Dead Men Don't Bite (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) (6 page)

Nestled at the base of the cliff and slightly back from
the small sandy beach. Annabelle’s café sits comfortably,
and well above the high tide mark, on a part natural, part
manmade granite pier. The outline of which, from the other
side of the harbour, resembles that of an old-fashioned
paddled steamboat. The steps up to the front balcony area
had a hand painted sign hanging silently from the railing,
informing people to mind the steps. Inside it was a hive of
activity, with the aroma of freshly baked bread and scones
together with the sound of whistling kettles.

Voices could be heard coming from the small kitchen
at the rear of the wooden building. Along the seaward side,
small intimate tables for two lined the timber walls, and a
long bar cleverly made from old ship’s timbers, ran down
the other. There were high stools at the bar, and bottles
on glass shelves against the wall behind it. An attractive,
forty something woman with auburn coloured hair, served
a small group of weekend divers with their lunch orders,
and drinks. Kate Jackson was Annabelle’s manager, and
lived just a short drive from the café. She had sharp eyes,
and could hear a pin drop in St. Helier.

She looked over and smiled, “Hello Nathan, you
looking for Annabelle?”
“Yes, is she around, or have I picked a bad time?”
“She’s just popped over to Gorey to pick up the fish
for tonight. Probably be back any minute. Can I get you
something, while you’re waiting?”
“Why not, I’ll have a cup of tea, Kate, I’ll be outside
at the front.”
He sat on the terrace, drinking the tea, his mind
full of tumultuous ideas and worries, and was so deep in
thought that he didn’t notice his daughter come up the steep
steps towards him.
“Pops, you’re back.”
Nathan looked up and found his daughter standing
beside him, a shallow crate of assorted fresh fish on a bed of
ice in her hands. She leaned against the balcony, an absolute
picture of loveliness in a linen skirt and white cotton blouse.
She frowned. “Come on, out with it. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing is the matter, I’ve got to fly up to London
this afternoon, that’s all.” He told her.
“Why? For how long?”
“Just overnight, and I’ll be back tomorrow, late
afternoon, promise.”
Her frown deepened and she went and gave the box
of fish to Kate, before returning to sit opposite Nathan. “I
know you far to well. You’d not be going back to London
for nothing. So, come on. What’s going on?”
“Before I tell you Annabelle, you have to swear on
your mother’s memory, that you’ll not breathe a word of
what I’m about to tell you to anyone. Not anyone.”
Annabelle’s expression changed from being concerned
for her father’s welfare to one of utter bewilderment.
“Well it must be pretty bloody serious for you to
bring up mummy’s memory. Of course I swear, but you’re
worrying me Pops. Now please tell me what’s going on?”
“This morning when I was diving, I came across the
most extraordinary thing. A tunnel entrance about fifty feet
down. And do you know what I found at the other end of
it? A wreck inside an enormous subterranean cavern.”
“You silly man, silly, silly, man.” She was angry,
and Nathan knew it. “It’s not enough that you were diving
on your own, you then are reckless enough to enter an
unknown tunnel with absolutely no idea of where it ends
up. And, at your age. It’s not only completely irresponsible,
it’s absolute bloody madness. I suppose I should thank
the heavens above that you’re here at all. So, where is this
tunnel?”
Although not a diver herself, Annabelle Cunningham
did know most of the sites around the island. He paused,
not only because he knew that she would be furious when
he told her that he had dived just off the Devil’s Hole point,
and it wasn’t because he didn’t trust his daughter. He just
wanted to keep the exact location of the submarine a secret
for the time being, at least until he’d seen Edward LevensonJones.
“I can’t tell you that at this time, Annabelle. But
what I can tell you, is that I’ve found a German U-boat
from the Second World War.”
She ran a hand through her hair. “My God, are you
sure?”
“Sure I’m sure, I swam right up to it. Annabelle, it’s
absolutely enormous, in fact it’s incredible to think how
it actually got in there in the first place. Anyway, I had a
look around the outside before mustering the strength to
climb the conning tower, and going down into the main
control room that was completely flooded.” A shiver ran
right through Nathan’s body. “I felt really odd, or perhaps
even awkward, you know? It was as if I was desecrating
