Dead Men Don't Bite (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) (23 page)

Kurt had joined Mazzarin, and the two men moved
in fast. Vince ducked the first blow and with surprising
agility, punched Mazzarin in the stomach, and half turning,
he reverse elbow punched the big German just below the
sternum, who automatically doubled over with the pain.
Zola came at Vince from behind with a kick to his right leg,
just behind the knee. Vince went down like a sack of Jersey
Royal potatoes, and rolled around on the floor clasping at
the pain. Zola was fast, and kicked him hard in the back
to ensure that he wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry, as Kurt
got up and stood menacingly over him.
“So my little fat Englishman, let’s teach you some
manners.”
Dillon was already up on his feet and went at the
German on the run as Kurt raised a foot to stamp down
on Vince’s face. Dillon sent him sprawling onto the floor
with the sound of splintering furniture, the big German’s
head smashed against the edge of a table, rendering him
immobile. He then took care of Zola with a sideways punch
to the jaw. Vince was already on his feet. Kurt was on the
floor, and only semi-conscious, but when Mazzarin moved
in to help the others it raised the odds, and Dillon and Vince
prepared to defend themselves again.
There was the sudden loud clang of a ship’s bell
from behind the bar that rang out and stopped everyone
in their tracks. LJ was standing by the bell with one hand
still grasping the rope, and the other holding Dillon’s Glock
automatic.
“If you’ve quite finished, gentlemen?” He said
looking around the room.
There was silence for a moment, and then Malakoff
said in French, “Back to the Solitaire.”
Malakoff’s men left unwillingly, Mazzarin and Zola
supporting Kurt who still looked dazed, and Pierre still
trying to stem the bleeding from his broken nose.
“Until the next time Mr Levenson-Jones,” Malakoff
said in English and followed them.
Vince wiped away the blood at the corner of his
mouth with a handkerchief. “What the hell was all that
about?”
“That Vince, was to show us that he is able to do
whatever he wants. Because, he believes that he is safe in
the knowledge that we won’t go running to the authorities.”
“But what about all this damage?”
“Oh, already been paid for, old son. I saw him give
the barman a wad of fifties just before the fighting started.
Compensation no doubt, for the damage and loss of
business.” LJ looked at the barman, and added, “You will
make sure that the money goes into the till, won’t you?”
The barman flushed with embarrassment, went
to say something, but thought better of it and carried on
cleaning the place up. At that moment, the door opened and
Rob Chapman walked in.
“Bloody hell, what’s happened here?” Chapman said
as he walked through the devastated room to the bar.
“Malakoff.” Dillon said.
“Well would somebody like to tell me now what the
hell is going on then?”
“Follow me, Mr Chapman, we need to talk.
Somewhere private.” LJ said, and they all went back to the
Fisherman’s Lodge.
Chapman said, “The most amazing story I’ve ever
heard.”
“But you agree that it could be true?” LJ asked. “I’ve
got translated copies of all the documents, including the
personal dairy of the Korvettenkapitan with me here in my
briefcase. You’re most welcome to take a look, if you like?”
“The U-boat being found here is quite plausible,”
Chapman said. “After all, the Nazis did occupy these islands
from 1940 to 1945, and there are many locals who’ll tell you
stories about how they used to restrict access to the northern
side of Jersey.” He stood up and stared out of the window
into the darkness outside. “Of course I’ve read many locally
written accounts about the occupation, and some do make
reference to U-boats coming and going. But to think that
Donitz and Himmler, who were two of the most powerful
men in Nazi Germany, hatching a plot or whatever. Right
here under the island. It’s quite remarkable.”
“So, you believe that U-683 could be tied up in a
cavern under this island?” Dillon said.
“Yes. Anything is possible, Jake.”
“Good, but where is it most likely to be?”
“Have you got a chart of the island?” Chapman
asked.
LJ went out and came back with one which he
unrolled. It was the Channel Islands’ chart for Jersey.
“Here is Bonne Nuit Bay,” he said indicating a point
on the northern coast. “Now, there are numerous coves and
small inlets that lead to caves all the way along this area of
the island.” He drew his index finger from one side of the
map to the other. “But from what you’ve told me, we’re not
looking for anything as obvious as that, are we?”
“Unfortunately not. Apparently we’re searching for
a deep channel gouged out of the seabed, that’s big enough
to take a V11C type U-boat. And that’s only for starters.
Once found, this will then lead us to the tunnel entrance.
According to Nathan, there’s only enough room for one
diver at a time to squeeze between the falling rocks and into
the tunnel. So you see, Mr Chapman. We really do need
your help and expertise, if we’re to have any chance at all
of locating that U-boat.” LJ said.
