Tariq said: ‘If you allow us to return to our cabin, we can prove it, sir. A chauffeur in a limousine brought Laura a letter telling her she’d won. In the safe, we have tickets and vouchers and everything.’
The captain drew himself up to his full height, which was considerable. ‘A short time ago, I authorised the steward to open the safe in cabin 126. There was nothing in it. No passports and certainly no tickets or boarding passes. Now I think we’ve heard quite enough lies for one day. Viktor, call the police.’
‘Quite right,’ agreed the security manager, finding his tongue. ‘I can’t believe I was taken in by the story of the vanished uncle. Angus and Dreyton, detain these children for further questioning. We’ll hand them to the authorities when we dock.’
THE THING THAT Laura wanted most was for Tariq to shake her awake and tell it had all been some awful nightmare. That she’d fallen asleep on the sofa at number 28 Ocean View Terrace in St Ives. That there’d never been a competition involving a holiday in the Caribbean and that she’d never won it. That Calvin Redfern was safe, and that Rowenna would be making them a cottage pie for dinner.
Unfortunately, this particular nightmare was real. Angus and Dreyton moved to grab them, but halted when Skye gave a blood-curdling growl. Tariq held tight to the husky’s collar. He gave the sailors a cool look, as if to say, ‘Come any closer and I’ll let go.’
All at once there was a commotion. The crowd parted like the Red Sea and through it came a couple dressed from head to toe in white. It was the kind of floaty cloud white worn by the types of people who never come into contact with dirt because they travel exclusively by limousine and jet and have mansions staffed by fleets of cleaners. They had matching tans, gold jewellery and celebrity sunglasses. The woman had a mane of cascading blonde hair.
‘My angels, how I’ve missed you,’ cried the woman, holding out her arms to Laura and Tariq. ‘Come to Mama.’
There was a collective gasp from the gathered passengers. Laura and Tariq were stunned.
‘Who the heck are you?’ Viktor Bland asked rudely.
The man in white gave no indication he’d heard him. He stepped forward and thrust a brown, manicured hand in the captain’s direction. ‘My dear sir, forgive us for boarding your magnificent ship in such an undignified fashion, but it came to our attention that our beloved adopted children have been the cause of a small riot. Sebastian LeFever at your service. And this is my wife, Celia. I believe you’ve met Laura and Tariq.’
Laura’s blood ran cold. She suddenly realised what was happening and she saw from Tariq’s face that he did too. The Straight A gang must have bugged their cabin and/or Laura’s beach bag. They’d overheard the stories the children had invented and the unfolding crisis over Laura’s apparently non-existent uncle, and decided to use it as a ploy to kidnap the pair in full view of everyone.
The crowd began to buzz again.
‘The children of gazillionaires. Fancy them stowing away like common criminals! What a scandal.’
The captain turned red and began to bluster: ‘I’m so sorry, Mr LeFever. There seems to have been a misunderstanding. We thought … well, you see, we couldn’t find a record … And the girl kept talking about a kidnapped uncle.’
Sebastian LeFever slapped him heartily on the back. ‘Say no more about it, my good man. We often book the children’s travel arrangements under assumed names for their own protection – to foil those who would hold them for ransom, you understand. If you check your passenger list for a couple of cabins held in the name of Fantasy Holidays Limited, I think you’ll find that all is in order. It was a bit naughty of the children to bring their dog, but you’re most welcome to invoice me at Clear Moon Estate if there’s any extra charge. Now if you’ll excuse us, we must say hello to our son and daughter. We’ve missed them terribly.’
‘Of c-c-course,’ stuttered the captain. ‘And on behalf of Heavenly Cruises, may I again express our sincerest apologies …’
Sebastian, who smelled of starch and expensive cologne, bent down and hugged Laura stiffly. Celia embraced her with an ecstatic fervour, crumpling her white linen dress.
Sebastian marched up to Tariq and held out his hand. ‘Son, how you’ve grown.’
‘Thank you, Sir,’ Tariq said politely. ‘It’s very nice to see you and Mother.’
‘But who is the uncle they were panicking about?’ persisted Rita. ‘They seemed sincerely distressed about him.’
