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

by Andrew Towning

  Annabelle, gave him a kiss on the cheek, before jumping back down into the dinghy.

  “Take care, my dear,” LJ called from the wheelhouse.

  “Good luck.” She called back, and waved as she steered the dinghy back towards the beach.

  Chapman throttled up the in-board diesel engines. Dillon untied the bow mooring rope, as the automatic winch brought in the anchor line. The boat drifted back, then Chapman spun the wheel and pushed both throttles forward.

  Dillon looked back at Bonne Nuit, spotted Annabelle on the beach, and waved at her. She raised her arm and waved back, the power cruiser’s bow lifted, and they started to move out to sea. The next moment, they’d rounded the sea wall, and were in open water. As the power cruiser disappeared out of sight, Annabelle turned and walked away.

  Her watch showed just after seven o’clock, she walked up the slipway and straight past the entrance of the café. A few of the local fisherman had returned to harbour, and were stood talking on the dockside. she waved at them as she started up the hill towards her house.

  Kurt and Pierre had watched the power cruiser leave the harbour, and saw Annabelle return to shore in the dinghy from high up on the hill. “Luck is certainly with us today, Frenchman. It looks like the girl is walking home on her own. And without those fools around, we can have a nice quite chat with Miss Cunningham.”

  “And don’t forget your promise. When you’ve got the information you want out of her, I want my turn to get to know her better,” Pierre said lecherously.

  “You have testicles for brains, Frenchman. Now, let’s get moving.”

  Annabelle had almost reached the house, when her mobile phone started to ring. It was Kate Jackson at the café, there was a problem with one of the cookers, and she wanted to know which firm to call to repair it. Annabelle, told her that she’d come down right away and find the number for her. She hung up, and walked the short distance back to the café.

  There were a few people already in the café having breakfast when she went in and Kate Jackson was helping one of the girls to serve the tables. Annabelle went through to the kitchen and found out from cook what the problem with the cooker was. Went into the office, and flipped through the business card index to find the number of the repair company, she was just about to phone them, when Kate appeared in the doorway.

  “Rob Chapman, and those London friends of yours were up and off early this morning?”

  “That’s right, Kate.”

  “Look, Annabelle. You’re one of my dearest friends, and I know you’d tell me if it were any of my business. But, I have to ask, what is going on, and why is Jake Dillon really here?”

  “Kate, I really don’t mind you asking, but there’s nothing going on, as you put it. And Jake is simply a friend in need of rest and relaxation, and that’s why he’s here.” She lied, and then added, “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I do need to ring the cooker repair company, and then I’ve got a million and one things to do at home, before I fly back to London this evening.”

  Kate apologised to her friend for being so nosy, and then went back to work. Annabelle made the call, and she arranged for an engineer to come and repair the cooker, went and told cook, and then left. She walked across the driveway, went up the steps, found her key and unlocked the front door, then went inside. The house seemed unnaturally quite without her father there, she thought going through to the kitchen. Passing the coffee machine, she flicked the switch to turn it on, and then went over to the sliding glass doors, that opened out onto the raised teak deck. She pulled them apart, and walked outside. The sun was already beating down onto the weathered timbers, she splendoured at the magnificent view of the harbour and ocean beyond, which never failed to fill her with joy.

  Annabelle stood there for a moment, enjoying the morning freshness, she then turned and went back inside and found Kurt sitting in one of the leather armchairs in the living room.

  “We meet at last, Miss Cunningham.” The big German said the words with a malicious smirk.

  Looking into the room, it was as if she were dreaming, but that rough looking face told her otherwise. The cropped blond hair, and facial scarring that distorted his features as he laughed.

  Annabelle, in spite of being terrified, surprised even herself by turning and darting back out onto the deck. She had almost made it to the steps that led down to the front of the house, when Pierre moved around the corner, and grabbing her by the hair, pulled her around and stopped her in her tracks.

