* * *
It was just after nine-thirty, when Chapman killed the power to the two inboard diesels. The bow of the power boat relaxed, causing a wake as it settled back into the water. And a moment later, he was dropping the anchor line, just fifty metres off shore.
Rising up out of the ocean the cliffs of jagged granite, that form part of the Devil’s Hole, loomed up high behind them. A foreboding backdrop, with each wave rolling in against the black wall of stone, crashing to it’s journey’s end, only to be replaced by another.
“We’ll stay out here in the deeper water,” Chapman said, and catching the look that Dillon was giving him, quickly added, “There’s less chance of us drifting onto those rocks that are hidden just below the surface over there.” And he pointed towards the shore.
Dillon went below to the day cabin, and found LJ and Vince tucking into a plate full of toast, smothered with thick Jersey butter and strawberry jam. As he came through the hatch, they both looked up, and on seeing that it was him, carried on eating. A moment later, Chapman came down to join them.
“Um, that smells good,” he commented, pouring himself a large mug full of coffee. “I think now is a good time to talk about how we’re going to do this dive, Jake.” Chapman said matter of factly.
“What have you got in mind?” Dillon replied. “Well, this is about a sixty foot dive, so there’ll be no decompression stops, which means we’ll be good for fortyfive minutes.”
“And what about the depth inside the cavern?” Dillon asked.
“More than likely the same, but you never know, it could be that we descend further as we go through the tunnel. If that’s the case, then it’ll reduce our time down there.”
“Will that be a problem, Rob?” LJ asked.
“Only if we can’t pinpoint what it is we’re looking for. Or, we have to make a second dive.”
“So what’s the problem with a second dive?” LJ asked.
“Pressure. The deeper you dive, the more nitrogen the body absorbs. If you’re down too long or you come up to quickly, it’s likely to form bubbles in your blood vessels and tissues. A bit like shaking a bottle of Champagne, lots of bubbles, with the end result being the bends, or decompression sickness.” Chapman explained.
“So what can you do to avoid this?”
“Well, we can limit our time down. Best not to speculate though, we’ll see when we’re down there. After all, Nathan did this dive on his own, and without any knowledge of what he might encounter.”
Dillon lit a cigarette, and walked out onto the rear deck. A moment later, LJ joined him.
“So, what’s going to happen next, Jake?” LJ asked, keeping his voice light.
“Next? What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve got no doubts whatsoever, old son. That you and Chapman will reach the U-boat, but you’ve not once mentioned, since embarking upon this assignment, what you propose to do once you’ve located it.”
“As Chapman said, best not to speculate. And anyway, once we’re down there we’ll see soon enough, what we’re up against.”
“I suppose so. But, I am right in thinking, am I not, that Sir Lucius does want you to report to him before anyone else once you’ve located the Spear of Destiny, doesn’t he?” The former MI5 spy held Dillon’s gaze over the top of his round, gold wired framed spectacles. Like a headmaster, who’s just caught a schoolboy smoking behind the bike shed.
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dillon replied, casually.
“Well, let me put it another way. I’ve known Sir Lucius a very long time, Jake. He’s a complex and clever man, as many men like him are. But one thing’s certain, he wouldn’t have got the firm involved with this venture, let alone fund it, unless there was something in it for him personally.”
“What are you implying?”
“I’m implying nothing, old son. What I’m saying is that the old fox is up to something, and I want to know what it is. If it’s not the spear, then it’ll be the gold bullion.”
“Well, I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree. Because he’s not confided in me.” Dillon said, and walked back inside to join Vince and Chapman.
“Jake, I figure that if we go in on the port side, and head for that group of rocks over there.” Chapman pointed a finger, just to the right of the Devil’s Hole, “We’ll then be able work our way along the cliff face, using the current to carry us along. Hopefully, it shouldn’t take us long to locate the tunnel that way. I’ll let you take care of the Semtex, just in case we have to open up the entrance.” Chapman grinned.
“I’ve already sorted it. How long before we dive?” Dillon asked.
