“Take your time, Vince and I are in no hurry.”
LJ shot Dillon one of his glances from over the top of his wire-framed spectacles. “Well, I suppose two of the most bizarre dishes would be jellied sheep’s eyes. I tried those on a trip to India, and then there were the grilled python steaks in South America. How’s that for exotic?”
“Okay, point taken.” Dillon said amiably, and raised his glass in a mock toast to his boss.
“I’m glad to see that you still have a small degree of humility, Jake. At least there’s still some hope for you yet. Can either of you see what Malakoff is up to?”
“Having dinner over by the window behind you. The henchman who is with him, by the way, is called Kurt. He’s his minder, and the one who threw me over the cliff, and then attempted to murder me with a silenced carbine the other night.”
“Oh my, that won’t do, will it?” LJ asked the waiter for strong black espresso coffee instead of the weak milky excuse that he was offered. “So Jake, what are you suggesting our next move should be? Malakoff being here this evening demonstrates to me that he doesn’t want us talking to Chapman on our own. I’d also venture that this brazen display is simply to tell us that he’s here, and is going to stay here. The man’s arrogance obviously knows no boundaries.”
“I think that we need to talk to Chapman. Urgently, and in private.” Dillon said getting up and putting on his jacket.
“Do you know where he is right now?”
“Oh yes, I know exactly where he’ll be.”
“Excellent.” LJ stood, buttoned up his blazer and adjusted his tie. “We’d better get going then.”
“Vince, you stay here. Keep an eye on our friends over there, and ring me from your mobile if they should leave.”
“Do you want me to follow them, Jake?”
“Hell no. That would be tantamount to suicide, and that big German is far too dangerous. You stay put here, and do what comes naturally. Converse with total strangers and have a few more drinks, but keep your eyes on those two. I’ll only be an hour or two and then I’ll come back and get you in the Range Rover.”
As they went out, Dillon complimented the chef on an excellent meal, and the two men left. Malakoff saw them leave, said something to Kurt, and then ordered another round of liqueurs for them both.
Dillon drove the Range Rover into the wide gravel driveway, parking it next to Rob Chapman’s pickup and switched off. He took the Glock automatic out of the glove box and tucked it under his belt in the small of his back.
“What in heaven’s name do you want that for?” LJ demanded.
“Insurance.” Dillon said bluntly, adding. “Now let’s go and have a little chat with Mr Chapman.”
Gravel crunched under their feet as they walked across the drive to the entrance portico. Dillon stood for a moment, looking up at the big oak panelled door before tugging on the old-fashioned bell pull. From deep within the unusual granite building, the jingle jangle of the bell could just be heard. After what seemed to Dillon like an eternity, Rob Chapman appeared at the door wearing a pair of dark shorts, a white T-shirt and bare feet.
“Jake, come on in.” Chapman said as he motioned the two men into the hallway.
“Hello, Rob. Sorry to barge in on you like this, but I’d like to introduce a friend of mine to you, Edward Levenson-Jones.”
Chapman smiled. “No problem, Jake and it’s good to meet you, Edward. Come on through to the garden room and have a drink, I’ve got a bottle of white wine on the go.”
The garden room had a view over both Gifford and Bonne Nuit Bay, and a clear glass domed canopy that gave the impression of being out in the open. There were a number of exotic plants and flowers in pots of all sizes and colour. Chapman poured wine, and then handed Dillon and LJ a glass each.
“So gentlemen, a toast. To life and whatever it throws at us.” Chapman raised his glass and then emptied it in one gulp.
Dillon glanced over at LJ, who was watching Chapman. Raising his own glass he said, “And always be prepared for the unexpected.”
Chapman frowned then turned to LJ and then back to Dillon. “Odd sort of toast, isn’t it. Now why would you say that, Jake?”
“Oh no reason, Rob. But I suppose it pays to keep an open mind about some things, doesn’t it?”
“Something’s not quite right here gentlemen. And, if I were any judge of a situation, I’d say that this wasn’t a social call?”
At that moment, they heard a woman’s panicked voice shout out from one of the rooms on a lower level, “Get out, you have no right to be in here!”
It was Chapman’s sister who had called out, she was staying with him for the summer holidays.
Chapman flew out of the room, with Dillon following close behind, down stone steps and through narrow corridors. They reached the kitchen doorway, and were instantly greeted by the sight of Kurt, restraining a pretty woman somewhere in her mid to late thirties with naturally blonde hair in a plait bound up at the back.
He had an arm around her neck, and she looked terrified and very vulnerable stood there. The big German saw them come through the doorway, tightened his grip and instantly took one step backwards. The two men stopped in their tracks, Malakoff appeared at the same time through the open rear doorway.
“I hate to see a bully picking on someone smaller than themselves.” Chapman said and his face was hard.
Dillon said, “I couldn’t agree more. He’s a disgrace to the entire German male population.”
Kurt’s eyes flashed anger, and he released his grip on the girl, allowing her to break free and run across to where Chapman was standing. He looked straight at Dillon, meeting his eyes with steely coldness, and then smirked, turned to Pierre who was now stood next to Malakoff, and nodded at him. The Frenchman stepped into the kitchen and positioned himself on the other side of the large beech table that was positioned in the middle of the room.
LJ had seen what was going on, and had until that moment, stayed hidden in the hallway. He now casually entered the room, and said. “Monsieur Malakoff, I’d leave quietly if I were you. Before someone gets hurt.”
Dillon glanced at Malakoff, who made no attempt to leave.
“My dear Levenson-Jones, those are brave words coming from someone who spends most of his time sitting behind a desk. We wish only to talk with Mr Chapman, about a business proposition that will make him extremely rich.”
“Get out Malakoff, and take your bully boys with you. I’ve no wish to discuss anything with you.” Chapman said angrily.
“Oh, come now Mr Chapman. I’m sure that with a little gentle persuasion, you’d change your mind?” Malakoff said, and then fleetingly glanced across at Pierre who instantly moved around the table fast. He had a knife in his hand, and with his arm extended went forward towards the two men.
LJ dragged the girl back out of harm’s way through the open doorway into the hall. Chapman turned, and made ready to defend himself, but it was Dillon who moved first. He struck the side of Pierre’s head with a high karate kick that sent the Frenchman to the ground in a daze. Pierre recovered enough to pull himself up from the hard flagstone floor using the edge of the table for support. Dillon wasted no time, and delivered a heavy blow to his kidneys. Pierre cried out and fell to one side. He lay prone on the flagstone floor for a moment, then forced himself up on to one knee.
Dillon moved forward, raised his left knee up sharply, and made heavy contact with the unprotected face. The Frenchman’s head snapped back, and blood instantly started to flow from his broken nose.
“That’ll teach you to mess with me, sonny.” Dillon said, standing over the unconscious man.
Kurt calmly rolled his head from side to side, vertebrae clicked and crunched into place. He picked up a dangerous looking meat cleaver, eyeing it up and down, before repeatedly switching it from hand to hand. Dillon pulled out the Glock and pointed it at the big German.