Dillon went through the hatch and out onto the portside gangway. By now, Captain Armand had armed himself with an AK47, and had come down from the bridge.
He was making his way along the gangway from the forward section, the only sounds that could be heard were his own footsteps on the teak decking. He saw a figure move out of the shadows up ahead of him towards the stern.
“Who is that?” Armand demanded.
“Armand, Stop him. It’s Dillon, he’s got the chest.” Malakoff shouted.
Dillon didn’t hesitate, but kept to the shadows, running as fast as he could, and then jumping over the upper rail into the harbour below. He dived down, swimming a little awkwardly with the silver chest under his arm, went under the hull towards the dive ladder. Surfaced, and was immediately aware of two things, Kurt’s body floating just below the surface like a jellyfish, and Armand standing on the upper sun deck. The captain spotted him at once, and started firing the AK47 on automatic at the water around him. He unhooked his buoyancy jacket from the ladder and let himself sink down to the seabed. He slipped back into it, put on his fins and dive mask, clearing the mask with a quick release of air from the regulator. He placed the chest into the dive bag, all the time aware that Armand was firing at him from above, and he moved away from the illuminated water around the Solitaire towards the safety of darkness as fast as possible. After a minute he surfaced, Chapman was already on the lookout, he spotted him through the night vision goggles, and roared out of the darkness towards him.
Armand instantly heard the outboard engine, but couldn’t see where it was coming from, could only guess the general direction of it. He’d put another full clip into the AK47, was about to start shooting blindly again, when Malakoff appeared outside on the gangway.
“Stop. You idiot, do you want to bring every armed policeman in Jersey to the waterfront?” Malakoff stormed up to the captain, and wrenched the Russian rifle out of his hands. He paced up and down the gangway, furious at having been outwitted by Dillon.
“What are your orders, Monsieur?”
“They’re all dead, Armand. Every last one of them.” Malakoff said, looking out across the harbour. He then instructed the captain to check for any damage and make ready to sail, and then stormed off up to the bridge, leaving Armand standing in the gangway alone.
Chapman circled around Dillon once in the inflatable, and then killed the outboard. The small craft slowed enough to allow the Englishman to grab hold of the line, and reel himself in to the side. He immediately handed Chapman the dive net, before slipping out of the buoyancy jacket, and taking off his fins. Once these were on board, he hauled himself into the inflatable.
Dillon looked back at Malakoff’s luxury power cruiser, and the flashing lights of the security patrol vehicle heading towards its berth. “I think it’s time to get the hell out of here,” he said, looking at the Omega Sea Master on his wrist.
Chapman started the outboard, pushed the throttle as far forward as it would go, and the next moment they were speeding away from the Solitaire, into the darkness of the harbour.
* * * Armand said, “Kurt’s body was in the water just off the stern platform. He’d drowned. I’ve retrieved it, and placed it out of sight in the rear cargo hold. I found Mazzarin with a broken neck, and Pierre was killed by a single 9mm shot between the eyes. Both bodies had been concealed behind a stowage locker. Zola is no where to be found.”
“Never mind all that,” Malakoff told him. “Dillon and Chapman are most definitely not going all the way back to Bonne Nuit in that inflatable. Which means that Dillon’s friends, Levenson-Jones and that computer man, are most likely somewhere close by in their Range Rover.”
“I would agree, Monsieur,” Armand said. “Turn on the radar, Armand. If my intuition is correct, they will head straight for the airport, once they’re ashore.”
Armand pressed the buttons, and a second later the radar screen lit up. He was sitting in front of it, looking for anything travelling at high speed across the harbour. Through the panoramic windscreen, Malakoff could see the security company’s patrol vehicle, coming towards them along the pontoon. As they pulled up alongside the power cruiser, Malakoff went and spoke to them. Returning to the bridge two minutes later.
“Any problems, Monsieur?”
