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

by Andrew Towning

  He stood for a moment, while his eyes adjusted to the poor light inside the room. There were a few wooden tea chests at one end, and a doorway at the other. He moved with deliberate care around the edge of the attic, knowing that just one creak from an uneven or loose floorboard would bring Dillon and the others running up to greet him. He tried the handle, it opened to his touch, the door moving with remarkable ease and quietness. On the other side, there was a small square galleried landing area, he moved to the edge of the staircase, and craned his head over the banister in search of anyone below. The Magnum .45 was already in his right hand as he descended the stairs, and as he neared the bottom, he became aware of the sound of running water coming from the shower room. He froze, stooped down and glanced around the spacious hallway below. Vince came out of one of the bedrooms carrying a heavy looking case, went outside and loaded it into the Range Rover, came back inside and took out two more bulky looking boxes. A moment later he got into the 4x4 vehicle and drove off.

  Mazzarin waited a second, and when he was satisfied that there was no one else moving around, he went straight to the kitchen door and opened it.

  Kurt moved inside, and took the Magnum from him, “Where are they?” Kurt whispered.

  “Dillon is in the shower, Levenson-Jones appears to be taking a nap in the living room, and the other one has just driven off with some boxes. But, I can’t see the silver chest though.” Mazzarin spoke just above a whisper.

  Kurt brushed him aside, and moved quickly to the doorway that led back through to the hall. Directly opposite him, was the living room, the door ajar about six inches. His footsteps fell silently on the thick carpet, and the next instant he was standing to one side of the doorway, peering around the frame, could clearly see that LJ was asleep and snoring loudly on the sofa, the chest in the centre of the coffee table that was directly in front of him.

  Mazzarin joined the big German, who ordered him to keep watch, while he entered the living room. In one perfectly executed movement, he moved to the silver chest, picked it up, and was about to motion Mazzarin to follow him through the French doors, when LJ stirred and became instantly awake, aware that they were in the room.

  He immediately stood up, the dismay on his face was instant. Seeing Kurt with the silver chest under his arm, he didn’t waste time making a futile plea for him to put it back. Instead he simply flung himself at the big German. Kurt, pistol whipped him across the side of his face, with the butt of the Magnum, and when LJ fell to his knees, viciously kicked him towards the fire place.

  “You should have stayed asleep, old man.” He sneered, and then said to Mazzarin. “Come on, we’ve got what we came for. Let’s get out of this place before Dillon comes running.” They hurried out through the French doors, and in to the garden. A moment later, they’d disappeared through the back gate and down the steps to the beach below.

  LJ managed to get to his feet, the throbbing pain in his head and ribs that felt as if they were on fire, almost made him pass out with every step he took. He staggered across the room, still a little dizzy, went through the French doors and outside onto the lawn, just in time to see Kurt and Mazzarin going through the back gate and then the next instant disappear down the steps. By the time he’d got to the cliff’s edge, they were already down on the beach, pushing the inflatable out into the water. Kurt started the outboard, the propeller bit, and he spun the craft around, moving quickly out into open water. It was only then that LJ, looking across to Gifford Bay, realised that the Solitaire was no longer at anchor there.

  He had never felt so out of control in his entire life, never so full of hatred and rage. He walked back into the Fisherman’s Lodge, went to the bathroom, got a hand towel and dampened it with cold water. As he was pressing it against his cheek, Dillon walked by, a large white towel wrapped around him. He had another in his hands, rubbing his hair dry.

  “My God, what’s happened to you?” Dillon demanded.

  “The big German, and one of his sidekicks. That’s what’s happened. You were in the shower, and I’m afraid to say it, but I fell asleep in the living room. I woke up, just as they were sloping out through the French doors. Tried to stop them, and got this for my trouble. I’m afraid they’ve taken the chest. Contents and all.”

  “Why didn’t you shout for me?”

  “No time, old son. They were here one minute, and gone the next.” He patted his cheekbone, blood had turned the white hand towel pink, and he held it under the cold water again, wrung it out and then pressed it back against his injured face.

