Dead Men Don't Bite (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) (30 page)

The afternoon British Airways flight that Annabelle
was on, touched down at Jersey airport at five-fifty. She went
straight from the arrivals area, and through the terminal to
the front of the building.

Dillon spotted her, and waved as she came through
the exit with a throng of other arrivals. On seeing him, she
walked across to where he was stood by the Range Rover.

“Jake, it’s good to see you. And thanks for coming
to collect me, I really appreciate it.” She said kissing him on
both cheeks.

“No bother, Annabelle. It’s my pleasure. Did you
have a good flight down?” Dillon said, as he opened the
passenger door for her.

“Yes, it was a bit bumpy over the Channel, though.”
Annabelle got into the 4x4, and then added. “So how are
things going down here?”

Dillon outlined what had happened since arriving on
the island. Leaving out the bits about Malakoff trying to
murder them, and Albert Bishop being killed, but did tell
her about Rob Chapman’s boat being blown up.

Ten minutes later Dillon pulled up outside of
Annabelle’s café. He dropped her off, and then drove back
up the hill to the Fisherman’s Lodge.

Annabelle went inside, there were a few people
sitting at the tables talking and enjoying Jersey cream teas
in the late afternoon sunshine. Kate Jackson saw Annabelle
come in, and immediately went over to greet her.

“It’s good to be back, Kate. Even if it is only for a
day or two.”
They went through to the back office, and immediately
Kate Jackson asked bluntly, “So what’s really dragged you
away from Nathan’s bedside, Annabelle?”
“Nothing’s, dragged me away, Kate. I decided to
have a break, that’s all. Why do you ask?” Annabelle said,
and thought how her friend seemed a little on edge.
“Oh, no reason. But that message, you asked me to
give Dillon.”
“What of it?”
“Well it was a bit cryptic, wasn’t it?”
“It was supposed to be, Kate. But Jake Dillon knew
what it meant, and that’s what really matters. Anyway, it
wasn’t anything that mysterious. But, can we talk about
this later, I really want to check through the accounts. And
then I’m going home for a shower and a change of clothes.
If that’s all right with you, that is?” This wasn’t the reaction
that Kate Jackson had expected, and went back to her duties
in the café. Annabelle, sitting at her desk, wondered why
her long time friend had been so anxious about her return.
Or was there another reason behind her inquisitiveness?

Kurt and Pierre, waited at the airport, as Malakoff
had instructed. They saw Annabelle come through the main
terminal, and also spotted Dillon standing by the Range
Rover waiting to collect her. Keeping well out of sight, they
watched the tall dark Englishman drive out of the car park
with Annabelle sitting in the passenger seat. Kurt who was
sitting behind the wheel of the Porsche Carerra, pulled
out of the parking space as the 4x4 went slowly past. The
German stayed two cars behind, keeping his distance. After
all, he knew exactly where Dillon was going, and more
importantly he also knew where the girl lived.

It was an hour later that Annabelle left the café, and
made her way back up the hill to the luxury house that she
shared with her father. Kurt and Pierre both watched from
a discreet distance and saw Annabelle walk up to the front
door, unlock it, and go in.