a grave, and shouldn’t be there at all. I found the skeletal
remains of the commander laying in the silt at the foot of
the conning tower access ladder. Imagine if you can, he was
still gripping the submarine’s official briefcase. I brought it
back with me and managed to open it on the boat. What
I found inside gave me a pleasant surprise; there was the
U-boat’s log, a number of routine documents and then two
letters. It’s the letters that are so exciting; one of them was
from Grossadmiral Karl Donitz and the other from Heinrich
Himmler.”
“So, what is it about these two Nazis, that make
them so special?”
“Not special, Annabelle, just fascinating. These were
two of the most powerful men in Nazi Germany. Next to
Adolf Hitler and Martin Bormann.”
She looked suddenly tired and slightly dazed. “Pops,
what’s this all about?”
“I don’t know? But one things for sure, I’m going
to find out.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Do you
remember my old university room mate, Edward LevensonJones?”
“The one that used to wear those awfully gaudy
dickey-bow ties, and work for MI5 or whatever it’s called?
Of course, I met him four years ago at that official party we
all went to in London.”
“Well I phoned him earlier this morning. He retired
from the security service some time ago, but we’ve always
kept in touch, and as luck would have it he’s now with a
specialist firm, still closely associated with the Government,
and has access to all sorts of official German records from the
last war. He’s already learnt that the U-boat is surrounded
by mystery, and was supposed to have been sunk - twice!”
She looked at her father in bewilderment. “So what
does it all mean?”
“The letters are specific about two things. The first is
that the mission was vital to Germany winning the war, and
secondly.” He paused, “secondly, there is a reference to the
Fuhrer’s special cargo that the U-boat was carrying. After
I’d finished talking to LJ, I decided to look on the internet
for any information relating the cargo. And it appears that
the cargo was supposed to be a priceless religious artefact
called, the Spear of Destiny.”
“So what’s so special about this spear?”
“Only God knows that, Annabelle. But, what I do
know is that Hitler had flirted with the supernatural, and
the occult for many years, long before he became Fuhrer.”
He shook his head. “LJ is going to look into the
history of it, and all I really know is that I’ve found this
submarine, and that because of the implications to the
island, should its whereabouts become public knowledge,
LJ has sworn me to secrecy.”
He stood up, and walked down the steps to the
slipway that led onto the sandy beach. Annabelle who had
never seen him so excited, got up, and followed him down
to where he was stood with his hands in his pockets, and
looking out to sea. She put her arm through his and gave it
a squeeze. “You go and see your friend LJ, he’ll know what
to do. But if you’d like me to go with you, I’ll get Kate to
look after things here?”
“No, you stay here, I’ll be okay, I’m looking forward
to seeing the old rogue. After all we’ve not seen each other
for well over three years, which means that we’ve got an
awful lot of catching up to do.”
“Well, only if you’re sure, Pops,” she gave him a
wan smile. “But, I’ll have no arguments. I’m packing your
overnight bag for you, whether you like it or not. I know
what you’re like, you’re bound to forget something or other.
Come on, lets get back home and start sorting you out.”

The helicopter flight up to London was uneventful
except for strong headwinds that held them back over
the channel, so that the landing at city heli-pad was later
than Nathan had anticipated, around five o’clock. Walking
out into the main foyer, he spotted a uniformed chauffeur
standing by a big silver Mercedes saloon. A small board in
his hand with the name Cunningham, type written across
the middle of it. Nathan was greeted, and the rear door
opened for him.

Luxurious soft leather wrapped itself around him
as he sat back and enjoyed the opulence of the vehicle’s
interior. He opened the case, and browsed through it for a
while, not just the U-boat log but the routine documents,
and the two letters. It was these that intrigued him the most,
with their reference to the mystical spear that the submarine
was transporting.

He closed the case and put it back into his overnight
bag. The journey across to the other side of the city would
take no more than forty-five minutes, and as the car made
its way slowly through the late afternoon traffic, Nathan
stared out of the darkened glass window. His thoughts were
with U-683, and that final ending inside the cavern.

