The closer they drew to the crater, the more ominous it looked. A column of smoke plumed into the late afternoon sky. At its centre was an orange glow, though whether that was the volcano’s molten heart or the setting sun Laura found difficult to tell. She had a flashback to her nightmare in St Ives – the one in which the Fantasy Holidays travel woman had dangled her over a molten pit. She fervently hoped that it hadn’t been a premonition. If the chauffeur was here, who was to say that the Fantasy Travel representative hadn’t come too.
Laura put her arms around the husky. He licked her cheek and buried his face in the crook of her arm. He wasn’t a fan of air travel at all.
As the pilot tilted away from the volcano, the sun glinted off the white outline of a building. It was in the far north of the island, constructed partly on the cliffs and partly on a marina. The architect had designed it in such a way that the roof of the clifftop building was in the shape of the letter ‘M’, and the marina section spelled ‘C’. Marine Concern, Laura guessed.
It was a baking hot afternoon but goosebumps rose on her arms. Was her uncle a prisoner in that sterile white building? Was he terrified? Hungry? In pain? Was he beside himself with worry, not knowing what had become of his niece and the boy with whose care he’d been entrusted? She and Tariq were going on nothing but guesswork. If they were wrong and her uncle was still in Antigua, precious time would be lost – time that could get him killed.
She nudged Tariq and pointed. There was a microphone attached to the bulky headphones that shielded their eardrums from the helicopter’s machinegun roar, but she didn’t want the pilot to hear her. Tariq gave her the thumbs up. He pressed his face against the glass door, straining to see something that might hint at what went on behind the walls. The sleek modern buildings and manicured lawns gave nothing away.
The pilot said into his mouthpiece: ‘If you’re wondering which company is brave enough, or idiotic enough, to erect their headquarters beside a volcano, it’s a scientific research company called Marine Concern. They’re on a mission to save rare sea life. There are a lot of rumours about them. The locals don’t like it that they seldom offer islanders jobs, but if they’re doing good work for endangered ocean species, I say we should leave them in peace.’
He steered the helicopter away from the volcano’s menacing shadow. In no time at all they were landing at Montserrat’s tiny airport. The pilot led them out of range of the spinning blades and escorted them into the terminal. The last flight of the day had just arrived. The low, cool building was buzzing with families and disoriented tourists trying to get their bearings. An aroma of coffee and conch burgers hung in the air, but the cafe had closed. A lone woman with a vacuum cleaner circled the tables like a bee collecting honey.
It was only now that Laura realised what an immense gamble they’d taken by leaving the relative sanctuary of the Blue Haven resort, where there was safety in numbers and they’d had free food and shelter. There was enough of Celia’s money to pay for a couple of nights in a bed and breakfast on Montserrat, but none for a return ticket to Antigua. The free helicopter ticket had been for a volcano tour only. They’d had to do a lot of fast-talking to convince the pilot to drop them off in Montserrat. What they were going to do if they didn’t find Calvin Redfern, she couldn’t imagine. They hadn’t thought further than getting to the island.
‘You said you were doing the volcano tour for research purposes. What kind of research would that be?’ the pilot was asking.
‘It’s top secret,’ Laura told him, forcing a smile. ‘It’s to do with the case my uncle is working on. We could tell you but we’d have to kill you afterwards.’
He laughed. ‘Where is your detective uncle? He’s meeting you here, right? I’m curious to meet such a famous policeman. It’ll be like encountering James Bond. Life and death, right?’
‘That’s right,’ agreed Laura. ‘Only thing is, he might be very late. My uncle, I mean. If he’s held up with work, we could be here for hours and hours. We don’t mind because we’re used to it, but he certainly wouldn’t expect you to do the same. Don’t you have to get back to Antigua before nightfall?’
‘It’s highly likely that he’ll be very, very late,’ Tariq added, ‘and he might also be in disguise. Especially if he’s working undercover.’
It belatedly dawned on the pilot that there was something peculiar about two children and a husky travelling alone to Montserrat. ‘Is that so? Well, I don’t care if he’s disguised as Donald Duck, I’m not leaving until he comes. There’s no way I’m going to abandon a couple of kids on an island with an active volcano.’