  Dillon went into the living room, picked up the pair of binoculars off the table on his way out to the garden, and standing at the cliff’s edge focused them on the fast moving inflatable. He could see the craft cutting a near perfect wake on it’s way out to open water in a south-easterly direction.

  Before rounding the headland at Gifford bay, a curious thing took place. Kurt killed the power to the outboard, allowing the inflatable to drift with the swell. He then went and stood in the stern of the craft, picked up the silver chest and held it high above his head triumphantly. Dillon stood watching through the binoculars as the big German laughed and antagonised him from afar. A moment later the inflatable had disappeared completely from sight.

  Dillon stood at the cliff’s edge, brooding, furious at having been got the better of by a hired thug. LJ came and stood beside him.

  “Rest assured, we’ll get that chest and its contents back. And, that particular gentleman will get what’s coming to him.”

  “Oh, he’ll get what’s due, alright. I hope he’s prepared to meet his Maker.” Dillon looked amazed at LJ’s obvious anger. The Director of Special Projects stood looking out to sea, puffing on a cigar, and smiling wryly. “But, more to the point, it’s whether his Maker is prepared for the ordeal of meeting him, now that’s an altogether different matter.”

  When Vince arrived back, Dillon and LJ were in the living room, both had a large tumbler of whisky in their hand.

  “Bloody hell, Boss. What happened to you?”

  “The big German, that’s what happened.” LJ said, and pressed the towel against his cheek again.

  “Where were you, Vince?” Dillon demanded.

  “I’ve been over at Rob Chapmans, he’d left some of his diving equipment in the back of the car. Struth mate, I’ve only been gone five minutes.”

  “Well, they must have watched you leave, knew that I was in the shower, which only left LJ’s whereabouts to worry about.” Dillon said, taking a gulp of the single malt whisky, and then added, “I’d say that they were already here, waiting for us to arrive back.”

  “I agree, old son. They had the inflatable on the beach, and most likely were up here watching us come back into harbour. Malakoff is no fool, which begs the question, where is he now?”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say he’s not that far away, Boss. After all, he’ll want to get his hands on that chest sooner rather than later. Wouldn’t you agree, Jake?” Vince said.

  Dillon scowled, “Malakoff, has been pulling our strings ever since we arrived on this island. And now, the cheeky bastard has got what he came for without even getting wet.” Dillon walked off into his bedroom and got dressed. Five minutes later he reappeared in the hallway with a large heavy holdall in each hand, one with his clothing in, and the other containing the weapons.

  “I’ve just phoned Rob Chapman and asked him to meet us down at Annabelle’s Café in ten minutes for a farewell drink.” Dillon said, dropping the canvas bags onto the carpet. “I think we should tell him what’s happened, and try to come up with a plan to get that chest back.”

  “I totally agree, old son. Rob should be told. After all, he’s got as much of a grudge against Malakoff as any of us have. Now, if we’re all set, I think we should get going right away. A good stiff drink at the bar, is just what the doctor ordered.”

  The three men were sitting at a table in the corner of the café. LJ was enjoying a cigar and large whisky, while Di
llon had wanted to keep a clear head, and had contented himself with a mineral water. Vince was sipping from a white china mug, filled with hot chocolate and topped with thick Jersey cream.

  Chapman came across the bay in his inflatable, beached it on the sand, and came up the steps and in through the double doors quickly. On seeing the three of them across the busy room, he acknowledged them with a slight nod. As he passed the bar he ordered a cold beer from the Portuguese bartender, and a moment later was sitting opposite Dillon.

  “LJ, what the hell’s happened to you?” Chapman asked, and took a gulp of cold beer.

  “The big German and one of his sidekicks, old son. Dillon was in the shower, Vince was over at your place, and I’d fallen asleep on the sofa. God knows how they got in, because all of the doors were locked. But they did, and were about to make off with the chest, when I woke up, and caught them red-handed. Didn’t do me much good, though. Had a go at him, but the big bastard clouted me across the side of the face with the butt of a Magnum. Bloody great thing it was too.” LJ winced as he lightly touched the swollen cheek with the tips of his fingers.

