Dillon walked out of the Ferran & Cardini building into brilliant sunshine and stood smoking a cigarette by the wharf side. LJ and Annabelle joined him a few minutes later.
Slater and Black were sitting in the Ferrari, patiently watching from a short distance away. They had a clear view of the two men in dark business suits, and the young attractive woman standing by the water’s edge talking. The flash Italian sports car stood out like a brassy street prostitute at a Downing Street drinks party, surrounded by the array of sober executive saloon cars that were parked around it.
Dillon said to LJ, “Don’t look round, but are you aware that we’re being watched?”
“Who by, and where?” LJ asked.
“The red sports car parked forty metres up the road. Looks like two men inside.”
“What are they doing?”
“Nothing, they’re just sat looking this way.”
At that moment a traffic warden came around the corner and started to walk up the road towards the bright red sports car. Black started the engine, and pulled out from the kerb, turned right at the next side road and was gone.
LJ glanced round, “Well they’re not there now.”
“Trust me, my instincts tell me that they were definitely watching us.”
“Perhaps you’re right, Jake. On the other hand you could just be a little paranoid?”
“Is that a fact? Well I’ve only lasted this long by trusting my gut instincts, and they tell me that we’ve got ourselves a couple of bad guys there.”
The Mercedes drew in to the pavement by the dock area and Guy Roberts got out, and walked over to them.
“Are you ready to leave, sir?”
“Yes Roberts, Miss Cunningham and I will be stopping off at the hospital to visit her father. Jake, we will continue our chat later, now let’s get moving,” and he led the way back to the car.
As the Mercedes was driving over Westminster Bridge towards Parliament Square, LJ’s mobile phone sounded, Roberts glanced up at the rear-view mirror, but paid no attention to the bright red Ferrari four cars back.
“Oliver, good to hear your voice.” LJ said, and listened without interruption.
“Of course, Oliver, I’d be delighted to meet with you later. What, you’ve got to do your duty this afternoon have you, well I can think of worse places to spend time than the House of Lords, old son, how does two-thirty sound. Good, well that’s settled then, I’ll come straight over immediately after I’ve visited Commander Cunningham in the hospital.” He hung up and twisted around slightly to face Annabelle who was sitting in the rear seat with him.
“I’m sorry for that interruption, my dear, that was, Oliver Asquith the archaeologist fellow over at the British Museum who I told you about. He’s a useful chap, but very nervous, though.”
The Mercedes pulled up outside of the City hospital main entrance.
“Roberts, contact Mr Dillon, and tell him to meet me outside of the House of Lords at two fifteen prompt. Please inform him that this is non-negotiable, and please be back here at two o’clock sharp to collect me.”
“Yes sir,” and then he plucked up the courage to add. “Please forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn, sir. But is it a good idea, taking Mr Dillon to meet Lord Asquith?”
“Roberts, you are an astute young fellow, but let me tell you this. By the time you get to my age, you will hopefully understand the old saying of, putting the cat amongst the pigeons. The knack, however, is to know how far to stand back while watching the feathers fly.”
LJ and Annabelle went into the hospital. Roberts, none the wiser and totally confused by what his boss had just said to him engaged drive, and eased the Mercedes silently out into the traffic. At the same time the red Italian sports car pulled into the kerb a short distance up the road behind it. Sharp remained seated behind the wheel, while Black got out and casually walked into the hospital.
At two fifteen, Dillon stepped out of a black London cab, paid the driver and made his way through the crowds of tourists towards the Peer’s entrance of the House of Lords. LJ was already waiting for him at the security checkpoint when he arrived. Two men stood a short distance away, looking directly at them. Dillon turned around, and spotted them immediately, but in the same moment they disappeared into the sea of sightseers.
They entered the main entrance hall, and were asked to wait there until Lord Asquith came to meet them. Dillon said, “Those two men in the red Ferrari who I spotted this morning. Well, I’ve just seen them again outside.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“As sure as I’m standing here beside you. One minute they were stood over by the railings just staring at us, and the next they’d been swallowed up by the throngs of people milling around out there. But, I’m positive that it was them.”
Oliver Asquith came through a doorway marked, Private — Peers only. Looking around he spotted LJ, and walked over to greet him.
“Oliver, let me introduce to you, Jake Dillon.” LJ said shaking the other man’s hand.
“Good to meet you, Mr Dillon.” Asquith’s handshake was limp and his palm sweaty. “I’ve arranged for tea to be sent up to one of the private meeting rooms, if that’s alright with you gentlemen?”
“Lead on Oliver, that sounds like a splendid idea to me.” LJ replied.
Dillon kept quiet, allowing LJ to talk for them both while he studied Asquith, who appeared to be jumpy and on edge all of the time. After about five minutes, a stout woman in her early sixties came into the oak-panelled room carrying a large tray, laden with tea and biscuits.
Once she’d left, Asquith said, “Has Commander Cunningham regained consciousness yet, Edward?”
“No, unfortunately he’s still in a coma. But the doctors do say that his condition is stable, and that it’s simply a matter of waiting now.”
“So does this mean that you’re still no closer to locating the cavern in Jersey?” Asquith had taken out his white handkerchief, and was dabbing the sweat from his forehead with it.
“I’m afraid, that’s still the case at the present time. However, it’s not going to stop me sending Jake and my technical operations man, Vince Sharp down to Jersey tomorrow by helicopter.”
“Do you really think that they’ll be able to actually find the location of the cavern. What I mean is, where will they start?”
“Suffice to say Oliver, that if Jake Dillon, can’t find it. Then no one will be able to.” LJ glanced over at Dillon, and smiled mischievously at him.
“And what do you think, Mr Dillon?” Asquith asked. Dillon noticed how the archaeologist was constantly wringing his hands.
“Oh, I’d say that we have a fair chance of finding it, Lord Asquith. Even with the odds stacked somewhat against us. But tell me what is your interest in all of this?”
“My interest,” Asquith’s voice had risen, and taken on an aggressive edge, “is solely with the Spear of Destiny, Mr Dillon. I’m sure that your employers have told you this already, but if the diary kept by the U-boat Commander, Otto Sternberg is proven to be correct, well I think it’s fair to say, that we should find the spearhead somewhere inside that submarine. This is beyond doubt the same one that Hitler stole from the Hofmuseum in Vienna on the 12th March 1938. The day he annexed Austria. I don’t know what your religious beliefs are, Mr Dillon. But it’s the spearhead that the Roman Centurion, Gaius Cassius Longinus used to pierce the side of Jesus. I won’t bore you with a history lesson, but trust me when I say, that this would be truly the discovery of the century, and that is why I am taking such an avid interest in this matter.”