“When do we go in for her?” Pierre asked.
“We wait.” Kurt told him. “She’ll be making sure the
place is okay, and we can’t be sure that Dillon isn’t lurking
around somewhere.”
Pierre shrugged, took out a cheroot and lit it. Kurt
gave him a stern look of disapproval, turned and went back
up the hill to the parked car.
Dillon was taking a run along the beach, when his
mobile phone started to ring.
“Dillon.”
“Jake, it’s Annabelle.”
“Are you still at the café?”
“No I’m at home. Look, it may be nothing, but I
think I’m being watched.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Let’s call it a woman’s intuition, and the fact that
two rough looking characters are sitting in a parked sports
car up the road watching the house through binoculars.
Should I call the police, Jake?”
“No, don’t do that, Annabelle. We can’t involve
them at this stage. But, I’ll put money on it, that they’re
two of Malakoff’s men from the Solitaire.”
“The Solitaire?”
“Malakoff’s power yacht. It’s at anchor in Gifford
Bay.”
“He’s looking for the U-boat, isn’t he?” Annabelle
asked calmly.
“It would appear so, yes. Look, Annabelle, as I said
earlier, Malakoff has been giving us a lot of trouble since we
arrived. We’ve discovered who it is in London who’s been
leaking information to him, and I’d say that he probably
knows that you’ve come back to Jersey to help us find the
tunnel entrance.”
“So am I in danger, Jake?”
“No, and they won’t try anything either, if that’s
what you mean. They’ve almost certainly been sent to keep
an eye on you, that’s all. But until we’ve found that U-boat,
we’re all going to have to keep our wits about us. Do you
really think that you know where that tunnel entrance is
located?”
“The thought came to me the other evening. It’s so
simple, that I don’t know why I didn’t think of it straight
away. But, I don’t want to discuss it on the phone, Jake. I
want you all to hear what I have to say at the same time.
Look, its seven-twenty now, why don’t we all meet at the
café at eight-thirty. That’ll give me enough time to have a
nice hot shower, and make myself presentable.”
“Okay. But go and lock all the doors, and make sure
every window is securely fastened. We’ll collect you on the
way down to the harbour.”
Dillon broke the connection and tried Chapman’s
number at home. It rang four times before Chapman
answered the phone. “It’s Dillon, Annabelle is back, and
wants us to all meet at the café at eight-thirty this evening
for dinner. She wants us all together, before she’ll tell us,
what it is she knows.”
“But she’s told you, right?”
“No, not even me, Rob. Look, I’ll see you later.”
Dillon disconnected, put the phone back into his track suit
pocket, and then rushed back to the Fisherman’s Lodge to
tell LJ and Vince the news.
Kurt watched patiently through binoculars as
Annabelle went all around the house locking the doors and
windows.
“She’s making sure all of the doors and windows are
locked.”
Pierre nodded, “What are we going to do? Dillon is
obviously not inside.”
“No, but what’s to say that he isn’t on his way here
right now?”
“Do you think that’s she’s told him yet?”
“I doubt it. And maybe she never will,” Kurt told
him.
From the passenger seat of the Porsche, Pierre looked
nervously at the big German. “Look, I don’t want any part
in any of that business. And most definitely not with a
woman involved. That’s just not right.”
“Shut the fuck up Frenchman. You’ll do as I tell you,
or suffer the consequences.” Kurt snapped, “For now, we
wait and watch.”

It was just after eight o’clock, at the Ferran & Cardini
International building in Docklands. Guy Roberts was just
putting the finishing touches to his report on Oliver Asquith’s
financial affairs. He glanced up at the clock hanging on the
opposite wall, and remembered that he hadn’t had anything
to eat since breakfast. He carefully placed the document
into the top drawer of his desk and locked it, stood up and
pushed his swivel chair back under the desk. After putting
on his jacket he checked that everything in the small office
was in order, and then left.

He came out of the building by the side entrance,
and started to walk along the narrow street towards the
wharf side. The attractive woman walking towards him,
was in her early thirties, wearing a dark well fitting business
suit that touched her curvaceous figure in exactly the right
places. She glanced down at the photo displayed on the
screen of her mobile phone, just to make sure, then flipped
the wafer thin device shut and put inside her handbag. In
fact, she looked just like any other high flying executive at
the peak of her career.

She walked up the street, unhurried, but with
purpose. Tall buildings rising up on either side of her,
watching from behind tinted glasses as the young, good
looking man came towards her. Guy Roberts, who was tired
and still thinking about the Asquith affair, took little notice
of the elegant auburn haired woman walking towards him.
Didn’t even notice, when she pulled from her handbag, the
small Italian made handgun with the silencer attached to
the stubby barrel. As she passed him, he casually glanced in
her direction and smiled.

One tiny, red, liquid drop of blood was all that was
visible in the centre of the small, neat hole in Guy Robert’s
forehead an inch or so above his left eye. His eyes were wide
open, unseeing in death, as he lay face up and spreadeagled
in the gutter. The woman stood looking down at the body
for a brief moment, and thought how his features registered
a look of surprise.

The street was quite empty, only the CCTV cameras
for company. She put the handgun back into her handbag,
and before walking away, casually glanced up at one of the
cameras. At the end of the street, she got into a Renault
Clio, and drove away. Five minutes later she dumped the
car in a side street, near to Wapping station. Along with the
Auburn wig and the business suit that she’d been wearing.

