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

by Andrew Towning

  “So what next. Do I simply sit here, and wait for them to come and get me, or what?” Asquith was near to hysterics, and had to contain his anxiety.

  “Once again, Oliver. You will do nothing, but go about your usual daily business. I’ll have Mr Roberts taken care of.”

  “Please, Hugo. Not more killing,” Asquith moaned. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

  “Please try and be grateful, for once in your miserable little life, Oliver,” Malakoff sneered down the line. “After all, it’s only for your sake, that I do these wicked things. Once we locate the cavern, and that blasted diary of your fathers we can prevent anything from coming out about the past. As for Levenson-Jones, and the others. Well, as I said before, they’re all going to meet with a fatal accident. The bonus for us, Oliver, will be finding the original Spear of Destiny, and of course the gold bullion.” Malakoff laughed loudly into the telephone, and then added, “Don’t worry, Oliver, everything is going to be alright, you just wait and see.”

  Malakoff broke the connection, and immediately dialled another London number. He spoke slowly, and in clear English.

  “O’Rourke I have another dispatch job, which I would like you to take care of tonight. The name is Guy Roberts, MI5, currently on secondment to Ferran & Cardini International. I’m sure you know the address. And, yes there will be a further bonus of one-hundred thousand pounds on completion.” Malakoff put the phone back into his pocket and stood, for a moment, pondering on the situation that he now found himself embroiled within.

  * * * The afternoon British Airways flight that Annabelle was on, touched down at Jersey airport at five-fifty. She went straight from the arrivals area, and through the terminal to the front of the building.

  Dillon spotted her, and waved as she came through the exit with a throng of other arrivals. On seeing him, she walked across to where he was stood by the Range Rover.

  “Jake, it’s good to see you. And thanks for coming to collect me, I really appreciate it.” She said kissing him on both cheeks.

  “No bother, Annabelle. It’s my pleasure. Did you have a good flight down?” Dillon said, as he opened the passenger door for her.

  “Yes, it was a bit bumpy over the Channel, though.” Annabelle got into the 4x4, and then added. “So how are things going down here?”

  Dillon outlined what had happened since arriving on the island. Leaving out the bits about Malakoff trying to murder them, and Albert Bishop being killed, but did tell her about Rob Chapman’s boat being blown up.

  Ten minutes later Dillon pulled up outside of Annabelle’s café. He dropped her off, and then drove back up the hill to the Fisherman’s Lodge.

  Annabelle went inside, there were a few people sitting at the tables talking and enjoying Jersey cream teas in the late afternoon sunshine. Kate Jackson saw Annabelle come in, and immediately went over to greet her.

  “Annabelle, it’s lovely to see you back.” “It’s good to be back, Kate. Even if it is only for a day or two.”

  They went through to the back office, and immediately Kate Jackson asked bluntly, “So what’s really dragged you away from Nathan’s bedside, Annabelle?”

  “Nothing’s, dragged me away, Kate. I decided to have a break, that’s all. Why do you ask?” Annabelle said, and thought how her friend seemed a little on edge.

  “Oh, no reason. But that message, you asked me to give Dillon.”

  “What of it?”

  “Well it was a bit cryptic, wasn’t it?”

  “It was supposed to be, Kate. But Jake Dillon knew what it meant, and that’s what really matters. Anyway, it wasn’t anything that mysterious. But, can we talk about this later, I really want to check through the accounts. And then I’m going home for a shower and a change of clothes. If that’s all right with you, that is?” This wasn’t the reaction that Kate Jackson had expected, and went back to her duties in the café. Annabelle, sitting at her desk, wondered why her long time friend had been so anxious about her return. Or was there another reason behind her inquisitiveness?

  * * * Kurt and Pierre, waited at the airport, as Malakoff had instructed. They saw Annabelle come through the main terminal, and also spotted Dillon standing by the Range Rover waiting to collect her. Keeping well out of sight, they watched the tall dark Englishman drive out of the car park with Annabelle sitting in the passenger seat. Kurt who was sitting behind the wheel of the Porsche Carerra, pulled out of the parking space as the 4x4 went slowly past. The German stayed two cars behind, keeping his distance. After all, he knew exactly where Dillon was going, and more importantly he also knew where the girl lived.