  Kurt ordered the Frenchman to get her back inside. Pierre roughly pushed her through the open doorway back into the living room, closed the sliding doors as he came in and locked them. As she was picking herself up off the floor, Kurt stepped forward, and struck her heavily across the face. She was sent backwards with the force of the blow, and ended up sprawled face down, half on, half off, one of the long sofas.

  “I think this one is going to be fun.” The big German said in fluent French.

  Annabelle pulled herself up into a sitting position, her eyes darting around the room in search of something to use as a weapon, and then she remembered that she still had the Walther PPK in her jacket pocket. Dipping her hand in, she wrapped her hand around the butt of the pistol, and tried to relax, found the safety catch, and released it.

  As Kurt moved ominously towards her, she pulled the weapon out and screamed at him, “Stay away from me, you bastards. Or so help me God, I’ll shoot you both.” Tears were rolling down over her cheeks, and her makeup was starting to smudge around her eyes.

  It was Pierre who lurched forward first. Annabelle pulled the trigger once, and the bullet whizzed over his head and slammed into the plaster, high up on the far wall. As he recoiled behind one of the other chairs, Kurt seized the split second opportunity, and while Annabelle was wondering what to do next, moved in, and expertly kicked the gun out of her hand. She got up and tried to run back through the house to the front door, but was immediately knocked down onto the floor by the German. He rolled her over onto her front, and pressed her face, hard against the wood. The smell of beeswax polish, that her father used to clean the floor, filled her nostrils, and then he roughly twisted her right arm up her back. The searing pain was so terrible that she cried out.

  “So you’re enjoying that, are you?” Kurt was a perfectionist, when it came to inflicting pain on his victims. He was enjoying himself so much that he’d almost forgotten why they were there. “I think we’ll try more, but this time it’ll be both arms.”

  The pain was so intense, that she screamed at the top of her voice, and tried to thrash her legs around. He turned her over, and slapped her so hard across the face that she almost lost consciousness. From his pocket he pulled out a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and a long sheathed needle. He held the syringe up, took the sheath off, and squirted a small amount of the liquid into the air.

  “Please listen carefully, Miss Cunningham. I’m going to ask you some questions.” He held the syringe just above her head. “If you do not cooperate with me, I’ll inject one of your eyes with this solution. You’re wondering what it is? Well, I can tell you that it’s better that you don’t know, believe me.”

  Annabelle was terrified out of her mind, and couldn’t take her eyes off the syringe. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, but please don’t hurt me anymore.”

  “You have made a wise choice, Miss Cunningham. So tell me, where would we find the tunnel entrance that will lead us to U-683?”

  “Devil’s Hole,” she said between sobs.

  “But, that’s not far from here. How do you know this?”

  “My father’s dive diary,” she gasped.

  “Is that where Dillon and the others have gone this morning?”

  Annabelle hesitated and he squeezed her throat between a large forefinger and thumb. “Is that right, Miss Cunningham?”

  “Yes, that’s where they’ve gone this morning.” She said hoarsely.

  Kurt looked down at her, suddenly forc
ed her mouth open with his fingers, and then squirted the entire contents of the syringe down her throat. He waited a brief moment, before standing up and laughing loudly, “How was the tap water? Good for you, Miss Cunningham?” He then turned, and started to leave.

  Pierre, who had been sitting on the other side of the room, stood up. “Now it’s my turn, yes?”

  Kurt made a sweeping gesture with his arm towards Annabelle. “You can do what you like, Frenchman. Just make sure that when you’ve finished there is no trace of evidence.” And with that the big German left.

  Annabelle had pulled herself up into a sitting position on the floor. And had spotted the Walther tucked under one of the leather chairs. As she went to get up, Pierre moved towards her and started to unbutton his shirt.

  Her heart was pounding with the fear she felt. He moved closer to her, and as he did, she slowly stood up and faced him.

  His shirt fell to the floor, and he started to unbuckle his belt. “Relax, Mademoiselle. You don’t need to be afraid, I’m just going to show you a good time.”

  Annabelle, couldn’t believe what was happening, was fraught with fear, and then remembered what her father had taught her about trying to stay very calm in dangerous situations.

