Dead Men Don't Bite (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series)

by Andrew Towning

“The entry continues; dense carpet of vegetation, that usually covers seabed has been ripped out in places by last night’s storm, has exposed a deep trench. Swam along it towards the shore, right up to a partially exposed tunnel entrance in the rock face, and left a spare bottle just inside opening. Battled for seven minutes against water flow. This opens out into an enormous cavern. Surprise of my life, have found a type V11C U-boat inside. Tied up to a granite ledge, partially submerged with some conning tower damage.”

  “Good God, that hunch of yours has certainly paid off, my dear.” LJ said warmly.

  “It was so simple, the answer to the mystery was on board Nathan’s boat all the time.” Chapman said.

  Everyone looked on, as Dillon closed the book and put it back inside the watertight cover. He gave it to LJ, and said, “I think we’ve all earned our dinner, and I for one, could murder a drink or two as well.”

  Kurt and Pierre watched them from high up on the hill. Kurt said, “They’ve found something on board Cunningham’s boat, I can sense it.” He used his mobile phone to call Malakoff and give him an update.

  Back on shore, they returned to the Café and a table in a quite corner inside overlooking the bay. Kate Jackson came around the bar with a tray full of drinks for a nearby table.

  LJ caught her attention and said, “We’ll have that wine now, Miss Jackson, if you please.” He leant back on his chair. “Tomorrow, lady and gentlemen, we can really get down to finding what we came here for.”

  Dillon said to Chapman, “This Devil’s Hole, what did you mean about it being out of bounds?”

  “The Devil’s Hole. It’s not far from here, you may recall that while we were searching that stretch of coast the other day, I took us out about half a mile or so. Well that was to give, ‘The Hole’ a wide berth. No one ever dives there, the waters are just too treacherous.”

  “So how does anyone know this, if no one has ever dived there?” Dillon asked.

  “Oh, during the nineteen thirties, there were divers foolhardy enough to venture there. Five in fact. Only one of those five, ever came back up to the surface.” Chapman paused, “After that day, he never went into the sea again. Some say, that he’d come as close to death as any man could, and that he’d said, the devil himself had been after him.”

  “I’ve never heard such, mumbo jumbo.” LJ cut in, “Was the man drunk, do you think?”

  “I’ve no idea, LJ. It’s an old story, and whether it’s mumbo jumbo or not, I can tell you that it’s the reason why the tunnel entrance has never been found before.” Chapman said dryly.

  “So why on earth did Commander Cunningham dive there, if he knew how dangerous it is?” Dillon asked.

  “I’m sure your boss knows the answer to that, Jake.” Annabelle said.

  “How right you are, my dear, and of course I do know the answer. Because Nathan told me why, the very first time he came to see me at my office. He admitted straight away, that even at his age, he was still an adrenaline junky. And that he only dropped anchor there, after he’d spotted something unusual on the seabed that had showed up on the monitor screen in the cockpit of the Nautical Lady. His diver’s log confirms that this was in fact the channel that allowed the sub to enter the tunnel. We can also be certain that this would only have shown up because the sea was much calmer than usual, and that large areas of the seabed had been stripped out by the previous night’s storm.” LJ stopped talking as Kate Jackson appeared around the corner with the wine. She took everyone’s food order, and was about to pour the wine, when a commotion broke out at a table on the other side of the room.

  “You’re just like all the other married men I’ve known. A lying, cheating little shit.” The young blonde haired woman said, tears rolling down over her cheeks. Turning, she started to leave, but at the door, changed her mind and went back to the table. Picked up a full carafe of red wine, and to the swarthy looking man’s extreme embarrassment, emptied the entire contents of it into his lap. She then calmly handed the carafe back to him, and walked out smiling. Much to the amusement and clapping of all the other diners, including Dillon and the others.

  “Why is it, that humans are the only animals on this planet who devote themselves to making one another unhappy?” Chapman said dryly.