Celia LeFever’s ice-blue eyes alighted on Mrs Gannet with the same expression with which she might have regarded a fly in her soup. ‘A much-loved bodyguard,’ she explained. ‘Regrettably, Mr Redfern was called away on urgent business and had to disembark the ship without delay and without saying goodbye to the children. Not to worry, they’ll be seeing him soon enough.’
She smiled at Laura with all the warmth of a melting glacier. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you, darling?’
‘I certainly would,’ said Laura, giving her a look that would have reduced a lesser woman to a pile of smouldering ashes.
As Celia turned away, Tariq murmured in Laura’s ear: ‘Is this what people mean when they talk about being caught between the devil and the deep blue sea? Either we’re arrested for being stowaways or we allow ourselves to be kidnapped by gangsters.’
‘Those seem to be our options,’ Laura whispered back. ‘You know you’re in trouble when the Straight A’s seem like your best bet.’
Jimmy Gannet emerged panting and dishevelled from the dispersing, gossiping crowd. He had the look of a puppy that had been kicked, but it was obvious he was doing his best to ignore what he’d seen and heard and keep faith in his newfound friends.
‘It’s not true, is it?’ he said, his small, bright brown eyes searching theirs. ‘Tell me it isn’t true.’
‘Ready, kids?’ Sebastian barked. ‘Your mother and I have dinner reservations.’
Surreptitiously, Laura reached into her pocket and removed the badge she’d found on the deck after the pirates had left. She had no idea whether or not the men had dropped it, and if they had, whether it was remotely significant. But right now she was prepared to clutch at any available straw.
She reached out and took one of Jimmy’s hands in hers, pressing the badge into it. ‘I’m sorry, Jimmy. We didn’t mean to lead you on, really we didn’t. It was a game that went too far. I hope you’ll forgive us in time. I would like to say something that is one hundred per cent true. If you keep dreaming and practicing, you’ll grow up to be better than Matt Walker. My advice to you would be to start immediately.’
‘Ready?’ said Sebastian impatiently.
Laura smiled. ‘We’re ready.’
‘YOU’RE IN OUR hands now and we’re going to make you pay.’
Celia LeFever almost hissed the words into Laura’s ear as they walked along the jetty in the dusk to a waiting stretch limousine.
‘I’m sure you will,’ Laura said though gritted teeth while pretending to smile at passing passengers. ‘The way we’ll make you pay if you’ve harmed my uncle.’
She kept close to Tariq and Skye, watching for the smallest chance of escape. It was hard to believe that only a few hours ago she’d woken in her bunk on the Ocean Empress practically bursting with excitement at the prospect of seeing Antigua – the island paradise with three hundred and sixty-five beaches. Now she was here and it felt like a nightmare.
The end of the jetty thronged with T-shirt sellers and plump, gaily-dressed Caribbean women sitting on rainbow-bright sarongs spread with homemade jewellery. An artist appealed to tourists to buy his paintings. ‘Have pity on a starving painter; I need money for my dinner.’ A shrivelled old man with sad eyes drank tea from a glass mug in front of a pink-painted café as the last sliver of sun melted into the sea.
As they approached the limousine, the shop lights flickered on. The sky had turned violet. Night was falling over Antigua.
Sebastian and two bodyguards in black suits brought up the rear. Laura was shocked to s
ee that the chauffeur was the same smartly dressed young man who’d handed her balloons and complimented Mrs Crabtree back in St Ives. The only difference was that he was now wearing one dangling earring made from a silver chain, a pearl and a couple of guineafowl feathers.
Skye growled at him. It was obvious he remembered him.
‘So you knew all along?’ Laura said in disbelief as she was shepherded into the limo by the thuggish bodyguards. ‘You actually stood there congratulating me when you knew all the time it was a trap?’
He shrugged and gave her the same cocky grin. ‘Only doing my job, Miss Marlin. Only doing my job. I admit I was taken aback when I found you were only a kid, but, hey, I just does the work and takes the money.’
He snapped to attention as Sebastian came round to check what was taking so long. ‘Everything going to plan?’ the man in white asked abruptly.