  It was an hour later that Annabelle left the café, and made her way back up the hill to the luxury house that she shared with her father. Kurt and Pierre both watched from a discreet distance and saw Annabelle walk up to the front door, unlock it, and go in.

  “When do we go in for her?” Pierre asked. “We wait.” Kurt told him. “She’ll be making sure the place is okay, and we can’t be sure that Dillon isn’t lurking around somewhere.”

  Pierre shrugged, took out a cheroot and lit it. Kurt gave him a stern look of disapproval, turned and went back up the hill to the parked car.

  Dillon was taking a run along the beach, when his mobile phone started to ring.

  “Dillon.”

  “Jake, it’s Annabelle.”

  “Are you still at the café?”

  “No I’m at home. Look, it may be nothing, but I think I’m being watched.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Let’s call it a woman’s intuition, and the fact that two rough looking characters are sitting in a parked sports car up the road watching the house through binoculars. Should I call the police, Jake?”

  “No, don’t do that, Annabelle. We can’t involve them at this stage. But, I’ll put money on it, that they’re two of Malakoff’s men from the Solitaire.”

  “The Solitaire?”

  “Malakoff’s power yacht. It’s at anchor in Gifford Bay.”

  “He’s looking for the U-boat, isn’t he?” Annabelle asked calmly.

  “It would appear so, yes. Look, Annabelle, as I said earlier, Malakoff has been giving us a lot of trouble since we arrived. We’ve discovered who it is in London who’s been leaking information to him, and I’d say that he probably knows that you’ve come back to Jersey to help us find the tunnel entrance.”

  “So am I in danger, Jake?”

  “No, and they won’t try anything either, if that’s what you mean. They’ve almost certainly been sent to keep an eye on you, that’s all. But until we’ve found that U-boat, we’re all going to have to keep our wits about us. Do you really think that you know where that tunnel entrance is located?”

  “The thought came to me the other evening. It’s so simple, that I don’t know why I didn’t think of it straight away. But, I don’t want to discuss it on the phone, Jake. I want you all to hear what I have to say at the same time. Look, its seven-twenty now, why don’t we all meet at the café at eight-thirty. That’ll give me enough time to have a nice hot shower, and make myself presentable.”

  “Okay. But go and lock all the doors, and make sure every window is securely fastened. We’ll collect you on the way down to the harbour.”

  Dillon broke the connection and tried Chapman’s number at home. It rang four times before Chapman answered the phone. “It’s Dillon, Annabelle is back, and wants us to all meet at the café at eight-thirty this evening for dinner. She wants us all together, before she’ll tell us, what it is she knows.”

  “But she’s told you, right?”

  “No, not even me, Rob. Look, I’ll see you later.” Dillon disconnected, put the phone back into his track suit pocket, and then rushed back to the Fisherman’s Lodge to tell LJ and Vince the news.

  Kurt watched patiently through binoculars as Annabelle went all around the house locking the doors and windows.

  “She’s making sure all of the doors and windows are
locked.”

  Pierre nodded, “What are we going to do? Dillon is obviously not inside.”

  “No, but what’s to say that he isn’t on his way here right now?”

  “Do you think that’s she’s told him yet?”

  “I doubt it. And maybe she never will,” Kurt told him.

  From the passenger seat of the Porsche, Pierre looked nervously at the big German. “Look, I don’t want any part in any of that business. And most definitely not with a woman involved. That’s just not right.”

  “Shut the fuck up Frenchman. You’ll do as I tell you, or suffer the consequences.” Kurt snapped, “For now, we wait and watch.”