‘We’ll definitely be okay,’ Tariq insisted. ‘You should get going. Thanks for all your help. We have money and we’ll get a taxi if necessary.’
The pilot folded his arms across his chest. ‘Okay, spit it out. You’re in some kind of trouble, aren’t you? There is no uncle, is there? I should have figured that out back in Antigua. That’s it, I’m calling the police.’
He started towards a security guard, a sinewy Caribbean who was laughing into his mobile phone near the terminal exit.
‘Wait!’ cried Laura, but the pilot only turned to say: ‘Don’t move or you’ll be in big trouble.’
‘Laura, look,’ Tariq said under his breath.
Laura followed his gaze to the double doors that separated the terminal from the runway. They opened briefly to admit a couple of smartly dressed aircrew. Behind them, heading across the tarmac, were the LeFevers’ bodyguards.
Laura’s heart began to pound. ‘Tariq, I think we’re in one of those devil and the deep blue sea situations again.’
At the terminal exit, the security guard had put away his phone and was frowning as he listened to the pilot’s story. He took out his radio and spoke rapidly into it.
‘We could make a run for it, but we wouldn’t get very far,’ Tariq said. ‘On the other hand, if we wait here, we’ll either be deported or end up as shark food, and who knows what’ll happen to your uncle then. What do you reckon Matt Walker would do?’
The security guard was putting away his radio and fingering the handcuffs on his belt. Little and Large were having a heated debate and hadn’t seen them yet, but that could change in a heartbeat. Laura pulled Skye and Tariq behind a potted tree. ‘Matt Walker would create a diversion. Trouble is, someone’s already doing that.’
Opposite them, a goateed, bespectacled young man in a navy blue polo shirt and an orange firefighter jumpsuit, rolled down to the waist, was engaged in a heated discussion with the woman behind the counter of the Post Express – ‘We Deliver’– booth.
‘But you told me that if I made it here by five-thirty, it would be in Antigua by morning,’ he cried passionately, brandishing a small box. ‘You promised. And now you tell me you’re closed.’
‘I say five-turty and I mean five-turty,’ the woman in the booth said placidly. ‘Now it’s five-turty-tree and we done shut up shop for da day.’
‘But don’t you understand, you’re putting people’s lives at stake. All for the sake of three lousy minutes. Are you happy to have that on your conscience? Do you have any idea what it’s like to be swallowed by a pyroclastic flow? That’s a flow of rock and gas travelling at 700kmph at 1,000 degrees Celsius, in case you’re not familiar with the term. That’s what could happen if this package doesn’t get to Antigua on time.’
The bodyguards passed the potted tree, still arguing furiously. Laura caught the words, ‘… find those brats or we might as well throw ourselves …’ She had not the slightest doubt that they were referring to her and Tariq.
‘Here goes,’ Tariq said, as the security guard and pilot strode purposefully towards them.
‘I don’t know about any pyromaniac whatsit,’ Mrs Postal Express’s voice boomed out across the terminal. ‘Arl I know is dat you, Rupert, would be late ta yo own funeral. Every week we has dis same prublem. And every week you tell me, “Clara, for tree lousy minutes, or ten lousy minutes or twelve, why you making suc
h a fuss? My samples need to get to Antigua yesterday or the volcano will go up in smoke and I won’t be able to warn nobody.” Nunsense. Now if you don’t get yo hide outta my sight and back ta da Volcano Observatory, da only volcano on dis island is gonna be me.’
And with that, she wrenched down the steel shutter of her booth with a clatter and vanished from view.
‘What’s going on here?’ demanded the security guard, advancing on the children aggressively. ‘You kids ain’t in any trouble with the law, are you? Mr Lynch here says der is nobody here to greet you, and dat ya gave him some cockeyed story about a detective uncle and a missing person. Dis sounds like a po-lees matter – ’
But Laura wasn’t listening. She was processing the conversation she’d just heard. Something clicked in her head.
‘Rupert!’ she cried, evading the security guard’s hand and rushing over to the owl-like young man in the orange jumpsuit. ‘We thought you’d forgotten us. I’m Laura and that’s my husky, Skye and my best friend, Tariq, over by the tree. We’re friends of Joshua. He did tell you we were coming, didn’t he? He told us you’d help us.’