“No, Armand. They were just responding to an anonymous telephone call. Apparently there’s been a report of automatic gun fire coming from the Solitaire.” Malakoff raised his right eyebrow, at the thought of Levenson-Jones making the call. “I simply told them, that it was a mistake. That it was most likely, the sound of one of our engines back firing. And as we were sailing on the early tide, our chief engineer was working through the night in an attempt to repair it. As luck would have it, they were not the brightest of individuals, and believed every word.”
“Monsieur, that blip. It’s almost certainly Dillon and Chapman.” Armand, was pointing to a tiny dot rapidly moving across the screen towards the inner marina on the other side of the harbour.”
“Are you positive?”
“At this time of night. Yes, I’m positive, Monsieur.” Five minutes later, the blip reappeared, but this time it was heading away from the docks at high speed.
“They’re leaving, Monsieur. That’s the Range Rover on its way to the airport.”
“Then we’ll wait and see where they go. LevensonJones will want to get to the airport to rendezvous with his helicopter pilot as quickly as he can. And, if that is the case, then we’ll track them from the bridge using our own radar. One of our helicopters is already on its way to Jersey, and will be here within ten to fifteen minutes.”
“And then what, Monsieur?”
“We go hunting, Armand.”
“With what, Monsieur?”
“Air to air missiles on the helicopter, and ground to air missiles on board the Solitaire. Never under estimate me, Captain. I’m not beaten yet, and I don’t intend to be, ever.”
“Of course, Monsieur. I never meant to...”
“Never mind, Armand. We can’t afford to waste any more time here in St. Helier, we’ll sail back to the north of the island and position the Solitaire in readiness.” Malakoff went silent, deep within his own thoughts and scheming, and then suddenly said, “Let’s get moving, you get the forward line and I’ll release the aft.”
They went down the ladder from the bridge. Armand hurried to the prow, and untied the forward line. Malakoff did the same in the stern. Once they were back on the bridge, Armand started the large inboard Volvo Penta diesel engines, and turned off all exterior and underwater lights, except for the navigation lights. He checked that all of the computer management systems were functioning correctly, and then used the side thrusters to move the luxury craft away from the pontoon and out into the main channel of the marina.
“Don’t worry, Monsieur,” Armand told him from his command chair. “We’ll be around this island in no time. There’s no way that they’ll get out of Jersey airspace alive.” And he turned back to navigate the sixty-five foot boat through the harbour, and out into open water.
* * * Chapman killed the power to the outboard, and spun the wheel hard around, allowing the inflatable to gently bump alongside the power cruiser. LJ leaned anxiously over the side rail and grabbed the line that Dillon was handing up to him.
“What happened over there. Did you get the chest?” He demanded.
Dillon passed the solid silver chest up to him. “Nothing happened, that you’d want to know about. And yes, everything is inside the chest. Now I think we should get the hell off this island as quickly as possible.”
LJ glanced down at his watch, “Phil Allerton should have landed twenty minutes ago. I reckon, that by the time we get to the airport, he should have refuelled the Bell, and be ready to take off again.”
Dillon stepped up on to the dive platform, took the inflatable’s line from LJ, and tied it securely to the stern rail. Then went off to get changed into dry clothes, reappearing from the main cabin a fe
w minutes later and was immediately aware that LJ and Chapman were stood on the upper deck looking across the marina. In the distance, a large luxury power cruiser was making its way out through the main channel of the harbour and into open water.
“Well, what’s Malakoff up to now, I wonder?” LJ said, peering through a night scope at the Solitaire.
“If he has any sense, he’ll be heading back to France.” Chapman commented.
Vince was still sitting in front of his laptop in the main cabin, still connected to the harbour master’s main terminal. “You’d better come and take a look at this.” He called to the others.
“What is it, Vince?” LJ asked.
“I’ve just intercepted a message from the harbour master to the captain on board the Solitaire.”
“Well, what does it say?” Dillon demanded.
