Captain Armand was standing on the upper deck looking down at the small craft circling around his vessel, binoculars in one hand, and a two-way radio in the other.
“Seen enough, or do you want me to take her around for another look?”
“No, let’s get going before Malakoff returns. I’ve seen enough, thank you.” Dillon said.
“Okay.” Chapman pushed the throttle to full power and the Wave Dancer raced on towards Bonne Nuit Bay. Dillon leaned against the bulkhead of the wheelhouse.
“Do you get many interesting wrecks on the northern side of the island?”
“There are a few,” Chapman said. “Mostly merchant ships, and of course there are many fishing boats that have run onto the rocks.”
“I’m sure there are. But, I was thinking of something a little more interesting, say military?” Dillon said. “After all, Annabelle did mention that you know these waters like no other diver.”
Chapman remained impassive, allowing Dillon to continue, “For instance, would it be possible for there to be a wreck on the northern coast that you’d never come across. Say, if it were concealed somewhere?”
Chapman throttled back and slowly entered the bay. “On the northern coast, you say. Well anything is possible, Jake.”
“So you’re saying that there’s a possibility of finding an uncharted wreck?”
The Wave Dancer came alongside the seawall. Dillon took the stern line, jumped down onto the wet concrete ledge, and tied up. He did the same at the bow as Chapman gave a quick reverse thrust to steady the boat, and then cut the engine. Dillon jumped back on board and started to collect up his diving gear.
Chapman came down from the wheelhouse deep in thought.
“Anything wrong?” Dillon inquired casually.
“Well perhaps you can tell me, Jake? You see there’s something not quite right here. I don’t know what it is you’ve come to Jersey for — and quite frankly — I’m not interested. All I know is that you’re a well-trained diver who doesn’t mind taking risks. Now, I’ve not got a problem with that. But when someone starts on about uncharted wrecks, it usually means trouble, if you know what I mean? And all that stuff back there about wanting to take a closer look at the Solitaire?”
“What about it?” Dillon said, continuing to put his equipment into the large canvas kit bag.
“It could be bad for your health. By all accounts Malakoff is not only one of the richest men in France, but he’s also evil with it. And as for his bodyguard, well he’s nothing more than a psychopath, who literally gets away with murder. There are plenty of people on this island who could tell you the same about the big German. But what the hell, I’m sure you already know this?”
“I’ve not got the faintest idea what you’re talking about Rob, but I’ll certainly keep your advice in mind about Malakoff, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now, I’ve got to be going I’m working over at the war tunnels this afternoon. Would you like to dive with me again?”
“That would be great, Rob.” Dillon went up the steps, got to the top and paused, “Perhaps my friend Vince and I could buy you a drink this evening. Will you be at Annabelle’s place?”
“I’m there every night, Jake,” Chapman said, “otherwise I’d starve.”
“That’s settled then, I’ll see you later.” Dillon said, turned and walked along the top of the sea wall towards the road.
When he arrived back at the Fisherman’s Lodge, Dillon found Vince sitting in the small living room with a Sony Vaio on his lap and a printer on the table that was spewing out paper, one sheet after another. He’d connected via the Internet to the local record’s archive, and was downloading everything he could find out about old Malakoff’s company.
After telling Vince about his dive with Chapman, Dillon went through to the kitchen and made himself a black coffee, which he took out into the garden. As he walked across the lawn to the cliff edge, he lifted the collar of his jacket against the wind. The grey sky above looked thunderous and foreboding, a storm was definitely brewing, he thought, and then turned his attention towards Gifford Bay, where the Solitaire was once again at anchor. He stood there thinking about the way things had gone since he’d arrived in Jersey. About the beating he’d been given by Kurt and his mate, Hugo Malakoff and the Solitaire.
He’d known about Malakoff, but how did Malakoff know about him, that was the question still unanswered. Dillon had been aware of some sort of strange connection with the Frenchman taking place back in Saie Harbour. Malakoff had looked straight at him through his binoculars, and had caught Dillon peering back through his own. He’d actually lifted his arm and waved back as if he were just like any other friendly seafarer. Chapman he really liked. In fact, everything he’d learnt so far about the archaeologist he liked, and he certainly knew how to dive. The part that he wasn’t able to gauge, was how far Chapman could be pushed before he showed the real man behind the quiet intelligent mask.
It started to rain, sending Dillon back inside. He went straight to a cupboard in his bedroom and took one of the canvas kit bags out. This one was black and much bigger than the rest that he’d brought along, and was one of those that can be opened up in two complete halves. Dillon pulled the zip from one end to the other in one swift action, and threw one of the sides over to reveal its contents.
There were knives of varying length, handguns with and without silencers; including the Glock 20 automatic, a particular favourite of Dillons. Two Heckler & Koch MP5 carbines, a weapon favoured by the SAS, and a sawn off shotgun. Dillon knew he could take apart and reassemble any of these weapons with a blindfold on, and was as proficient and accurate as any professional marksman. He unzipped a side pocket and pulled out a cheap looking imitation leather holster with the butt of a pistol sticking out of it, Dillon’s ace in the hole. The .22 calibre gun was small and light, and accurate at short range. The holster had a magnetic strip running along the back, allowing it to be stuck to the underside of anything, and as long as it was metal it would stay in place.
Dillon unzipped another pocket, and pulled out a long flat oblong container full of Semtex, along with another much smaller box that held the underwater detonators. LJ had relented, allowing Dillon to have the explosive, just in case he had to blast his way into the tunnel. After he’d inspected the weapons, and was satisfied that everything was working as it should be. He zipped the bag up and put it back in the cupboard.
He went back into the small living room, Vince was still sitting in front of his Sony Vaio.
“Found anything interesting?” Dillon asked.
“No, nothing out of the ordinary, but I’m really only scratching the surface at present, most of this stuff is the same as Guy Roberts came up with. But, I’m going to carry on with it, because there’s one thing that’s a bit odd.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, there appears to have been some changes made to the information held on these digital files.”
“How do you know it’s been changed?”
“There are certain words that are too modern, and some of the phrases used, well to be honest Jake, the syntax for the time is all wrong.”
“And?”
“Well, I think that if I dig around under the surface, I’ll find that something has been taken out of a number of documents, and it’s more than likely that it’s a name of a person or persons, and that this has been done to protect somebody now. Of course that’s only speculation on my part, you understand?”
“I understand, but keep with it Vince, you never know it may prove to be a link to the U-boat.”