“Oh, you’ve not heard the news yet, have you? There’s been some pretty major developments with Pops. And, that’s the main reason why I went rushing back to London. You see, he’s regained consciousness, and the best bit is, that they reckon he’ll be up and about in a day or two.”
“Annabelle, that’s the finest news we’ve had all day. Give Nathan all our very best.”
“Thanks, Jake. I will. And I’m sure that he’d say the same to you all down there. Look, I’ve got to go now. But, you’re sure that everything will be alright?”
“Annabelle, there’s only one thing not right down here, and that’s Malakoff. Suffice to say, that he’s going to get what’s coming to him, along with his hired help.”
Annabelle said goodbye, and then hung up.
“Well, that’s absolutely superb news.” LJ said, sipping his Champagne.
“About Nathan, yes it is. But had it not been for Asquith, and that bastard Malakoff, Nathan wouldn’t have been lying comatose in a hospital bed for the last two weeks. I’d say that they’ve both got a lot to answer for.”
Chapman said, “Jake, what concerns me most about this plan of yours, is how you think we’re going to get close enough to the Solitaire to board her. I reckon there’s a pretty good chance that we’ll be spotted, even in the dark, and using the inflatable.”
“I’d agree.” Dillon said amiably. “And, that’s why I’m going to approach the Solitaire, underwater. As for you, Rob. Well, this isn’t your fight, and I don’t want you getting yourself into a situation which might just get you dead. If you understand my meaning?”
“I understand. But it makes no difference, Jake. Nathan’s my friend, and I’m going with you, whether you like it or not. And, as for getting into a situation, well you don’t have to worry about me. I’m more than capable of looking after myself.”
“Um, I’m sure you are. But, could you kill a man, who is so close that you can hear his heart beating? Could you, really, do it if your own life depended on it?” Dillon’s tone was icy cold, and deadly serious.
“Murder, Jake? You’re asking me whether I could kill someone in cold blood, if my life depended on it. My answer is simply, I don’t know. But what I do know, is that I can hold my own in any fight.”
“Okay, but you listen up, and listen well. From the second I go over the rail of the Solitaire. I’ll kill anyone who tries to get in my way.” Dillon paused briefly. “And, I never hesitate; I shoot first, and ask questions afterwards. It’s what I do, and I do it well, with a cold heart and a clear conscience. That’s how I’ve survived all these years.”
There was silence inside the cabin. Vince looked at LJ, who looked at Chapman, who nodded. “He’s absolutely right. Scum like Malakoff and his men only know one way. And, you have to fight fire with fire. So if I might suggest, this is the way that I reckon it should go; I’ll take you as far as I can in the inflatable, and then you cover the rest of the way underwater.” Dillon tried to speak, but Chapman waved him down. “This is not open to discussion, Jake. I’ll row out into the marina and head straight for the Solitaire, and hopefully they’ll spot me. Or I should say, they’ll see an old drunk in his dinghy, going round and round in circles. While they’re occupied with me, you should have enough time to get on board unnoticed.”
“Okay, that sounds like a good idea.”
“But, I’ll drop the act and come running the minute you need me.”
Vince opened up one of his aluminium cases, and pulled out four tiny objects.
“We’re going to need these, by the sound of it.” He said handing them around to everyone.
“What is it?” LJ said, rolling it around with his forefinger and thumb.
“Do you want the full technical description, boss, or an abbreviated version?”
“Make it the quick version.”
“Well, in its simplest form. It’s a digital communication device. Completely waterproof to one hundred feet, with a range of up to two miles radius of my laptop computer. Simply pop it into your ear, and talk, the rest of us will be able hear simultaneously.”
“What a marvellous little gizmo.” LJ commented, and put the tiny device into his right ear. The others all did the same, and after a minute or two, Vince had synchronised them all with his computer. Adjusting the levels of sound in each one. This done, they were then ready to talk to, and hear each other through the tiny devices.