“The harbour master is instructing them to state their heading and final destination before leaving the harbour.”
“And what’s so strange about that?” LJ asked.
“Well, it’s usual for any craft leaving the harbour to notify the port authority of their heading and final destination in advance. Especially with the ruggedness of the coastline that we have in the Channel Islands.” Chapman answered.
“So, what are you saying. That they haven’t disclosed this to them?” Dillon asked.
“Absolutely right, Jake.” Chapman said.
“But surely, there would be nothing to gain by not telling the authorities. Unless, that is, they’re not leaving Jersey waters.” LJ commented.
“But there is a very good reason, if they’re going after the gold bullion.” Dillon pointed out.
“Do you really think that’s what he’s up to?” LJ said.
“Well, we won’t find out standing here will we?” Dillon said matter of factly, and then added, “I think that we should follow the solitaire, and find out for ourselves.”
“I agree, it would be irresponsible not to.” LJ said, and then added, “So, what are you suggesting, Jake?”
“You and Vince, take the Range Rover with all the equipment, and the chest to the airport. Rob and I will follow Malakoff in this boat.”
“And then what?” Vince cut in.
“You’re going to get Phil Allerton to fly you in the Bell, up to the north of the island find a suitable cliff top landing site, and wait for my instructions. Understood?”
“Absolutely, old son.” LJ said, taking a long pull on his slim panatella cigar.
“Okay, then let’s get going, we don’t have any time to waste. I’ll use the secure line on our mobile phones to contact you when we know what he’s up to.”
Chapman untied the bow line, and Dillon did the same at the stern. Chapman started the twin inboard diesels, and a moment later they were out through the harbour entrance and in pursuit of Hugo Malakoff and the Solitaire.
* * * The bow of the power boat rose up with each rolling white capped wave, as they ploughed forward into the hazy light of dawn. The wind had freshened, a moderate force three to four. Chapman sat in the swivel chair and Dillon was leaning against the bulkhead beside him.
“The Solitaire, is moving some. It’s going to be very difficult to outrun her, you know,” Chapman said.
“I don’t want to out run her, Rob. I merely want to see where they’re going, and what they’re up to. And have no doubt, when they spot us coming up behind them, I’ve got a funny feeling that Malakoff will have something to say about it. My advice to you, is be prepared for it, when it comes.” Dillon said bluntly.
“He’ll try to kill us, won’t he?”
“I’m absolutely certain of it,” Dillon told him. “And like all narcissistic megalomaniacs. He doesn’t like to lose.”
“Well, that’s a comforting thought.” Chapman said with a sideways glance.
“Look, over there.” Dillon was pointing at the outline of the Solitaire in the distance.
Chapman peered through the binoculars, “That’s them all right. They must be about a mile ahead of us. What do we do now?”
“We shadow them from back here.”
“He’ll have a sophisticated radar system on board. And it won’t be long before they spot us, you know.” Chapman said.
“Don’t think about it, just keep our course steady, and at this distance from them.” Dillon said, “And leave the worrying to me.”
* * * Malakoff, on the bridge of the Solitaire, peered through a pair of binoculars. “Got you,” he said, and passed the glasses to Armand.
The captain focused them and immediately saw the foaming bow wave preceding Dillon’s power boat. “Your orders, Monsieur?”
“Turn around and run them down, captain. I want that bastard Dillon at the bottom of the English Channel.”
“Are you sure about this, Monsieur?”
“Are you questioning my judgement, Captain?” Malakoff snapped.
“No, of course not.” Armand replied nervously.
“Good, in that case turn us around, and full speed ahead.”
Armand typed in the commands, and a second later the Solitaire’s computer system altered their course, and increased speed to full ahead. The luxury power cruiser raced forward over the waves and Malakoff raised the binoculars again, saw the outline of the other boat coming straight towards them and smiled, “Come on, make your move you bastard,” he murmured.
