Free Dead Men Don't Bite (Jake Dillon Adventure Thriller Series) by Andrew Towning

you stay
with me tonight at my apartment here in town. That is of
course, if you have no other plans?”
“I’ve no other plans, and if you insist then who am
I to argue?”
Roberts came in with the drinks, and LJ motioned
Nathan to an old leather Chesterfield sofa that looked so
out of place in the otherwise pristine and contemporary
room. Nathan placed the briefcase on the coffee table in
front of them, and said, “Well here it is.”
LJ leaned forward, and running his hands over the
bright metal, he said. “Amazing.”
He took his time examining the Kriegsmarine
insignia, and the red leaping devil that was etched across
the centre of the lid then, he glanced up. “May I do the
honours?”
“That’s why I came. Just slide the catches back, it’s
unlocked.”
Resting his hands lightly on either side of the case, LJ
placed his thumbs over the catches and pushed outwards.
They sprang open with a snap and a thud. The lid was
opened. Picking up the submarine logbook he randomly
opened a page, looking at it briefly, before closing it up
again and placing the book on the table. He pulled out, and
quickly read through, the various documents that were held
together inside a plain brown envelope.
“These are, as you said on the phone, just routine
records, some are basic food and provisions request forms,
and the others are mechanical service records. They are
all dated, by the looks of it, just a few days before they
embarked on that last mission.”
He ran fingers through his fair hair and readjusted
his fine gold wire framed spectacles, before adding. “This
is very odd, old son, there should be records from the day
this U-boat was commissioned, not as these are, for just the
one mission.”
LJ went over to his desk, typing in the password to
allow him access to the central archive database. “Here we
are, Nat come and have a look at this. U-683 should have
documentation dating from the twenty third of December
1942. Umm, there seems to be intrigue and mystery
everywhere, my friend.”
“I’d say,” Nathan said.
Walking back over to the sofa, LJ slumped heavily
down onto the worn leather, and sitting there, said. “Umm,”
at least, half a dozen times, before picking up the logbook,
and glancing at the first page again. “Lovely handwriting
and surprisingly legible.” He started to read. “Some of these
entries are very brief though. Can’t be more than twentyfive to thirty pages at the most.”
“As I remember it, you are not only able to speak
and write fluently in German, but to actually think like a
German as well,” Nathan said.
“You have a good memory, old son. And, I’m sure you
also remember that I’m one of those annoying individuals,
who find it absolutely natural to do so.” With the logbook
still in his hand, he stood up and went back over to his
desk, sitting down in front of the computer screen.
“However, I’m not going to waste time reading
through every entry. Instead I’ll let our very expensive state
of the art software do it for us, once I’ve scanned in the
pages and the two letters, it should only take a matter of
seconds to translate. Then with the wonders of modern
technology it will be projected onto the screen over there.”
LJ, held up a small black remote control, and pointed
it at the wall in front of the sofa where Nathan was sitting.
A panel in the ceiling moved silently back allowing a large
projection screen to automatically drop down. Seconds
later the first page of the translated logbook appeared on
the silvery white panel, and then disappeared again.
LJ sat at his desk, quickly working his fingers over the
keyboard as he typed in the command sequence to enable
the computer to translate the German text into English.
There was a look of intense concentration on his face.
Nathan said cheerfully, “What happens next?”
“Please, old son, be patient.”
Nathan sighed, sitting back in the leather sofa, and
drinking what was left of his tea. It was quiet in the