Thunder Point (30 page)

“Don’t be a fool. Just stay cool. Just think of the time scale. If you consider when Ferguson found out about you, he can only have had time to speak to this Lane and tell him to start digging.”

“But what if he’s spoken to Simon Carter or the P.M. ?”

“If he had, you’d know by now, and why should he? Ferguson’s played this whole thing very close to his chest and that’s the way he’ll continue.”

“But what about Lane?”

“I’ll have him taken care of.”

“For God’s sake no,” Pamer moaned. “I can’t take any more killing.”

“Do try to act like a man occasionally,” Santiago said. “And you do have one consolation. Once we have the Bormann documents in our hands, the Windsor Protocol should prove a very useful tool to have in your possession, and there must be people whose fathers or grandfathers appear in the Blue Book who’d give anything to prevent that fact coming out.” He laughed. “Don’t worry, Francis, we’ll have lots of fun with this one.”

He replaced the phone, thought about it, then picked it up again and dialed another London number. He spoke in Spanish. “Santiago. I have a major elimination for you which must be carried out tonight. A Detective Inspector Jack Lane, Special Branch. I’m sure you can find the address.” He handed the phone back to Algaro. “And now, my friend, I think it’s time you and Guerra departed for St. John.”

It was half-past five when Jenny came in on the ferry to Cruz Bay. It was only a few hundred yards along the front to Jenny’s Place and when she went in there were already a few people at the bar, Billy Jones standing behind. He came round to meet her.

“Why, Miss Jenny, it’s so good to see you.”

“Is Mary here?”

“She sure is. In the kitchen getting things right for this evening. Just go through.”

“I will in a moment. Did you speak to Dillon? Did you give him my message?”

“I did. He and that friend of his and Bob Carney have been as thick as thieves these past few days. I don’t know what’s going on, but something sure is.”

“So Dillon and Brigadier Ferguson are still at Caneel?”

“They sure are. You want to get in touch with him?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Well you know they don’t have telephones in the cottages at Caneel, but Dillon has a cellular phone. He gave me the number.” He went behind the bar, opened the cash register drawer and took out a piece of paper. “Here it is.”

Mary came through the kitchen door at that moment and came to a dead halt. “Jenny, you’re back.” She kissed her on the cheek, then held her at arm’s length. “You look terrible, honey, what you been doing?”

“Nothing much.” Jenny gave her a tired smile. “Just driving halfway across France, then catching a plane to London, another to Antigua, a third to St. Thomas. I’ve never felt so tired in my life.”

“What you need is food, a hot bath and a night’s sleep.”

“That’s a great idea, Mary, but I’ve things to do. A cup of coffee would be fine. Let me have it in the office, I want to make a telephone call.”

Algaro and Guerra had obtained the address of the house at Gallows Point from the fisherman who was Captain Serra’s contact in Cruz Bay. They had already paid the place a visit, although Algaro had decided against a forced entry at that time. They went back to the waterfront, watched the ferry come in from St. Thomas and the passengers disembark. Out of the twenty or so passengers only five were white and three of those were men. As the other woman was at least sixty, there was little doubt who the younger one with the suitcase was. They followed her at a discreet distance and saw her go up the steps to the cafe.

“What do we do now?” Guerra asked.

“Wait,” Algaro told him. “She’ll go to the house sooner or later.”

Guerra shrugged, took out a cigarette and lit it and they went and sat on a bench.

Dillon was actually swimming off Paradise beach, had left the cellular phone with his towel on a recliner on the beach. He heard the phone and swam as fast as he could to the shore.

“Dillon here.”

“It’s Jenny.”

“Where are you?”

“At the bar, I just got in. How have things been?”

“Well, let’s say it’s been lively and leave it at that. There were people waiting for me the moment I got here, Jenny, the wrong sort of people. There’s a man called Santiago, who was responsible for the break-in at Lord North Street, and those two thugs who tried to jump you by the Thames. He’s been hanging around here in a motor yacht called the
Maria Blanco
causing us as much trouble as possible.”

“Why?”

“He wants Bormann’s briefcase, it’s as simple as that.”

“But how did he know about the U-boat’s existence?”