“As soon as we’re suited and booted.” Chapman said, as he walked off out to the dive platform, and started to change into his dive suit.
* * * In London it was just after nine-thirty, Oliver Asquith had just finished breakfast, when his mobile phone rang. He looked at the number flashing on the screen, and then answered the call.
“Asquith.”
“Oliver, it’s Simon Digby.”
“Bit early for you, isn’t it?” Asquith said sarcastically. “Wit, at this time of the day, Oliver? I’ve some very
disturbing news to tell you.”
“Oh, and what would that be?”
“Do your remember that I mentioned a young
graduate by the name of Guy Roberts?”
“No. Why should I?”
“Well, he’s been with MI5 for about two years, and on secondment to Ferran & Cardini, for the last six months.”
“Look, Simon. What’s this all about?” “It’s about Guy Roberts, Oliver. He’s been murdered in broad daylight. That’s what.”
Asquith, almost choked on his coffee, and immediately replaced the china cup back onto its saucer, before he dropped it.
“Guy Roberts, yes I remember him; he’s been acting as Levenson-Jones’ personal assistant, hasn’t he?” He managed to say.
“Shot at point blank, early last evening as he left the Ferran & Cardini building in Docklands. There’s no doubt, that it was a contract killing. The whole thing was captured on one of the CCTV cameras. The killer even had the cold blooded audacity to glance up at the camera, and smile into the lens, before casually walking up the street and driving away in a stolen car. Which, I’ve been informed, the police found abandoned near to the train station, later that evening. Inside they discovered a wig, and articles of clothing, which they say were the same as those worn at the scene.”
“I see,” Asquith said thoughtfully. “Any ideas as to why he would have been killed?”
“No, it’s all a bit weird really. He’d not been in the job long enough to make any enemies. But, there’ll be a full MI5 investigation into the murder. Special Branch are sending over one of their top people to assist us with the process.”
“So, you’re conducting your own investigation?”
“Oh yes, you know what we’re like when one of our own gets hit. And, I’m confident that we’ll find out who is responsible. Are you free for lunch? I’ve something I need to discuss with you about your forthcoming trip to Jordan.”
“Yes, but it will have to be at the museum. I’ve got a meeting with a delegation from the Egyptian National Museum, later this morning. And then I’m giving a seminar this afternoon to a bunch of unruly undergraduates.”
“The museum is fine, I’ll see you around one-fifteen.”
Shaking with fear, Asquith dropped the phone back down onto its cradle. He looked at his watch. He’d been talking to Digby for just over five minutes, and was now so frightened by the implications of what he’d been told. That in his panic, his first instinct was to immediately pick the phone up again, and contact Hugo Malakoff on board his luxury yacht the Solitaire.
His intention was to warn Malakoff, that Simon Digby was going to throw everything he could, at finding the killer of Guy Roberts. But, he was told that the Frenchman was not available, and to phone back later in the day. Afte
r taking a few minutes to calm down, and to compose himself, he left his London home and walked the short distance to the British Museum.
* * * High overhead, a blazing sun beat down from a cloudless blue sky. And on board the power cruiser, Dillon and Chapman were checking over their equipment one more time.
“We’ll head straight for the rocks,” Chapman said, pointing towards the cliffs, “and then move along the cliff face until we find the tunnel entrance. But, I want you to stick close to me. The current’s running between ten and fifteen knots today, and believe me, you’ll know about it when we get down there.”
Dillon sat on the dive platform with his feet dangling in the water, pulled on his buoyancy jacket, and made sure that his dive computer was switched on. There was a heavy swell, making the boat pull against the anchor line, and rhythmically roll and pitch with every wave.
Chapman came to the dive platform, and sat down next to Dillon, who had pulled on his fins, and was rinsing out his dive mask.
“This is going to be some roller coaster ride, you know that, don’t you?”
“I’ve dived in worse waters than these, and have lived to tell the tale. So, don’t you going worrying about me, Rob. I can look after myself.”
