Armand typed in the commands, and a second later the Solitaire’s computer system altered their course, and increased speed to full ahead. The luxury power cruiser raced forward over the waves and Malakoff raised the binoculars again, saw the outline of the other boat coming straight towards them and smiled, “Come on, make your move you bastard,” he murmured.
The explosion, when it came, was devastating, tearing the bottom out of the Solitaire, and ripping through the upper decks. What happened was so instantaneous that neither Malakoff or Captain Armand had time to comprehend it, their lives snuffed out in the blink of an eye. And within seconds, the Solitaire lifted up, broke into two, then sank beneath the ocean.
Dillon, stood beside Chapman on the cramped bridge of the twenty six foot power boat. He peered through the binoculars at the Solitaire, watched as the luxury cruiser turned in a wide arc approximately one mile in front of them, and then set a course directly at them.
“What the hell is that maniac playing at?” Chapman shouted over the drone of the diesel engines.
“He’s going to try and run us down, Rob.” Dillon replied. “But there’s no way that he’ll even get close to us.” Dillon pulled out a small silver cased keypad from his trouser pocket.
“What’s that?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” Dillon said, and walked out onto the forward deck.
The sleek white craft ploughed forward at high speed towards them. Dillon waited until he could clearly see Malakoff standing behind the windscreen, on the bridge of the Solitaire. And only then; did he hold up the silver remote control, and push the button to detonate the limpet mine that he’d attached to the hull amidships.
What they saw first was a brilliant white and orange fire flash and then a second or two later, the explosion could be heard. Shock waves skimmed over the surface of the water towards them, and then it was all over. The fire disappeared, extinguished as the two broken halves of the Solitaire sank almost immediately under the waves.
Chapman killed the engine instantly, only the sound of the waves slapping against the hull could be heard as they both stood in silence on the deck. A seagull overhead, squawked before diving down towards the water, snatching something up and then flying off.
“About a hundred and fifty feet just here.” Chapman commented casually.
Dillon looked at him briefly, before turning back to gaze out across the water.
“One limpet mine, wouldn’t have done that much damage on its own.” Chapman mused, adding, “So tell me, what was it?”
“What was what?” Dillon replied.
“That caused an explosion capable of ripping a sixty-five foot boat into two, and sinking her?”
“Well, not every private power yacht carries enough ground to air missiles, complete with mobile launchers to start a small war. Found them in a stowage locker while I was snooping around. All I had to do was quickly locate the nearest ventilation shaft, and lower all of them down it. And as you’ve just witnessed, they must have found the right spot, after all.”
“Do you think Malakoff would have used them against us?”
“Bloody right he would have.” Dillon said.
The sound of the helicopter’s rotor blades beating the air as it came towards them, was the first thing they both heard.
“Must be LJ and Vince, coming to see what’s happening.” Chapman said looking back.
“No, it’s not a Ferran & Cardini Bell helicopter, Rob. It’s one of Malakoffs.” Dillon peered through the binoculars at the fast approaching black bodied helicopter with the red Malakoff corporation emblem blazoned down each side. Then he spotted the two missiles in their special pods strapped between the undercarriage skids, and felt the grim reaper run his skeletal fingers up and down his spine.
“Start the engine, and get this thing moving back towards land. Now!” Dillon shouted, and immediately went below to get the Heckler and Koch MP5 from his canvas holdall. By the time he got back out on deck, the helicopter was virtually hovering above them.
“Keep the speed up, Rob. Hopefully, LJ and Vince will be picking this up through their earpieces. But just in case I’ll call them on my mobile phone, if they’re out of range.”
Chapman, nodded his understanding, pushed the throttle levers forward as far as they would go, and held on tightly to the wheel. The power boat’s nose lifted a fraction into the air, the white fibreglass hull skimming over the waves as they raced back towards the shore.
Instead of attacking them, the helicopter pilot maintained his distance high above, shadowing, but never altering his course or height. And Dillon stood, bracing himself, on the deck; the machine pistol held firmly in his hands and the safety catch in the off position.
As they neared Gifford Bay, Chapman shouted to Dillon, “What now?”
“Head for your place. There’s better cover there and we can use your private dock to moor the boat.” Chapman reduced their speed and steered a course straight towards his place. And a moment later was expertly manoeuvring the sleek craft alongside the sea castle’s dock, he killed the engine and went and joined Dillon on the stern.
They stood watching, as the black outline of the Malakoff corporation helicopter slowly descended to within twenty feet above the surface of the water, facing them, in a steady hover. The pilot stared out from behind mirrored sunglasses, not more than one hundred yards from where Dillon and Chapman were standing. The two missiles pointing directly at them.
“What’s he playing at?” Chapman asked nervously.
“I’d take a guess, that he’s waiting for someone to give him further instructions. But now that his master has departed this world, he’s not really sure what’s he’s supposed to be doing.”
“But, surely it’s over. Isn’t it?”
“Not until that helicopter, and those missiles are flying off towards France, it isn’t.” Dillon said matter of factly.
After a further thirty seconds, the pilot lifted the helicopter into the air, veered off towards the south, and was gone. Dillon leant the machine pistol against the bulkhead, sat down on one of the benches, and ran a hand through his dark hair. He let out a sigh of relief, and looked up at Chapman, and said, “Thanks Rob. You’ve been a great help, I couldn’t have done this without you.”
Before Chapman had a chance to say that he’d do it all again willingly, if Dillon asked him to, the Bell helicopter of Ferran & Cardini swooped in from over the cliff tops and hovered above their heads. A rope ladder was tossed out of the rear cockpit, and unravelled itself towards earth. Dillon looked up and gave the okay sign. Shook the other man’s hand, and then mounted the ladder. A moment later the helicopter rose up into the air, Dillon quickly ascended the ladder to the cockpit, climbed in and, before closing the hatch, gave Rob Chapman a final wave.
Chapter Sixteen
It was two and a half hours after leaving Jersey that the Bell helicopter, with Dillon, LJ and Vince on board, touched down at London’s city heliport.
Outside the terminal building, a chauffeur driven Bentley stood solidly parked at the kerbside on double yellow lines. A traffic warden walked up to the car, and stood writing out a ticket, the passenger side rear window rolled silently down to reveal the solitary, well groomed white haired man sitting in the luxurious leather seat. The woman bent down, her expression hard and set ready to do battle, she was about to say something, immediately recognised who was sitting in the car, and apologised profusely, before ripping up the piece of paper and walking off, red faced and embarrassed by not having realised who the personalised number plate belonged to.
Dillon and the others came through the revolving glass doors at the front of the terminal. The moment that they appeared, the chauffeur got out of the driver’s seat, moved efficiently around to the rear door, and opened it. A moment later they were all being ushered inside the car.