  “Well, you’d better get it over with, then, hadn’t you?” Annabelle said.

  The Frenchman grabbed the top of her arms, and tried to kiss her. Annabelle swiftly brought her knee up, driving it hard into his balls, which made him squeal like a pig at market.

  “Oh what a shame, are you all done in?” she said stepping away from him.

  Holding his crotch with both hands, Pierre doubled up, and rolled onto the floor, all the time moaning with the searing pain. Annabelle immediately bent down, and retrieved the Walther from under the chair. She stood with the gun in her hand, and pointed it at the Frenchman. “I’m going to give you to the count of five, you pathetic little man. And if you’re not out of my house by them, I’m going to shoot you. Do you understand? But, this time, I’ll make sure the bullet hits you square in the head. Now get up and clear off.”

  The Frenchman slowly stood up, one hand still holding onto his aching genitals. “Don’t worry, Mademoiselle, there’s always the next time.” He sneered.

  “In your dreams, little man.” Annabelle said, shakily, and waved the gun at him.

  He turned, and started to walk away, changed his mind and tried to grab the Walther out of her hand. The silenced pistol spat at him, and the Frenchman was knocked backwards, as the bullet slammed into his left shoulder. He wasted no time in picking himself up off of the floor this time, and only looked back once, as he ran up the hall and out of the front door.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Malakoff was sitting at a polished oak desk, in his study on board the Solitaire. A phone to his ear, listening intently to what Kurt was saying at the other end of the line.

  “So, the girl talked, did she? And you’re sure she’s telling the truth?”

  “I’ve no doubt about that, Mien Herr.”

  “Have you disposed of her, Kurt?”

  “Pierre is having a little fun with her first, Mien Herr. You know what he’s like.”

  “You idiot; she must be dealt with quickly, before Dillon and the others return.”

  “No sweat, Mien Herr,” Kurt told him. “I assure you, the girl will be dealt with. Just like Albert Bishop.”

  “You make sure you do, Kurt. Because, I do not want anything leading back to the Solitaire or myself. Is that understood?”

  “Of course, Mien Herr. That goes without saying. What do you want us to do, after we’ve taken care of the girl?”

  “Keep your mobile phone switched on, and call me when you’re done. I’ll have instructions for you.” Malakoff cut the connection, and went straight up to the bridge to talk with Captain Armand.

  Dressed in crisp white tropical uniform, the captain turned and saluted Malakoff as he came onto the bridge of the luxury cruiser.

  “They’re diving close to the cliffs at the Devil’s Hole, Armand.”

  The Captain went over to the chart table, and sifted through some of the charts that were already out on the top. When he’d found the one he’d been looking for, he spread it out and ran his forefinger along the line of the coast.

  “Ah, yes, here we are, Monsieur.” He said indicating a point on the chart.

  Malakoff had a look, frowning slightly. “Dillon and the others have gone there this morning to dive, in the hope of finding the tunnel entrance. But, the question is, Armand. Should we follow them immediately, or simply wait for them to locate it, and then move in on them?”

  “If you want my honest and professional opinion, Monsieur. When Dillon and Chapman dive there, I hope that they both have a firm belief in God. Because, when I called the Coast Guard this morning, to get an update for our on-board weather system. They confirmed that the tidal current around the island, is running at around fourteen knots today. This Devil’s Hole area is a very bad place to dive, Monsieur, so let’s hope they know what they’re letting themselves in for. However, it would be extremely prudent for us to move out into deeper water. Say half a mile off shore, keeping to their blind side, just to keep our eye on them.”

  “I see what you’re saying, Captain,” Malakoff said. “What you’re suggesting, sounds as if it could be entertaining. But, they would surely spot the Solitaire immediately; however, as you say it would allow us to see what happens from a safe distance. And, we don’t want to get to close, especially as we’ve discovered that they’re armed and amateurishly dangerous.” He sniggered at his own witticism, studied the chart again, and nodded. “I can see no logical reason, for them not to do all of the hard work for us. Then, if they succeed in locating that tunnel entrance unhindered, it will make them feel good. They’ll think that they’ve outsmarted us, after Dillon’s little stunt with the police last night. When Kurt and Pierre don’t turn up, they’ll drop their guard, and think that the police still have them in custody. By the way, Armand. How much did their early release cost me?”