“Well, I can tell you now, it’s not going to be
anywhere usual. By that I mean somewhere people dive,
however regularly, and I’ll tell you something else. It would
have to be within eighty to one hundred feet.”
“What makes you say that?” Dillon asked.
“Nathan is a recreational diver, and as you know
Jake. At those depths, no decompression is necessary if you
follow a few simple rules. For the benefit of Edward and
Vince who are not divers I’ll tell you what that means. Let’s
say that Nathan dived to one hundred feet, which is just
about the maximum depth for that kind of sport diving.
At that depth he would only have ten minutes of bottom
time before having to go back up to the surface. Just think
for a moment, he’d searched around the bottom, found the
channel, squeezed through the tunnel entrance, and then
had an arduous few minutes swim against a strong current
to reach the other end.” Chapman walked around the table
where they were all sitting, and shook his head. “It just
isn’t feasible and Nathan is not a young man. He knows his
limitations as a diver.”
“So what are you saying, Rob?” Dillon asked.
“To discover the channel and tunnel entrance,
enter and swim through it and then discover that U-boat.”
Chapman ran his hand through his spiky blond hair.
“I’d say twenty to thirty-five minutes bottom time
so his depth would most likely have been seventy-five to
eighty feet or there about. Now, there’s nothing unusual
about diving at that depth around the island. But that’s
why I say the location has got to be somewhere out of the
ordinary, or considered to be so dangerous, that nobody
ever dives there. Sitting back down, he stared at the map
laid out before them and frowned.
“But surely, you must have some idea. After all you
know these waters like the back of your hand, old son.” LJ
said.
“The morning Nathan made his discovery must have
been the day after that last storm we had. There was virtually
no swell, water was like a mill pond in fact. I remember
phoning Nathan that morning, to ask him whether he’d like
to give me a hand at the war tunnels in the afternoon, but
spoke to Annabelle instead. She’d mentioned that Nathan
had gone out early in the Nautical Lady, for a dive. That’s
his boat over there, by the way.”
“Did she say where he’d gone?” Dillon asked.
“Only that he’d be careful and for her not to worry.
Nathan would often do that, go off without telling anyone
where, though.”
“So where does that leave us?” LJ said.
“Well, I’d say we need to concentrate our search
along the coast between Bonne Nuit and Greve De Lecq.
That’s roughly four miles of coastline.”
“Can you narrow that down?” Dillon asked.
Chapman frowned. “I can narrow it down to
whatever you want Jake. But, in reality, you’re looking for
a needle in a haystack.”
LJ’s mobile phone started to ring, it was Annabelle.
He listened without interruption for a moment, and then
asked how Nathan was before breaking the connection.
“That was Annabelle; she was phoning to say that
Nathan is making good progress. He’s not yet conscious,
but the doctors are still optimistic.”
“That’s excellent news.” Dillon said. Vince and
Chapman agreed.
“There’s something else. She’s come across a piece of
paper with one of Nathan’s famous doodles on it. Maybe
nothing, but it was tucked inside a pocket of that old
battered brown briefcase that he insists on carrying around
with him whenever he travels. The sketch she tells me is of
a large mythical looking man with horns and hooves, who
is holding a trident.”
“Did you say a trident?” Chapman asked.
“Yes why, does it mean something?”
“The Devil’s Hole.” Chapman said instantly, pointing
to it on the chart.
“You ever dive there?” LJ asked.
“Only once since I’ve lived on the island. Trouble
is if the sea’s rough, which is most of the time, you’ve got
to anchor quite a long way out so that your boat’s not
smashed into a million pieces on the rocks that are hidden
just below the surface. It’s also quite a long trek from St.
Helier, where I usually berth my dive boat. In the winter,
well you can forget it. The whole area becomes a maelstrom
of treacherous water.”
“So, why is it called the Devil’s Hole?” Dillon asked.
“Well, the scientific explanation for it’s existence,
is that the sea has naturally eroded the granite over many
hundreds of years, and that’s what’s created the tunnel that
runs right through the granite. But, it’s when the tide turns,
that’s when this place comes to life. You see the water races
through this tunnel at such a rate, that it comes out of the
opening on the other side with such violence, and with the
most eerie of sounds. Of course, the locals will tell you a
very different story though, about how the devil carved it
out of the granite, and that the noise you here coming up
from below, is in fact the devil himself!”
“Can you show us this place?” LJ asked.
Chapman looked down at the chart for a moment
before answering. “I’m not sure; it’s the sort of place you
stay well clear of.”
“What if we chartered you and your boat? I’ll
happily pay you three times your going rate Rob, to make
it worth your while.”