  “Oh I wouldn’t say that she was unhappy, old son. No, I’d say that she’d simply wisened up to the fact that he wasn’t going to leave his wife, after all.” LJ replied, and then added with a glint in his eye. “But, seeing her tip that wine into his lap, reminds me of something a very good friend of mine once told me. And that was, we know very little about ‘conscience’ except that it’s soluble in alcohol. Which means, that he should be able to go back to his wife, and conveniently not remember any of what took place here this evening.” LJ laughed at his own joke. “Anyway, let’s get back to the matter at hand shall we.”

  “Well, it seems reasonably straightforward to me,” Dillon said.

  “What does?” LJ asked.

  “Diving this Devil’s Hole. So what if the waters are rough, and the chance of being mashed like a potato on the rocks is high. If Nathan Cunningham did it, then I’m sure Rob and I can do it.” Dillon said confidently.

  “We may need something to blow open that entrance.” Chapman said.

  “We’ve brought along Semtex and underwater chemical detonators.” Vince said matter of factly.

  “I’m impressed.” Chapman commented.

  “So, all that’s left is when do we dive?” LJ said.

  “I’d say we go first thing in the morning, but it’s up to Rob.” Dillon replied.

  Chapman nodded at Dillon, “I agree, but what do you think Malakoff will do?”

  “He’ll continue to have his goons watch us tonight, and then be right on our tail as we hit the water in the morning.”

  “I’d say you were spot on. So what we need then, is a little diversion to keep them occupied.”

  “At least they can’t track us anymore, since we’ve cleared my boat of the bugs. I suppose we could pair off, and all go in different directions. But I’ll put money on it that the big German would stick like glue to Rob and I.” Dillon said.

  “But, what if the German, and his friend were not at liberty to follow?” Annabelle said.

  “Sounds interesting, Annabelle. What are you suggesting?” Dillon asked.

  “Have them both picked up and arrested. That way, if they’re in a police cell in St. Helier, they won’t be able to follow anyone, will they?”

  “What an outstanding idea, my dear.” LJ commented.

  “Yes it is, but what are you going to say to the police that will get them arrested?” Chapman asked.

  “Oh, I’m sure that we can come up with something plausible, old son.” LJ said, as he caught the attention of one of the waitresses. “Now then, I don’t know about you lot, but I’m starving hungry and in need of food.”

  Outside, a warm light breeze was blowing in from the south-west. With only a smattering of cloud in an otherwise clear night sky - moonlight kissed the ocean, the black heaving water scarred and slashed with silver.

  Peering through a powerful night sight, Kurt watched Dillon and the others having a good time inside the café. From his vantage point on the seawall he could see everything that was going on.

  “What are they doing now?” Pierre demanded. “They’re still eating.”

  “But it’s gone midnight?”

  “So what?” The big German turned and looked at the Frenchman. “What is it, past your bedtime, Frenchy?”

  “No, but it’s so boring, all this waiting. And by the way, if you talk to me like that again, I’ll cut your throat open.”

  Kurt spat onto the concrete, before saying. “Shut up, Frenchman. We’ll stay here as long as we have to.”

  * * * Inside, Annabelle had let Kate Jackson and the staff go home after the last party of diners had left. They’d finished eating, were at the coffee stage when LJ’s mobile phone rang.

  “Levenson-Jones.” H
e listened briefly, before saying, “Just one moment.” Got up from the table and walked outside.

  “What’s all that about?” Annabelle asked. “Well, from the look on his face, it’s not good news, whatever it is.” Dillon replied, as LJ came back inside and sat down. He looked old and weary, all of a sudden the many years of smoking and generally stressful living seemed to have caught up with him.

  “That was Tatiana,” LJ explained to Chapman that Tatiana was the Partners’ personal assistant, and then went on to explain why she’d called him at such a late hour.

  “Guy Roberts is dead.”

  “Dead?” Vince said incredulously.

  “Yes, it happened earlier this evening as he left our building.”

  “Were the police called?” Dillon said.

  “By all accounts, by one of the private security officers on duty. He was watching the monitors that are linked to all of the surveillance cameras around the area, and saw it happen on one of the screens. He immediately called the local force, which not only sent a local car to the scene, but also a team from the firearms unit.”