  “Which direction were they heading?”

  “I stood and watched their inflatable head off around the headland just past your place towards the south.” Dillon said, his voice sounded weary.

  “Okay, now let me see. Who could tell us where it was heading?” Chapman flipped open his mobile phone, and dialled a number. “Jamie, it’s Rob Chapman. Yeah, I’m fine thanks. Look, I need some information on the whereabouts of a luxury power cruiser named the Solitaire. Yeah that’s the one, owned by Hugo Malakoff.” Chapman waited a minute or so, said thank you, and then hung up.

  “Malakoff has been spotted about half a mile off of St. Ouen’s bay, that’s on the south side of the island. My friend Jamie works at the coastguard station at Corbiere point. The Captain on board the Solitaire has already contacted the marina at St. Helier, to inform them that they’re on their way.”

  Dillon’s expression changed from one of gloom to that of someone who had just been told he’s won the lottery. “Excellent, now then you bastard, you’re going to get what’s coming to you.”

  “What have you got in mind, Jake?” LJ demanded.

  “The Solitaire will be at her pontoon mooring on the seaward side of the marina tonight, and if you remember, the head waiter at the Pomme D’Or, told us that Malakoff nearly always remains on board when he’s there. So it’s very simple. We’ll wait for it to get dark, and then go aboard. I reckon that Malakoff will keep the chest close by him, so it’ll make locating it that much easier, but far more dangerous to retrieve.”

  “But surely, he’ll have guards posted along the pontoon and on deck.” LJ said.

  “That’s where Rob comes in.” Dillon looked over the table at the archaeologist, and added, “That’s if you want to be involved of course.”

  “Just you try and stop me.” Chapman replied.

  “Good, I thought you might say that. Rob and I will take the power cruiser down to St. Helier. The boat’s hire company has a mooring on the other side of the marina. So we’ll take it straight there, and then make our way to the Solitaire in the dinghy. Getting on board from the water, will give us a better chance of taking them by surprise.”

  “You don’t like losing, do you Jake?” Chapman said.

  “No, I don’t.” Dillon said matter of factly.

  “What about Vince and I, Jake?” LJ cut in.

  “Vince, I want you to use whatever it takes, to knock out the power to the Solitaire, and make sure that their surveillance and security systems are disabled, or at the very least interrupted long enough for us to get in.”

  “Think of it as already done. The main power is easy, marinas have power cuts all the time. But, a boat of that size will almost certainly have a back-up generator on board, which will cut in within seconds, mate. And, it will also make the security system a lot harder to crack.” Vince said, and scratched an imaginary itch on his chin.

  “Why’s that?” Dillon demanded.

  “Well, the problem is actually getting access into their on-board computer. If I’m really lucky, then I’ll be able to hack into it within minutes, and then tweak around with it a little without them noticing that anything’s happening. But, the real problem is that I have to break in, at exactly the same time as the main power source is cut. Otherwise, their screens will light up like a bloody Christmas tree.”

  “Well I have every faith in your ability, and the fact that you have the full assistance of the boss here.” Dillon smiled.

  “And, as you’ll both be positioned in the Range Rover. Please stay alert. After we’ve stirred up the hornet’s nest a little, we’re going to need a quick get away. Oh, and LJ, you’d better put Phil Allerton on standby.”

  “I’ll make the call on the drive down to St. Helier.”

  “Well, I’ll say this for you, Jake. You’re not a quitter, are you?” Chapman said.

  “To be honest, I’ve never seen any point to it.” Dillon said amiably. Drank down the last of his mineral water, and raised his glass to the others.

  Chapter Fifteen

  By nine o’clock in the evening, the sun was well down. To the west the skyline was an intense candy mixture of mauve and pink, and the sun hitting the upper decks of the Solitaire, made the white painted vessel as dramatic as the sky itself.