Dillon, opened up his holdall and took out two Heckler and Koch MP5 machine guns, both with thirty round clips attached. He passed one to Vince, and the other to LJ, “Insurance.”
“Well, let’s hope we don’t need it, old son.” LJ placed the weapon on the seat next to him.
Dillon took the Glock out of its holster, thoroughly checked it, attached the silencer he’d had specially made, and put it into a watertight dive bag. Then he unzipped an inner pocket of the holdall and pulled out two circular limpet mines complete with remote detonators attached.
“By the looks of it, you’re about to start World War Three. Is all of that really necessary, old son?” LJ said, pointing to the dive bag.
“Yes.” Dillon said bluntly.
For the next few hours Dillon lay dozing on one of the beds. Chapman and LJ stayed in the main saloon of the power cruiser, drinking coffee and discussing Chapman’s work at the St. Lawrence site of the underground war tunnels. While Vince kept himself busy with his computer equipment at the dining table. It was two thirty the following morning. Dillon was sitting next to Vince, concentrating on the images that kept constantly changing on the computer screen in front of them.
“Bloody hell, Vince. I don’t know how you sleep at night?”
“Sleeping, like eating, my dear Jake. I find very simple. However, hacking into the harbour master’s main computer system is quite a different matter. Especially, as it controls the CCTV system for the entire dock area. Ah, there we go, we’re in. Thank heavens for wireless broadband.” Vince said smugly.
“Umm, I’m sure you’re right. Can you control the cameras from here?”
“Of course, I can override any of the original commands. But first, I’ll freeze the images that they’re currently viewing on their screens. That way, they won’t know we’re messing around inside the system.”
“Good, well in that case. Let’s take a closer look at the Solitaire, and see if Monsieur Malakoff is still up and about.”
Vince typed in the command, and almost immediately the Solitaire appeared. Using the mouse, he panned the camera around and then zoomed in, the next moment the luxury craft filled the screen with amazing clarity.
“By the look of all those lights, I’d say that he’s still up and about, and most definitely not taking any chances, is he?” Vince said soberly.
“Oh, Malakoff likes taking risks, Vince. Just by staying here in Jersey tonight, proves that. No, the lights are on, because he knows for sure that I’ll try and recover the spear head and everything else that’s inside the chest.” Dillon said matter of factly, adding, “But, what he won’t be expecting is the power to be cut on that pontoon.”
“Think of it as done. But, don’t forget what I said earlier. That boat, will most definitely have a backup generator on board. And, I’d give you no more than sixty seconds before it cuts in.”
“Well, I’d better make sure that I’m damn quick getting up the anchor line then, hadn’t I?” Dillon said over his shoulder, as he turned, and left Vince to his gadgets.
He went and got into his wetsuit and, after checking that everything was working correctly, he placed his buoyancy jacket and air tanks into the inflatable. He gathered up his fins and mask, together with the dive bag and stepped out onto the rear dive platform. A moment later, Rob Chapman came out and stood beside him.
“Time to go, Rob.” Dillon casually glanced at the omega watch strapped to his wrist. Then looked with amazement, at what clothing Chapman was now wearing. “Good God, I thought you were a tramp.”
“More importantly. Woul
d you recognise me in the dark, from say fifty feet away?”
“Honestly. No, if you walked past me in broad daylight, I wouldn’t know that it was you.”
“Well, that’s that taken care of then!”
Dillon unzipped the holdall, reached in and took out another MP5 and half a dozen extra clips and handed them to Chapman. He then pulled out a two green egg shaped objects, and stuffed them into the coat pocket of the old dishevelled man standing in front of him.
“What are those for?”
“Stun Grenades, standard SAS issue. Very simple to use, just pull the pin and throw it over arm, like this.” Dillon demonstrated the throw. “Make sure you’re close when you throw one, and don’t forget to look away. These babies will immobilize anyone in close proximity to them for about three to five seconds. Got all that?”
