Dead Men Don't Bite (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) (25 page)

“When you’ve managed to free it, make sure you’re
well clear of the bow area as the winch takes up the line.”
“No problem.” Dillon checked the amount of air
left in his tank, and satisfied that he had enough, tumbled
backwards into the water.
Kurt watched Dillon go back into the water through
his binoculars, and said, “Now what are you up to, then?”
“Ha, I’d say they were hooked up on the bottom.”
Pierre said maliciously.
“How very unfortunate for them.”
Dillon reached the anchor, and sure enough, it was
wedged tight in between two large pieces of granite. On the
surface Chapman skilfully eased the boat this way and that
using the minimum power, and as the line slackened off
Dillon was able to pull the anchor free. The next moment
the winch cut in, and snatched the anchor out of his gloved
hands and dragged the heavy piece of metal along the sea
floor before it started up. He swam away from the boat and
then started his own ascent, becoming immediately aware
of the strong current that was pushing him further out to
sea. Relaxing he drifted up slowly and then surfaced about
thirty metres away from the power cruiser, once he’d got his
bearings he inflated his jacket, and waited for Chapman to
come and get him.
LJ had been watching to see where Dillon surfaced,
spotting him off the starboard bow as he bobbed up and
down on the heavy swell. At the same time, Mazzarin stood
up and shouted excitedly from where he’d been sitting in
the stern of the inflatable, and pointed to where Dillon
had surfaced. But it was Pierre who responded by taking
the wheel, “Now then Englishman, it’s payback time.” He
pushed the throttle fully forward, and the small craft raced
through the water at high speed towards its target.
The inflatable carved its way through the water
towards Dillon, who had started to swim with his jacket
still inflated in the general direction of the power cruiser.
As it bore down on him, Dillon quickly slipped out
of the buoyancy jacket, jack-knifed, and dived beneath the
surface. He only just managed to avoid being hit as it raced
over the surface, no more than five feet above his head.
Looking up, he saw his jacket and air tank take the full
force of the inflatable rigid hull before getting mashed by the
propeller. A moment later he surfaced, and saw Chapman
no more than fifteen metres away. LJ was already leaning
over the side with a long gaff pole in his hands, ready to
pull Dillon on board at the first opportunity.
Chapman spun the wheel hard over to port, bringing
the cruiser around in a wake of foaming water before it
came to rest on the swell. The inflatable swerved in again,
and then went around in a wide arc before heading straight
for Dillon again. Pierre, eyes glazed, was throwing the small
craft around like a toy; he gripped the wheel proprietarily,
laughing like a hyena which could be heard clearly across
the water.
Vince came out of the main cabin carrying the MP5
carbine, was struggling to release the stock when Chapman
came down the ladder from the wheelhouse, and took the
weapon off of him.
“Here let me have that. You go and get the extra
clips.”
He released the safety catch, and fired at the
inflatable. Kurt was trying to get Pierre away from the
wheel, Mazzarin and Zola had hit the deck. Chapman fired
carefully, not wishing to kill anyone, and this time hit the
inflated bow section, which immediately started to deflate.
Dillon had manoeuvred himself around the power
cruiser to the seaward side and was treading water. He
could just make out Kurt in the inflatable as he brought a
clenched fist down hard across Pierre’s shoulders, knocking
the Frenchman down onto the deck. The big German took
control of the rapidly deflating craft, turned in a wide circle
and raced off at full speed.
LJ looked anxiously through his binoculars,
surveying the area for Dillon. “Can anyone see him?”
Dillon shouted and waved his arms a little distance
away. It was Chapman who spotted him first, put down the
MP5, and went back up to the wheel, and took the boat
towards him. Dillon swam in at the stern, and Vince and
LJ quickly got down on to the dive platform to haul him
on board.
“Hell, what was all that about?” Dillon said, as he
unzipped and shrugged off his dive suit.
“It was that French troglodyte, Pierre. He’s obviously
taken quite a dislike to you, old son.” LJ told him.
Vince passed Dillon a towel, and as he was drying
himself off saw the MP5 down on the deck. “Couldn’t
resist a little fun, eh?” Dillon said amiably, looking up at
Chapman.
“Never could stand bully-boys,” Chapman said.
“Do you want to carry on, or shall we call it a day?”
“Let’s carry on. After all we have a hell of a lot of
coast to cover yet.”
“I don’t think our friends will be bothering us again
today.” LJ said, peering through his binoculars.
“That’s a fact, not with a flaming great rip in that
inflatable. I wouldn’t be surprised if they hadn’t sunk by
now.” Chapman said laughing.
“What’s the weather forecast like for the rest of the
day?” Dillon asked Vince.
“Shipping forecast indicates that there’s a storm
rolling in from the west, and that a force six or seven will
be blowing by late afternoon.”
“Damn. Well in that case, we’d better make the most
of what fine weather we’ve got left.” Dillon said.
Chapman, settled into his seat, powered up the
inboard diesel, and headed back towards the shore.