“There was a leak at the London end of things, someone connected with Intelligence. You were right about Bob Carney. Quite a guy, but he’s not been able to come up with a solution. Do you really think you can help, Jenny?”

“It’s just an idea, so simple that I’m afraid to tell you, so let’s leave it until we meet.” She glanced at her watch. “Six o’clock. I could do with a hot bath and all the trimmings. Let’s say we’ll meet here at seven-thirty, and bring Bob.”

“Fine by me.”

Dillon put the phone down, toweled himself dry, then he picked it up and tried Carney’s house at Chocolate Hole. It was a while before he answered. “Dillon here.”

“I was in the shower.”

“We’re in business, Jenny’s just phoned me from the bar. She just got in.”

“Has she told you where it is?”

“No, she’s still being mysterious. She wants to see us at the bar at seven-thirty.”

“I’ll be there.”

Dillon rang off, then hurried back up the slope to the cottage to report to Ferguson.

When Jenny came out of the office Mary was standing at the end of the bar talking to her husband. “You still look like a bad weekend, honey,” she said.

“I know. I’m going to walk up to the house, have a shower and put on some fresh clothes, then I’m coming back. I’ve arranged to meet Dillon, Brigadier Ferguson and Bob Carney at seven-thirty.”

“You ain’t walking anywhere, honey. Billy, you take her up in the jeep, check out the house. Make sure everything’s in order, then bring her back when she’s ready. I’ll get young Annie from the kitchen to tend bar while you’re gone.”

“No need for that, Mary,” Jenny told her.

“It’s settled. Don’t give me no argument, girl. Now on your way.”

When Jenny emerged from the bar, Billy Jones was at her side carrying the suitcase. Algaro and Guerra followed them at a distance, saw them get in the jeep in the car park at Mongoose Junction and drive away.

“He’s taking her up to the house, I bet you,” Guerra said.

Algaro nodded. “We’ll walk up, it’s not far. He’ll have left by the time we get there. We’ll get her then.”

Guerra said, “No sign of Dillon or the other two. That means she hasn’t had a chance to speak to them yet.”

“And maybe she never will,” Algaro told him.

Guerra paused and licked his lips nervously. “Now look, I don’t want to get in anything like that, not with any woman. That’s bad luck.”

“Shut your mouth and do as you’re told,” Algaro told him. “Now let’s get moving.”

At the Ministry of Defence, just before midnight, the light still shone from the windows of Ferguson’s office overlooking Horse Guards Avenue. Jack Lane finished his preliminary reading of the first facts to emerge from the computer concerning the Pamer family and very interesting reading they made. But he’d done enough for one night. He put them in his briefcase, placed it in the secure drawer of his desk, got his raincoat, switched off the lights and left.

He came out of the Horse Guards Avenue entrance and walked along the pavement. The young man sitting behind the wheel of the stolen Jaguar on the opposite side of the road checked the photo on the seat beside him with a torch, just to make sure, then slipped it into a pocket. He wore glasses and a raincoat over a neat blue suit, looked totally ordinary.

He started the engine, watched Lane cross the road and start along Whitehall Court. Lane was tired and still thinking of the Pamer affair, glanced casually to the right, was aware of the Jaguar, but had plenty of time to cross the road. There was the sudden roar of the engine, he half-turned, too late, the Jaguar hit him with such force that he was flung violently to one side. Lane lay there, trying to push himself up, was aware that the Jaguar was reversing. The rear bumper fractured his skull, killing him instantly, and the car bumped over his body.

The young man got out and walked forward to check that the Inspector was dead. The street was quite empty, only the rain falling as he got back into the Jaguar, swerved around Lane’s body and drove away. Five minutes later he dumped the Jaguar in a side street off the Strand and walked rapidly away.

At Gallows Point, Jenny had a long hot shower and washed her hair while downstairs Billy opened shutters to air the rooms, got a broom and swept the front porch. Algaro and Guerra watched from the bushes nearby.

“Damn him, why doesn’t he go?” Algaro said.

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t advise trying anything with that one,” Guerra said. “They tell me he used to be heavyweight boxing champion of the Caribbean.”

“I’m frightened to death,” Algaro said.

After a while, Jenny came out on the porch and joined Billy. She wore white linen trousers, a short-sleeved blouse, looked fresh and relaxed.