Chapman nodded, and the two men then got into the inflatable, Dillon untied the bow line and pushed off from the side of the power cruiser. Chapman took the two wooden oars from the bottom of the boat and fitted them into the rowlocks. He was a skilled rower and, even though he was wearing a cumbersome thick sweater and heavy overcoat, in no time he was moving them silently out across the marina towards the main harbour.
* * * The Solitaire was tied up alongside a pontoon constructed of solid granite, on the seaward side of the marina, where the deep water could easily take a vessel of her size. Hugo Malakoff was sitting in his study at the stern, reading the documents from inside the silver chest for the second time that day. The Spear of Destiny, lying on the bed of vivid purple silk, remained within his reach on the highly polished desk top. Every so often, he would stretch out his hand and gently touch it. He’d never felt so invigorated, so confident, in his entire life. He examined the letters, and then one of the four blue hardback ledgers, these interested him the most. All those names, many eminent members of the British establishment, who together with people like his own, and Oliver Asquith’s father, were secretly in support of the direction in which Germany was taking during those early years of Adolf Hitler’s rise.
He picked up the telephone and called Captain Armand on the bridge. “Get me Lord Asquith at his London residence.”
It was two forty-five, and Asquith was asleep at his Kensington home, when the phone rang on his bedside table.
“Oliver? It’s Hugo.” Asquith rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Hugo, do you know what time it is?”
“Of course, Oliver. It’s two forty-five in the morning.”
“Exactly. What the bloody hell can be so important that you have to call me at this unholy hour?”
“Oliver, we have possession of the spear.”
“What? When did this happen?” Asquith was now fully awake and listening intently.
“This afternoon. I have the silver chest, the spear, and a number of small blue ledgers that make extremely interesting reading.”
“And, my father’s diary?”
“Alas no, Oliver. That is not here, I’m afraid.”
You could have heard a pin drop in Asquith’s bedroom, “But, that’s what this has always been about, Hugo. Retrieving that bloody diary.” Asquith’s voice was full of despair.
“You are fretting over nothing Oliver. I’m sure that if the diary were down there, like you said it would be, then Dillon would have almost certainly have found it, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. But what about these ledgers, you say they make interesting reading?”
“Oh, they do, Oliver. Quite fascinating.”
Asquith snapped, “Hugo, the last thing I really want at this unearthly hour, is to be toyed with. Just get to the bloody point, will you?”
“So be it, Oliver.” The Frenchman, spoke quietly and deliberately slowly, “What I have in front of me, are four hand written ledgers. They are official Nazi documents, and contain many notable names, which correspond to details of numbered bank accounts in Europe and South America. Both, your father and mine, are named, Oliver.” Malakoff stopped talking, while he let Asquith comprehend the enormity of what he’d just said.
“No, no, no. This can’t be true?” Asquith screeched down the phone. A sudden cold sweat breaking out over his entire body, making his pyjamas cling to him uncomfortably. “Please tell me that this isn’t true, and that I’m having some sort of horrible twisted nightmare, Hugo?”
“I’m afraid, that you’re not having a nightmare, Oliver. And, as we both know, in the wrong hands, this will almost certainly finish both of us. So, it’s just as well that I have possession of this information, and nobody else does. My advice to you is simple, my friend. Taisez-vous! Mefiezvous!”
“Of course I’ll keep my mouth shut, and I’ve been on my guard ever since this whole dreadful affair started. Promise me, Hugo. That you’ll get rid of them.” Asquith said, and then added, “Immediately?”
“Oliver, you know that I’ll take care of everything.” Malakoff got up, walked across the study to the wall of glass, and gazed out across St. Aubins bay. He stood there in the darkness for a moment, before saying, “I always do, don’t I?” And immediately disconnected, replacing the phone back on its cradle on his desk.
Asquith, lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling. Contemplating his life, should it ever become public knowledge that his father had been a Nazi supporter and collaborator. And after an indefinable amount of time, he fell back into a restless slumber.
Malakoff was standing in front of his desk, gazing down at the spearhead when Captain Armand came in.