At that moment, LJ shouted down from the flying bridge, “Are you chaps ready to go yet?”
“Any minute now.” Dillon shouted back.
Chapman zipped up his buoyancy jacket, and stood up. “We’ll stay at ten metres for this part of the dive, which will gain us more time later.” He pulled on his mask, and waited for the swell to rise high, took one step forward and was instantly gone in a rush of bubbles. The water was so clear that Dillon could easily mark his progress, as he swam to the anchor line, and a moment later followed him.
LJ was on the flying bridge, peering through high powered binoculars, for anything untoward on the cliff tops and out to sea. Vince was standing beside him, his eyes riveted to the small computer monitor that was hooked up to the power cruiser’s satellite navigation system. Dillon and Chapman were both wearing tracking devices, and it was these, that were making the tiny blips on the screen.
“Is that them?” LJ said pointing to the two small dots blinking on the screen.
“Yes, the one in front is Chapman. The other Dillon, his blinks at a faster rate, so that we can tell who’s who.”
“Um, very appropriate.” LJ said, as he resumed his watching. After five minutes, both Dillon and Chapman surfaced, swam around to the dive platform, slipped off their buoyancy jackets complete with air tanks, and climbed aboard.
“Unbelievably clear water,” Dillon said. “We’ve located the tunnel entrance, and no wonder that it’s never been discovered before now. It’s a maelstrom down there, like another world. What with the force of the current, fissures, and large lumps of granite everywhere. And, it’s as we thought it might be, the entrance has been partially blocked by what looks like a recent landslide.”
“So what’s your next move?” LJ asked.
“We’re going to blow a way in, using the Semtex at various points around the entrance, with a five minute delay chemical detonator fuse.” Dillon replied, and then added, “As long as we can dislodge some of those rocks down there. It should give us an opening that’s large enough to swim through with our air bottles on our backs.”
“Are you sure?” LJ said.
“Quite sure. And, as you’re fully aware, I’ve done this many times before.” Dillon said firmly.
“Have you got everything you need, Jake?”
“Everything that I’m going to need, is in my dive bag, Rob.”
“Okay, let’s get back down there then.”
Dillon was already being helped back into his buoyancy jacket by Vince. Chapman handed him an underwater spot light and kept one for himself.
“I’ll see you at the anchor line, and remember, Rob. Once I’ve set that fuse, we’ll need to surface at once.”
Chapman nodded, and then followed Dillon a moment later by waiting until the swell lifted, and then stepped off the platform.
* * * It was astonishingly clear and very blue near to the surface. Dillon could see with ease Chapman descending to the seabed. As he approached the anchor line, a number of trigger fish moved past him and when he looked up there was a large shoal of small silvery bib fish overhead.
The current was strong, so fierce that as Dillon made his way down to the seabed, he was constantly being buffeted sideways. Near the bottom, he paused for a brief moment, and was instantly aware that he was drifting away from Chapman. Dillon swam against the current to where Chapman was checking his dive computer. Noting that they were at fifty feet, Chapman gestured for Dillon to follow him down into the great scar of the channel, where the seabed was smooth with white sand. He led the way towards the black granite rock face, and the tunnel entrance.
Dillon opened his dive bag, took out the Semtex and handed the net containing the chemical detonators to Chapman. They worked methodically, Dillon carefully pressing the plastic explosive in place at strategic points against the surface of the large fallen pieces of granite. When he was satisfied that he’d used enough, Chapman handed him the chemical detonating pencils. Dillon took out four and gave the net back to Chapman, and then broke the first one, pushing it into the Semtex. A second later, a small spiral of bubbles started to rise, and Dillon quickly broke the other three pencils, pushed them home, and gave Chapman a thumbs up sign to indicate that he’d finished.