The explosion, when it came, was devastating, tearing the bottom out of the Solitaire, and ripping through the upper decks. What happened was so instantaneous that neither Malakoff or Captain Armand had time to comprehend it, their lives snuffed out in the blink of an eye. And within seconds, the Solitaire lifted up, broke into two, then sank beneath the ocean.
* * * Dillon, stood beside Chapman on the cramped bridge of the twenty six foot power boat. He peered through the binoculars at the Solitaire, watched as the luxury cruiser turned in a wide arc approximately one mile in front of them, and then set a course directly at them.
“What the hell is that maniac playing at?” Chapman shouted over the drone of the diesel engines.
“He’s going to try and run us down, Rob.” Dillon replied. “But there’s no way that he’ll even get close to us.” Dillon pulled out a small silver cased keypad from his trouser pocket.
“What’s that?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” Dillon said, and walked out onto the forward deck.
The sleek white craft ploughed forward at high speed towards them. Dillon waited until he could clearly see Malakoff standing behind the windscreen, on the bridge of the Solitaire. And only then; did he hold up the silver remote control, and push the button to detonate the limpet mine that he’d attached to the hull amidships.
What they saw first was a brilliant white and orange fire flash and then a second or two later, the explosion could be heard. Shock waves skimmed over the surface of the water towards them, and then it was all over. The fire disappeared, extinguished as the two broken halves of the Solitaire sank almost immediately under the waves.
Chapman killed the engine instantly, only the sound of the waves slapping against the hull could be heard as they both stood in silence on the deck. A seagull overhead, squawked before diving down towards the water, snatching something up and then flying off.
“About a hundred and fifty feet just here.” Chapman commented casually.
Dillon looked at him briefly, before turning back to gaze out across the water.
“One limpet mine, wouldn’t have done that much damage on its own.” Chapman mused, adding, “So tell me, what was it?”
“What was what?” Dillon replied.
“That caused an explosion capable of ripping a sixty-five foot boat into two, and sinking her?”
“Well, not every private power yacht carries enough ground to air missiles, complete with mobile launchers to start a small war. Found them in a stowage locker while I was snooping around. All I had to do was quickly locate the nearest ventilation shaft, and lower all of them down it. And
as you’ve just witnessed, they must have found the right spot, after all.”
“Do you think Malakoff would have used them against us?”
“Bloody right he would have.” Dillon said.
The sound of the helicopter’s rotor blades beating the air as it came towards them, was the first thing they both heard.
“Must be LJ and Vince, coming to see what’s happening.” Chapman said looking back.
“No, it’s not a Ferran & Cardini Bell helicopter, Rob. It’s one of Malakoffs.” Dillon peered through the binoculars at the fast approaching black bodied helicopter with the red Malakoff corporation emblem blazoned down each side. Then he spotted the two missiles in their special pods strapped between the undercarriage skids, and felt the grim reaper run his skeletal fingers up and down his spine.
“Start the engine, and get this thing moving back towards land. Now!” Dillon shouted, and immediately went below to get the Heckler and Koch MP5 from his canvas holdall. By the time he got back out on deck, the helicopter was virtually hovering above them.
“Keep the speed up, Rob. Hopefully, LJ and Vince will be picking this up through their earpieces. But just in case I’ll call them on my mobile phone, if they’re out of range.”
Chapman, nodded his understanding, pushed the throttle levers forward as far as they would go, and held on tightly to the wheel. The power boat’s nose lifted a fraction into the air, the white fibreglass hull skimming over the waves as they raced back towards the shore.
Instead of attacking them, the helicopter pilot maintained his distance high above, shadowing, but never altering his course or height. And Dillon stood, bracing himself, on the deck; the machine pistol held firmly in his hands and the safety catch in the off position.
As they neared Gifford Bay, Chapman shouted to Dillon, “What now?”
Dead Men Don't Bite (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) Page 41
