“Suits me just fine.” Chapman said, releasing the mooring lines. The next moment, he was throttling back, and reversing slowly away from the harbour wall. They moved quickly out into open water, and then headed north along the coast. Chapman was racing over the water at full throttle, and then it happened.
Smoke started to pour out of the engine compartment, and then moments later it exploded, splintering wood and fibreglass, sending debris in every direction. There was instant power loss, and then the Wave Dancer began to take on water.
“What in hell’s name, has happened?” LJ demanded.
“How should I know,” Chapman snapped, and then moved quickly back to the stern to survey the damage. Water was rushing in through a large hole in the hull, and the dive boat was beginning to list over onto its starboard side. “We’re sinking,” he said. “Jake, break out the life jackets from the forward locker.”
“What about the dive gear?” Dillon said.
“If there’s time, we’ll transfer it to the dinghy. But we haven’t got long.”
Chapman pulled the small inflatable dinghy that had been tied to the stern along the port side. From over his shoulder, he said to LJ and Vince. “Here, you two put your life jackets on, and get into the dinghy.”
Dillon dragged the two large canvas bags that had the diving gear and weapons inside, across the waterlogged deck. He passed them across to Vince, and then climbed into the dinghy himself.
Chapman hurriedly grabbed his sea charts, and dive log from the small wheelhouse, and with only seconds to spare, just made it into the dinghy. A moment later the Wave Dancer started to list heavily, before rolling completely over.
Only the sound of the ocean, and the gulls high up above could be heard. The four men looked on silently, as the upturned vessel bobbed gently up and down on the swell.
Chapman pulled the nylon cord, and the small outboard coughed and spluttered into life. The single propeller bit into the water, and they started back to shore.
“And what about your boat?” LJ asked.
“I’ll get one of the local fishermen to go out and tow it back in for me. But I can’t wait to hear what the marine engineer thinks caused the engine to explode like that, when he examines it.”
“You sound as if you’ve got a theory, old son?” LJ said.
“Perhaps I have,” Chapman said. “All I know for sure is that it’s bloody suspicious. Especially as that engine was only serviced last week.”
Within minutes they were back at Bonne Nuit. Chapman came in fast, beaching the dinghy onto the sand. As they started up the beach towards the slipway, Dillon stopped in his tracks and said, “Something’s just occurred to me. Last night, I made light of the fact, that I thought we’d bought ourselves more time. That’s to say, before Malakoff would try anymore funny business, and attempt to get rid of us once and for all.”
“What of it?” LJ said.
“Well I think he just got impatient, and tried.”
The fisherman that Chapman knew was standing on the sea wall talking to one of the other fishermen. On seeing him, Chapman left the others, promising to phone them the minute the Wave Dancer had been towed in and inspected by the marine engineer.
Back at the rented lodge Dillon had a long hot shower, standing under the torrent of water thinking about things. He changed into some dry clean clothes, went through to the living room and poured himself a large single malt whisky.
The French door opened, and LJ came in from the garden. “Ah there you are, Jake. Pour me one of those, will you?” LJ said, waving a hand at Dillon’s tumbler. “What time is it? I appear to have misplaced my watch.”
“Just coming up to two-thirty.”
“Good, young Roberts will be back from his lunch in that case.” LJ dialled the London number of Ferran & Cardini International.
Roberts was sitting at his desk, studiously going through a pile of documents, when the phone started to ring. “Guy Roberts.” “Roberts, it’s LJ. Are you alone?”
“Quite alone, sir. I’m just getting started on those files you left for me to go through.”
“Well you can push those to one side, because I’ve got something far more important for you to do.”
“They’re already pushed aside, sir.”
“Good, now listen up. Remember that old chap, Albert Bishop who you spoke to before flying down from London?”
“Of course. Nice old boy, why?”
“Well, he’s dead. Murdered, we suspect, by one of Malakoff’s henchmen. But it does confirm one thing, Roberts.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“That Malakoff’s association with Lord Oliver Asquith runs much deeper than we had thought. And as I suspected, Asquith has been keeping Malakoff very well informed of all our movements. Most likely from the minute I asked him to be involved with this project.”
LJ gave him a brief account of what had happened the previous day, right up to Chapman’s boat exploding.
“But why is Malakoff going to all of this trouble antagonising and it would appear attempting to kill you all down there? And what is it that Lord Asquith wants to keep secret?” Roberts said thoughtfully.
“That’s what I want you to find out, old son. Give it your full and undivided attention, and dig as deep as you can. I’d concentrate on the late Lord Asquith, and in particular his financial affairs. You know the sort of stuff, sums of money that were paid in or out on a regular basis?”
“What about MI5?”
“What about them?” LJ replied.
“Hasn’t Simon Digby been instructed to put the Asquith file under lock and key?”
“Oh, that. Digby isn’t really interested in the late Lord. Oh no, as I mentioned before, he’s more concerned with the present Lord Asquith. He won’t give you any problems, old son. And if he does notice that you’re snooping around. Well, let’s cross that bridge as and when we need to.”
“Very well, sir. I’ll get cracking on it right away.”
“Call me as soon as you find anything. Oh, and one other thing, Roberts?”
“Yes sir?”
“Please stop calling me sir.”
LJ broke the connection, and said, “Right then, that’s that taken care of. All that we have to do now, is stay one step ahead of our friend Malakoff.”
Dillon stood leaning against the door frame, looking out across the bay. “What I said about Malakoff, earlier.”
“What of it, old son?”
“Well, I’m assuming that he still needs us around to find the location of the tunnel. Which raises the question, why try to kill us all by blowing up Chapman’s boat? It simply doesn’t make sense.”
“I’ve no idea, old son. But I’m sure that we’ll find out soon enough.” LJ pressed the keypad on his mobile phone, and a moment later was speaking to Sir Lucius Stagg’s butler.
“Sir Lucius, please. Tell him it’s Edward LevensonJones.”
The line remained silent for an indeterminate amount of time, while the butler went to find the former Prime Minister.
“Edward, how’s it going down there in Jersey?”
“We’re making progress, Sir Lucius. Albeit slowly.”
“Let me guess, Hugo Malakoff giving you problems?”
“You could say that, Sir Lucius, he’s certainly keeping us on our toes that’s for sure.”
“But that’s not why you called me, is it Edward? After all, you’re more than capable of sorting the Frenchman out.”
“Thank you, and as always, you perceive correctly, Sir Lucius. My worst suspicions about Lord Asquith have been confirmed. He’s informing Malakoff about our every move, and has done so since the first time I spoke to him about this affair.”