“What type of weapon were they using?” Dillon asked LJ.
“Well, that’s the strangest thing. It was a machine pistol, and they emptied an entire clip at us, but there’s absolutely no damage whatsoever to the boat. Not even a scratch. And after they’d circled us once, they were gone in a blink. They were obviously using blanks, and I’d say that the gun fire was merely done to frighten and distract us from seeing that grenade go into the water. All very childish, if you ask me.”
Chapman dried himself and put on a polo shirt and a pair of shorts. “Well I’d like to know how they knew we were in this cove. After all, we’re completely shrouded from the main stretch of coastline by those two outcrops.”
He went up to the wheelhouse, and engaged the automatic anchor winch, a moment later the power cruiser was drifting on the heavy swell. Chapman engaged the forward gear and headed back out to sea.
Dillon went to the forward stowage locker to retrieve the Glock. As he put his hand into the pocket to pull it out, his fingers brushed against one of the metal strengthening brackets. Dillon paused, ran his fingers over the metal, and on finding the small fifty pence shaped bug, pulled it away from its hiding place. LJ came into the main cabin and saw what Dillon was holding in the palm of his hand.
“Well, we both know what that is. Don’t we?” LJ said, “So they’re playing with gadgets are they?”
Vince joined them, and had a close look at the tracking bug. “Very nice. Digital of course and very expensive.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right, Vince. But what sort of range has it got?” LJ asked impatiently.
“About five miles, boss.”
Dillon took the bug up to the wheelhouse and held it out for Chapman to see. “Attached to a metal bracket in one of the stowage lockers. We’ve been bugged, so it was no wonder that they knew where we were. They’ve probably done the same to the Wave Dancer, just in case we used that.”
“But she went off in the opposite direction and out into deep water.”
“Exactly, they knew that both boats had gone. Took an educated guess and followed us.”
Chapman shook his head in disbelief. “I think it’s about time that these thugs had a taste of their own medicine, don’t you?” He said, pushing the throttles forward.
On the way back to Bonne Nuit the sun disappeared completely behind the dark heavy rolling clouds, and the wind had picked up to a force six. The inflatable, which was well ahead of them, came alongside the Solitaire and Kurt went up the ladder and found Malakoff in the aft day cabin taking afternoon tea.
“You look extremely pleased with yourself,” he said, looking at the big German bodyguard. “Can I assume that you’ve been inflicting harm on Mr Dillon and his friends?”
“We have been diligent in our efforts, Mien Herr.” Kurt related the morning’s events.
When he’d finished, Malakoff remained silent for a moment, before saying, “As annoying as it might sound, I’m sure that Mr Dillon is in perfect health. Unfortunately, it will take much more than a solitary hand grenade exploding underwater to harm him. As for this Chapman fellow, well, he knows his business far too well.” He sighed, and then stood up. “We’re wasting our time here, I think that Chapman has been giving us the run around today, and it’s now starting to bore me. There’s nothing to be gained by staying here, especially with this storm blowing up.” He walked to the window and looked out across Gifford Bay towards Rob Chapman’s place.
“Have Captain Armand take us down to the marina at St. Helier, and ask him to report to me when we’re under way.”
“Will you be dining on board this evening, Mien Herr?”
“No, have Armand call Francois Cocteau at the Pomme D’Or Hotel. I’ll be dining there this evening.”
The German left, and Malakoff went back to his chair and poured himself another cup of tea.
With the near gale force wind, came high rolling waves streaked with caps of white foam. The rain that had started as a fine drizzle, was now much heavier and persistent. In the wheelhouse, Chapman had reduced their speed and was concentrating on keeping the power cruiser on a safe course back to harbour.
“This won’t last long,” he said to Dillon, who was stood next to him.
“Are you going to attempt getting back into harbour?”
“No way. It’s far too dangerous with waves this size, and anyway, these summer storms usually blow themselves out in a couple of hours or so. We’ll sit it out until the worst has blown over, and then go in.”
“I agree it’d be suicide.” Dillon said.
LJ came up the ladder with a bottle of whisky and three glasses in his hands. “I thought you might like a little something to warm you up.” He said passing the glasses around, and then poured a generous measure into each of them.
“I don’t normally drink during a trip, but as we’ve got a bit of time to kill, I’ll accept this gratefully once again.” Chapman grinned.
“God, that’s good. There are times when a good single malt whisky is the only thing.” Dillon said.
After an hour of drifting on the swell, the storm had all but blown itself out, just as Chapman had said it would.
“Sky’s clearing now. We’d better head back.” Chapman said, as he took the engines from an idle to full ahead, and set a course back towards Bonne Nuit bay and the harbour.
Five minutes later, Chapman spotted the Solitaire steaming towards them.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Dillon said. “If it’s not our dear old friend Malakoff. I wonder where he’s going?”
“St. Helier and the Pomme D’Or hotel, if I’m not mistaken.” Chapman commented.
LJ climbed the ladder to the wheelhouse to join the others. Chapman took them in close to the luxury craft, and as they passed by, Dillon leaned over the rail, and waved at Malakoff and Kurt who were standing on the stern deck. LJ raised his glass to them, and Malakoff responded by lifting his own, and said to Kurt, “What did I tell you? That hand grenade stunt was a complete waste of time, you fool. It will take more than that to harm Mr Dillon.”
At that moment Pierre came through from the main day cabin with a portable phone in his hand.
“What is it, Pierre?”
“A call for you Monsieur. Lord Asquith.” “Oliver,” Malakoff said. “How are you?”
“I was wondering whether there had been any developments, Hugo?”
“No, unfortunately not Oliver. But, I can assure you that everything is under control.”
“Only, something has just occurred to me. I’m most likely worrying about nothing, of course, but…”
“What is this thing you’re fretting about Oliver?”
“Remember the house my father owned on the island.”
“What about it?”
“I can’t imagine it would be a problem now. But it was something my man Jenkins, said this morning. You see, there used to be a local Jersey couple who looked after the place during the war years. They had a son, who he reckons would be around seventy, give or take a few years. I mean, they may even all be dead by now of course.”
“Yes I agree, Oliver, they could be dead. But, then again they may just be alive. And, if that is the case, and Dillon puts two and two together. Then we will have a problem.”
“Sorry, I should have thought of it before. I mean, they would have all been there when my father was in residence on the island. And more importantly when Himmler used to visit him, you see my point?”