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

by Andrew Towning

  Dillon kicked off the bottom, silt swirled around, making the black water even more murky. When he eventually caught up with the archaeologist, he was just disappearing through a narrow opening. Dillon shone his lamp forward, could just make out Chapman’s fins, and followed him through the opening between the fallen slabs of granite.

  Dillon slowly came up inside the enormous cavern. As he broke the surface of the water, the powerful torch beam cast long shadows that danced and flickered around the interior of the subterranean hall. Chapman was treading water about six feet away, he pulled his mask off, and spat out his regulator.

  “Have you ever seen anything quite so awesome in your whole life?” He shouted. His voice sounded hollow as it echoed around the cavern.

  “No, never. Look at the size of those stalactites up there.” Dillon swept his torch beam across the dripping ceiling. “They’ve been growing for thousands of years. What an amazing place.”

  Chapman was slowly swimming across the deep and tranquil lake. And the next moment, his torch beam picked up the conning tower of U-683.

  “Over here, Jake. I’ve found the sub.”

  Dillon swam over, and joined the archaeologist, who was holding onto a section of the bridge rail, that had been forced and buckled down into the water.

  Grabbing hold of it, Dillon said, “Look at the size of this thing. And to think, it came through that tunnel to this final place.” Dillon shone his torch up the side of the black metal structure. As the beam swung across it, the U-boat’s insignia appeared.

  “Just like Nathan said. A leaping red devil.” Chapman remarked.

  Dillon took off his fins, and hooked them over the end of the rail. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

  Chapman, followed him up the ladder to the top of the conning tower. They held on to the bridge rail beside the gun, and Dillon actually thought that he could hear something, sounds coming from inside the boat. He glanced at Chapman, and the archaeologist shook his head. Dillon knew that he wasn’t happy about the desecration of a war burial site, but he couldn’t accept that as a good enough reason for not going on. He stepped over the rail, and almost jumped clean out of his gear. He gasped as the beam of white light, captured the almost perfect skeleton on the other side of the confined deck area. On second glance, Dillon noticed that part of the rib cage was shattered, and that a long twisted piece of metal was all that was supporting the skeleton in a sitting position.

  Dillon moved to the hatch in the centre of the tower, leaned over the edge, and shone his torch down into the gloom of the main control room. As Nathan had reported, it was completely flooded; and there was no way, that he could go through the circular opening with air tanks on his back. Unzipping his buoyancy jacket, he slipped it off, complete with tanks, and lowered everything down into the icy water inside the cramped interior.

  It was dark in there, far murkier than he had expected. He let go of the ladder rail, and as if in slow motion stepped down into the water, got a firm foothold and put the jacket back on, bit down on the regulator, and gently went under. The light from his torch beam glinted off of the glass faces of the gauges and dials, as he moved around to get his bearings.

  A moment later, he was half swimming, half pulling himself through the control room to the forward hatch. On reaching it, Dillon could see that it had been sealed off. The watertight door appeared to be completely seized up. Dillon looked around for something to use as a lever, saw at least a dozen rifles scattered around in the sediment, and picked up one of them off the deck.

  He jiggled it, this way and that, barrel first, into the wheel in the centre of the watertight hatch. Found a foothold, and then putting his full weight behind it; pushed as hard as he could. After two attempts, and no movement, Dillon checked his dive computer, saw that his down-time was diminishing quickly due to the increased exertion, and decided to have one last try, before using a Semtex charge to blow his way through.

  On the third attempt, the metal wheel groaned, and then begrudgingly moved a fraction. Dillon could hardly contain his excitement, and put all of his strength behind turning the wheel, first a quarter, then a half, and eventually he heard a heavy clunk, as the mechanism released.

  As the hatch burst open, the pressure of water in the control room was instantly released. Dillon was forcibly flushed through the narrow opening, in a gushing, foaming maelstrom, and seconds later, found himself lying on the grille of the walkway on the other side.