  * * * It was just after eight o’clock, at the Ferran & Cardini International building in Docklands. Guy Roberts was just putting the finishing touches to his report on Oliver Asquith’s financial affairs. He glanced up at the clock hanging on the opposite wall, and remembered that he hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. He carefully placed the document into the top drawer of his desk and locked it, stood up and pushed his swivel chair back under the desk. After putting on his jacket he checked that everything in the small office was in order, and then left.

  He came out of the building by the side entrance, and started to walk along the narrow street towards the wharf side. The attractive woman walking towards him, was in her early thirties, wearing a dark well fitting business suit that touched her curvaceous figure in exactly the right places. She glanced down at the photo displayed on the screen of her mobile phone, just to make sure, then flipped the wafer thin device shut and put inside her handbag. In fact, she looked just like any other high flying executive at the peak of her career.

  She walked up the street, unhurried, but with purpose. Tall buildings rising up on either side of her, watching from behind tinted glasses as the young, good looking man came towards her. Guy Roberts, who was tired and still thinking about the Asquith affair, took little notice of the elegant auburn haired woman walking towards him. Didn’t even notice, when she pulled from her handbag, the small Italian made handgun with the silencer attached to the stubby barrel. As she passed him, he casually glanced in her direction and smiled.

  One tiny, red, liquid drop of blood was all that was visible in the centre of the small, neat hole in Guy Robert’s forehead an inch or so above his left eye. His eyes were wide open, unseeing in death, as he lay face up and spreadeagled in the gutter. The woman stood looking down at the body for a brief moment, and thought how his features registered a look of surprise.

  The street was quite empty, only the CCTV cameras for company. She put the handgun back into her handbag, and before walking away, casually glanced up at one of the cameras. At the end of the street, she got into a Renault Clio, and drove away. Five minutes later she dumped the car in a side street, near to Wapping station. Along with the Auburn wig and the business suit that she’d been wearing.

  * * * At Bonne Nuit, Annabelle had a long hot shower and washed her hair. The ship’s clock hanging over the fire mantle, showed a little after eight-seventeen. She poured herself a gin and tonic and stepped out onto the deck. The view was as breathtaking as always, she walked to the edge and looked down at the harbour below. There was only a light breeze and the wrinkled sea stretched as far as the eye could see, was as deeply blue as ever under an almost cloudless sky. Kurt and Pierre watched from the Porsche through binoculars.

  “Damn, Dillon to hell. He’s not turned up, and we’ve wasted nearly an hour just sitting here.” Pierre said.

  “How astute of you, Frenchman. But, how naive you are. Dillon almost certainly knows that we’re watching the girl. Had we made a move towards that house, I’ve absolutely no doubt what would have happened. Think yourself, extremely fortunate to still be alive.” Kurt said, while continuing to look through the binoculars.

  Pierre thought how arrogant he was, and gave him a sly look out of the corner of his eye. “She scrubs up well, that one. I’m looking forward to meeting her properly.” He added, as he spotted Annabelle walk out onto the deck. She was looking fresh and relaxed, wearing khaki linen trousers and a white short-sleeved blouse nipped in at the waist.

  The Range Rover slowly passed them and pulled up outside Annabelle’s house, Dillon was driving with LJ and Vince sitting in the rear seat. He got out, looked back up the road, and waved at them, before opening the passenger door for Annabelle to get in.

  “One day, very soon, I’m going to wipe that smile clean off his face.” Kurt said, as the Range Rover pulled away and drove off down the hill towards the harbour, and the café.

  “Now what?” Pierre demanded.

  “For now, Frenchman. We let them have a pleasant dinner, and then get the girl later when she’s returned and Dillon is tucked up in his own bed.”

  Kurt started the engine and drove up the hill away from Bonne Nuit.

  * * * It was a little after eight forty-five when Rob Chapman walked into Annabelle’s Café, and found her sitting at the bar with Dillon and the others. On seeing him come through the doorway, she went and greeted him warmly, kissing him on both cheeks.

  “It’s so good to see you, Rob.” “Annabelle, it’s lovely to have you back. How are things with Nathan?”

  “He’s on the mend, thanks.”

  “Jake tells me that you think you know where Nathan was diving that morning?”

