Dead Men Don't Bite (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) (42 page)

The Home Secretary was sitting at his desk, one of the
ledgers open in front of him. As the two men were ushered
into the office, he glanced up from the page that he was
reading. “Take a seat, gentlemen. I won’t be a moment.”

Through the enormous window at the end of the
room, the last remnants of the late afternoon sun could
just be seen disappearing over the rooftops of the nearby
buildings.

Finally, the Home Secretary leaned back and looked
at them. “Edward, this really is quite amazing. Some of
the names in these ledgers are incredible. I see that you’ve
tagged one of the pages, does the present Lord Asquith
know of this revelation about his father?”

“Earlier this afternoon, Home Secretary.” LJ replied.
Digby turned and glanced at LJ sharply. The Home
Secretary said, “How did he react, when you told him that
his father had been a Nazi collaborator.”
“He already knew about him, Home Secretary. You

see, his butler was the son of the late Lord’s personal butler,
and inevitably got the job of looking after Oliver Asquith.”
“I see, and I appreciate you bringing this to my
attention, Edward. After all, if these books ever fell into the
wrong hands. Well, let’s just say that it would be extremely
embarrassing to the Government and the Royal Family.
However, the fact that his father was a rabid fascist all
those years ago is hardly his fault. And furthermore, there
is absolutely nothing to gain by raking up old muck, as
they say.” The Home Secretary closed the book he’d been
reading, and stacked it on top of the other three. “So
gentlemen, if there is nothing else. I think that the best thing
for these is to have them shredded immediately.”

A strange silence descended on the room, broken
only by the opening of the door, and the young personal
assistant walking in.

The Home Secretary picked up the ledgers and
handed them to him. “Adams, take these down to the
shredding suite and have them destroyed. You’d better take
one of the security guards with you, and stay until they’re
all done.”

The young man left, and the Home Secretary said,
“Those were the originals, Edward? No copies lurking in
your briefcase, I hope.”

“No copies, Home Secretary.”
“Good, and what of this Spear of Destiny?”
“Safely under lock and key with Adrian Vass at the

The Home Secretary stood up to leave, “It was a
long time ago, gentlemen, a long time ago.”
Digby stood up, and looked awkward at his lack of
input into the conversation that had just taken place, and
said, “I think you’ve made a wise decision, Home Secretary.”
“My dear Digby, I already know that I’ve made a
wise decision, but thank you for your input, anyway.” He
came round the desk to shake hands with LJ and smiled.
“I’m sure that the bits you’ve deliberately left out,
you old rogue, make for a very interesting story, which you
must tell me over dinner one evening. Have your secretary
telephone mine to arrange it. And now you must excuse me,
I’m due in the House in twenty minutes.” The door opened
and he left, a moment later the assistant returned to usher
them out.

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.

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, and 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.

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.