  He pulled off his diving mask and spat out the air regulator, and then stood up on the metal grille walkway. Shining his torch back into the control room, he could see Chapman descending the ladder from the conning tower above. He waited while the archaeologist acclimatised himself to the cramped environment of the U-boat. And after a brief moment, he joined him in the walkway. Dillon filled him in on what had just taken place when he’d opened the hatch.

  The two men stood next to each other, and were both aware of a strange eerie noise as if some living creature was groaning in pain, was also aware of the slight vibration under their feet.

  “Do you hear and feel that?” Chapman asked.

  Dillon swung the powerful torch beam to and fro, and then forward towards the main cargo hold area. “Yes, the same sound that I heard when we first stood on the deck of the conning tower. But the vibration only started a moment ago. Any ideas?”

  “Could just be the metal structure, expanding and contracting. Or it could be the souls of the crew who lost their lives on board this vessel, on that last day of the war.” Chapman smiled ruefully, and then added. “Who knows, but one thing’s for sure.”

  “What’s that?” Dillon said.

  “We shouldn’t be here, that’s what.”

  “Well, it’s a bit late for that, Rob. And now that we are here, let’s not be thinking about all that crap. After all, we’re only here for the spear, and to see if there really is any gold bullion on board.” Dillon unzipped his buoyancy jacket, slipped it off, and leant it, complete with air tanks, up against the bulkhead.

  “And what if there is?” Chapman asked.

  “If there is, then we’ll have to devise a way of getting it safely back up to the surface. Won’t we?” Dillon said, matter of factly, as he started off up the walkway.

  He pointed the torch beam into the radio and sound room on his right as he went past. The Korvetenkapitan’s quarters were directly opposite on the left side of the walkway, and only the skeletal remains of any furniture were left after so many years.

  A few yards on, and he was standing in front of the sealed hatchway that led to the cargo hold. Dillon looked at the metal wheel in the centre of the hatch with trepidation, and briefly thought about what they might find behind it.

  Chapman broke Dillon’s momentary spell, by pushing past him, and grabbing hold of the wheel with both hands and heaving it around. This time there was no resistance, and it spun easily. There was a clunk, and the next second the mechanism released.

  They stood on the walkway, in water up to their ankles, before pushing the hatch open.

  Dillon splayed the beam of the torch around and immediately saw it in the centre of the room. A metal chest on a raised platform, partly covered with the tattered remnants of a silk shroud. And, although a large portion of this had decayed over the years, the majority of the red swastika was still discernible.

  With Chapman following just behind, Dillon made straight for the chest. He swept the shroud off in one easy movement. The metal was coated in thick black soot, and he ran a hand across it, silver gleamed dully. Chapman looked on as Dillon unclipped the two catches located on either side, and then slowly lifted the lid to reveal what was inside.

  “Is it the real thing?” Dillon asked.

  “Who knows, certainly looks like it. But there are so many copies of the spear in existence that it’s hard to tell at first glance. But, we’ll leave that part to the experts.” Chapman’s voice had become edgy, and Dillon thought that he could detect a hint of nerv
ousness as well.

  Ignoring this, Dillon closed the chest, secured the catches, and placed it inside a large dive net, which would make it easier to carry.

  “Disappointing, there doesn’t appear to be anything in here that could hold gold bars. But let’s take a look round anyway, just in case.” Dillon said.

  Both men heard the sound, and felt the vibration running through the boat. But, this time both were much stronger than before, and appeared to come from outside of the U-boat, from somewhere in the cavern.

  “What the hell was that?” Dillon yelled.

  “Damn, I should have thought of it before.” Chapman was studying his dive computer.

  “What?”

  “It’s the tide, it’s turning. And those weird sounds, that’s the water being forced up through the fissures in the granite. I’d say that we don’t have much time left.”

  Dillon moved quickly around the darkened room, the torch beam throwing shadows that danced and flickered over the dripping metal structure.

