“However, they were also able to pinpoint the person concerned, by simply hacking into their system, and running a scan through the user files to determine which terminal was used to gain access to your computer.”
“How bloody fascinating, Hugo. But how does that help me?”
“His name is Guy Roberts, he’s on loan from MI5, and is Levenson-Jones’ temporary assistant.”
“MI5? But I’m protected by them, by mere virtue of the odd job, that I do for them from time to time in the Middle East.”
“Well, don’t go doing anything stupid. Just keep your cool, and everything will be fine Oliver.”
“But what if he’s spoken to Levenson-Jones, or the Partners?”
“My dear Oliver, if you consider, for even the briefest of moments, how long Levenson-Jones has most likely suspected your role in all of this. He would only have had to make a single telephone call to bring your world crashing down around your ears. And, as for your little arrangement with MI5. Well, why would he be interested in that? Oh no, his suspicions about you and your father, only became confirmed, after this Guy Roberts had spoken to Albert Bishop. And I might add, it’s only since then, that he’s instructed him to start poking his nose into your affairs.”
“So what next. Do I simply sit here, and wait for them to come and get me, or what?” Asquith was near to hysterics, and had to contain his anxiety.
“Once again, Oliver. You will do nothing, but go about your usual daily business. I’ll have Mr Roberts taken care of.”
“Please, Hugo. Not more killing,” Asquith moaned. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
“Please try and be grateful, for once in your miserable little life, Oliver,” Malakoff sneered down the line. “After all, it’s only for your sake, that I do these wicked things. Once we locate the cavern, and that blasted diary of your fathers we can prevent anything from coming out about the past. As for Levenson-Jones, and the others. Well, as I said before, they’re all going to meet with a fatal accident. The bonus for us, Oliver, will be finding the original Spear of Destiny, and of course the gold bullion.” Malakoff laughed loudly into the telephone, and then added, “Don’t worry, Oliver, everything is going to be alright, you just wait and see.”
Malakoff broke the connection, and immediately dialled another London number. He spoke slowly, and in clear English.
“O’Rourke I have another dispatch job, which I would like you to take care of tonight. The name is Guy Roberts, MI5, currently on secondment to Ferran & Cardini International. I’m sure you know the address. And, yes there will be a further bonus of one-hundred thousand pounds on completion.” Malakoff put the phone back into his pocket and stood, for a moment, pondering on the situation that he now found himself embroiled within.
The afternoon British Airways flight that Annabelle was on, touched down at Jersey airport at five-fifty. She went straight from the arrivals area, and through the terminal to the front of the building.
Dillon spotted her, and waved as she came through the exit with a throng of other arrivals. On seeing him, she walked across to where he was stood by the Range Rover.
“Jake, it’s good to see you. And thanks for coming to collect me, I really appreciate it.” She said kissing him on both cheeks.
“No bother, Annabelle. It’s my pleasure. Did you have a good flight down?” Dillon said, as he opened the passenger door for her.
“Yes, it was a bit bumpy over the Channel, though.” Annabelle got into the 4x4, and then added. “So how are things going down here?”
Dillon outlined what had happened since arriving on the island. Leaving out the bits about Malakoff trying to murder them, and Albert Bishop being killed, but did tell her about Rob Chapman’s boat being blown up.
Ten minutes later Dillon pulled up outside of Annabelle’s café. He dropped her off, and then drove back up the hill to the Fisherman’s Lodge.
Annabelle went inside, there were a few people sitting at the tables talking and enjoying Jersey cream teas in the late afternoon sunshine. Kate Jackson saw Annabelle come in, and immediately went over to greet her. “Annabelle, it’s lovely to see you back.”
“It’s good to be back, Kate. Even if it is only for a day or two.”
They went through to the back office, and immediately Kate Jackson asked bluntly, “So what’s really dragged you away from Nathan’s bedside, Annabelle?”
“Nothing’s, dragged me away, Kate. I decided to have a break, that’s all. Why do you ask?” Annabelle said, and thought how her friend seemed a little on edge.
“Oh, no reason. But that message, you asked me to give Dillon.”
“What of it?”
“Well it was a bit cryptic, wasn’t it?”
“It was supposed to be, Kate. But Jake Dillon knew what it meant, and that’s what really matters. Anyway, it wasn’t anything that mysterious. But, can we talk about this later, I really want to check through the accounts. And then I’m going home for a shower and a change of clothes. If that’s all right with you, that is?” This wasn’t the reaction that Kate Jackson had expected, and went back to her duties in the café. Annabelle, sitting at her desk, wondered why her long time friend had been so anxious about her return. Or was there another reason behind her inquisitiveness?
Kurt and Pierre, waited at the airport, as Malakoff had instructed. They saw Annabelle come through the main terminal, and also spotted Dillon standing by the Range Rover waiting to collect her. Keeping well out of sight, they watched the tall dark Englishman drive out of the car park with Annabelle sitting in the passenger seat. Kurt who was sitting behind the wheel of the Porsche Carerra, pulled out of the parking space as the 4x4 went slowly past. The German stayed two cars behind, keeping his distance. After all, he knew exactly where Dillon was going, and more importantly he also knew where the girl lived.
It was an hour later that Annabelle left the café, and made her way back up the hill to the luxury house that she shared with her father. Kurt and Pierre both watched from a discreet distance and saw Annabelle walk up to the front door, unlock it, and go in.
“When do we go in for her?” Pierre asked. “We wait.” Kurt told him. “She’ll be making sure the place is okay, and we can’t be sure that Dillon isn’t lurking around somewhere.”
Pierre shrugged, took out a cheroot and lit it. Kurt gave him a stern look of disapproval, turned and went back up the hill to the parked car.
Dillon was taking a run along the beach, when his mobile phone started to ring.
“Dillon.”
“Jake, it’s Annabelle.”
“Are you still at the café?”
“No I’m at home. Look, it may be nothing, but I think I’m being watched.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Let’s call it a woman’s intuition, and the fact that two rough looking characters are sitting in a parked sports car up the road watching the house through binoculars. Should I call the police, Jake?”
“No, don’t do that, Annabelle. We can’t involve them at this stage. But, I’ll put money on it, that they’re two of Malakoff’s men from the Solitaire.”
“The Solitaire?”
“Malakoff’s power yacht. It’s at anchor in Gifford Bay.”
“He’s looking for the U-boat, isn’t he?” Annabelle asked calmly.
“It would appear so, yes. Look, Annabelle, as I said earlier, Malakoff has been giving us a lot of trouble since we arrived. We’ve discovered who it is in London who’s been leaking information to him, and I’d say that he probably knows that you’ve come back to Jersey to help us find the tunnel entrance.”