“Jake? It’s Kate Jackson.”
“Hi Kate, how’s things?”
“Oh, fine thanks. Jake, Sorry to trouble you, but I’ve got a message from Annabelle. She said to tell you that she is flying home for a day or two, and that she’ll be on the five fifty-five flight tomorrow. And that if it’s not to much trouble, could you pick her up at the airport.”
“Has something happened to Nathan?”
“Nathan? Oh God, no. Nathan’s doing just fine, Jake. Annabelle was saying that, although he’s still in the coma, the doctors are now confident that once he’s regained consciousness, he’ll make a full recovery. Reading between the lines, I’d say that Annabelle simply wants a break from the hospital for a while. After all, London is only an hour away, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right, Kate. And, of course I’ll pick Annabelle up from the airport.”
Dillon was about to break the connection when Kate Jackson added, “Oh, there was one other thing.”
“And what was that, Kate?”
“Annabelle said to tell you, that she’s confident that she knows where it is. All very cryptic I’d say. But she said that you’d know what she meant.”
“Well that’s very interesting, Kate. But, I haven’t got a clue what she’s talking about, although I’m sure she’ll enlighten me when she gets here tomorrow.”
After breaking the connection, Dillon went back to join the others. While he’d been on the phone, they had emptied the first bottle of Champagne, with another already on the table.
“Anyone interesting, old son?” LJ asked Dillon.
“Kate Jackson.”
“And?”
“Oh, only that Annabelle is flying back down tomorrow for a couple of days, and has asked if I could pick her up from the airport.”
“Nathan’s okay?” LJ asked, concern in his voice.
“He’s not conscious yet. But the doctors are now sure that he’ll make good, once he comes round.”
“Well, I think that deserves a toast.” LJ stood up, and raised his glass. “To Nathan and his full recovery.”
“Hear, hear.” Dillon said, raising his glass along with the others, and then added. “There was just one other thing, though.”
“What’s that, old son?”
“Annabelle gave Kate Jackson a message to pass on to me. That she knows where it is.”
“Good God.” LJ blurted out, just as he was about to drink some of his Champagne.
“What, the actual location?” Vince asked.
“That’s what she said, yes.”
LJ raised his glass again, and made another toast. “To tomorrow then.” He emptied his glass. “Time for dinner, gentlemen,” and he stood up and led the way into the dining room.
The French barman who had served them when they’d arrived. Had, from that minute, been listening to their every word. And as they walked passed him standing at the bar drying glasses, he bid them a pleasant evening, and then immediately left through the rear door.
He took the lift up to the top floor, and then went out on to the roof. Outside, the sky was unblemished and the sun just disappearing over the rooftops. Sitting down, he got out his mobile phone, and dialled the number that had been given to him earlier that day.
On the bridge of the Solitaire Captain Armand was talking to Pierre, when the phone at his side started to ring. Malakoff was in his cabin getting ready for the evening when Armand knocked on the door and hurried in.
“What is it Armand? Can’t you see that I’m getting ready for dinner?” Malakoff demanded irritably.
“Forgive me, Monsieur. But, I’ve just received a telephone call from my informant at the Pomme D’Or. He’s just overheard Dillon and the others talking about the Cunningham girl. Apparently, Dillon has received a call informing him that she will be back in Jersey tomorrow evening.”
“Intriguing,” Malakoff said. “Go on.”
“There is something else, Monsieur; apparently she knows where it is.”
Malakoff momentarily stopped knotting his tie, before saying. “Call your informant, Armand. Check every detail of what was said, and tell him that he has done a good job and that he will be rewarded well. And, that he is to continue to keep his eyes and ears open.”
“Certainly, Monsieur.”
“You see, Armand. I’ve always known that the Cunningham girl holds the key to the whereabouts of that U-boat. It is fate that brings her back to the island.” He said, and carried on knotting his silk tie.
Guy Roberts hurriedly crossed the tarmac at city heliport to the waiting Bell Jet ranger helicopter. As he stepped up into the cabin he placed the small black bag containing his laptop computer behind the front seat.
“Hi Phil, thanks for this. I really do appreciate you dropping everything at a moment’s notice.” He said, as he strapped himself into the seat.
“It’s no problem, Guy. I wasn’t doing anything, and anyway, it keeps my night-time flying hours up.”
Phil Allerton finished his pre-flight checks, and then spoke briefly into his microphone. After a moment, the control tower gave him clearance for take off. The rotors were already turning, he pulled up on the stick, the engine pitch grew louder and the Jet ranger lifted gently into the air. They rose quickly above the tall buildings, and once clear, he dropped the nose forward, and headed out of the city in a southerly direction. Guy Roberts called Dillon on his mobile to tell him that he was flying down, and to find out where they were going to be. After breaking the connection, he gazed out of the window, looking across the rooftops of London in the fading light, and commented. “What a beautiful evening.”
“It’s a full moon tonight, so we’ll have a crisp, clear sky with us all the way down to Jersey.”
“How long will it take us to get there?” Guy asked.
“The flight shouldn’t take more than an hour or so. Especially as we’ve got a bit of a tail wind behind us.”
They met the coast at Southampton, and continued west towards Poole in Dorset. From here they flew over Old Harry rocks and then out over the English Channel and on down to Jersey. It was a perfect flight, and just over seventy-five minutes after leaving London Phil Allerton was passing over the green fields of the largest of all the Channel Islands.
“I’m led to believe that this is a rich man’s paradise,” Guy Roberts said.
“Well it certainly has its fair share of them, Guy. That’s for sure.”
Phil put the Jet ranger down on the apron at Jersey Airport, and switched off. Guy Roberts stepped down from the cabin, and picked up the black bag with his laptop in.
“I’ll be about two hours, Phil. We’ll be okay to take off the minute I return?”
“Sure thing. I’ve already filed our flight plan back to London. So you take as much time as you need, after all we are talking about LJ. We could be here all night.” He said, laughing.
Outside the terminal building, Guy Roberts got into a taxi and instructed the driver to take him directly to the Pomme D’Or Hotel. On the way he phoned Dillon again, and told him that he’d arrived with some interesting new information, and would be there in five minutes. He also asked if he could arrange for them to meet somewhere private.
Dillon came off the phone, told the others that Roberts was on his way, and then went and saw the concierge, who after a little negotiation and fifty pounds in cash. Agreed to let him have the use of one of the conference rooms for an hour.
Guy Roberts breezed through the main entrance of the Pomme D’Or to be greeted by the capricious Dillon, complete with attitude. “So what’s so important that you had to come all this way personally?” Dillon asked.
“You’ll see, Jake. Have you managed to get us somewhere to talk?”