Dead Men Don't Bite (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) (40 page)

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.

“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 again!

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?”

“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.

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
against 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.”
“I’m not sure what relevance that has on his mental
state now. However, I do agree that he was acting out of
character that day.”
“I’ve no doubt that he was. Because, he wanted us
to believe that the confident man who stood before us was
someone in total control, but he obviously wasn’t, and we
now know that it was Hugo Malakoff pulling his strings. I
believe that his natural personality trait is quite the opposite.
In fact, I’d guess that he’s a highly strung, pent-up, anal
retentive who likes his life to be very orderly, and that if he’s
backed into a corner, who’s to say what he’s likely to do.”
“I disagree, old son. I’ve known Oliver Asquith a
long time, and he’s much stronger mentally, than you are
giving him credit for. He also has an exceptional degree
of cunning about him. So don’t expect me to have any
sympathy for him.” LJ said apathetically. He stood up and
put on his jacket, he picked up his briefcase, and before he
departed drank what was left of his now cold black coffee.
“Come on, let’s put this one to bed, old son,” and he
opened the door and led the way out.