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

by Andrew Towning

  * * * Standing in the main reception area, LJ switched on his mobile phone, and called his driver to bring the car around to the front of the building.

  “I’d say that was the right conclusion, Edward.” Digby remarked.

  “Would you?” LJ said laconically, and gave the

  spook a sideways glance.

  LJ was just about leave, when the security guard

  called out to them, and at the same time, the elevator doors

  opened. The Home Secretary’s personal assistant rushed

  out, and over to where they were standing.

  “Gentlemen. A minute of your time, please.” He

  took them to one side. “I’ve just received some disturbing

  news from the Chief Constable’s office. It would appear

  that two beat officers were called by a member of the public

  to an incident down by the river. And, that half an hour

  ago, they discovered the body of Lord Oliver Asquith on a

  park bench. I’ve already informed the Home Secretary, and

  he thought that you should both be informed immediately.” “Did the police say how he died?” LJ asked. “Only that he’d been shot at close range. They seem

  to think that it was most likely a mugging gone wrong. But

  they’ll know more after the post-mortem has taken place

  tomorrow morning.”

  Digby was dumbstruck, and had gone a pasty shade

  of grey. LJ said, “A very sad business. Thank you for letting

  us know,” and he walked off towards the main doors, out

  onto the pavement and was about to get into the waiting

  silver Mercedes, when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

  Digby was stood behind him.

  “I want to know, exactly what it was you discussed

  with Asquith earlier today, when you met him.” LJ turned, and held the other man’s gaze for a

  moment, before saying. “I wanted to talk to Oliver alone.

  After all, I was his original handler all those years ago. And,

  for old time sake, wanted to give him the facts as I saw

  them.”

  LJ leaned back against the gleaming paintwork of

  the car, and crossed his arms. “Simon, you are aware of

  the part he played from the very beginning in this affair. I

  simply wanted him to know, that he’d been instrumental in

  the murder of Guy Roberts and a number of other people.

  That’s all, old son.”

  LJ, got into the luxury car, and closed the door. The

  blackened glass rolled silently down, “But it’s like you said

  a moment ago, old son. The right conclusion, I think.” The

  window closed, and the car moved off up the street. Digby was left standing alone on the pavement,

  walking off in the opposite direction a moment later. “Damn

  you, Edward Levenson-Jones. Damn you to hell.” And he

  lengthened his stride.

  * * * The silver Mercedes swerved into the kerb. The rear passenger door swung open, and Jake Dillon got in.

  “I thought Sir Lucius would have taken you to your door.”

  “No such luck.” Dillon said, clipping his seat belt into position.

  “Before you say anything, I’ve heard about Asquith. No problems, I assume?”

  “No. Although he did pull a gun on me.”

  “I gather you made it look like a potential mugging gone wrong. I like that, neatness.”

  “How did your meeting with the Home Secretary and Digby go?”

  “He had the ledgers sent to the shredding room. Said it was a long time ago, and that Asquith couldn’t help it if his father had been a rabid fascist.”

  “Did you tell him about Malakoff?”

  “I couldn’t see the point, old son.”

  “And how did dear old Simon Digby take it all?”

  “All went over his head, I fear. However, he now knows that the Home Secretary doesn’t care much for him or his department. And, so he kept quiet, but when we were downstairs in the main reception area, he discovered that Asquith’s body had been found down by the river. Took that rather badly, and very personally. But, do you know, in a perverse sort of way I found that rather satisfying.”

  “Do you think he knows that we were involved?”

  “I really don’t know what he thinks. And, to be quite frank, I don’t much care either. But, what is of concern to me, is whether he is able to remain professional about it. After all, he dislikes me enough for it to most definitely cloud his judgement in the future. But, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

  The Mercedes pulled up outside of a converted riverside warehouse. Dillon opened the door and got out, and before closing the door, leaned back in and said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Annabelle Cunningham phoned to say, thank you for having Phil Allerton fly them back down to Jersey.”

  “Least I could do, are they both okay?”

  “Absolutely fine. She said to tell you, that once Nathan has settled back in to life down there, he will phone you.” Dillon went up the steps to the front door of the apartment building.

  The window rolled down and LJ peered out. “I’ve been thinking, old son. With the successful conclusion of this assignment, it’s about time you had a permanent contract with the firm. I know that the Partners would be in agreement, and Sir Lucius is most definitely in favour of it. But, I know you value your independence, so think about it for a few days, and then give me a call.” The window rolled back up and the car drove away.

  Dillon stood at the top of the steps, and looked out across the river for a moment before entering the building. Once inside he took the lift up to his penthouse apartment on the top floor, immediately poured himself a large single malt whiskey, and then went and slumped down on to one of the leather sofas.

  * * * On the second morning; Nathan Cunningham got up early, showered, and after leaving his daughter a short note to say where he was going, had gone for a long walk along the beach. By the time he returned, Annabelle was up and cooking him a breakfast of eggs and bacon. He went through to the airy living room and pulled aside one of the large glass panels that opened out onto the timber deck. He went outside, and was about to sit down with his newspaper, when there was a loud knock at the front door. Nathan went to see who it was. And was greeted by the genial face of the local postman, Nigel Tanner.

  “I’ve got a very heavy package for you, Commander Cunningham. If you would be so kind as to sign here, please.” Nathan scribbled his name on the line that Nigel was pointing to, “I’d just like to say, that on behalf of everyone hereabouts, it’s good to see you back and looking so well, Commander.” He went down the drive, looked back and gave Nathan a friendly wave, before disappearing around the corner at the bottom of the driveway.

  “Who was that, Pops?”

  “Only the post.” Nathan carried the heavy package out onto the deck, and placing it on the table top he started to unwrap it. As he tore away the packaging, the silver of a small chest glinted in the brilliant morning sunshine. He felt the tingle run through his body, just like it had the first time he’d found the tunnel entrance at Devil’s Hole. He carefully turned the key in the lock, and opened the lid of the small chest.

  Annabelle came outside with two plates in her hands, and immediately spotted the vivid purple silk ruffled inside.

  “The box is empty, except for this note,” Nathan said, looking up at his daughter. “By the looks of it, LJ sent it.” Nathan unfolded the neat square of paper.

  “But why would he send it? I thought that it was going to be locked up and hidden away forever, or something.”

  “Oh, you’re quite right. The spear head will I’m sure, have been locked away in some vault, deep beneath the corridors of power in London.”

  “So what does the note say?”

  Nathan picked up his reading glasses, an
d put them on.

  My dear Nathan,

  I thought that you may like to have the chest as a lasting memento of your discovery. Like the mystery of U-683, the secret is within.

  Your old friend, Edward.

  “How kind of him,” Annabelle commented. Nathan tucked into his cooked breakfast, every now and then looking out across the brilliant blue waters of Bonne Nuit Bay, and thinking how lucky he was to live in such an idyllic place. But, there was something about the note, that LJ had placed inside the box that nagged away at the back of his mind. He finished eating and pushed the plate to one side, he dragged the small silver box towards him, and carefully ran his hands over the silk lining. After a minute or two, he started to peel away the delicate material from the sides.

  The false panel came out easily to reveal a hidden compartment. Twenty or thirty gold coins, each with a Nazi eagle firmly stamped into the centre were scattered around the bottom. Holding one up, the gold glinted in the sunshine. A seagull squawked high above in a sky of unbroken blue, and Nathan Cunningham laughed out loud.

  Until the next time…

  THE END