  “Looks like a contract then?” Dillon stated.

  “Almost definitely, old son. According to Tatiana, the recording shows a smartly dressed woman with dark hair walking up the street towards Roberts. And then as they pass each other, she turns and shoots him with a silenced pistol. Tatiana, tells me that afterwards she had the cold blooded audacity to look down at the body, and then up at the camera. As if taunting whoever it was watching her.”

  “In that case, whoever it was, almost certainly was wearing a disguise.” Vince cut in.

  “The question is why was Guy Roberts whacked by a professional killer,” Dillon said. “It does seem just a little too coincidental, that he’s now lying dead in a London gutter, and shortly after you gave him the go ahead to look into Lord Asquith’s financial affairs.”

  When LJ spoke, it was with a steely coldness. “That, Mr Dillon, had not escaped me. And believe me. when the time is right, justice will be done.” He adjusted his tie, and then stood up. “Well, I think that I’m going to turn in as we’ve got an early start in the morning. Vince could you please drive me back up to the Fisherman’s Lodge, and Mr Chapman back to his place, if he’d like a lift?”

  “Well it’ll beat walking on a very full stomach, at this time of the night.” Chapman said patting the palm of his hand on his stomach.

  “Jake, I think it’s probably a good idea for you to stay with Annabelle tonight.”

  “I agree, if that’s okay with Annabelle?” Dillon said, and Annabelle nodded her agreement.

  “Good, well in that case, we’ll bid you a good night my dear, and see you in the morning.” The three men left in the Range Rover, leaving Annabelle and Dillon to walk the short distance up the hill to her house.

  Before locking up, Dillon pulled the automatic from it’s holster and checked that it had a full clip.

  “Is that thing real?” Annabelle asked wide eyed.

  “Glock 10 automatic. And yes it’s real.” Dillon said matter of factly, as he placed it back in the holster.

  “Oh,” Annabelle put the key in the main door. “Now, I think that’s everything locked up,” She punched in the numbers on the security keypad. “There, the alarm’s on, so let’s go.” And they left, slamming the door behind them. Kurt watched as Dillon and Annabelle came down the steps of the café.

  “Look, Frenchman. Our waiting is over, Dillon and the girl are leaving.” Kurt said, passing Pierre the night scope.

  “What do we do now?”

  “We’ll give them a head start, and then follow. Dillon’s our problem. Let’s hope that he’s just walking her home.”

  At the house, Annabelle had gone to bed, and Dillon was downstairs. He was standing in the shadows, by one of the windows that overlooked the road, watching for any movement outside. Five minutes later his patience paid off, and he spotted what he was looking for. Using his mobile phone, he dialled a local Jersey number.

  Making his voice sound convincingly like an elderly man, Dillon spoke slowly and clearly. “Hello, I’d like to report a crime.” He said to the operator, and then waited briefly while his call was transferred. “Hello, there are two rough looking men, snooping around one of the houses on the hill at Bonne Nuit. No, I don’t wish to give my name, and this is not a hoax call. I’m simply trying to be a good citizen, that’s all. You’d better be quick, because they look as if they’re breaking into the house, and I think they’re armed.”

  After saying the magical, ‘armed’ word. Dillon immediately hung up, and put the small mobile back into his jacket pocket.

  He then went and poured himself a healthy measure of Nathan Cunningham’s single malt whisky, and positioned himself in a comfortable looking swivel chair, that not only afforded him a clear view of the spacious living room, but also though the wall of glass to the outside deck area and the road below. Taking the Glock from its holster, he placed it on the small round side table next to him, making sure that the safety catch was in the off position. And waited.

  Dillon had expected the police to take longer to arrive, especially as they would have had to get an armed unit up to Bonne Nuit from the other side of the island. There were no sirens, and only one flashing blue light could be seen at the very top of the hill.

  Outside, Dillon could hear a voice shout a warning, as Kurt and Pierre broke cover to come across the road towards the house. From under his leather jacket, the big German pulled an Uzi machine pistol. But before he could use it, was thrown face down, hard onto the ground, by two officers dressed in black uniforms, and was immediately handcuffed.