The chauffeur saluted. ‘Smooth as silk, Mr LeFever. Smooth as silk. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll ride the tide home.’
Skye lay on the floor of the limo between Laura and Tariq, regarding the LeFevers and bodyguards with hostile blue eyes. The children were poised to jump or run if the slightest opportunity presented itself, but that was as likely as Christmas in January. The limo doors were locked and the glass was, Celia informed them, bulletproof.
‘Just in case you get any ideas.’
As far as Laura could tell, it was not ideas that were required. It was the strength and speed of ten Olympians. One of the bodyguards was built like a wrestler and the other looked like a marathon runner. They had all bases covered. The children had already nicknamed them Little and Large.
Laura felt sick. This was all her fault. If she’d listened to her uncle and realised that winning a Caribbean Holiday for a pound was too good to be true – that there had to be a catch – they wouldn’t be in this position. Calvin Redfern would not be in mortal danger, and she, Skye and Tariq would not have been kidnapped.
The terrifying part was that it had all been so carefully calculated. Every detail had been worked out. Fantasy Holidays Ltd had always intended the winning raffle ticket to go to Laura or Calvin Redfern. The separate cabins, the tripwire that had felled her uncle, even the disappearance of their passports – everything had been planned. Their passports, including Skye’s pet papers, had magically reappeared as the LeFevers escorted them through customs before being spirited away as they exited. Their kidnappers’ presence at passport control had seemed most unorthodox, but from what Laura could make out they’d managed to forge documents identifying themselves as the children’s legal guardians.
Laura had considered making a scene in the customs hall until the police came to their rescue, but the bodyguards had taken Skye through separately. Sebastian had warned her that if she put a foot wrong she’d never see her husky again.
Outside the dark limo windows, pinpricks of light showed through the waving palm trees. Laughing boys roasted corn on a roadside barbecue, red sparks flying. Goats ambled leisurely across the road. Whole families sat on the porches of crumbling clapboard houses with plates on their laps, candles making tigerish shapes of their faces. Night creatures sang and croaked.
Celia and Sebastian sat in the rear of the limo and talked in low voices, glancing at the children from time to time. The bodyguards sat on either side of Laura and Tariq in the seat behind the driver, watching their charges with diminishing interest. It was clear that they thought two eleven-year-olds presented a minimal threat. Skye was a different matter. Large had threatened to push him out of the door at high speed if he so much as whimpered.
‘He’s a three-legged dog,’ Laura said. ‘What kind of monster are you?’
‘A monster from your worst nightmares,’ he leered.
‘Skye,’ called Laura softly, and the husky was on the seat in a bound. He sat squeezed between her and Tariq, facing the road ahead, tongue lolling.
‘If that mutt damages the limo, we’ll send him to the fur factory,’ Sebastian warned. ‘He’ll make a great coat.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Laura demanded. ‘What is this about? Where are you taking us? Are you taking us to my uncle?’
Sebastian bared small white teeth. ‘So many questions, Miss Marlin. Don’t you worry your pretty little head. All will become clear in good time.’
‘I hope you understand the risk you’re taking,’ Tariq said. ‘Calvin Redfern will never let you get away with this.’
Sebastian laughed. ‘It speaks! Well, son, let me be the first to inform you that the Straight A’s have spent years perfecting the art of the kidnap. We most assuredly will get away with it. As for Calvin Redfern, he doesn’t exactly have a choice.’
Laura’s eyes roamed the limo, searching for an escape route. Tucked into the side panel of the left door was an orange cylinder. She was fairly confident that it was a signal launcher – a device used by sailors to set off emergency flares. A sort of mini rocket launcher. Her uncle had shown her one on a boat in St Ives. It was an odd thing to have in a limo and suggested that the LeFevers spent time at sea in situations that had the potential to become emergencies. She wondered what those situations were.
She did a mental rehearsal of snatching it from the side pocket, aiming it at the seat or the carpet and pulling its cord or trigger. Theoretically it would cause a fire, creating a diversion that might allow them to escape. But if it went wrong … Laura imagined blinding or burning someone in the car, perhaps even Tariq. It was not worth it. She’d have to wait for another opportunity and hope that it didn’t come too late.
