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

by Andrew Towning

  “Head for your place. There’s better cover there and we can use your private dock to moor the boat.” Chapman reduced their speed and steered a course straight towards his place. And a moment later was expertly manoeuvring the sleek craft alongside the sea castle’s dock, he killed the engine and went and joined Dillon on the stern.

  They stood watching, as the black outline of the Malakoff corporation helicopter slowly descended to within twenty feet above the surface of the water, facing them, in a steady hover. The pilot stared out from behind mirrored sunglasses, not more than one hundred yards from where Dillon and Chapman were standing. The two missiles pointing directly at them.

  “What’s he playing at?” Chapman asked nervously.

  “I’d take a guess, that he’s waiting for someone to give him further instructions. But now that his master has departed this world, he’s not really sure what’s he’s supposed to be doing.”

  “But, surely it’s over. Isn’t it?”

  “Not until that helicopter, and those missiles are flying off towards France, it isn’t.” Dillon said matter of factly.

  After a further thirty seconds, the pilot lifted the helicopter into the air, veered off towards the south, and was gone. Dillon leant the machine pistol against the bulkhead, sat down on one of the benches, and ran a hand through his dark hair. He let out a sigh of relief, and looked up at Chapman, and said, “Thanks Rob. You’ve been a great help, I couldn’t have done this without you.”

  Before Chapman had a chance to say that he’d do it all again willingly, if Dillon asked him to, the Bell helicopter of Ferran & Cardini swooped in from over the cliff tops and hovered above their heads. A rope ladder was tossed out of the rear cockpit, and unravelled itself towards earth. Dillon looked up and gave the okay sign. Shook the other man’s hand, and then mounted the ladder. A moment later the helicopter rose up into the air, Dillon quickly ascended the ladder to the cockpit, climbed in and, before closing the hatch, gave Rob Chapman a final wave.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was two and a half hours after leaving Jersey that the Bell helicopter, with Dillon, LJ and Vince on board, touched down at London’s city heliport.

  Outside the terminal building, a chauffeur driven Bentley stood solidly parked at the kerbside on double yellow lines. A traffic warden walked up to the car, and stood writing out a ticket, the passenger side rear window rolled silently down to reveal the solitary, well groomed white haired man sitting in the luxurious leather seat. The woman bent down, her expression hard and set ready to do battle, she was about to say something, immediately recognised who was sitting in the car, and apologised profusely, before ripping up the piece of paper and walking off, red faced and embarrassed by not having realised who the personalised number plate belonged to.

  Dillon and the others came through the revolving glass doors at the front of the terminal. The moment that they appeared, the chauffeur got out of the driver’s seat, moved efficiently around to the rear door, and opened it. A moment later they were all being ushered inside the car.

  “Sir Lucius, what a surprise to see you here, like this.” LJ said, as he stepped into the leather bound opulence of the interior.

  “You’re not surprised at all, Edward. You’ve known all along, that I’d be waiting here.” The former Prime Minister of England stated amiably. He rapped twice on the glass privacy panel separating them from the driver, with the silver tip of his cane. The panel dropped, and he said, “Stevens, you can drive back now.” And, a moment later the undercover police protection officer manoeuvred the luxury car out into the city traffic.

  “Good to see you all alive and well, gentlemen. I must say, that I’m looking forward to hearing about your little jaunt to Jersey.” “Of course, and there will be a full report on your desk by first thing tomorrow morning.” The words seemed to tumble out of LJ’s mouth.

  “I’m sure there will be, Edward. You always were efficient, even as an up and coming member of the Intelligence Service all those years ago. Efficiency, it’s one of the things I admire about you. The ease in which you organise and execute every detail of a plan.” The old man’s comment was for LJ. But, his attention was on Dillon, who was staring out of the window, deep in thought.

  “I’m extremely pleased, gentlemen, that the assignment in Jersey was a complete success. Although, it couldn’t have been easy with that French vagabond, Hugo Malakoff constantly snapping at your heels. But, as is with all men who abuse their position and wealth, I’m sure he got what was coming to him. Never doubt that, any of you.” He looked at each of them in turn, as he said the words, “Is that the box from the U-boat, you’ve got there, Mr Dillon?”