  Before she could answer, LJ had stood up, and was beckoning them to a large round table outside on the deck.

  A moment later, Kate Jackson came over. “Can I get anyone a drink?”

  “We’ll have two bottles of Australian red and two of the white, please Kate. That is, as long as no one objects?” Annabelle said, looking around the table.

  “Sounds like a splendid idea to me, my dear.” LJ said, and the others all agreed.

  Dillon waited for Kate Jackson to leave, before looking across the table at Annabelle and asking, “So, where do you think the tunnel entrance is?”

  “Yes, come on, Annabelle.” Rob Chapman had the look of a small boy, just about to receive a present. “Where is it?”

  “I haven’t got a clue where it is. But, what I have got is a hunch.”

  “A hunch?” Dillon said, dismayed by this revelation. “But your message said that you knew where it was. You led us to believe that you knew the exact location, Annabelle. And now we’ve wasted an entire days diving, waiting for you to tell us that all you’ve got is a hunch.”

  LJ glared at Dillon and quickly cut-in by saying. “Annabelle, take no notice of Jake’s comments. You say, a hunch. About what exactly?”

  “The Nautical Lady.” Annabelle replied.

  “What about her?” Rob Chapman said.

  “Look, I know it’s a long shot. But I think the boat’s sat-nav will show us where Pops went that morning.”

  “Of course, why didn’t we think of that in the first place.” Vince said, as he stood up. “Well there’s no time like the present, let’s go and take a look.”

  They went down the slipway and onto the beach. Kurt watched as Dillon dragged the inflatable to the water’s edge, and then as they all jumped in. Chapman sat in the stern, started the outboard and they moved out into the harbour.

  “What are they doing?” Pierre asked impatiently.

  “Be quite, Frenchman. They’re going out to Cunningham’s boat, by the look of it.”

  “Now what?” Pierre asked.

  “We wait, and then report back to Herr Malakoff.” Kurt replied.

  Chapman powered up the electrical systems and switched on the light in the cockpit. While Vince moved up and positioned himself in front of the main console, and booted up the sat-nav screen.

  “Well, Annabelle,” LJ said, “Let’s hope that your hunch is correct, and that we’re able to access the Nautical Lady’s last known position before she returned to Bonne Nuit.”

  “Would Nathan have had the navigation system switched on though?” Dillon asked.

  “Dubious.” Chapman replied.
<
br />   “You’re quite right Rob. Commander Cunningham didn’t have it activated on the morning of his last dive. The last time it was used was three weeks ago.” Vince said.

  “That would have been when we went out together to visit one of the wrecks on the east coast.” Chapman said thoughtfully.

  “So where do we go from here?” LJ said.

  “Well, for starters we need to look at what divers do religiously after each dive.” Chapman replied.

  Dillon broke in, “You mean the diver’s log, don’t you?”

  “Spot on, Jake. Every diver that I’ve ever known, always keeps a detailed record of each dive. It’s standard practice.”

  “What about checking the equipment?” Annabelle asked.

  “Good idea, and check if anything is missing.” Dillon said.

  “What are you all talking about?” LJ demanded, but everyone was busy checking and searching the boat.

  “Nathan is meticulous about stowing everything in its place. But where would he keep his diver’s log?” Chapman said.

  Annabelle was in the main cabin, reached inside an overhead locker on the port side and found it at once. It was inside an aluminium waterproof case, with Commander Nathan Cunningham stamped into the metal. She went back up to the cockpit and handed it to Dillon.

  Dillon stood looking down at the shiny case, and then snapped it open and pulled out the leather bound book. It looked rather like any other small diary, the sort that you’d keep in your pocket or a woman might keep in her handbag. Dillon slowly flicked through the pages until he came to the last entry.

  “Commander Cunningham’s last entry reads; Dived to forty-five feet, and then down into trench at sixty feet, Devil’s Hole.”

  “Devil’s Hole?” Chapman said incredulously. “But that can’t be right, I mean, that area is out of bounds.”