The inflatable slowed as it reached the headland at
Les Mourier, not more than half a mile away, Kurt raised the
binoculars to his eyes and watched the power cruiser making
its way slowly along the coast in a northerly direction away
from them. He looked down at the GPS screen and checked
that the homing bug was still working.

“They’re moving north along the coast.”
“What are they doing?” Pierre asked.
Kurt got out his mobile phone, and called Captain

Armand aboard the Solitaire. He spoke briefly to him, and
then waited while Armand checked the database for all
dive sites along the northern coast of Jersey. Kurt broke the
connection and stood silent for a moment.

“I think that they’re just coasting.” Pierre said.
“My thoughts exactly, Frenchman. In which case,
we’ll let Herr Dillon get on with whatever it is he’s doing,
while we do some running repairs to that deflated bow
section. We can always pay them a surprise visit later.” Kurt
said, with a malicious smirk.
“But, what if they find the location of the tunnel?”
“I doubt if they will. Armand informs me that all of
the charted dive sites on this side of the island are visited on
a regular basis. If that tunnel entrance was that obvious, it
would have been found long before now.”
“I think Monsieur Malakoff is right. Chapman
doesn’t know anything. He’s simply taking them along the
coast, because he has nothing better to do.” Pierre said.
“Of course he’s right, Frenchman. Herr Malakoff is
a wise man; he has the gift to look inside people’s minds.
Be warned, if you doubt this, he will know and you will
find yourself out of favour. He has always thought that
Chapman is a nobody and that the Cunningham girl holds
the key to this mystery.”
“I’d like to teach those sons of bitches a lesson they’d
never forget.”
“You like being shot at, do you Frenchman? That
was an MP5 carbine Chapman was firing, I’ve heard and
seen them being used by the SAS. Believe me; he could have
killed all of us with one burst if he’d known how to use it
properly. Now, let’s get on and repair this boat, and I don’t
want to hear any more of your foolhardy talk again. Do
you understand?”
Pierre shrugged nonchalantly. “Well he didn’t, and
we’ll be ready for them next time.”

The power cruiser was at anchor, lifting in a heavy
swell, in a place not far from the Devil’s Hole called Les
Reuses. LJ was sitting in the main cabin watching as Dillon
and Chapman got into their dive suits. Chapman opened up
his kit bag and took out a spear gun.