  “Yes it is, Sir Lucius.” Dillon unzipped the holdall and started to remove the silver chest.

  “No, you keep it for now.” He flicked his tongue across his drying lips like a hungry python, before saying. “I’m looking forward to viewing its priceless contents, but only after you’ve shown it to Commander Cunningham, of course.” The old man, paused. And then smiled, before saying, “I always had a good feeling about this venture, and in particular about your capability to carry it off, Mr Dillon. But what I’m most pleased about is your conviction to duty, and what is right.”

  Dillon said nothing, allowing the old man to continue without interruption.

  “Before you left on this mission, I spoke to you in this very car. I’m sure you don’t need reminding, but for the benefit of Edward and Mr Sharp, I’ll briefly reiterate what I said to you. The offer was simple, but must have appeared very odd. In so much as, that all you had to do, should you have wanted to personally profit from this assignment, was to phone me, and nobody else, the minute you found the gold bullion on board. For this, you would have received one hundred thousand pounds in cash.” Before continuing, Sir Lucius looked at LJ, who raised his eyebrow, and then at Vince who looked completely bemused. And then at Dillon, who was still looking at him passively.

  “Well, I’m very pleased that you didn’t make that phone call. You see, I had to be one hundred percent certain about one thing.”

  “And that was?” Dillon asked neutrally.

  “Your integrity, Mr Dillon.” Sir Lucius said soberly, and then said it again, “Your integrity.”

  “Well, now you know. But, why not simply ask anyone that I’ve ever worked with?”

  “Ah, so true and of course that was an option, Mr Dillon. But, I wanted to find out for myself. And, what better way, than to put temptation right in front of you. But, you’re wondering why go to such devious lengths. Well, I’ll tell you. Your next assignment is going to be an arduous one. And, will require a high degree of candour. I’ll say no more at present. Instead, I’ll let Edward brief you on this matter in a day or two.”

  Dillon nodded his understanding, but decided to remain silent; instead he gazed out of the window, letting his thoughts drift pleasantly to the thought of seeing Tatiana again that evening.

  * * * The converted sea castle at Bonne Nuit Bay had never seemed so empty when Rob Chapman entered it. He walked slowly through the narrow hallways, switching the lights on as he went in and out of each room on his way to the kitchen. He took a beer from the fridge, and wondered slightly aimlessly to the living room, went straight to the photograph of his wife and daughter and picked it up. He stared at the image through tearful eyes, their happy smiling faces looking back at him. He’d never felt so lonely or without purpose in his entire life, since they’re lives had been snuffed out by the drunk driver who had hit them head on.

  Putting down the photo, he drank some of his beer, before going out to the walled courtyard, up the stone steps and standing on the old battlements. He gazed up into a fine clear sky, and then looked out across the bay towards the English Channel. It was something he took as a part of everyday life, the unspoiled coastline that stretched for as far as the eye could see, and beyond. He satisfactorarily mused that this was something that Hugo Malakoff, for one, would never take for granted ever aga
in!

  * * * It was just after eleven-thirty the following morning when a nurse showed the two of them into the private room at the city hospital. Dillon, supremely elegant, wearing a hand made Italian two piece single breasted dark blue suit, fresh white linen shirt and his old regiment’s tie, perfectly knotted. Accompanied LJ, sporting his usual brand of exquisite Saville Row tailoring. And, as always wearing his customary bright coloured dickey bow.

  Annabelle, sitting in a chair next to her father’s bed, stood up as they entered the room and greeted them warmly, “Jake, LJ, it’s wonderful to see you both. When did you get back?”

  “Late yesterday.” LJ answered. “From what I’ve heard these last two days, you’re lucky to be alive.”

  Nathan was propped up against pillows, all of the tubes and drips had gone since the last time LJ had seen him.

  “Nathan, old son. It’s good to see you.” LJ said to his friend.