  “Rob, come and look over here, I’ve found something.” Dillon was at the other end of the cargo hold, crouching down next to a stack of wooden ammunition crates. The Nazi crest and swastika branded into every lid. “There must be at least forty of these in here.”

  “How come we missed them before? I mean, when we first entered the hold.”

  “They were covered with that tarpaulin.” Dillon said pointing his torch beam to the large discarded sheet crumpled in the corner. “As you can see, what with it being black, and covered in grime. Well, it’s not surprising that this end of the hold is almost invisible at first glance. Or perhaps that was the intention?” Dillon bent down and tried lifting the lid on the nearest crate. When it wouldn’t budge, he looked up and said, “Come on, give me a hand to get one or two of these lids off.”

  Chapman, used his diving knife to pry the wooden planking away. Dillon did the same, and in no time the lids of two of the crates had been removed. Inside they found heavy muslin gauze lying on the top, Dillon peeled it back to reveal what was underneath.

  “Holy shit, that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever set eyes on.” Chapman exclaimed in a rush of excited words.

  “Yes, it is rather divine, isn’t it?” Dillon picked up one of the heavy gold bars, and held it up to the torch light. “And to think that there’s forty cases in here, full of these little beauties.”

  “So what do we do now? It’ll take us forever to get them back up to the surface.”

  As Dillon went to pick up another of the gold bars the deck keeled over and dipped, and everything seemed to be moving all at once.

  “Time to leave. Let’s get the hell out of here.” Chapman shouted, and started for the hatch.

  Dillon lost his footing on the slippery grille of the deck, bounced against the bulkhead, dropping one of the gold bars, grabbed it again, turned and started back towards the hatch. Picking up the dive net on the way, the slim silver case containing the Spear of Destiny slid through the nylon. He carefully placed the two gold bars inside, and then went and got his buoyancy jacket.

  As he stepped over the threshold, the net snagged, and he was stopped dead in his tracks, struggling frantically, aware that the boat was now taking on water at a fast rate of knots. And then Chapman was standing next to him, hands pulling and twisting to release it. The archaeologist turned, and made straight for the control room, and Dillon went after him. With the water now above his waist, Dillon felt the boat tilt forward, sliding, the strange groaning noises, metal scraping on granite, and then Chapman was through the conning tower hatch, and on the deck above.

  Dillon followed him a few seconds later, dragging his jacket with the air tanks attached, along with the heavy dive net behind him. It only took a moment to slip back into their equipment, zip up, and get back down into the water, pull on their fins and masks, and get away from the sinking hulk of the U-boat.

  Moments later, the submarine had almost disappeared beneath the surface. It’s black barnacled hull lifting at the stern at the very end, and then it was gone. The tranquil calmness returned to the cavern, they swam into the centre of the underground lake and trod water while they checked their equipment one last time, before going back out through the tunnel.

  “What the hell caused that to happen?” Dillon said.

  “We did.” Chapman replied, “Opening those watertight hatches, allowed the water to flood through the entire sub when the tide turned. But at least it’s now out of sight, down there on the bottom.” Chapman adjusted his mask and bit down on his regulator, which hissed as he breathed out.

  Dillon did the same, and was the first to jack-knife, and descend to the tunnel entrance. He shone his torch beam and could see clearly that the U-boat was now resting on the floor of the underground lake, some seventy feet below them. Chapman tapped him on the arm, and pointed towards the dark opening in the rock face. Dillon let him lead the way back to the underwater tunnel. Chapman went ahead, keen to get through, and up to the surface, leaving Dillon alone at the tunnel entrance.

  Once he was sure that the archaeologist was far enough in front, Dillon took one of the two Semtex charges that he’d kept back, and carefully moulded it to the granite ceiling just inside the tunnel. Once he was satisfied that this was secure, he inserted a detonator that could be fired remotely from the surface. When he reached the other end, he did exactly the same with the other charge, but with a twenty minute detonator inserted, twisted the top, and a moment later tiny bubbles started to appear indicating the it was time to surface. He drifted up to meet Chapman who was hovering ten feet above him.