  “To drop all charges, just under seventy thousand pounds, Monsieur,”

  “I suppose it was the Uzi, which pushed the price up?”

  “It didn’t help, Monsieur. And, I’m afraid that our friendly desk sergeant had no choice but to confiscate it as well.”

  “Remind me to deduct the entire amount out of Kurt’s bonus for this job.”

  “Of course, Monsieur.”

  Malakoff paced up and down the bridge, contemplating the situation, and what his next move should be. After a few minutes, he stopped pacing, and said, “Armand, send Mazzarin and Zola out in the inflatable to keep an eye on Mr Dillon and his friends. Oh, and give them a two way radio, I want a report every half an hour. The Solitaire will remain here in Gifford Bay.”

  “And then, Monsieur?”

  “We’ll wait for them, Armand. They’ll be eager to get their hands on the Spear of Destiny, and any gold bullion that is on that U-boat. And, once they’ve got it, they’ll return to Bonne Nuit. All we’ve got to do then is pick our moment, and hit them hard.”

  “Shall I make ready for a quick departure, Monsieur?”

  “No, I don’t think so, Armand. We’ll head down to St. Helier, and spend the night in the marina. We’ll then head straight for St Malo in the morning, and then on to the château in the jet. Please radio ahead and ensure that the pilots are put on standby.”

  The phone in Malakoff’s pocket started to ring. “It’s Kurt calling me back. I’ll be in my study.” Malakoff said, answered the call, and briskly walked away.

  Kurt hung up, and stood holding the mobile phone in front of him for a brief moment, before getting back into the driver’s seat of the Porsche. The Frenchman was sitting in the passenger seat, holding a wad of blood stained material against his wounded shoulder.

  “Don’t look so worried, Frenchman. You’re not going to die from that bullet wound, and I haven’t snitched on you either. After all, I don�
�t want Herr Malakoff to know that you’ve fucked up again. It looks bad on me, and let’s be honest; with the girl escaping without even a scratch on her. Well, we’ve failed him miserably. But, this is the last time you mess up Frenchman. I’ll not tolerate your inability to keep your dick inside your trousers. And, if you step out of line once more. I will personally see to it, that you’re dispatched to hell, with as much pain as I can possibly inflict on a living person. Do I make myself clear?”

  Pierre glowered at the big German, thought about retaliating, but ended up simply nodding his head. “So what are we to do now?” He said grimacing at the searing pain in his left shoulder.

  “The old fool intends to let the Englishman get on with it and do all the work. We’re to wait for further instructions, but it looks like he wants them back on dry land, before we make a move.”

  “What? Does he expect us to do this alone?”

  “Don’t be a stupid bastard. Mazzarin and Zola will come ashore to help us. In the meantime, we’re going to find a chemist, and get you sorted out with painkillers, antiseptic, and something to cover up those wounds.”

  * * * Laying in his hospital bed, and still in a coma; Nathan Cunningham looked very pale, made no movement, even as the doctor examined him. The young nurse who was stood next to him said, “What do you think, Doctor?”

  He gently lifted Nathan’s left eyelid, and shone a bright light into the retina. “I really can’t say, Nurse. There are signs of him making a recovery. His brain scan shows no abnormalities, and all of his vital signs are stable. So it’s still a waiting game, I’m afraid. But, the brain will tell him when it’s ready to wake up. Oh, by the way, any idea when his daughter is returning to London?”

  “I believe it’s either later today, or tomorrow.” “Good. Well let me know when she turns up, and I’ll call back in to give her an update.”

  The doctor went out and the nurse put a chair by the bed, sat down, and held Nathan’s hand. “You’re doing well, Commander. We just need you to wake up now,” she said softly, stroking the back of his hand. After a minute, she got up and left Nathan to sleep in peace.