Dillon glanced at his dive computer. Four and a half minutes, he gestured to Chapman to surface and then swam up, and out of the channel, he went straight to the anchor and slowly started up the line, holding on with one hand, Chapman just behind him. At ten feet they left the line, and moved under the hull to the rear of the power cruiser. Dillon broke through to the surface; and immediately checked his dive computer again. Two minutes and twenty seconds. He threw his fins onto the deck, slipped out of his buoyancy jacket and air tanks, and handed them up to Vince. Chapman did the same, and then both men climbed up on to the rear dive platform.
“What are you doing back up here. Haven’t you broken through yet?” LJ demanded, from his vantage point on the flying bridge.
Dillon looked at Chapman, and raised his eyebrows. “His impatience is legendary, you know. And, I might add, running true to form.” Dillon said, glancing down at the Omega Sea Master on his wrist, and then looking up at LJ, shouted, “You’d better hold on up there.”
“What’s that you say?” LJ called back. But, before Dillon had a chance to speak. The four charges at the tunnel entrance went off one after the other, the explosions sending shock waves rippling up through the water. The power cruiser pitched and rolled as the surface of the sea lifted, spray scattering, foam appeared, moved outwards in concentric circles over the increased swell. They stood at the rail watching until the activity dwindled.
Dillon lit a cigarette, with the gold lighter that Tatiana had given him for his last birthday.
“Malakoff, you can go to hell, wherever you are.”
“I’ll second that, Jake. But, he’s conspicuous by his absence, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yeah, and a very good reason for us to watch our backs.” Dillon replied, and then added, “That’s it then. Let’s get moving.”
As they were getting their diving gear on again. Chapman said, “What happens now? I mean when we’ve got through the tunnel?”
“If luck is on our side, and Nathan Cunningham is right. We’ll surface inside the cavern, and then be able to go straight to the U-boat. If that is the case, then there’s no problem. The conning tower should be out of the water, and our way in fairly easy.” Dillon zipped up his buoyancy jacket, and adjusted his weight belt.
“Nathan reported that the sub was completely flooded. So, hopefully there shouldn’t be any silt build up, and the water should be relatively clear in there.” Chapman said, as he pulled on his fins.
Dillon stood at the edge of the dive platform. “If at a
ny time you think it’s too dangerous to proceed, for whatever reason. Just signal me, and I’ll follow you back.”
Chapman was standing with his back to the water, made the signal for, okay, by pinching his thumb and forefinger together, and the next moment dropped backwards into the water. Dillon followed him down to the seabed, and as he approached the rock face, was instantly aware of motion in the water, of the ice cold outflow, that hadn’t been there before. Chapman hovered just to the right of the newly created tunnel entrance, and when Dillon joined him, he could actually feel the current pushing past him. Chapman looked at Dillon, and shook his head. He pointed up, and Dillon couldn’t accept that.
He turned to go into the tunnel, was aware of Chapman’s restraining hand on his arm, briefly looked round, and then managed to pull free and powered himself through the small opening. Once inside, a cloak of darkness wrapped itself around him in a claustrophobic embrace. Dillon instinctively drew back against the smooth curved granite stone, allowing the icy water to wash over him for a few seconds. He switched on his lamp, and shone the powerful beam around the interior of the tunnel. As he swept the powerful light back and forth, it cast long shadows over the black rock.
Dillon was staggered by the size of the tunnel. It was just as Nathan had described it. At least thirty feet in diameter, and as straight as an arrow, for as far as the torch beam shone, and then into the darkness beyond. He was about to go on, when Chapman appeared at his side with two spare air tanks and a nylon guide line. He gave the okay sign, and then tied one end of the line to one of the air tanks, and the other to his weight belt. Wedged the air tank between two large cobbles, and placed the other one on top. When he’d finished, he tapped Dillon on the forearm, and gave the signal to move off. Into the tunnel.
After two minutes, Dillon stopped and checked his dive computer, they were still at a depth of fifty-five feet, and had twenty minutes of air left. If Nathan Cunningham was right, then they’d have another two and a half minutes before reaching the other end of the tunnel. Glancing up, he could just make out Chapman’s torch beam up ahead, as he swam on into the darkness.
Dead Men Don't Bite (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) Page 35