  Pierre had tried to run away, heading down towards the harbour, but was instantly brought down by one of the other officers, with a Taser stun gun. After he’d recovered enough from the electric shock of the Taser, the officer roughly pulled the Frenchman’s arms behind his back, and handcuffed him. A moment later, and completely bewildered at being ambushed and arrested, they were both tossed into the back of a police van and driven quietly away. From where he was sitting, Dillon had heard the commotion outside. He took a gulp of the whisky, and smiled to himself in the darkness. Annabelle’s plan had worked without a hitch, but how effective and long lasting it would be, only time would tell.

  * * * It was six-thirty the next morning, when Dillon told Annabelle about the police, and how, after an anonymous tip off, they’d foiled an armed burglary attempt.

  Annabelle smiled ruefully, and said, “Well let’s hope that they’re both safely locked up in a cosy little cell somewhere.”

  “We shouldn’t hold out too much hope of the police keeping them in custody for more than a few hours. Once Malakoff hears about what’s happened, he’ll have his lawyers go in and get them out on bail. But it’ll still give us a bit of a head start.”

  “I suppose anything is better than nothing?” “And with that in mind, we ought to get up to the Fisherman’s Lodge, and tell the others.” At the lodge, Dillon brought the others up to speed, and then went into the bedroom and got the holdall from the cupboard. He took everything out, the Semtex and chemical fuses, the MP5 carbine and half a dozen hand grenades. LJ came in as he was finishing, wearing a blue Guernsey sweater, a pair of mustard coloured trousers, and leather deck shoes.

  “It’s good to see you’ve come prepared, Jake. Let me guess, where you obtained the means to start a full scale war. The albino?” Dillon nodded. “I thought as much.”

  Dillon put everything back into the holdall. “Given the situation we now find ourselves in. I’d say, that Chapman and I are going to have enough problems with diving through this tunnel. At least you and Vince will have some sort of edge, should the need arise.”

  “Do you really think this dive is possible?” “We’ll just have to wait and see.” Dillon said, as he pulled on a sweater. “LJ, about what happened to Roberts. I just wanted to say...”

  “I know, Jake. We’re all upset by what’s happened.” LJ
looked pale. “But we’ll have our day, I promise you. Now I suppose we should get going. Chapman will be waiting on the dock.”

  Down at the harbour, Chapman was already on board the power cruiser, he had stowed six full tanks of air in the rear rack, and was just making a pot of coffee when he heard the others coming alongside in the dinghy.

  LJ shouted up from where he was sitting in the bow, “Chapman, what a fine fellow you are. That coffee smells absolutely bloody marvellous.” And with that, he jumped onto the rear dive deck like a man half his age.

  Once on board, Dillon went below to stow the holdall with the weapons in. As he was about to go back up on deck, Annabelle came in with two steaming mugs of black coffee.

  Dillon took one of the mugs from her, and noticed how tired she was looking. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine Jake, really. I haven’t been sleeping very well, that’s all.” She said.

  “Well, we’re very close to solving this mystery now.”

  “And then what happens?” she asked.

  Dillon didn’t know what to say, because he didn’t know the answer. Instead, he simply said. “What happens next, I really don’t know. That your father gets well, and then we can tell him this yarn, about a hidden Kreigsmarine U-boat, Nazi gold bullion, and a priceless religious artefact, called the Spear of Destiny.”

  Dillon picked up a Walther PPK, and handed it to Annabelle. “Here, put this somewhere handy. And don’t tell me you don’t know what to do with it. Just release the safety catch, point and fire.”

  Annabelle gingerly took the weapon, and slipped it into one of her jacket pockets. “Do you really think that I’m in that much danger?”

  “For whatever reason, Malakoff is determined to find that submarine, and just because his two monkeys are locked up, doesn’t mean that he hasn’t got others on board that floating gin palace of his, to take their place.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “I know I’m right, Annabelle. And another thing. When you get back to shore, stay in the Café. It’s public, and there’s less likelihood of Malakoff’s men trying anything where there are other people.”