At Bonne Nuit, Annabelle had a long hot shower
and washed her hair. The ship’s clock hanging over the fire
mantle, showed a little after eight-seventeen. She poured
herself a gin and tonic and stepped out onto the deck. The
view was as breathtaking as always, she walked to the edge
and looked down at the harbour below. There was only
a light breeze and the wrinkled sea stretched as far as the
eye could see, was as deeply blue as ever under an almost
cloudless sky. Kurt and Pierre watched from the Porsche
through binoculars.

“Damn, Dillon to hell. He’s not turned up, and we’ve
wasted nearly an hour just sitting here.” Pierre said.
“How astute of you, Frenchman. But, how naive
you are. Dillon almost certainly knows that we’re watching
the girl. Had we made a move towards that house, I’ve
absolutely no doubt what would have happened. Think
yourself, extremely fortunate to still be alive.” Kurt said,
while continuing to look through the binoculars.
Pierre thought how arrogant he was, and gave him
a sly look out of the corner of his eye. “She scrubs up well,
that one. I’m looking forward to meeting her properly.” He
added, as he spotted Annabelle walk out onto the deck. She
was looking fresh and relaxed, wearing khaki linen trousers
and a white short-sleeved blouse nipped in at the waist.
The Range Rover slowly passed them and pulled up
outside Annabelle’s house, Dillon was driving with LJ and
Vince sitting in the rear seat. He got out, looked back up
the road, and waved at them, before opening the passenger
door for Annabelle to get in.
“One day, very soon, I’m going to wipe that smile
clean off his face.” Kurt said, as the Range Rover pulled
away and drove off down the hill towards the harbour, and
the café.
“Now what?” Pierre demanded.
“For now, Frenchman. We let them have a pleasant
dinner, and then get the girl later when she’s returned and
Dillon is tucked up in his own bed.”
Kurt started the engine and drove up the hill away
from Bonne Nuit.

It was a little after eight forty-five when Rob
Chapman walked into Annabelle’s Café, and found her
sitting at the bar with Dillon and the others. On seeing
him come through the doorway, she went and greeted him
warmly, kissing him on both cheeks.