Why had Korvetenkapitan’s Otto Sternberg been
ordered to Jersey, and what had happened to his crew?
Another strange thing was the amount of damage caused
to the submarine’s superstructure. What had taken place
all those years ago, on that last day of the war? The car
stopped, the chauffeur got out, and opened the rear door.

It was just before six o’clock when the internal
telephone on Edward Levenson-Jones’ desk started to ring.
Guy Roberts informed him that Commander Cunningham
had just entered the building through the private side
entrance, and was in the elevator that would bring him
down to the Special Projects Department of Ferran &
Cardini International. LJ stood in front of the metallic doors
waiting to greet his old friend, who appeared a moment
later with his overnight bag in one hand, and the bright
silver aluminium briefcase in the other.

“Nathan you old sea dog, it’s good to see you. That
Jersey air must be agreeable, you look absolutely great,
old son. Come on through to my office. Would you like a
cup of tea or coffee?” LJ said, as he guided him across the
department to his private office suite.

“It’s so good to see you again, LJ. And a cup of tea
would be fine, thank you.”
“Would you see to that Roberts?” LJ said as they
passed by. “Oh, and I’ll have coffee, black and very strong.”
He added over his shoulder, just before closing the door.
“Now old son, before I forget, I insist that you stay
with me tonight at my apartment here in town. That is of
course, if you have no other plans?”
“I’ve no other plans, and if you insist then who am
I to argue?”
Roberts came in with the drinks, and LJ motioned
Nathan to an old leather Chesterfield sofa that looked so
out of place in the otherwise pristine and contemporary
room. Nathan placed the briefcase on the coffee table in
front of them, and said, “Well here it is.”
LJ leaned forward, and running his hands over the
bright metal, he said. “Amazing.”
He took his time examining the Kriegsmarine
insignia, and the red leaping devil that was etched across
the centre of the lid then, he glanced up. “May I do the
honours?”
“That’s why I came. Just slide the catches back, it’s
unlocked.”
Resting his hands lightly on either side of the case, LJ
placed his thumbs over the catches and pushed outwards.
They sprang open with a snap and a thud. The lid was
opened. Picking up the submarine logbook he randomly
opened a page, looking at it briefly, before closing it up
again and placing the book on the table. He pulled out, and
quickly read through, the various documents that were held
together inside a plain brown envelope.
“These are, as you said on the phone, just routine
records, some are basic food and provisions request forms,
and the others are mechanical service records. They are
all dated, by the looks of it, just a few days before they
embarked on that last mission.”
He ran fingers through his fair hair and readjusted
his fine gold wire framed spectacles, before adding. “This
is very odd, old son, there should be records from the day
this U-boat was commissioned, not as these are, for just the
one mission.”
LJ went over to his desk, typing in the password to
allow him access to the central archive database. “Here we
are, Nat come and have a look at this. U-683 should have
documentation dating from the twenty third of December
1942. Umm, there seems to be intrigue and mystery
everywhere, my friend.”
“I’d say,” Nathan said.
Walking back over to the sofa, LJ slumped heavily
down onto the worn leather, and sitting there, said. “Umm,”
at least, half a dozen times, before picking up the logbook,
and glancing at the first page again. “Lovely handwriting
and surprisingly legible.” He started to read. “Some of these
entries are very brief though. Can’t be more than twentyfive to thirty pages at the most.”
“As I remember it, you are not only able to speak
and write fluently in German, but to actually think like a
German as well,” Nathan said.
“You have a good memory, old son. And, I’m sure you
also remember that I’m one of those annoying individuals,
who find it absolutely natural to do so.” With the logbook
still in his hand, he stood up and went back over to his
desk, sitting down in front of the computer screen.
“However, I’m not going to waste time reading
through every entry. Instead I’ll let our very expensive state
of the art software do it for us, once I’ve scanned in the
pages and the two letters, it should only take a matter of
seconds to translate. Then with the wonders of modern
technology it will be projected onto the screen over there.”
LJ, held up a small black remote control, and pointed
it at the wall in front of the sofa where Nathan was sitting.
A panel in the ceiling moved silently back allowing a large
projection screen to automatically drop down. Seconds
later the first page of the translated logbook appeared on
the silvery white panel, and then disappeared again.
LJ sat at his desk, quickly working his fingers over the
keyboard as he typed in the command sequence to enable
the computer to translate the German text into English.
There was a look of intense concentration on his face.
Nathan said cheerfully, “What happens next?”
“Please, old son, be patient.”
Nathan sighed, sitting back in the leather sofa, and
drinking what was left of his tea. It was quiet in the office
except for the sound of LJ tapping away at the keyboard,
when suddenly, he said, “Great heavens above!” and then a
few minutes later, “It can’t possibly be true.”
“Tell me LJ, what is it?”
“Please Nat, one minute old son, I’m almost there
and then I’ll put it all up on the big screen for you.”
Nathan sat there for what seemed like ages, the
anticipation of what was to come, rising in him again, as
it had done earlier that morning when he’d swam in to the
cavern.
“There, finished.” LJ exclaimed, prodding the return
key with his index finger, before getting up and walking
back to where Nathan was sitting on the sofa.
“Well, what do you think? Does the logbook have
anything of interest to say?”
“Of interest?” LJ raised his eyebrows and smiled.
“That’s the understatement of the year, old son. The text
that you are now viewing on screen, shows a complete page
or one-day if you like of the submarine’s journey. But, I
have to say Nat, that this is, in my humble opinion, merely
a personal diary of events and is most definitely not the
U-boat official log. Korvetenkapitan’s Otto Sternberg,
obviously felt uneasy about that final voyage. So much so,
that he should try and cover himself in some way, I’m only
guessing of course. But even so, what we have here is pretty
sensational. The question is, how we are going to handle
it?”
“What do you mean, handle it?”
“Here, take this remote control, if you push the blue
button once, the next page will come up onto the screen.
Read, what Sternberg wrote, it will make things somewhat
clearer. I’ll go and get us some more tea and coffee.”
Nathan took off his glasses, and polished the lenses
on a corner of the clean handkerchief that Annabelle had
placed neatly in the breast pocket of his jacket, before he
had left that morning. He looked up at the large screen and
started to carefully read the translation of page one.

