary authority. Mr Zlitni is also the power behind the LIA, says one of the former international advisory-board members. Other LIA executives seem to have fled. Mustafa Zarti (who is a friend of Colonel Qaddafi's son, Saif, was closely involved with the fund and was a director of Dalia Advisory) has turned up in Austria. The authorities there have frozen his assets and named him as a “close confidant of the regime in Libya”. He is appealing in Austria's constitutional court.

Whether Libyans' money is safe, then, may depend on the integrity of the officials still in the country. Mr Zlitni's instincts are unknown, although he is said to be a moderniser. Another LIA bigwig and director of Dalia Advisory, Rajab Mahmoud Layas, also seems to be in Libya. A phone call by your correspondent to his London home was answered by a man claiming to be his son. “Communication with Libya is quite hard,” he said. “I talk to my Dad once a week.” Asked what his father might think about the banners hanging outside the Dalia office in Mayfair, the man replied, “I couldn't comment. It could put my father in grave danger.”