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

by Andrew Towning

  Dillon stood leaning against the door frame, looking out across the bay. “What I said about Malakoff, earlier.”

  “What of it, old son?”

  “Well, I’m assuming that he still needs us around to find the location of the tunnel. Which raises the question, why try to kill us all by blowing up Chapman’s boat? It simply doesn’t make sense.”

  “I’ve no idea, old son. But I’m sure that we’ll find out soon enough.” LJ pressed the keypad on his mobile phone, and a moment later was speaking to Sir Lucius Stagg’s butler.

  “Sir Lucius, please. Tell him it’s Edward LevensonJones.”

  The line remained silent for an indeterminate amount of time, while the butler went to find the former Prime Minister.

  “Edward, how’s it going down there in Jersey?”

  “We’re making progress, Sir Lucius. Albeit slowly.”

  “Let me guess, Hugo Malakoff giving you problems?”

  “You could say that, Sir Lucius, he’s certainly keeping us on our toes that’s for sure.”

  “But that’s not why you called me, is it Edward? After all, you’re more than capable of sorting the Frenchman out.”

  “Thank you, and as always, you perceive correctly, Sir Lucius. My worst suspicions about Lord Asquith have been confirmed. He’s informing Malakoff about our every move, and has done so since the first time I spoke to him about this affair.”

  “And what is it you require of me?”

  “I want to know if Asquith is still on the payroll of MI5. And if he is, who is running him, and for what purpose. Also, why has Simon Digby slapped a restriction on the late Lord’s file?”

  “Leave it with me, Edward.”

  “But of course, Sir Lucius.”

  “Oh, and by the way. How’s Dillon, behaving himself, I hope?”

  “You know what he’s like, Sir Lucius. As belligerent and capricious as ever. But he’s keeping it very professional.”

  “Good, because we don’t want him starting a small war down there, do we. Good day, Edward.”

  “Good bye, Sir Lucius.” LJ broke the connection and went and stood next to Dillon in the open doorway.

  “Tell me something?” Dillon asked. “You being here. It was planned, wasn’t it?”

  “What of it?” LJ replied, and then swigged back the last of his drink.

  “You’ve known for some time that it was Asquith who was up to no good, haven’t you?”

  “On reflection, I shouldn’t have involved Asquith at all. But with the mystery surrounding this Spear of Destiny. I had to have it confirmed by an expert. Unfortunately, he’s the foremost authority on the subject. Just like his father was all those years ago.” LJ paced around the living room, his hands firmly placed behind his back as he spoke. “I saw the look of shock in his eyes, you see. It was the very mention of the spear, well it simply made him break out in a sweat, couldn’t help but notice. But the clincher came when I told him about the U-boat. That’s when I knew I’d touched on something. I just didn’t have any proof.”

  “Surely it was more than just a look in his eye that made you suspicious?”

  “Process of elimination, old son. After all, who knows about this affair? Nathan Cunningham, Annabelle, myself, Guy Roberts and Vince Sharp, you of course, and Sir Lucius Stagg and the Partners. It could have been any one of you. But why? As Hercule Poirot would have said, there is no why, because none of you have a motive.”

  “Which only leaves Asquith?”

  “Asquith, and one other, old son.”

  “So who is the other person?” Dillon asked.

  “Haven’t got a clue, old son. But, that’s what I’ve got Guy Roberts looking into. If anyone can find out, it’s that young man. He’s got a nose like a ferret, that one. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Jake. I’m going to take a walk down to the harbour, and see if Chapman’s boat has been towed in yet.”

  “Good idea. Vince and I will walk down with you. He wants to run a check through the power cruisers electrics and engine management systems.” LJ raised an eyebrow, and Dillon added, “Just in case our friend Malakoff has sent his goon to tinker with it.”

  “Oh, I see. Well we can’t be too careful, Jake.”

  “That’s what we thought. Anyway, once we’ve done that, I’ll drive across to the airport and collect Annabelle.” Dillon said, as he slammed the front door to the Fisherman’s Lodge, and walked with the others down the narrow lane towards Bonne Nuit Harbour.