  The last rays of the sun did a spray job on the side of LJ’s angular face, as he leaned against the Range Rover smoking a cigar. Vince had parked the luxury 4x4 behind a long boat shed on the far side of the marina, out of sight of the Solitaire, but deliberately close to the main electricity junction box, that supplied all of the moorings. After five minutes of waiting, LJ walked across to the dockside, and stood staring out across the harbour.

  “I think that’s them now,” he said, pointing at the sleek outline of the power cruiser coming in the harbour.

  Rob Chapman was at the helm, Dillon standing on the stern deck. They crept slowly up through the main channel, and then veered off to the right into the marina. Once inside, they headed straight towards the boat hire company’s private berth. Chapman cut the power, and Dillon immediately secured the forward and aft lines, and then unloaded his holdalls onto the pontoon. There were still a few people about, some coming or going to their boats, others dining on board, the sound of their laughter drifted across the marina on the still evening air.

  Dillon opened up the tailgate of the Range Rover, and put the holdall containing his clothing into the boot. The other holdall with the weapons in, he kept close by.

  “Any encounters on the way down?” LJ asked.

  “No, nothing at all.” It was Chapman who answered.

  “Malakoff’s most likely still gloating over his spoils, to bother sending out a welcoming committee.” Dillon said bluntly.

  LJ puffed on his cigar, “Well, from what I’ve learnt so far about Malakoff. I’d say that he’s going to be on high alert tonight, and ready to repel all boarders, old son. And with that in mind, do you really think that this maverick plan of yours will work?”

  “I’ve no idea. But one thing’s for certain.”

  “What’s that, old son?”

  “Success is a science: if you have the conditions, you get the result.” Dillon said, raising an eyebrow. “But if you’re in any doubt about it, you can always go to the aero club and wait for us there, I’m sure that Rob and Vince would understand.”

  “I’ll overlook that last comment, just the once old son. At a time like this, it becomes more than a moral duty to speak one’s mind. It becomes imperative, especially as one only dies once, and it’s for a very long time!” LJ said dryly.

  Dillon laughed. “Cheer up, LJ. I’ve no intention of dying here, it’s far too safe. And anyway, I’ve got a very important dinner date with Tatiana to look forward to when we return to London.” He got up, and with the heavy holdall in his hand, walked across the tarmac to the power cruiser, jumped on board, and i
mmediately went to the stern winch and lowered the inflatable dinghy into the water. After securing the line to the rail, he went inside, reappearing a moment later with a glass of Champagne in his hand. “Right then, we’re all set and ready to go. We’ll wait here for a few more hours, and then when it’s nice and quiet, we’ll let the party commence. Anyone else for a glass of bubbly?”

  They were all sitting in the main day cabin, talking over Dillon’s plan, when his mobile phone started to ring. It was Annabelle Cunningham; Dillon answered the call using the phone’s hands free speaker. “Annabelle, it’s Jake. Are you alright?”

  LJ, Chapman and Vince all turned their heads towards Dillon as Annabelle spoke.

  “I’m fine thanks, Jake. But, you sound as if you’re at the bottom of a well.”

  “We’re on hands free, so that the others can hear you.” LJ, Vince and Chapman all said hello in unison.

  “It’s great to hear you all. Look, I’m sorry to have left in such a hurry this morning, my little run in with Malakoff’s two thugs did shake me up a bit, I must admit. But, I think I got the better of them.” Annabelle laughed.

  “Anyway, enough of that, how are things going down there? Did you get to the submarine? And did you find the spear?”

  “Well, we found both with relative ease, but had problems when we returned to Bonne Nuit.”

  “And?”

  “To cut a long story short. Malakoff now has the chest containing the spear, and everything else that was inside it, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh no, that’s just terrible.” Annabelle paused, and then said, “Well, I’m sure he won’t have it for much longer. Not if I know you, Jake Dillon.”

  “Thank you for your vote of confidence, Annabelle.” Dillon looked directly at his boss, as he spoke. “I’ll get the chest and its contents back, have no doubt about that. And when Nathan is conscious again, I hope to be standing next to his bed with it in my hand,” Dillon said confidently.