“Yes my Lord, that’s when you father would disappear. A messenger would arrive with a package, and then leave immediately, usually without a reply. His Lordship would then instruct me to pack his travelling things, and a day later he would leave. But, I’m afraid that I was never told where his Lordship was going or how long he would be gone for. Now if you’d forgive me, my Lord, I really must get back to my duties downstairs now,”
“What? Yes of course Jenkins,” Asquith was lost in deep thought as the old man got up off the trunk, patted the dust off his black trousers, and slowly walked to the other end of the attic towards the small door.
“Just one other thing Jenkins?”
The butler turned, his hand about to turn the tarnished brass doorknob.
“Did my father ever visit Jersey in the Channel Islands?”
“Why of course, my Lord. Your family owned a large residence on the island for many years. I believe, it was sold shortly after the war.”
“Thank you Jenkins, you’ve been very helpful.”
Asquith closed the door gently, and went downstairs to his study. He poured himself a large gin and tonic, and sitting at his desk began thinking about it all.
The revelation about the discovery of the subterranean cavern had shocked him beyond measure and it was remarkable that he had kept his composure in front of Edward Levenson-Jones, but now he knew for certain what he had always suspected. It was not really surprising that his father, a member of the British aristocracy had had empathy with the Nazi Party, if only to be different. But a friendship with Heinrich Himmler, one of the most feared of Nazi party members. Now that was something else.
Jenkins had said, that his father had met Himmler some years prior to the outbreak of the War. Which almost certainly meant that by the time Britain had joined in the fight, his involvement would have been more considerable than ever thought. The regular trips away, and the mysterious messenger turning up, the family residence in Jersey and that private meeting with Adolf Hitler to authenticate his religious artefact. It was all pointing towards the U-boat and her precious cargo, still tied up in the Cavern.
He got up from behind his desk and went and poured himself another large gin and tonic from the drinks cabinet, adding more ice and lemon for good measure. Asquith had never liked to be cooped up inside, so he walked over to the French doors, and throwing them open he walked out onto the terrace. Taking in the magnificent unspoilt view across his estate. The fields and woods stretched for as far as the eye could see, as they had done for the last four hundred years or more. His famously patriotic ancestors would turn in the family mausoleum if they knew that one of them had been a traitor, he thought.
If LJ sent someone to Jersey, who then managed to locate the underwater tunnel entrance, and get to the U-boat. Well, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind about what they would find. His father had helped the Nazis find the cavern, and would have shown them how to create the sea tunnel to allow the submarine into the subterranean harbour. Asquith knew from his days as a childhood eavesdropper, ear pressed against firmly shut doors. That his father’s obsession with the Spear of Destiny was as intense as Hitler’s had been, and that was the real reason why he had been asked to authenticate it. The last thing that he would have wanted was for the priceless artefact to fall into the wrong hands.
But what concerned Oliver Asquith more than anything, was the whereabouts of the one thing he knew would be easily found somewhere inside the cavern. Although his father wasn’t interested in keeping documents of any kind, he had always kept a personal diary of any important dig that he was involved with. This was usually a daily record of the work carried out, and an eccentric habit that Asquith had also inherited from his father. He had believed that a written account left at the site would be invaluable to anyone finding it in the future. There was no reason to doubt that his father’s name would eventually come to light as a Nazi collaborator, and traitor to the British realm. The scandal would finish him. Not only would he have to say goodbye to his lucrative position at the British Museum, but he would almost certainly have to leave his beloved England. A shiver ran through him. It really didn’t bear thinking about, but what was to be done?
He stood at the top of the limestone steps deep in thought, looking down on the raised pond that was the central feature of the beautiful Italian garden. An ornate fountain in the middle, shot plumes of water high into the air, and large carp swam just beneath the glinting surface in the sunshine. The solution was very simple. Hugo Malakoff, Hugo would know what to do. He used his mobile phone to dial up the number of Malakoff’s French château.
“Sabine, this is Lord Asquith here, I wish to speak to Monsieur Malakoff.”
“Lord Asquith, what a pleasure. I’m afraid that Monsieur Malakoff is not in residence at the château. He’s currently on a business trip to Tangier. But he’s due back tomorrow. Can I take a message for him?” The feminine French voice purred down the telephone line at him.
“No message, but I really do have to speak to him urgently. I’ll try him on the mobile number that he gave me. Thank you Sabine.”
“You’re very welcome Lord Asquith, goodbye.”
The line was broken and Asquith immediately dialled the number. He breathed a sigh of relief when Hugo Malakoff himself answered the phone at the other end.
“Malakoff.”
“Hugo this is Oliver. I’ve got to see you; it’s imperative that I see you as soon as possible. Something disastrous has happened here, the implications of which will finish me. Hugo, you are the only person on earth who can help me.”
“Oliver, you must calm down. It really isn’t good for your heart. Now where are you calling from?”
“My country home in Dorset. Why?”
“If I remember correctly, you have a private airfield nearby. Charter yourself a plane and a pilot this afternoon and fly down to the château. You’ll be there in no time. I’ll phone Sabine and inform her that you will be staying overnight. We can have dinner together and you can tell me all about it. And Oliver, please stay calm. Everything will be alright.”
The phone clicked, and the connection was broken. Asquith went back up to his study, and phoned the airfield to book a twin engine plane for later that day. From the safe he took his passport and a wad of Euros, then went upstairs to his bedroom and packed an overnight bag which he left behind the door of his dressing room so that Jenkins wouldn’t find it.
The old butler had instructed cook to prepare a light lunch for him. After which, he then walked his two favourite gun dogs and met with his gamekeeper for an update of how things were going generally on the seven hundred-acre estate. This took up most of the afternoon, but still gave him enough time to go back to the house and change. His overnight bag in hand Asquith came down the sweeping staircase just as Jenkins entered the hall from the drawing room. “Leaving us so soon, my Lord?”
“Yes Jenkins, official museum business, I’m afraid. Won’t be back for a day or two. I’ll give you a call and let you know when I’ll be down next. Say my goodbyes to Mrs James will you, and tell her that she’s still the best cook in the land.”
Jenkins opened the door for him, he got into the Porsche 4x4 and drove away.
At the prestigious Docklands building of Ferran & Cardini, LJ was sitting in his office looking across the room at the silver Kriegsmarine briefcase, and Nathan Cunningham’s overnight bag, the contents of which were now laid out on the large conference table. He was pondering over the problem of the cavern’s exact location, when in frustration he said aloud, “You really must be mad, if you expect to find out the location of that dammed tunnel hidden amongst these things.”