  Chapter Thirteen

  That afternoon Malakoff went for swim in Gifford Bay, then sitting on the stern deck of the Solitaire, had coffee and sweet almond cakes while he enjoyed the sunshine. Kurt stood in the shade of the awning, just behind his employer. He remained perfectly still, waiting in silence.

  “I’m still curious as to exactly what it was, you overlooked Kurt? After all, it’s unlike you to be so careless.”

  “I was very thorough, Mien Herr.”

  “So you say.” Malakoff said initially.

  “I am a professional, I did exactly what was required, Mien Herr. You must know this?”

  At that moment Captain Armand came around the corner on the starboard side. “I’ve just received a call from our contact in Bonne Nuit, Monsieur. It would seem that Chapman’s dive boat has just been towed in to harbour by one of the local fishermen. They’re saying it exploded about one mile off shore, and then capsized. Unfortunately, Monsieur. Nobody was hurt, not even a scratch on any of them.”

  “Damn those swine to hell!” Kurt spat out the words angrily.

  “Have no doubt, gentlemen, they’ll see it soon enough.” Malakoff stood up, went to the side rail and stared out to sea. After a brief moment he returned to where he’d been sitting, picked up his coffee cup and was about to take a sip, when he changed his mind, and said to Armand. “The Cunningham girl is flying back to the island on the five fifty-five flight. Is this still the case, Captain?”

  “Yes, Monsieur. That is correct.”

  “Good. Well in that case, Kurt. I want you and Pierre to go to the airport.” Malakoff took a sip of his coffee.

  “Are we to bring her back to you, Mien Herr?”

  “No. It would be far too dangerous, and quite unnecessary. Simply find out what it is she knows, and then get rid of her. Permanently.”

  Kurt smiled, stood to attention, and said, “I will not let you down, Mien Herr,” he then turned and left.

  Armand stood waiting patiently for his orders while Malakoff poured himself another cup of coffee.

  “We’ll remain at anchor here in Gifford Bay, Captain. But ensure that we’re ready for sea at a moment’s notice.”

  “Yes, Monsieur.”

  Malakoff nodded. “We may have to leave in a hurry. But then again we may not. I’m not sure; it depends on how Kurt and Pierre get on with the girl. In the meantime I’d like you to get hold of Lord Asquith for me. Put him through to this phone, the moment you are able to locate him.”

  * * * Oliver Asquith was handed the note by one of his assistants. He casually glanced down at it, and then immediately went back to addressing the British Museum’s funding committee about his forthcoming expedition to Jordan.

  Five minutes later, Asquith was speaking to Malakoff from his mobile phone.

  “Hugo, I hope you’ve got good news for me?”

  “My dear Oliver, it’s good of you to call me back. How are you my old friend?”

  “Harassed to hell, and then back again, thank you for asking.”

  There was a pause and then Malakoff said, “We’ve found Albert Bishop. What a helpful fellow he was, quite remarkable to have such a sharp mind at his age. Remembered all sorts of interesting facts about his parents, and how they looked after your father, and his Nazi friends during the war years.”

  “Well that’s the end of it then, isn’t it? I’m done for.” Asquith blurted out.

  Malakoff, knew that there was no point in trying to placate Asquith, and said, “My dear Oliver, there is a time a
nd a place for melodramatics, and this isn’t it. Had you let me finish, I was just about to tell you that the old man accidentally fell down the stairs in the dark, and broke his neck. One hopes that it was a quick death, and that he’s gone to a far better place.”

  “Dead?”

  “Yes, Oliver, dead. Which is extremely lucky for you, given the situation.”

  “It was that thug of yours, Kurt, wasn’t it?”

  “You really shouldn’t be so quick to point the finger, Oliver. After all, that thug of mine has done you an immense favour. Although, I’m afraid that the old man’s demise came too late. You see, he’d already told everything he knew to one of Levenson-Jones’ people, before Kurt helped him on his way. It’s unfortunate that, but not a complete disaster.”

  “LJ knows?” Asquith felt as if all the blood in his body had drained out of him, and he slumped down in to a nearby chair. “About my father and Hienrich Himmler?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “But what are we going to do, Hugo?”