“Annabelle, it’s lovely to have you back. How are
things with Nathan?”
“He’s on the mend, thanks.”
“Jake tells me that you think you know where
Nathan was diving that morning?”
Before she could answer, LJ had stood up, and was
beckoning them to a large round table outside on the deck.
A moment later, Kate Jackson came over. “Can I get
anyone a drink?”
“We’ll have two bottles of Australian red and two of
the white, please Kate. That is, as long as no one objects?”
Annabelle said, looking around the table.
“Sounds like a splendid idea to me, my dear.” LJ
said, and the others all agreed.
Dillon waited for Kate Jackson to leave, before
looking across the table at Annabelle and asking, “So,
where do you think the tunnel entrance is?”
“Yes, come on, Annabelle.” Rob Chapman had the
look of a small boy, just about to receive a present. “Where
is it?”
“I haven’t got a clue where it is. But, what I have got
is a hunch.”
“A hunch?” Dillon said, dismayed by this revelation.
“But your message said that you knew where it was. You led
us to believe that you knew the exact location, Annabelle.
And now we’ve wasted an entire days diving, waiting for
you to tell us that all you’ve got is a hunch.”
LJ glared at Dillon and quickly cut-in by saying.
“Annabelle, take no notice of Jake’s comments. You say, a
hunch. About what exactly?”
“The Nautical Lady.” Annabelle replied.
“What about her?” Rob Chapman said.
“Look, I know it’s a long shot. But I think the boat’s
sat-nav will show us where Pops went that morning.”
“Of course, why didn’t we think of that in the first
place.” Vince said, as he stood up. “Well there’s no time like
the present, let’s go and take a look.”
They went down the slipway and onto the beach.
Kurt watched as Dillon dragged the inflatable to the water’s
edge, and then as they all jumped in. Chapman sat in the
stern, started the outboard and they moved out into the
harbour.
“What are they doing?” Pierre asked impatiently.
“Be quite, Frenchman. They’re going out to
Cunningham’s boat, by the look of it.”
“Now what?” Pierre asked.
“We wait, and then report back to Herr Malakoff.”
Kurt replied.
Chapman powered up the electrical systems and
switched on the light in the cockpit. While Vince moved
up and positioned himself in front of the main console, and
booted up the sat-nav screen.
“Well, Annabelle,” LJ said, “Let’s hope that your
hunch is correct, and that we’re able to access the Nautical
Lady’s last known position before she returned to Bonne
Nuit.”
“Would Nathan have had the navigation system
switched on though?” Dillon asked.
“Dubious.” Chapman replied.
“You’re quite right Rob. Commander Cunningham
didn’t have it activated on the morning of his last dive. The
last time it was used was three weeks ago.” Vince said.
“That would have been when we went out together
to visit one of the wrecks on the east coast.” Chapman said
thoughtfully.
“So where do we go from here?” LJ said.
“Well, for starters we need to look at what divers do
religiously after each dive.” Chapman replied.
Dillon broke in, “You mean the diver’s log, don’t
you?”
“Spot on, Jake. Every diver that I’ve ever known,
always keeps a detailed record of each dive. It’s standard
practice.”
“What about checking the equipment?” Annabelle
asked.
“Good idea, and check if anything is missing.”
Dillon said.
“What are you all talking about?” LJ demanded, but
everyone was busy checking and searching the boat.
“Nathan is meticulous about stowing everything
in its place. But where would he keep his diver’s log?”
Chapman said.
Annabelle was in the main cabin, reached inside an
overhead locker on the port side and found it at once. It was
inside an aluminium waterproof case, with Commander
Nathan Cunningham stamped into the metal. She went
back up to the cockpit and handed it to Dillon.
Dillon stood looking down at the shiny case, and
then snapped it open and pulled out the leather bound
book. It looked rather like any other small diary, the sort
that you’d keep in your pocket or a woman might keep in
her handbag. Dillon slowly flicked through the pages until
he came to the last entry.
“Commander Cunningham’s last entry reads; Dived
to forty-five feet, and then down into trench at sixty feet,
Devil’s Hole.”
“Devil’s Hole?” Chapman said incredulously. “But
that can’t be right, I mean, that area is out of bounds.”
“The entry continues; dense carpet of vegetation,
that usually covers seabed has been ripped out in places by
last night’s storm, has exposed a deep trench. Swam along
it towards the shore, right up to a partially exposed tunnel
entrance in the rock face, and left a spare bottle just inside
opening. Battled for seven minutes against water flow.
This opens out into an enormous cavern. Surprise of my
life, have found a type V11C U-boat inside. Tied up to a
granite ledge, partially submerged with some conning tower
damage.”
“Good God, that hunch of yours has certainly paid
off, my dear.” LJ said warmly.
“It was so simple, the answer to the mystery was on
board Nathan’s boat all the time.” Chapman said.
Everyone looked on, as Dillon closed the book and
put it back inside the watertight cover. He gave it to LJ, and
said, “I think we’ve all earned our dinner, and I for one,
could murder a drink or two as well.”
Kurt and Pierre watched them from high up on
the hill. Kurt said, “They’ve found something on board
Cunningham’s boat, I can sense it.” He used his mobile
phone to call Malakoff and give him an update.
Back on shore, they returned to the Café and a table
in a quite corner inside overlooking the bay. Kate Jackson
came around the bar with a tray full of drinks for a nearby
table.
LJ caught her attention and said, “We’ll have that
wine now, Miss Jackson, if you please.” He leant back on
his chair. “Tomorrow, lady and gentlemen, we can really get
down to finding what we came here for.”
Dillon said to Chapman, “This Devil’s Hole, what
did you mean about it being out of bounds?”
“The Devil’s Hole. It’s not far from here, you may