Rupert stared at her in bewilderment. ‘What? Joshua? I haven’t spoken to him in months. I guess he forgot to mention it.’
‘But you will?’ Laura said imploringly. ‘Help us, I mean? You see, we’re getting a hard time from those men over there. They don’t believe that we’re being met by an adult, and are threatening to turn us over to the police.’
Rupert scratched his head. ‘How did you say you know Joshua?’
Laura was a nervous wreck, especially since Large had returned to the terminal. By the looks of things, he was demanding food from the cleaner in the cafe.
She shifted so her body was screened by Rupert’s. ‘We met Joshua in Antigua. He’s the kindest man on earth. And he spoke very highly of you. He said you were a brilliant volcanologist.’
A broad smile brightened Rupert’s open, boyish face. ‘Did he really? He is the best man I know. And his wife could outcook any fancy chef.’ He came to a decision. ‘If Joshua sent you, of course I’ll help. What do you need me to do?’
Large was on his way out of the terminal with two takeaway containers in his hand, a smug expression on his brutish face.
Laura led Rupert over to the group behind the palm. She gave Tariq a wink and murmured to the pilot: ‘We did explain that my uncle might be in disguise. Sometimes even we struggle to recognise him.’
The pilot stared at Rupert as if he were James Bond come to life. The security guard looked crushed. If the children were being met by a responsible adult, there would be no arrest. His moment of importance had passed.
‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ said Rupert. ‘What seems to be the problem here? Apologies if there’s been any confusion. I was a bit tied up with a postal problem and didn’t realise that Laura and Tariq had arrived. I’m going to be taking care of them while their detective uncle is busy solving a case here on the island. If you have any questions, please feel free to email me. Here is my card.’
‘HADN’T YOU BETTER tell me what’s going on?’ said Rupert, in a soft Canadian accent, as they drove out of town in his battered truck.
Laura took a big breath of the air rushing by the window. The golden light of evening lent a rainbow glow to the gaily-painted houses slipping past. A boy playing with a puppy looked up and waved. Laura put her arms around Skye and waited for her heartbeat to slow. There’d been another near miss at the airport before they left. She and Tariq had managed to get into Rupert’s Land Rover without been spotted by the bodyguards, but the husky had leapt out of the vehicle before they could shut the door, unable to resist chasing a cart loaded with goats and chickens.
Unfortunately Little and Large were still eating burgers in their black SUV at the time. Laura barely had a chance to say, ‘If anybody asks, he’s your dog,’ to a startled Rupert, before bedlam erupted.
Crouching on the floor of the truck, she and Tariq heard Large demand: ‘Where is the owner of this dog?’
Laura risked a peek over the dashboard. The volcanologist was not a small man, but the musclebound bodyguard dwarfed him.
Thankfully Rupert was not easily intimidated. ‘He’s my dog. Not that it’s any of your business. Now if you’ll excuse me …’
‘Do I look like a moron?’ Large boomed. ‘Nobody in the Caribbean owns huskies, especially not three-legged ones. This husky belongs to Laura Marlin. She is a treacherous fugitive who is being hunted by the authorities. Anyone who aids her risks ending up in jail alongside her.’
On the Land Rover floor, Tariq put a protective arm around Laura, but they both knew that Rupert owed them nothing. Why should he risk jail or a beating for the sake of two children he’d known for all of twenty minutes?
Thankfully Rupert’s loyalty to Joshua ran deep.
‘In answer to your first question, all I’m going to say is: Have you looked in the mirror lately? Secondly, plenty of people own huskies in the Caribbean. There’s a whole movie about a guy in Jamaica who races them. Thirdly, I’ve never heard of this Laura Marler woman. To be completely truthful, this dog was found abandoned and given to me by a friend of mine, but there’s no way I’m parting with him until I have proof of previous ownership. Lastly, and this is very important. I’ve named my dog Vesuvius and if you don’t wish to find out why, I’d advise you to step out of the way.’
Skye did his special, ‘I-eat-polar-bears-for-breakfast’ snarl. Within seconds Rupert was behind the wheel. The engine roared to life. Laura and Tariq climbed off the floor and did up their seatbelts, taking care to keep out of sight of passing traffic until they were well clear of the airport.