17th April 1945, St. Nazaire, France. I,
Korvettenkapitan Otto Sternberg, wish to put down on
paper my own personal account of the strange mission that
I now find myself embarking upon. My crew and I have
worked tirelessly throughout the day, loading into the cargo
hold a number of small heavy metal ammunition boxes. The
orders are very specific, and state that we are to proceed
southwards and to surface just off the coast of Lisbon in
Portugal. My command is U683. Gross Admiral Donitz
has ordered me to pick up an official of the Gestapo and
proceed to the island of Sicily in the Mediterranean, where
we will rendezvous with a local fishing vessel. My passenger
will be fully briefed, but the skeleton crew of ten men and I
will be kept completely uninformed. He carries direct orders
from the Fuhrer as well as endorsements of authority from
Heinrich Himmler and Gross Admiral Donitz. I’m finding
this hard, as Commander in charge of this submarine. I am
to take all orders from him, without question.

Nathan pushed the blue button, scrolling through the
next few pages. For nine days, Sternberg reported nothing
more than routine sailing on the surface, using the cover of
darkness at night, and then just below the ocean top during
daylight hours, using the submarine’s Schnorchel mast.

This allowed the diesel engines to run while the
boat was submerged and reduced detection by radar, it also
enabled the batteries to be charged day and night while
underway at speed. His course had taken him from the
U-boat pens of St. Nazaire, down to Lisbon in Portugal and
then back out into the Atlantic and southwards. He then
made his way towards Africa, around the Cape of Good
Hope and then northwards again, passing Madagascar
on his way to the Red Sea. Through the Suez Canal and
eventually out into the Mediterranean and the island of
Sicily.