“Unless you have any other further orders, Monsieur. I will remain on the bridge until daylight.”
Malakoff looked up at the clock hanging on the wall in front of him. It was just after two fifty-five a.m. “There are no orders, Captain.”
Armand turned to leave, and Malakoff said, “Ensure that everyone is alert, Armand. And make sure that the deck areas are patrolled every ten minutes, just in case our friend Jake Dillon decides to pay us a visit.”
“Of course, Monsieur. But, I don’t think we need to worry. We have every deck light on, as well as the underwater lights. We’d spot him a mile away, but we’ll still take every precaution.”
“Good, because I don’t think we should underestimate, Dillon.” Armand nodded, turned and left.
Malakoff waited a moment or two, before removing a small remote control from the top drawer of his desk. He gathered up the letters, the spear and the four blue ledgers, and placed them all inside the silver chest. A painting hanging on the wall behind him silently slid back as he pushed one of the buttons on the small black device, to reveal a safe. He punched in a six digit code, opened the solid looking door, and put the silver chest inside.
Malakoff stood for a moment, admiring his newly acquired masterpiece, and then he suddenly started to laugh loudly. He’d paid twenty million pounds, a drop in the ocean for someone with such wealth, to have it stolen from the Tate in London. But, it wasn’t just for art’s sake that he’d wanted it, he thought. And then took a look around with equal fervour, at all the other masterpieces that adorned the oak panelled walls. It was simply because, he wanted it.
Switching off the lights, He walked along to his bedroom, thinking of the gold bullion, still convinced that it was on board the U-boat. It was the one thing about this mystery that had not been resolved. Before retiring to bed, he made a mental note to return to the Devil’s Hole area, before sailing for France the next day.
* * * Chapman, rowed them silently through the marina, and out into the main harbour channel. Staying close to the dockside, they crept round to the seaward side, past the ferry terminals and on to the deep water anchorage. Dillon put on his fins, and rinsed out his face mask, in readiness to go over the edge. Chapman, pulled in the oars, and looked at his watch.
“Two fifty-five. Check?” “Agreed.” Dillon replied, his voice just above a whisper.
“When do you want to go?”
“Five minutes.”
“Okay. Now Jake, the water’s abou
t fifty feet here, very clear, and the bottom mostly sand with only a scattering of vegetation. So, with the moonlight, you’re not going to have much cover down there, and don’t forget, they’ve got their underwater lights on. You’re going be an easy target if they spot you.”
“They won’t, and it’s a good to know that you’re going to be the focus of their attention then, isn’t it?” Dillon smiled. “And like you said, you’re good at playing a drunk in a boat. So do just that, stay out about forty or fifty feet on the starboard stern quarter for about five minutes, and make a lot of noise while you’re out there. That should distract them long enough for me to get on board. When the lights go out, get away as fast as you can. Understand?”
“Yes. But, what if it doesn’t work?”
“Have no fear, it will. Those boys on board the Solitaire are going to be on edge and very nervous, like cats on a hot tin roof. They’ll want to see what all the commotion is. So make the performance good, because, I don’t want you getting yourself shot on my account.” Dillon gave Chapman a pair of night vision goggles, and placed another pair into his dive bag.
“It’s three o’clock.”
“Time to party.” Dillon placed the mouthpiece between his teeth, bit down on it, and started to breathe the compressed air. He gave Chapman the okay sign, moved over to the starboard side, and rolled backwards into the black ink like water. He was gone in an instant, only a rush of phosphorescent bubbles racing to the surface were visible in the moonlight.
Chapman waited a second, dropped the oars back into the water, and started to row. He rounded the point, and was on the seaward side of the harbour in no time. Letting the inflatable drift for a moment, while he took stock of the area through the night vision goggles. There were ocean going yachts scattered here and there and a few large power cruisers. The Solitaire, by far the largest craft at anchor, was two hundred metres away, at the other end of the pontoon.
Dead Men Don't Bite (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) Page 39