Rupert was the first to break the silence with his question.
When neither of them replied, he said: ‘Okay, you have two minutes to tell me who you are and what exactly is going on, or I’m taking you back to the airport.’
Tariq said: ‘I’ll explain, sir.’
Rupert gave him an exasperated look. ‘I’m not sir, I’m just plain Rupert. Go on then, spit it out.’
So Tariq told him everything. He explained about Calvin Redfern’s fall and subsequent disappearance, about the Straight A gang, and about how he and Laura were brazenly kidnapped in full view of the Ocean Empress passengers, captain and security manager by Celia and Sebastian LeFever. The only thing he left out was their theory about Calvin Redfern being held captive by pirates connected to Marine Concern.
Rupert gave a low whistle. ‘Well, either you’re amazing liars and I’m about to get myself in hot water for harbouring two imposters, or you’re two of the bravest kids I’ve ever met. I’m trusting my instincts that it’s the latter. I’m not sure how I can help you though. The way I see it your uncle could be anywhere in the Caribbean, Laura. What makes you think he’s on Montserrat? It would be a tough place to hide someone. The island community is very close-knit.’
‘Just a hunch.’
‘A hunch? You’ve flown all this way and almost got yourselves arrested for a hunch? You’re not brave, you’re crazy.’
‘It was a bit more than a hunch,’ Tariq admitted. ‘One of the pirates dropped something on the Ocean Empress that we later found out was from Montserrat.’
‘Look, you’ve no idea how grateful we are for what you’re doing for us,’ Laura said. ‘I promise you can trust us. We did escape from the LeFevers and I’m not a “treacherous fugitive”.’
Rupert kept his eyes on the road, but he was amused. ‘I’d figured as much, Laura Marlin. I rather suspect it’s the other way round. That bodyguard had the look of a wanted criminal if ever there was one.’ He glanced at the rucksack – their only luggage. ‘Now am I correct in thinking you’ve nowhere to stay?’
‘To be honest, we haven’t done much planning,’ Tariq admitted. ‘We’d appreciate it if you could point us in the right direction.’
Rupert grinned. ‘What if I pointed you in the direction of the volcano?’
They’d been tra
velling west towards the sea, but now the coastal road snaked south towards the distant dark shape of the Soufriere Hills. Cloud concealed the top of it. The sky behind it was burnt orange with the setting sun.
‘Just kidding,’ he said. ‘Volcanoes are my passion and I often make the mistake of thinking other people are fascinated by them too, but …’
‘I’m fascinated by them,’ said Tariq. ‘If we had more time I’d love to see this volcano up close.’
Rupert’s eyes shone. ‘Oh, you’d love my camp. It’s in the foothills of the volcano …’ He stopped. ‘No, no, no, I’m absolutely not taking you there. No, we’re going to do the sensible thing and continue along this nice tarmac road to the Blessing Guest House, the best bed and breakfast I know. There you’ll be comfortable and in safe hands. I can lend you a little money if you need it.’
Laura and Tariq looked at each other and then up at the volcano, a black silhouette against the sunset. A scene from Laura’s nightmare flashed through her mind. ‘It’s now or never,’ the Fantasy Holidays rep was saying. ‘She knows too much. Get rid of her.’
‘No!’ cried Laura.
She blinked. Tariq and Rupert were staring at her in surprise.
‘You don’t want to go to the bed and breakfast?’ Rupert asked. ‘I suppose I could try the hotel, but it’s a lot more expensive.’
Laura swallowed. ‘What I mean is, I know it’s a lot to ask, but is there any chance we could stay with you? At your camp?’
She didn’t add that the reason she was so keen to stay with him was because if his home was near the volcano, it was also near the offices of Marine Concern. That would make keeping an eye on their target a whole lot easier. Plus it would be free.
But he shook his head. ‘It’s too risky.’ He turned off the main road into a village. Banana palms waved in the dusk. The sky behind them was turning vermillion. The air was smoky with the smell of sizzling fish and roasting corn. Laura’s stomach rumbled. It seemed a long time since lunch.