  Nathan looked across the room at Dillon. “And you must be Jake Dillon, I’ve heard all about you. And by the sounds of it, I owe you my eternal gratitude for risking your life to retrieve the silver chest, that you’re now holding under your arm.”

  “It’s good to see you on the mend, Commander. And, it’s a pleasure to be able to stand here today with it. As I’m sure Annabelle will have told you, we very nearly lost the chest and its contents, almost as soon as we’d found it.”

  Dillon placed the silver chest on the bed, at Nathan’s side. Nathan Cunningham slowly lifted the lid to reveal the purple silk lining with the spear head placed in the centre of it.

  “So this is what Adolf Hitler believed gave him unbeatable power in war, is it?” Cunningham carefully picked up the spear head and examined the religious artefact. Putting it carefully back on the deep purple silk seconds later, and closing the lid down.

  “Some say, that this is the original spear head. Others, however, think that it’s a fanciful myth.” LJ commented as he placed his hand on the solid silver lid. And looking down at Cunningham, said, “You alright, old son?”

  “I’m afraid that I get tired very quickly. But, I’m told that this will pass with time.”

  “Well, in that case, Nathan. We’d better leave you to get a bit of shut eye, old son. We still have much to do, in order to put this one quietly to bed. If I’m finished early enough, I’ll be back to see you later.”

  Dillon picked up the small chest, and put it back into his holdall. They then said goodbye to Annabelle, and left.

  * * * Sir Lucius Stagg was sitting behind his desk in the study of his London residence, and Edward Levenson-Jones was sitting opposite him, giving the former Prime Minister a full account of the assignment in Jersey.

  “So what’s to be done about Lord Asquith?” Sir Lucius asked, “I mean, a Lord of the Realm, behaving in not only an ungentlemanly and dishonourable manner. But, in what can only be described as a criminal way. There is no doubt in my mind that he colluded and conspired with Hugo Malakoff to have at least three people murdered.”

  Dillon, sitting on a long leather Chesterfield sofa, said, “Why not, simply feed him to the police and the gutter press. Between them, they’ll almost certainly destroy every part of his public and private life, and make it publicly known that his father collaborated with the Nazis. He’ll be completely finished.”

  “Because, that would not be productive. And would merely serve to open up a can of worms for the Government.” It was Simon Digby from MI5 who replied, with a hint of condescension. His mobile phone started to ring. And after a brief conversation, apologised to Sir Lucius for the interruption, informed him that he had to leave, and got up out of the leather club chair, casually walking across the room.

  He was standing by the door, his hand firmly gripping the handle, when Dillon said with rancour, “And that’s a good enough reason is it? I think not.”

  Digby paused, and then said, “Well, putting it bluntly, Dillon. It’s the sort of publicity that we can all well do without, especially in the present international climate. Even someone as basic as you, must surely realise that?” And with that he opened the door and left.

  Dillon, at that instant, wanted to rip the spook’s head off, and throw it out the window. But, caught the look that LJ was giving him, and backed down. As he always said, what goes round comes around. And Digby would keep for another day.

  Sir Lucius used the intercom on his desk to make doubly sure that Simon Digby had left the building. Picked up one of the ledgers, hesitated then put it down again. Picked up another and this time read aloud the names of Asquith and Malakoff, and the amounts that they’d been paid for their services to the Third Reich. “Do you believe these documents to be genuine, Edward?”

  “If they’re not, Sir Lucius. Then this is a very elaborate hoax that has cost the lives of some very good people.” The words hung heavy in the room. LJ reached across for the ledgers and replaced them in the silver chest, closed the lid and locked it.

  “Quite. Well, I’ve arranged a meeting with the Home Secretary for six o’clock this afternoon. I’m afraid that Simon Digby will be present, but probably for the best if they’re all brought up to speed with regards our recent visit to the Channel Islands. As for details about the U-boat, I think it best if we simply tell them that the cavern collapsed, sealing it down there for all eternity. After all, there’s no reason why anyone outside of this room should know about it’s whereabouts or the precious cargo which is still on board.”