  “Do, Oliver? You and I are going to do nothing, except carry on as normal, with our daily business.”

  “But, we have to do something, Hugo. They’re going to ruin me, and possibly you as well in the process.”

  “You misunderstand me, Oliver. Like I’ve just said, we’re not going to do anything. However, there will be a fatal accident involving, Levenson-Jones, Dillon, Chapman, and that overweight computer geek they have with them. That’s all you need to know, Oliver. The Cunningham girl is flying back to Jersey late this afternoon, and apparently she knows where the U-boat is located. I will send Kurt and my first officer to the airport. Once they have the information, she’ll be of no further use to us.”

  “Good God, Hugo. You can’t be serious, it’s simply not right you know?” Asquith implored, and felt a shiver run up and down his spine. “Hugo, I’ve just had a dreadful thought. I conduct all of my banking affairs on-line these days. What if, one of his computer chaps were to hack into my account, he’ll see the regular payments coming into the account from you?”

  “What do mean? Please explain yourself?”

  “Well, I had to be able to keep track of the payments that you make to me, Hugo. So I placed your initials next to the payments. I know it was foolish of me, but I didn’t know all of this was going to flare up.”

  “You really are an extremely stupid fellow, aren’t you Oliver? Do you have any idea, how much trouble I went to in order to conceal the originating source of those payments? One look at your account, will inextricably link me to you.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “What’s done is done, Oliver. Have your bank run a check on every computer that has accessed the account within the last seventy-two hours. Tell them that it’s urgent, because you suspect that someone has been attempting to hack into the accounts. Once you have this information, email it, immediately, to me on board the Solitaire. I’ll then have my people in Paris run a check through our system. Oh, and please ensure that the computer you use personally, is switched on, and on-line. I’ll also have them run a check through this machine at the same time. If someone has gained access, it’ll show up.”

  “Can you really do that, Hugo?”

  “Oliver, as I’ve told you. I can do anything, to whoever and whatever, I like.” Malakoff, broke the connection, and walked to the side rail. He stood looking out across the bay, thinking how it was becoming a habit, the frequency with which he became involved with such stupid people.

  * * * By the time LJ, Dillon and Vince had walked down to the harbour, Chapman had already arrived. He’d driven down the cobbled slipway, and had parked his twin-cab pickup down on the beach. There were five other men with him, some were local fishermen, helping to winch the Wave Dancer up onto the white sand. They’d righted the dive boat, so that it could be dragged up on its hull out of the water and, from where Dillon and the others were standing high up on the sea wall, they could clearly see the jagged hole that had been caused by the explosion, and where the engine block should have been.

  There were two other men standing on deck, one in red overalls and a white hard hat, the other in denim jeans and a short-sleeved blue check shirt. Chapman shut off the power to the winch, and walked back up the slipway to where Dillon and the others were standing. A moment later, the man in the red overalls came up and joined them.

  Chapman introduced them. “So what’s the verdict, Chris?”

  “Well, I’ve only taken a brief look at her, you understand, Rob. And of course, I’ll know more once I’ve been able to conduct a through inspection back at the workshops. But, from the look of the engine bay, and the size of the hole that’s been blown clean through the hull. I’d say that someone had most definitely tampered with it, for sure.”

  “Could it have been explosives?” Dillon asked.

  “Until I’ve taken a closer look, I can’t be sure. But, in twenty-five years of inspecting marine wreckage, I’ve only ever seen such precise damage, maybe once or twice. On both occasions it was caused by plastic explosives. But, that’s only speculation at this stage. We’ll haul her back to St. Helier, and I’ll arrange the repairs, Rob, and keep you posted.”

  As he walked back down the slipway he was shaking his head, and looking back said, “You chaps really were very lucky.” and he went back down onto the beach to supervise the lifting of the dive boat onto a long flat bed lorry.

  * * * Dillon and Vince rowed the dingy out into the middle of the small harbour. The power cruiser gently tugged at its mooring rope as it rolled on the afternoon swell. Once aboard, Dillon went immediately to the stern and started his visual search for anything out of the ordinary. While Vince plugged his computer into the boats on-board system, to allow him to run a full diagnostic check of the engine power management, and electrical circuits. This would show up any tampering with, or changes made.

