“Ah well, Jim and I go back a long way, Roberts. We worked together for many years at MI5. I was Jim’s handler, and he was an extremely good field operative. Until, that is, one wet November night about twenty years ago. You see, he’d been captured and held for four days by an IRA hit team who were working out of a safe house, down in Kent. He’d been tortured of course, and beaten badly. But he’d not given in. What they wanted was my name, and he never told them. I’m afraid he lost his nerve after that, and resigned. But, I still make sure that he and his family are taken care of financially. Jim occasionally gives me the odd snippet of worthwhile information that I’m able to use or pass on for a favour or two, and so the trading goes on.”
“So did you help his son get into Sandhurst?”
“Absolutely not. He got in on his own merit and ability. Unthinkable, Roberts.” LJ said, with only a hint of indignation.
Roberts leaned back on his chair, impressed. “So why have we come here today?” he asked.
“No reason, other than to say hello to Jim, and to get one of his splendid coffees. Oh, and to discuss with you, my trip to Jersey. It’s much safer to talk somewhere like this, off the beaten track so to speak. And of course, this way only you and I will know the exact arrangements.”
“Well, I’ve checked with Phil Allerton, and as luck would have it, he’s available this afternoon.”
“There you are then.” LJ glanced at his watch. “I want him fully fuelled and ready to leave just after three o’clock. With a tail wind, that means I’ll be in Jersey around four-fifteen.”
“Do you want me to come with you, Sir?”
“No, Roberts, I want you to stay here in London. That way, you’ll be able to look after things while I’m gone.”
“Would you like me to book you into a hotel?”
LJ shook his head. “No, I’ll be staying with Dillon and Vince Sharp at the rented lodge, after all it does have three bedrooms.”
“Almost sounds like you anticipated having to go there yourself?”
“Something like that.”
“Look, Sir,” said Roberts in exasperation, “what exactly is going on?”
“Roberts when you find out, tell me!” LJ emptied his cup, and went and put it on the counter. “Thanks, Jim.” He turned to Roberts. “Come on, we’ve got lots to do before I leave,” and he walked off out of the café and got back into the rear of the Mercedes.
Malakoff had remained in his study aboard the Solitaire. He’d been on the telephone since five-thirty that morning, and had even had time to work out for an hour in his private gym. Having showered, he was now sitting at the table on the stern sun terrace, enjoying his breakfast in the early morning sunshine filtering through the canopy overhead, when Kurt brought him the telephone.
“It’s Lord Asquith,” he said, handing Malakoff the receiver.
“A beautiful morning here,” Malakoff said cheerily. “How’s London?”
“Full of fumes, as always. I’m just about to grab a sandwich, and then spend the rest of the morning inside a lecture theatre with a group of snotty nosed students, who all think that Indiana Jones is a real archaeologist. Look, Hugo, Edward Levenson-Jones has been to see me again this morning and, this time I’m positive that he suspects me of leaking information to you.”
“Please don’t be so melodramatic, Oliver.”
“I’m not, but it’s worrying all the same. Apparently, Dillon was attacked last night in Bonne Nuit, and almost killed. What on earth was that about?”
“My people were just softening him up a little, Oliver. That’s all, and as you said before, he knows of my existence.”
“Yes, but what Levenson-Jones is now interested in is how you knew who Dillon was, and that he was arriving in Jersey, and so on. He said you were far too well informed.”
“Did he make any suggestion as to how he thought I was getting my information?”
“No, only that he was sure that someone in the know was feeding you with information. However, he did say that he’d be joining Dillon and Sharp in Jersey for a few days.”
“Did he now? That should prove extremely interesting. I look forward to meeting him.”
Asquith said, genuine despair in his words, “Bloody hell Hugo, they know about your involvement. How long before they know about mine?”
“You’re not involved on paper Oliver, and neither was your father. No mention of the name Asquith anywhere, and the great thing about this whole affair is that it is now a personal matter between Levenson-Jones and myself. As I’ve already told you, Levenson-Jones won’t want the authorities in on this. We’re rather like two wolves fighting over the same carcass.”
“I’m still worried,” Asquith told him. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“Simply keep your head, Oliver, and ensure that I’m kept informed of any developments. Nothing else you can do.”
Malakoff put the phone down, and Kurt said, “More Champagne, Mien Herr?”
Malakoff nodded. “Edward Levenson-Jones is coming to join in the fun.”
“Here in Bonne Nuit?” Kurt smiled, adding. “What would you like me to do about him, Mien Herr?”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something suitable,” Malakoff said, and drank his Champagne. “In the meantime, let’s find out what our friend Dillon is up to this morning.”
Kurt went around the island to St. Helier in an inflatable taking one of the divers with him, a young man called Zola Charon. They wore swimming shorts, T-shirts and dark glasses, and looked like any other tourists enjoying the sunshine. They pulled in amongst the small craft at the dock, Kurt killed the outboard motor, and Charon tied up. At that moment Dillon appeared at the end of the dock. He wore a pair of jeans and a white short-sleeved shirt and carried a large kit bag with a couple of towels draped over his shoulder.
“That’s him,” Kurt told Charon. “Get going. I’ll stay out of the way in case he remembers me from last night.”
Rob Chapman who was manhandling dive tanks from a trolley onto the deck of a small twenty-three foot dive boat, turned and saw Dillon. He waved, and went along the pontoon to join him, passing Charon who stopped to light a cigarette close enough to listen to them.
As Chapman got closer to Dillon, he said incredulously. “My God, you look as if you’ve been pulled through a hedge backwards. What the hell happened to you?”
“Something like that, but I’m really not in the mood to talk about just now, Rob.”
“Well, let me give you a hand to stow your equipment aboard, and then we’ll get under way.”
They moved away, Charon waited, and then made his way back along the dock to join Kurt.
Chapman had a wide range of dive equipment laid out on the deck of his boat, and Dillon commented on this as he stepped down onto the deck.
“Have you got one of these, Jake?” Chapman asked, handing Dillon the dive computer he’d just picked up.
“Yes, I picked up one from the dive shop just the other day. Remarkable bit of kit.” Dillon said, turning it over in his hands, and then added, “Especially for someone like me, who is absolutely dreadful at mental arithmetic. All I can say, is thank goodness for the age of technology.”
Dillon gave the dive computer back to Chapman. “So what have you got planned?”
“Oh, nothing too arduous, you’ll see.” Chapman smiled. “Let’s get going,” and jumped back up onto the pontoon, and untied the bow and stern lines. The next minute, He was firing the inboard diesel engine, and manoeuvring away from the dock.
Zola Charon dropped down into the inflatable. “By the looks of it, they’re going out to dive.”
“Are they now?” Kurt said.