The glass panel that separated driver from passengers slid back and the chauffeur enquired: ‘Everything all right wit’ you, folks?’
Laura felt like screaming, ‘You’ve kidnapped three people and a dog after dragging them halfway across the world on an elaborate con, how can everything be all right?’ but then she noticed something interesting. Skye was fixated on the chauffeur’s earring. A hunting light had come into his blue eyes. Laura had seen it only a couple of times before, but it had sent a chill through her. She loved him with all her heart but she never forgot that the wildness of his wolf forebears still lived in him.
As subtly as she could, she reached across and squeezed Tariq’s hand to alert him. He followed her gaze and tensed.
The chauffeur turned his head to check for traffic at an intersection and accelerated rapidly. His earring jerked and danced. As fast as a striking cobra, Skye had the earring between his jaws, almost pulling the chauffeur’s earlobe off. The man let out a screech of fright and pain and lost control of the car. It mounted a boulder on the roadside, burst a tyre and rolled twice.
Laura and Tariq, who were strapped in, had a hazy awareness of crunching metal and breaking glass. The limousine filled with black smoke. Everybody shouted at once. Skye barked frantically. The chauffeur slammed on the brakes as the carpet caught fire.
‘Get out! Get out!’ yelled Sebastian, wrenching at the door handle. Laura and Tariq stumbled into the night, their lungs burning, bruised but alive. The thin bodyguard staggered bloodily from the car and lost consciousness. The other fell to his knees retching. The hem of Celia’s dress had caught fire and Sebastian was beating it out with a palm frond. The chauffeur was slumped over the steering wheel, covered in broken glass. Once Celia was safe, Sebastian and Large dragged him free.
‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ Tariq asked Laura between coughs.
Laura grabbed Skye’s collar. ‘Yes, but wait one second.’ In the shadows near the car was Celia’s bag, thrown there by Sebastian. Some of its contents had spilled. Laura grabbed a fistful of dollar notes and their passports. ‘Is it still called stealing if you take stolen money from kidnappers?’
For an answer, Tariq grabbed her hand and they fled into the night. There were shouts, but before anyone could come after them the limousine exploded. The blast was so deafening that Laura’s ears rang for several minutes afterwards. Shards of burning metal flew in all directions. A g
reat ball of white flame ballooned into the sky. The air was hot enough to roast potatoes.
Laura and Tariq ran without looking back. Still coughing and wheezing from the smoke, they tore through the darkness with no aim except to put as much distance between them and their captors as possible. There was no moon. At times, they could barely see their hands in front of their faces.
Tariq stopped. His lungs were burning. ‘Why don’t we give Skye his head and see if his instincts take over? He might lead us to safety.’
Released from his lead, the husky didn’t hesitate. He led them along a narrow path through a grove of ferns and trees, past the shell of a ruined house, and across a darkened building site. A stitch which started as a pinprick in Laura’s side rapidly became a twisting knife. By the time they reached a dirt road, Tariq was limping and she was in agony. In front of them was a line of palm trees and a silvery swathe of beach. Fishing boats winked like diamonds on the sea beyond.
Laura collapsed on the overgrown verge. ‘That’s it,’ she panted. ‘I don’t care if they catch us. I can’t move another step.’
Tariq sank to the ground beside her. He lay back and shut his eyes. Only Skye was keen to keep running.
Through the darkness came the clip-clop of hooves. A horse and cart rattled round the bend and pulled up beside them. A white-haired Caribbean man with a hat full of holes and a jacket full of patches gazed down at them.
‘Well, dis ain’t some’at dat Jess and I see every night. Youse all look weary and a bit sorry for youselves and we don’t tolerate no long faces here in da Caribbean. Can I offer you folks a ride?’
THE BLUE HAVEN Resort had three swimming pools, five restaurants, two tennis courts, two private beaches, a gymnasium, a spa and a small cinema. Guests stayed in white clapboard villas scattered across five acres of grounds, lush with emerald grass and tropical vegetation alive with geckos, frogs and iridescent green hummingbirds collecting nectar from pink honeysuckle blossoms. Scarlet and orange hibiscus waved at the entrance of each villa.