29th April 1945. 0345 hrs, just before dawn, Herr
Kessler issued me with orders to come to the surface two
miles off the coast of Sicily. We have rendezvoused with
a small fishing vessel, and taken on board the mysterious
cargo, which has now been placed in the hold, and is strictly
off limits to everyone, including myself. I am placing on
record, that under threat of execution, my First Lieutenant
Dieter Schaffer and I, were ordered to use our twenty
millimetre deck guns to fire on, and murder the captain and
crew of the fishing boat, and then to scuttle his vessel. This
is an extraordinary mission made even stranger by Kessler
handing me two letters from Himmler and Gross Admiral
Donitz. They inform me that the cargo we are transporting
is an important religious artefact called the Spear of Destiny,
and that its power will ensure the future of the Third Reich.

Nathan got up from the sofa after reading this entry,
and walked around the office to stretch his legs. LJ came in
with a tray of tea and coffee, and a plate full of sandwiches.

LJ said, “Here’s some more tea and coffee, and I
thought a sandwich or two wouldn’t go amiss. How far
have you got?”

“Up to where the submarine rendezvoused with the
Sicilian fishing boat. What an appalling business that must
have been?”

“I agree, but we mustn’t forget, those were very
fraught times Nat. You know as well as I do, that given
the nature of the sub’s mission. Well, they would have had
to maintain absolute secrecy and it would have been that
Gestapo fellow Kessler who would have stopped at nothing
to meet that objective. But, don’t think for one moment that
I’m condoning what happened all those years ago, quite
the contrary.” LJ said, as he simultaneously sat down, and
picked up a ham sandwich, devouring half of it in one bite.

29th April 1945. 0420 hrs, we have got underway
immediately, for our return voyage. I envisage using the
Strait of Gibraltar to take us back out into the Atlantic
Ocean with a clear run up the coast of Portugal and France,
and then in to the English Channel. My orders are to proceed
with no radio contact for the duration of the journey.

29th April 1945. 2100 hrs, Herr Kessler has come to
my quarters to inform me that the island of Jersey will be
our final destination, and has requested to see the chart for
that area of the English Channel. He instructed the most
northern side of the island for us to surface. He gave no
indication or reason why we are doing this.

The two men sat at either end of the sofa eating their
way through the plate of ham sandwiches while reading the
Korvettenkapitan’s account of the uneventful journey back
up to the island of Jersey. Nathan scrolled through the daily
entries, until he came to the final one.

8th May 1945. Midnight. I have just been on the
bridge with Kessler, and he has been signalled from the
shore by spotlight. I feel apprehensive as his orders are
very precise, but go against everything that is sane. We are
to move our position to within fifty metres off the hostile
and violent looking shoreline, and to then dive at high tide
to the seabed, that is, only twenty to twenty-five metres in
depth. This gives me concern because, although the ocean
tonight, is relatively calm and the wind light, I can see that
the waters around this island are unpredictable, and can
still be very shallow in places. When in position, we are to
proceed all ahead slow towards the shore for exactly three
minutes. I believe these to be the orders of a mad man.

Have come to the surface inside a large cave, SS
troops waiting, and have ordered us to open cargo hatch.
Everything starting to shake, rocks are falling, and mist
everywhere. May God take pity on our souls, for I know,
that we are all going to die.

“And he was right, they did all die. But what puzzles
me, is where are the remains of the U-boat crew and all of
those SS troops, now? Something must have happened so
quickly that they had no time to escape. Leaving them, and
the submarine trapped inside that cavern where you found
her.” LJ said.

“It certainly looks that way, but what about this for
a theory.” Nathan said. “Could it be remotely possible, and
I know this is going to sound absolutely potty. But, just
suppose for one second, that when those Nazis opened up
the cargo hatch. Just consider, what if this spear that they
were transporting, really did have magical powers?”

“Umm, I’ve given that a second’s thought Nat. And I
fear old friend, that it’s a little far fetched, even for you. But
I still find it hard to believe that no one has ever discovered
this cavern and the sub before.”

“Well it doesn’t surprise me,” Nathan said, matter of
factly. “For a start, no one ever dives in that place because
it’s usually like a maelstrom of turbulent water and very
dangerous rock formations. Even the professional divers
on the island won’t go anywhere near the place because of
the conditions that prevail. Also, if the recent storm hadn’t
made the surface unusually calm, and ripped out large
patches of vegetation from the seabed, I would never have
spotted the channel that led to the tunnel entrance. In fact, I
would have sailed on by just as everyone else does.