“Now that’s better,” Billy said.

“Yes, I actually feel human again,” she said. “We’ll go back now, Billy.”

They got in the jeep and drove away and the two men emerged onto the dirt road. “Now what?” Guerra demanded.

“No problem,” Algaro said. “We’ll get her later. For now, we’ll go back to the bar,” and they set off down the road.

It was almost dark when Bob Carney went into Jenny’s Place and found her serving behind the bar with Billy. She came round and greeted him warmly with a kiss and drew him over to a booth.

“It’s good to see you, Jenny.” He put a hand on hers. “I was real sorry about Henry. I know what he meant to you.”

“He was a good man, Bob, a decent, kind man.”

“I saw him on that last morning,” Carney told her, “coming in as I was leaving with a dive party. He must have gone out real early. I asked him where he’d been, and he told me French Cap.” He shook his head. “Not true, Jenny. Dillon and I checked out French Cap, even had a look at South Drop.”

“But they’re sites people go to anyway, Bob. That U-boat couldn’t have just sat there all those years without someone having seen it.”

It was at that moment that Dillon and Ferguson entered. They saw Carney and Jenny at once and came over. Ferguson raised his Panama. “Miss Grant.”

She held out a hand to Dillon, he took it for a moment and there was an awkwardness between them. “Did things work out all right?”

“Oh, yes, I saw Henry’s sister. Sorry I was so mysterious. The truth is she’s a nun, Little Sisters of Pity. In fact she’s the Mother Superior.”

“I never knew that,” Carney said.

“No, Henry never talked about her, he was an atheist, you see. He felt she was burying herself away to no purpose. It led to a rift between them.”

Billy came up at that moment. “Can I get you folks some drinks?”

“Later, Billy,” she said. “We have business to discuss here.”

He went away and Ferguson said, “Yes, we’re all ears. Hopefully you’re going to tell us the location of U180.”

“Yes, Jenny.” Bob Carney was excited now. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know is the short answer,” she said simply.

There was consternation on Ferguson’s face. “You don’t know? But I was led to believe you did.”

Dillon put a restraining hand on the Brigadier’s arm. “Give her a chance.”

“Let me put it this way,” Jenny said. “I think I might know where that information may be found, but it’s so absurdly simple.” She took a deep breath. “Oh, let’s get on with it.” She turned to Carney. “Bob, the
Rhoda
is still moored there in the harbor. Will you take us out there?”

“Sure, Jenny.”

Carney stood up and Ferguson said, “The
Rhoda
?”

Carney explained. “Henry’s boat, the one he was out in that day. Come on, let’s go.”

They went down the steps to the road and went along the waterfront to the dock, and Algaro and Guerra watched them descend to an inflatable. Carney sat in the stern, started the outboard and they moved out into the harbor.

“Now what?” Guerra asked.

“We’ll just have to wait and see,” Algaro replied.

Carney switched on the light in the deckhouse and they all crowded in. “Well, Miss Grant,” Ferguson said. “We’re all here, so what have you got to tell us?”

“It’s just an idea.” She turned to Carney. “Bob, what do a lot of divers do after a dive?”

“You mean, check their equipment . . .”

She broke in. “Something much more basic. What I’m thinking of is the details of the dive.”

Carney said, “Of course.”

“What on earth is she getting at?” Ferguson demanded.

“I think I see,” Dillon said. “Just like pilots, many divers keep logs. They enter details of each dive they make. It’s common practice.”

“Henry was meticulous about it,” she said. “Usually the first thing he did after getting back on board and drying himself. He usually kept it in here.” She opened the small locker by the wheel, reached inside and found it at once. It had a red cover, Baker’s name stamped on it in gold. She held it out to Dillon. “I’m afraid I might be wrong. You read it.”

Dillon paused, then turned the pages and read the last one. “It says here he made an eighty- to ninety-foot dive at a place called Thunder Point.”

“Thunder Point?” Carney said. “I’d never have thought it. No one would.”

“His final entry reads: Horse-eyed jacks in quantity, yellow-tail snappers, angel and parrot fish and one type VII German Submarine, U180, on ledge on east face.”

“Thank God,” Jenny Grant said. “I was right.”