“Malakoff doesn’t know anything about this, and that’s the way we want it to stay, Rousseau. As for your bill, I’ll pay you in cash here and now.” Slater said.
“I thought that might be the case, I was only speaking with him this afternoon. But your secret, Mr Slater is safe with me. Shall we say two thousand pounds as it’s cash?”
“What, two grand, you must be joking mate?” “I never joke about money, Mr Slater. Two thousand pounds is a very small charge, believe me, for the service that I have just rendered to you and your friend over there.”
“This is daylight robbery Rousseau, and you know it. Dick Turpin used to wear a mask when he did what you’re doing to us.” Slater protested, but took out a bundle of fifty-pound notes from his jacket pocket, and counted out forty onto the desk.
The two men went out of the room, slamming the door behind them, and down the stairway to the rear entrance. Rousseau went through to one of the smaller clerical back offices, and watched them walk to the Ferrari and drive off.
Going back to his consulting room he picked up the phone and dialled Hugo Malakoff aboard his luxury power cruiser. That was anchored just off the Jersey coast.
Dillon leaned against the balcony of the sixth floor apartment, gazing out across an illuminated City of London. Annabelle, who appeared to be in much happier spirits now, was sat on a wooden steamer chair drinking a large Jack Daniel’s with ice. The two of them casually chatted about everything and nothing for what seemed like hours, Dillon listened while she told him about her childhood, and how her mother had virtually brought her up alone due to Nathan’s long spells at sea.
Dillon waited for an appropriate opportunity before asking. “I assume that you’ll stay on here until your father regains consciousness?”
“Yes, and hopefully that won’t be for to much longer. The doctors say that he’s already made remarkable progress, and could come out of the coma at any time. I’m just so glad that he’s alright after that poor policeman was murdered in his room, I’m sure that if he hadn’t come in when he did. Well, it would have been Pops lying there with a bullet in his head.”
A tear appeared in the corner of her eyes, which she wiped away with the back of her hand. “So, what about you. When are you flying down to Jersey?”
“Phil Allerton will most likely fly Vince and I down in the company helicopter early tomorrow morning, or possibly the day after.”
“Well if you need any information, and I mean anything about the coastline or tidal movements around the Island you should speak to Rob Chapman.”
She said. “Tell him that you’re a friend of mine, and that I sent you, and don’t forget to introduce yourself to Kate Jackson she’s my best friend and absolutely adorable. As a matter of fact she’s running the café for me while I’m here in London.”
“I’ll do that, and I gather that they both live quite close to Bonne Nuit Bay. As you know, that will be our base while we try to locate this U-boat.”
“Rob lives in the most amazing old place right on a peninsular overlooking the bay. Apparently it was used by the Nazis during the last war as a gun emplacement.” She noticed Dillon’s puzzled look, and added, “It was originally built to be a sea defence castle.” “Oh, I see.”
Kate lives a little further up the hill inland but you’ll be able to catch her at the café every day though. In fact, I’ll give her a call first thing in the morning and tell her to make sure that you’re both fed properly. How does that sound?”
“It sounds great, but be careful what you say to her, we don’t want anyone getting inquisitive.”
“Well you’d better have a watertight cover story, because in a place like Jersey, gossip spreads like the plague. Believe me.”
“I really should be going, Annabelle.” Dillon said looking down at his mobile phone, and the text message that had just been sent to him, and then added, “I’m being summoned back to the office by LJ. But, I’ve enjoyed our little chat.”
“Well, you’re a very interesting man do you know that, Jake Dillon?” She stood up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Scary, but very interesting, and I’m extremely pleased that I’ve met you. Thank you for listening.”
“Goodnight Annabelle.”
Outside in the car park, Dillon looked up towards the sixth floor of the modern apartment building where Annabelle was looking down, and waving at him. He waved back before getting into the convertible Mercedes. He smiled to himself at the thought of how he’d just found a new friend.
It was a little after ten thirty that evening when Dillon arrived at the Docklands building of Ferran & Cardini International. He stepped out of the lift, and into the artificial environment of air conditioning and fluorescent lighting. In the department it was the usual hive of activity with men and women working away at computer screens, and talking on telephones. In LJ’s office he was offered and poured a strong black filter coffee by his boss. “Jake, this French chap Malakoff?” LJ moved around uncomfortably in his seat. “What about him?”
“Well, as you know I’ve had young Roberts digging up information on him all afternoon.”
“And?”
“Don’t underestimate him, that’s all. He’s connected at the highest level of both the French and British Governments, and because of this the Partners want us to tread with extreme care.”
“Is that it. Is that the reason for dragging me half way across London?”
“Not quite, Jake. You see after the Second World War there were rumours that Malakoff’s father collaborated with the Nazis in some way. Of course there appears to be no one alive today who could verify this, and the authorities have never been able to prove it. But, there is one thing though that I think could prove this theory to be potentially true, which is not just sour grapes on the part of the French and UK Governments, and it’s this…”
“…Malakoff’s vast estate and grandiose château was most definitely used as a weekend retreat by some of the top Nazi party and military brass. The official documentation that actually survived, relates to it as a rest and relaxation facility. Anyway all through the war years, not only did the building remain completely intact but so did the wealth of treasures that abound the place inside, even to this day. You see, it was left absolutely spotless, and unharmed. When the Americans arrived they apparently couldn’t believe what they saw. The place hadn’t been bombed or looted. The French then handed it back to the Malakoff family after liberation.”
“Okay, I accept that there could be a possible connection here which means that Malakoff must think it’s pretty damned important to find that U-boat before we do. Furthermore, he must also know by now that he is taking an enormous risk for a man in his position, and that he may even lose everything in the process. But really, if those two goons are the best that he can come up with then you should tell the Partners not to worry. Anyway, they should know by now that I’m the epitome of diplomacy, and always tread carefully.” Dillon let a smile cross his face as he took a sip of his coffee.
“Um, unfortunately I do know how you work and making light of this situation is not helpful. What we do not want is an international situation on our hands or the world’s tabloid press converging on the Channel Islands. Please remember, that the primary functions of this organisation are secret intelligence, counter espionage and the evaluation and synthesis of intelligence. So, please try not to start World War Three while you’re down there, that’s all I’m saying, Jake.” He stood up, and tucked a pile of files under his arm, “I’ve now got a supper meeting with Sir Julius at his home, and a breakfast meeting with the Partners at five thirty to bring them up to speed with the department’s various projects, including this one. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll say good night, Jake.”