Dead Men Don't Bite (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) by Andrew Towning Read Free Book Online Page A

thought as he turned to go.
    He kicked off the floor and the sediment swirled
up around him to reveal a flat silvery coloured briefcase.
Instinctively, he reached for it, stirring up the sediment, and
found himself clutching it, like a small child would. Who’s
just been given a present and doesn’t want anyone to take
it off him. A feeling of foreboding also washed over him, of
something evil that had possibly taken place all those years
ago, and suddenly he felt cold and vulnerable. It was as if
he was trespassing, and shouldn’t be there. Checking his
dive computer he saw that it was time to leave.
    He made it with only a few minutes to spare. Bloody
idiot, he said to himself, taking such a big risk at his age
and he pulled himself out of the tunnel. He ascended slowly
by the book, one foot per second, up the anchor chain, the
briefcase tied to his weight belt, leaving the chain at thirty
feet to swim under the boat to the stern platform.
    Pulling off his fins he threw them onto the platform.
Untied the briefcase and placed it carefully on the other side
of the deck rail, and then wriggled out of his equipment,
which was always the worst part. He was feeling his age,
as he scrambled up the ladder and turned to haul his airtank and buoyancy harness on board. He then methodically
stowed away the tank and other equipment as he always
did. But on this occasion he was impatient to finish the job
as quickly as possible. Going below he towelled himself dry,
changed into a pair of casual trousers and a fresh shirt, and
then poured himself a cup of coffee from his thermos. Back
on deck, Nathan was sitting in one of the swivel chairs on
the bridge. Thoughtfully staring at the silver briefcase on
the table in front of him, and occasionally taking a sip from
his coffee cup.
    He could clearly see that the case was made from
aluminium and in remarkably good condition for its age.
Etched into the metal and across the centre of the lid was the
red leaping devil and in the top right hand corner, the eagle
and swastika of the German Kreigsmarine. There were two
clips and a lock that had rusted, securing it together. The
clips opened easily enough, but the lid remained securely
locked, which left Nathan little choice. He took the small
cordless drill from his toolbox and placed a six millimetre
high speed metal drilling bit into the chuck. The small lock
gave way and the core of it fell apart with the second hole
that he drilled. A moment later he was able to slowly lift the
lid open. The inside was completely dry, as he had expected
it to be, the contents a few official documents two letters
opened but still in their envelopes and a leather bound diary
with the gold Kreigsmarine insignia stamped on the front,
indicating that this was possibly the submarine’s log.
    Cunningham’s grasp of the German language was at
best, only schoolroom average. He opened the diary to the
first entry that was dated 17th April 1945 with the heading,
St Nazaire France. Below this a name, Korvetenkapitan’s
Otto Sternberg, U683, the commander of the submarine
and presumably the owner of this diary.
    Nathan thumbed through the rest of the pages,
becoming more and more annoyed with himself for being
so slow to decipher the written German. There were
numerous entries throughout the twenty-one pages that
showed the U-boat’s final voyage. From the time that it had
left port at St Nazaire in France. It soon became obvious
from the entries, that the submarine had been sent out into
the Atlantic Ocean and south towards Africa. At the Cape
of Good Hope U683 had then changed course towards the
North again, passing Madagascar on its way to the Red
Sea. There were various notations on the 27th April as the
submarine passed through the Suez Canal and out into
the Mediterranean. This all seemed very odd to Nathan
Cunningham as he sat there pondering over what he had
just read, and he genuinely thought that he had translated
the entries incorrectly. The route didn’t