“They’re leaving, Monsieur. That’s the Range Rover on its way to the airport.”
“Then we’ll wait and see where they go. LevensonJones will want to get to the airport to rendezvous with his helicopter pilot as quickly as he can. And, if that is the case, then we’ll track them from the bridge using our own radar. One of our helicopters is already on its way to Jersey, and will be here within ten to fifteen minutes.”
“And then what, Monsieur?”
“We go hunting, Armand.”
“With what, Monsieur?”
“Air to air missiles on the helicopter, and ground to air missiles on board the Solitaire. Never under estimate me, Captain. I’m not beaten yet, and I don’t intend to be, ever.”
“Of course, Monsieur. I never meant to…”
“Never mind, Armand. We can’t afford to waste any more time here in St. Helier, we’ll sail back to the north of the island and position the Solitaire in readiness.” Malakoff went silent, deep within his own thoughts and scheming, and then suddenly said, “Let’s get moving, you get the forward line and I’ll release the aft.”
They went down the ladder from the bridge. Armand hurried to the prow, and untied the forward line. Malakoff did the same in the stern. Once they were back on the bridge, Armand started the large inboard Volvo Penta diesel engines, and turned off all exterior and underwater lights, except for the navigation lights. He checked that all of the computer management systems were functioning correctly, and then used the side thrusters to move the luxury craft away from the pontoon and out into the main channel of the marina.
“Don’t worry, Monsieur,” Armand told him from his command chair. “We’ll be around this island in no time. There’s no way that they’ll get out of Jersey airspace alive.” And he turned back to navigate the sixty-five foot boat through the harbour, and out into open water.
Chapman killed the power to the outboard, and spun the wheel hard around, allowing the inflatable to gently bump alongside the power cruiser. LJ leaned anxiously over the side rail and grabbed the line that Dillon was handing up to him.
“What happened over there. Did you get the chest?” He demanded.
Dillon passed the solid silver chest up to him. “Nothing happened, that you’d want to know about. And yes, everything is inside the chest. Now I think we should get the hell off this island as quickly as possible.”
LJ glanced down at his watch, “Phil Allerton should have landed twenty minutes ago. I reckon, that by the time we get to the airport, he should have refuelled the Bell, and be ready to take off again.”
Dillon stepped up on to the dive platform, took the inflatable’s line from LJ, and tied it securely to the stern rail. Then went off to get changed into dry clothes, reappearing from the main cabin a few minutes later and was immediately aware that LJ and Chapman were stood on the upper deck looking across the marina. In the distance, a large luxury power cruiser was making its way out through the main channel of the harbour and into open water.
“Well, what’s Malakoff up to now, I wonder?” LJ said, peering through a night scope at the Solitaire.
“If he has any sense, he’ll be heading back to France.” Chapman commented.
Vince was still sitting in front of his laptop in the main cabin, still connected to the harbour master’s main terminal. “You’d better come and take a look at this.” He called to the others.
“What is it, Vince?” LJ asked.
“I’ve just intercepted a message from the harbour master to the captain on board the Solitaire.”
“Well, what does it say?” Dillon demanded.
“The harbour master is instructing them to state their heading and final destination before leaving the harbour.”
“And what’s so strange about that?” LJ asked.
“Well, it’s usual for any craft leaving the harbour to notify the port authority of their heading and final destination in advance. Especially with the ruggedness of the coastline that we have in the Channel Islands.” Chapman answered.
“So, what are you saying. That they haven’t disclosed this to them?” Dillon asked.
“Absolutely right, Jake.” Chapman said.
“But surely, there would be nothing to gain by not telling the authorities. Unless, that is, they’re not leaving Jersey waters.” LJ commented.
“But there is a very good reason, if they’re going after the gold bullion.” Dillon pointed out.
“Do you really think that’s what he’s up to?” LJ said.
“Well, we won’t find out standing here will we?” Dillon said matter of factly, and then added, “I think that we should follow the solitaire, and find out for ourselves.”
“I agree, it would be irresponsible not to.” LJ said, and then added, “So, what are you suggesting, Jake?”
“You and Vince, take the Range Rover with all the equipment, and the chest to the airport. Rob and I will follow Malakoff in this boat.”
“And then what?” Vince cut in.
“You’re going to get Phil Allerton to fly you in the Bell, up to the north of the island find a suitable cliff top landing site, and wait for my instructions. Understood?”
“Absolutely, old son.” LJ said, taking a long pull on his slim panatella cigar.
“Okay, then let’s get going, we don’t have any time to waste. I’ll use the secure line on our mobile phones to contact you when we know what he’s up to.”
Chapman untied the bow line, and Dillon did the same at the stern. Chapman started the twin inboard diesels, and a moment later they were out through the harbour entrance and in pursuit of Hugo Malakoff and the Solitaire.
The bow of the power boat rose up with each rolling white capped wave, as they ploughed forward into the hazy light of dawn. The wind had freshened, a moderate force three to four. Chapman sat in the swivel chair and Dillon was leaning against the bulkhead beside him.
“The Solitaire, is moving some. It’s going to be very difficult to outrun her, you know,” Chapman said.
“I don’t want to out run her, Rob. I merely want to see where they’re going, and what they’re up to. And have no doubt, when they spot us coming up behind them, I’ve got a funny feeling that Malakoff will have something to say about it. My advice to you, is be prepared for it, when it comes.” Dillon said bluntly.
“He’ll try to kill us, won’t he?”
“I’m absolutely certain of it,” Dillon told him. “And like all narcissistic megalomaniacs. He doesn’t like to lose.”
“Well, that’s a comforting thought.” Chapman said with a sideways glance.
“Look, over there.” Dillon was pointing at the outline of the Solitaire in the distance.
Chapman peered through the binoculars, “That’s them all right. They must be about a mile ahead of us. What do we do now?”
“We shadow them from back here.”
“He’ll have a sophisticated radar system on board. And it won’t be long before they spot us, you know.” Chapman said.
“Don’t think about it, just keep our course steady, and at this distance from them.” Dillon said, “And leave the worrying to me.”
Malakoff, on the bridge of the Solitaire, peered through a pair of binoculars. “Got you,” he said, and passed the glasses to Armand.
The captain focused them and immediately saw the foaming bow wave preceding Dillon’s power boat. “Your orders, Monsieur?”
“Turn around and run them down, captain. I want that bastard Dillon at the bottom of the English Channel.”
“Are you sure about this, Monsieur?”
“Are you questioning my judgement, Captain?” Malakoff snapped.
“No, of course not.” Armand replied nervously.
“Good, in that case turn us around, and full speed ahead.”