  Sir Lucius, took a clean white handkerchief from his jacket pocket, and blew his nose loudly into it.

  “Why involve any of them at all?” Dillon said.

  LJ answered, “Because, they already know about the spear of destiny. I told Digby right at the start about Nathan’s discovery, who in turn and at the appropriate time, would have informed the Home Secretary’s office. Better that we bring them all up to speed of our own free volition, old son. And if you’re wondering why I went to Digby - that was because we wanted to open the assignment in Jersey. That’s why we were able to operate so freely down there, and how you were allowed to roam around the countryside, carrying weapons and explosives.”

  “And there was I, assuming that it was because we were conducting a covert operation, and that no one knew we were there at all.” Dillon said sarcastically.

  “Never mind all that, gentlemen. The simple fact is this. That they only need to be made aware of certain elements of the assignment. In particular, that of Hugo Malakoff’s involvement. The fact that he’s no longer alive, is a good enough reason to involve them, because there may by awkward questions asked at a very high level, regarding his demise. Naturally, we must adhere to caution at all times. That is, until Oliver Asquith is dealt with appropriately. And, don’t for one minute, think that Asquith is alone in this. Because he’ll almost certainly be in cahoots with at least one other person who’ll be looking out for him, and of course his very own animosity. As for this conversation, needless to say that it must remain within these four walls, is that understood.” LJ and Dillon both nodded their agreement.

  * * *

  It was thirty minutes later and Oliver Asquith was working in his laboratory at the British Museum when the phone on his desk started to ring.

  “Hello, Asquith here,” he said it, in a tone that indicated his annoyance at having been disturbed.

  “Edward Levenson-Jones, Oliver.”

  “Edward, back from Jersey so soon?”

  “Our job down there is now finished, Oliver. But, you and I need to have a little chat.” LJ told him.

  “Well, let me see. I can fit you in at the end of the week.”

  “Hugo Malakoff is dead,” LJ said matter of factly, “and I have in my possession a number of ledgers that were kept by Himmler’s people, which make very interesting reading, Oliver. Your late father’s name appears frequently, between 1940 and 1943.”

  “So you know the truth, Edward. But you know what; I’m almost relieved that it’s over.” Asquith slumped agai
nst the edge of the workbench.

  “But it’s not over, though. Is it Oliver?”

  “What do you mean?”

  LJ ignored Asquith’s question, instead replying, “I wouldn’t go speaking of this matter to anyone, Oliver. And, I mean anyone. That really wouldn’t be to your advantage.”

  “Who else knows about this?” Asquith said warily.

  “Sir Lucius, Dillon of course. Oh, and Simon Digby. Apart from them, no one.”

  “Digby. And what does he have to say on the matter?”

  “Not a lot. He would rather like to throw you to the wolves. With the right spin coming from a certain Government Department, the police and the gutter press would rip you open and finish you off, once and for all. And it’s for this very reason, Oliver that you must not speak to him.”

  “That’s simply not true, you’re lying. Digby would never do that to me, I’m far too valuable to him.”

  “Oliver, I’ve had my suspicions about you and Digby for a while, but I wanted to be absolutely positive that you were still working for them, and that he was handling you. What is it you do for MI6 these days? Let me guess, the Middle East. It stands to reason with your regular visits to that region. Remember Oliver, no matter how valuable you think, you are to him. If he thinks that a scandal is brewing around you, he’ll show his true colours. Have no doubt about that, old son.”

  “You were always a clever smug bastard, Edward. So what happens now?” Asquith said through clenched teeth.

  “We meet, Oliver. The London Eye in forty-five minutes, and do not be late.” LJ put down the phone and turned to Dillon who was sitting opposite him. “He’s frightened, and now I’ve cut off his only route to a complete cover-up.”

  “He’s just as likely to top himself.” Dillon said.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Remember that first time you introduced me to him at the House of Lords. From the minute we were shown into that meeting room, I was instantly aware that he was acting completely out of character, using an aggressive and superior attitude with me. Why, because he wanted to hide the fact that he was in way over his head and sinking fast.”