  Chapman made the okay sign, Dillon responded, then followed him along the channel to the anchor line. He checked his computer. Another fifteen minutes which was adequate, and he started up the line slowly, but Chapman wasn’t going to take any chances. At twenty feet he stopped and looked down. Dillon understood what he wanted and moved up beside him, and held up the net in triumph. He could tell that Chapman was smiling.

  They stayed there for five minutes then surfaced at the stern to find LJ and Vince leaning over the rail anxiously looking down.

  “Thank goodness, you’re back. When we saw the tide changing, and heard those dreadful sounds coming up through the rocks over there.” LJ, pointed towards the Devil’s Hole. “Well, we started to think that something might have gone horribly wrong, down there.”

  A moment later the charge at the tunnel entrance went off. There wasn’t any sound, only the surface of the water rose up, as if the devil himself was awakening.

  “Good God, what was that?” LJ snapped, holding on to the railing as the power cruiser pitched and rolled on the increased swell.

  “These waters are unpredictable and treacherous, LJ.” Chapman shouted up from the dive platform. And then added, “It’s most likely back-wash pressure coming through the tunnel.”

  “Yes, I suppose you could be right.” LJ shot Dillon a look, before moving inside.

  They got out of their dive suits and stowed the gear back in the large canvas holdalls, made sure everything was shipshape, and then went and changed into dry clothes. Dillon pulled on casual linen trousers and a T-shirt, Chapman his jeans and sweatshirt. LJ boiled a kettle, made everyone strong coffee and added a good measure of single malt whisky to each mug.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it. The sea just started to swell, and then all hell let loose.” LJ said, as he handed the mugs around.

  “You should have been on board that U-boat, LJ. When the tide started to turn, the water level rose so quickly that it completely caught us off guard. Had we not got out when we did, we’d have almost certainly have drowned down there.” Chapman commented.

  “Good God!” LJ exclaimed.

  Chapman drank some of his coffee. “Um, that’s good. Anyway, no harm done, but only an idiot would risk going back down there without a team of experienced divers, and a full support crew on the surface.”

  “I always suspected you of hav
ing a death wish, Jake,” LJ told him.

  “Well, we did get what we went for, I found it hidden under the remains of a silk shroud, and covered in sixty years of oily grime.” Dillon placed the silver chest on the table.

  “And the gold?” LJ asked casually.

  “Ammunition cases, about forty of them, also in the hold area.”

  LJ held up one of the Nazi gold bullion bars. “And the sub is now lying on the bottom of the underground lake?”

  “About another seventy feet down, I’d say.” Chapman said.

  Dillon went out onto the deck, and leant against the rail, and lit a cigarette. Making a mental note to stop smoking the minute he returned to London. LJ went and stood by the doorway, smoking a slim panatella cigar. “The question is, old son. What happens now?” He paced around the main cabin, ending up standing over the chest.

  “Well, no one will find the sub, that’s for sure, now that I’ve blown the outer tunnel entrance and sealed it off again.” Dillon said.

  “Good thinking old son.” LJ picked up the silver chest, turning it three hundred and sixty degrees, thoroughly examining it, before placing it back on the table. “After all, we don’t want that gold falling into the wrong hands now, do we?”

  There wasn’t any damage to the outer casing. LJ took a soft damp cloth and started to rub away the grime. The surface cleaned up surprisingly well, the Nazi swastika was etched in black into the silver. Unclipping the catches, LJ carefully raised the lid.

  “Come on Boss, let’s see what’s inside then.” Vince said, his face reddened with excitement, and the effect of the single malt whisky that LJ had generously laced the coffee with.

  LJ slowly lifted the lid, the hinges begrudgingly creaked and groaned all the way to the top. Everyone gathered around as he ceremoniously lifted the inner box out, and carefully placed it onto the table before them.

  Silk of the most vivid purple, had been placed under the spear head, which lay in two sections. Alongside them, a single piece of crudely forged metal, used to connect them both together.