“It’s not the money,” Chapman said. “It’s the waters
around that particular area. Like I’ve already said, you can
only dive there when it’s really calm, otherwise you’re likely
to be smashed and mashed against the rocks. Whoever called
that place the Devil’s Hole, wasn’t joking, believe me.”
“Okay, I’ll accept what you’re telling us, Rob. But
please listen to what I’ve got to say.” LJ said. “We’re not
looking for that U-boat for personal gain or for that matter
to desecrate a war grave. There is a religious artefact on
U-683, or so we believe, which could cause problems for
the British and American Governments if it fell into the
wrong hands. All that we want to do is recover it as quickly
as possible and no harm done.”
“Tell me, what is it that’s on board the sub?”
Chapman asked.
“I’m afraid that’s classified, old son.” LJ said.
“What a load of old bollocks. I wasn’t born yesterday,
Mr Levenson-Jones. I think I deserve to know, don’t you?
After all you’re expecting me to get involved with three
treasure hunters who I’ve only just met. Oh, and let’s not
forget, that there’s good old lovable Hugo Malakoff and his
thugs waiting in the wings ready to shoot whoever gets in
their way. So either tell me, or I’m leaving right now!”
“Are you saying that you’ll help us if you know?” LJ
said calmly.
“Maybe.”
“Have you ever heard of the Spear of Destiny?”
“You mean the ancient weapon, supposedly forged
by the equally ancient Hebrew prophet, Phineas. Legend
has it, that whoever owns it is invincible in battle.”
“Quite so, old son. I’d almost forgotten that you’re
an archaeologist. However, you are correct, and that is
what the U-boat was transporting for Adolf Hitler during
those last few days of the Second World War.”
“And Malakoff, where does he fit into all of this?”
“He’s obviously after the same thing as we are,” LJ
said. “His motive is a complete mystery at this time. But I’ll
find out what it is, of that you can be assured.”
“So, are you on board, Rob?” Dillon asked.
“I guess so. Anyway I’ve always been a sucker for an
adventure and we are the good guys, right?”
“Just one thing, Rob. This goes no further than these
four walls.” Dillon said.
“I’ve got no problem with that, Jake.”
“Good, just as long as it stays like that.” Dillon said.
“I’ll say goodnight then, and see you at the dock first
thing in the morning, Jake.”

Malakoff, sitting on the bridge deck of the Solitaire,
looked through night-vision binoculars towards the
Fisherman’s Lodge on the cliff top above Bonne Nuit. And
a few moments later, the lights came on in Rob Chapman’s
place.

“So he’s back,” he said to Kurt who was standing
beside him.
“It would seem, that your plan to bring them all
together is working, Mien Herr. All we need to do now is to
wait for Dillon and Chapman to make their move sometime
tomorrow morning.” Kurt said.
“The bugs on board the two boats are working, I
presume?”
“I checked them earlier this evening, Mien Herr.”
“Good, then you’ll be able to follow whichever boat
they are in, thanks to the bugs. Take the inflatable, but I
insist you keep your distance, Kurt. There will be no contact
with them, until I give the order. Understood?”
Kurt nodded and said, “Should I take the two divers
with me, Mien Herr?”
“Why not, but I doubt that anything will come of it.
Chapman doesn’t know where U-683 is Kurt, of that I’m
convinced. All that they’ve done is asked him for his advice
on any possible locations. You wait and see; they’ll simply
bumble around and do nothing but waste their time.”
Malakoff sighed and shook his head.
“Is there something wrong, Mien Herr?”
“The Cunningham girl not knowing the location
of the U-boat, is not right, Kurt. Quite frankly, I’m still of
the opinion that she has the answer to this little puzzle.
But, no matter. We’ll just have to rely on Mr Dillon and
his associates to find the U-boat for us. By the way, if we
did find the tunnel entrance and needed to blast our way in
could Mazzarin and Zola deal with that?”
“That would not be a problem, Monsieur. We have
various types of explosives and detonators on board, and
both men are fully trained to deal with any situation.”
Captain Armand said confidently.
“Excellent, gentlemen,” Malakoff stood up, and
then said. “I would wish you luck tomorrow, but I’m
extremely pleased to see that you’re not relying on luck
alone. Goodnight.”
Armand remained on the bridge, staring out into the
night time, and Pierre slipped out of the shadows.
“Forgive me, Monsieur Malakoff. But can I go with
the others in the morning?”
“So, you want to get even with Mr Dillon, do
you?” Malakoff laughed. “Why not. And enjoy it while
you can, Pierre.” Malakoff patted the burly Frenchman on
the shoulder and walked off to his private quarters, still
laughing.