recall that while we were searching that stretch of coast the
other day, I took us out about half a mile or so. Well that
was to give, ‘The Hole’ a wide berth. No one ever dives
there, the waters are just too treacherous.”
“So how does anyone know this, if no one has ever
dived there?” Dillon asked.
“Oh, during the nineteen thirties, there were divers
foolhardy enough to venture there. Five in fact. Only one
of those five, ever came back up to the surface.” Chapman
paused, “After that day, he never went into the sea again.
Some say, that he’d come as close to death as any man could,
and that he’d said, the devil himself had been after him.”
“I’ve never heard such, mumbo jumbo.” LJ cut in,
“Was the man drunk, do you think?”
“I’ve no idea, LJ. It’s an old story, and whether it’s
mumbo jumbo or not, I can tell you that it’s the reason
why the tunnel entrance has never been found before.”
Chapman said dryly.
“So why on earth did Commander Cunningham dive
there, if he knew how dangerous it is?” Dillon asked.
“I’m sure your boss knows the answer to that, Jake.”
Annabelle said.
“How right you are, my dear, and of course I do
know the answer. Because Nathan told me why, the very first
time he came to see me at my office. He admitted straight
away, that even at his age, he was still an adrenaline junky.
And that he only dropped anchor there, after he’d spotted
something unusual on the seabed that had showed up on
the monitor screen in the cockpit of the Nautical Lady. His
diver’s log confirms that this was in fact the channel that
allowed the sub to enter the tunnel. We can also be certain
that this would only have shown up because the sea was
much calmer than usual, and that large areas of the seabed
had been stripped out by the previous night’s storm.” LJ
stopped talking as Kate Jackson appeared around the
corner with the wine. She took everyone’s food order, and
was about to pour the wine, when a commotion broke out
at a table on the other side of the room.
“You’re just like all the other married men I’ve
known. A lying, cheating little shit.” The young blonde
haired woman said, tears rolling down over her cheeks.
Turning, she started to leave, but at the door, changed her
mind and went back to the table. Picked up a full carafe
of red wine, and to the swarthy looking man’s extreme
embarrassment, emptied the entire contents of it into his
lap. She then calmly handed the carafe back to him, and
walked out smiling. Much to the amusement and clapping
of all the other diners, including Dillon and the others.
“Why is it, that humans are the only animals on
this planet who devote themselves to making one another
unhappy?” Chapman said dryly.
“Oh I wouldn’t say that she was unhappy, old son.
No, I’d say that she’d simply wisened up to the fact that
he wasn’t going to leave his wife, after all.” LJ replied, and
then added with a glint in his eye. “But, seeing her tip that
wine into his lap, reminds me of something a very good
friend of mine once told me. And that was, we know very
little about ‘conscience’ except that it’s soluble in alcohol.
Which means, that he should be able to go back to his wife,
and conveniently not remember any of what took place
here this evening.” LJ laughed at his own joke. “Anyway,
let’s get back to the matter at hand shall we.”
“Well, it seems reasonably straightforward to me,”
Dillon said.
“What does?” LJ asked.
“Diving this Devil’s Hole. So what if the waters are
rough, and the chance of being mashed like a potato on the
rocks is high. If Nathan Cunningham did it, then I’m sure
Rob and I can do it.” Dillon said confidently.
“We may need something to blow open that
entrance.” Chapman said.
“We’ve brought along Semtex and underwater
chemical detonators.” Vince said matter of factly.
“I’m impressed.” Chapman commented.
“So, all that’s left is when do we dive?” LJ said.
“I’d say we go first thing in the morning, but it’s up
to Rob.” Dillon replied.
Chapman nodded at Dillon, “I agree, but what do
you think Malakoff will do?”
“He’ll continue to have his goons watch us tonight,
and then be right on our tail as we hit the water in the
morning.”
“I’d say you were spot on. So what we need then, is
a little diversion to keep them occupied.”
“At least they can’t track us anymore, since we’ve
cleared my boat of the bugs. I suppose we could pair off,
and all go in different directions. But I’ll put money on it
that the big German would stick like glue to Rob and I.”
Dillon said.
“But, what if the German, and his friend were not at
liberty to follow?” Annabelle said.
“Sounds interesting, Annabelle. What are you
suggesting?” Dillon asked.
“Have them both picked up and arrested. That way,
if they’re in a police cell in St. Helier, they won’t be able to
follow anyone, will they?”
“What an outstanding idea, my dear.” LJ commented.
“Yes it is, but what are you going to say to the police
that will get them arrested?” Chapman asked.
“Oh, I’m sure that we can come up with something
plausible, old son.” LJ said, as he caught the attention of
one of the waitresses. “Now then, I don’t know about you
lot, but I’m starving hungry and in need of food.”
Outside, a warm light breeze was blowing in from
the south-west. With only a smattering of cloud in an
otherwise clear night sky - moonlight kissed the ocean, the
black heaving water scarred and slashed with silver.
Peering through a powerful night sight, Kurt
watched Dillon and the others having a good time inside
the café. From his vantage point on the seawall he could see
everything that was going on.
“What are they doing now?” Pierre demanded.
“They’re still eating.”
“But it’s gone midnight?”
“So what?” The big German turned and looked at
the Frenchman. “What is it, past your bedtime, Frenchy?”
“No, but it’s so boring, all this waiting. And by the
way, if you talk to me like that again, I’ll cut your throat
open.”
Kurt spat onto the concrete, before saying. “Shut up,
Frenchman. We’ll stay here as long as we have to.”