  Dillon came out onto the dive deck, his shirt sleeves rolled up, holding something in his hand. He shouted up to Vince, who appeared a moment later out of the wheelhouse.

  “Our old friend Semtex, Vince.” Dillon held up the plastic explosive, “I found this pressed onto the hull inside the forward locker.”

  “Bloody hell, mate.” Vince exclaimed, “That’s enough to blow up this boat and twenty others. What about the detonator?”

  “Short range remote type. I’d say about five hundred metres would have done the job. Did your box of tricks find anything?”

  “Clean as a whistle.” “In that case, let’s batten down the hatches and go join the others.”

  LJ and Chapman were sitting at a table overlooking the beach at Annabelle’s Café when Dillon and Vince arrived. Kate Jackson was fussing around the bar area, making sure that everything was in its place, in readiness for when Annabelle returned. When she spotted Dillon, she came over, and asked them if there was anything she could get them, and generally made polite small talk.

  “I saw them pulling your dive boat out of the water, Rob. That must have been a pretty big explosion to have caused so much damage; I’d say you were all very lucky to have got off without even a scratch. I mean, anyone of you could so easily have been stood by that engine canopy, couldn’t you?” And with that, she picked up her tray, and walked away.

  Dillon watched her disappear into the kitchen, before he pulled out a small package that was wrapped in a white plastic bag.

  “What’s that, old son?” LJ asked, looking over the top of his wire framed spectacles.

  “Our old friend Semtex.” Dillon handed the bag to LJ.

  “So you were right, Jake, Malakoff does want us out of the way. But why, and what will he gain from having us killed?”

  “Perhaps it has something to do with that old chap, Albert Bishop.” Vince put in.

  “I’m almost certain that has a part to play in this, and of course Lord Asquith, will by now, know that we know about his father’s involvement with Himmler. That, Gentlemen, will send him into a complete spin, of that you c
an be assured.” LJ said, and then added absentmindedly. “But, I would have thought, that we still had our uses.”

  “I’m convinced, that Annabelle will be our ‘Ace-upthe-sleeve’, once she arrives back on the island.” Chapman told him.

  “Well, let’s hope you’re right, old son.” LJ mused sipping his tea.

  Kate Jackson, arrived back a moment later with a fresh pot of tea, cups and saucers, and an array of delicious looking cakes.

  * * * When Malakoff called Asquith it was just before five o’clock in the afternoon. “I’m afraid that I’ve got some disturbing news.”

  “After the day I’ve had, Hugo, what can possibly be so bad?” Asquith was sitting in his private office at the British Museum.

  “It’s not the what, Oliver. It’s the who. And, I’m afraid that your day is about to become much darker. You see, I’ve just received confirmation from my people in Paris. It appears, that the computer used to hack into your bank account is located at the head office of, Ferran & Cardini International.”

  “You’re right, it couldn’t be worse,” Asquith said. “However, they were also able to pinpoint the person concerned, by simply hacking into their system, and running a scan through the user files to determine which terminal was used to gain access to your computer.”

  “How bloody fascinating, Hugo. But how does that help me?”

  “His name is Guy Roberts, he’s on loan from MI5, and is Levenson-Jones’ temporary assistant.”

  “MI5? But I’m protected by them, by mere virtue of the odd job, that I do for them from time to time in the Middle East.”

  “Well, don’t go doing anything stupid. Just keep your cool, and everything will be fine Oliver.”

  “But what if he’s spoken to Levenson-Jones, or the Partners?”

  “My dear Oliver, if you consider, for even the briefest of moments, how long Levenson-Jones has most likely suspected your role in all of this. He would only have had to make a single telephone call to bring your world crashing down around your ears. And, as for your little arrangement with MI5. Well, why would he be interested in that? Oh no, his suspicions about you and your father, only became confirmed, after this Guy Roberts had spoken to Albert Bishop. And I might add, it’s only since then, that he’s instructed him to start poking his nose into your affairs.”