“No, this is just for insurance, Edward. You never
know, we may have another visit from our friends again.”
“Well, Vince and I will keep our eyes peeled while
you’re down. And Jake, have you reloaded that carbine?”
“Yes, I’ve also shown Vince how to open the stock,
and change the clips should the need arise.”
“Good, we’ll see you in half an hour then.” LJ said
as he went up to the wheelhouse.
Chapman went in first, stepping off the dive platform,
swam to the line and went down quickly, the spear gun
in one hand. He turned as he neared the bottom and saw
Dillon following about ten feet above him. He pointed to
his left, and then moved off in that direction, pausing as he
approached an outcrop of rocks on the edge of a ridge.
The water was crystal clear and Dillon could see
a long way ahead, the rocks rising all the way up to the
surface. Chapman beckoned again, and they continued
over the ridge and down the twenty or thirty feet on the
other side. An undulate ray lethargically passed by in the
distance and suddenly a reef conger shot out of the rocks
and then disappeared as quickly when it saw the two divers.
Chapman turned, made a gesture for Dillon to follow and
started to make his way to the other side, skimming over
the thick carpet of kelp growing on the bottom.
LJ and Vince had swapped the open wheelhouse for
the comfort of the main cabin as the wind got up and the
swell increased. Chapman had brought sandwiches and a
thermos flask of coffee, and LJ poured them both a mug full
of the hot black liquid. He stood looking out at the rolling
sea, and in the distance a large sailing yacht could be seen,
as it tacked its main sail billowing in the wind.
The inflatable kept close to the yacht, hidden on the
port side. And as the forty-six foot sailing boat started to
tack round the inflatable raced out from its cover, and made
a straight line for the power cruiser.
LJ swore to himself, as he watched the inflatable
break cover, and had immediately put down the mug of
coffee. He shouted for Vince to get the MP5 from the kit
bag and then went up to the wheelhouse to power up the
engine and wind in the anchor. From his vantage point he
could now see clearly that it was Kurt in control, with Pierre
by his side.
The German pushed the inflatable up to full speed as
it hurtled toward them and, as it passed by, he lobbed the
grenade that he’d been holding in his hand over the side. At
the same time the Frenchman opened fire with a machine
pistol. LJ ducked down out of sight, and within seconds,
Pierre had emptied the clip at the power cruiser. By the time
Vince had the MP5 out they were long gone, the sound of
the engine rapidly disappearing back in the direction they’d
come from.
LJ said, “Well I’m damned. They’ve just emptied an
entire clip of ammunition at us, and yet there’s not one single
bullet hole to be found anywhere. How extraordinary!”
And then the grenade detonated, the explosion, even
though it was deep underwater, was loud and sent a high
plume of water up into the air just off the port side.
“Fucking hell, what was that?” Vince said, dropping
to the deck.
“A hand grenade, if I’m not mistaken, Vince.” LJ
said, from where he was crouching.
Vince stood up again, and watched the inflatable
move away in the distance, and scratching his head, said.
“Why have those nasty bastards just tried to kill Dillon and
Chapman with a grenade in the pond? But, shot at us with
blank ammo? It doesn’t make any sense, boss.”
“They’re not using live ammo, because Malakoff
doesn’t want us dead. Well not yet anyway. He’s most likely
told them to keep an eye on where we’re diving, and not to
have any contact with us. It’ll be that first mate initiating
these opportunistic attacks for a bit of sport, almost
certainly.”
“You mean that the Frenchman is trying to get even
with Jake for breaking his nose?” Vince said.
“Quite so, old son. But, we must always remember
that Malakoff is merely toying with us, just as a cat would
play with a mouse before killing it. I’m afraid that he’s
very much underestimated his quarry on this occasion.”
LJ walked off into the main cabin, poured himself a large
tumbler full of whisky and emptied half of it in one gulp.
Dillon glanced up, and became instantly aware of
something happening on the surface. He saw the keel of the
inflatable moving fast towards the power cruiser, it circled
the twenty-six foot craft once, slowed on the port side, and
then raced off again towards the shore. He didn’t see the
small object enter the water and start to drift down towards
them.
But Chapman did see it, and knew exactly what it
was. He tugged urgently at Dillon’s arm, pointed up at the
falling object, and then gestured for him to get behind a
large rock formation twenty feet away. The archaeologist
moved like lightning, and it was as much as Dillon could
do to keep up with him. As they reached the safety of the
rocks, the grenade detonated near to the bottom.
Dillon felt the shock waves wash over him, and
instantly felt the piercing pain in his eardrums. He glanced
up, aware of movement overhead, and saw to his horror
that the rocks directly above, were about to come down on
top of them.
The two divers only just managed to get clear as the
rocks started to tumble down on to the spot where they’d
just been taking cover from the grenade blast. Chapman
turned to Dillon, pointed at the anchor line, and motioned
for him to follow and led the way. Dillon followed, keeping
low to the kelp, and only rising as they reached the anchor.
Dillon surfaced at the dive platform beside Chapman
and hauled himself on board. He pulled off his mask, and
then the heavy buoyancy jacket complete with air tank.
“How’re the ears?” Chapman asked.
“Painful, but I’ll survive.” Dillon replied.
“I suppose that was our friends again?” Chapman
asked, looking up at LJ.
“You suppose right, old son. The crafty bastards
used the cover of a large yacht under full sail to get almost
on top of us. And as it started to tack round, they shot out
from behind it and came straight for us at full speed. By
the time I’d realised what was about to happen, and Vince
had got the MP5 out, they were already shooting at us. He
didn’t even get the opportunity to fire a single round.”
“What type of weapon were they using?” Dillon
asked LJ.
“Well, that’s the strangest thing. It was a machine
pistol, and they emptied an entire clip at us, but there’s
absolutely no damage whatsoever to the boat. Not even a
scratch. And after they’d circled us once, they were gone
in a blink. They were obviously using blanks, and I’d say
that the gun fire was merely done to frighten and distract us
from seeing that grenade go into the water. All very childish,
if you ask me.”
Chapman dried himself and put on a polo shirt and
a pair of shorts. “Well I’d like to know how they knew we
were in this cove. After all, we’re completely shrouded from
the main stretch of coastline by those two outcrops.”
He went up to the wheelhouse, and engaged the
automatic anchor winch, a moment later the power cruiser
was drifting on the heavy swell. Chapman engaged the
forward gear and headed back out to sea.
Dillon went to the forward stowage locker to retrieve
the Glock. As he put his hand into the pocket to pull it out,
his fingers brushed against one of the metal strengthening
brackets. Dillon paused, ran his fingers over the metal, and
on finding the small fifty pence shaped bug, pulled it away
from its hiding place. LJ came into the main cabin and saw
what Dillon was holding in the palm of his hand.
“Well, we both know what that is. Don’t we?” LJ
said, “So they’re playing with gadgets are they?”
Vince joined them, and had a close look at the tracking
bug. “Very nice. Digital of course and very expensive.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right, Vince. But what sort of
range has it got?” LJ asked impatiently.
“About five miles, boss.”
Dillon took the bug up to the wheelhouse and held
it out for Chapman to see. “Attached to a metal bracket in
one of the stowage lockers. We’ve been bugged, so it was no
wonder that they knew where we were. They’ve probably
done the same to the Wave Dancer, just in case we used
that.”
“But she went off in the opposite direction and out
into deep water.”
“Exactly, they knew that both boats had gone. Took
an educated guess and followed us.”
Chapman shook his head in disbelief. “I think it’s
about time that these thugs had a taste of their own medicine,
don’t you?” He said, pushing the throttles forward.