‘They’ve kidnapped Nina, for fuck’s sake!’
‘They don’t have proof that she’s there,’ Rothschild pointed out.
‘She’s right,’ said Tom. ‘They’d need a warrant or probable cause to go and look.’
‘All right, then they can fucking come and arrest me for trespassing!’ The Yorkshireman frowned, then an idea came to him. ‘You’ve got distress flares, haven’t you?’ His friend nodded. ‘Okay, if I fire off a flare, that means either I’ve found Nina, in which case they can come ashore and arrest ’em for kidnapping, or I’m being shot at, in which case they can come ashore and kill the bastards! How does that sound?’
Rothschild and Tom exchanged looks. ‘I’ve heard better,’ the latter admitted.
‘This is how you come up with all your plans?’ exclaimed the elderly woman, incredulous. ‘Random improvisation? It’s amazing that you’re still alive!’
‘I’m not hearing anything better, and the clock’s ticking.’ Eddie regarded the case. ‘All right, Prof, I need the angel. Tom, we need to set things up.’
‘I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?’ muttered the older man, but he nevertheless went back into the cabin to search for a flare.
‘You’re really going to do this?’ asked Rothschild as she opened the case. ‘You’re going to give them the statue, even though they want it for something dangerous?’
‘Yep.’ Eddie took out another bubble-wrapped item; this time, it was the real angel.
‘You are insane, you know.’
‘You’re not the first person to say that. But I’m not planning on letting them keep it. Why do you think I want to get the cops involved? I’ll talk to Ozzy too, see if we can bring Interpol and the State Department into it. Pretty sure a US citizen being kidnapped should get their attention, especially when it’s someone famous like Nina.’
‘Nina,’ she echoed, with a wistful nod. ‘You really do love her, don’t you?’
‘Course I bloody do,’ said Eddie, surprised by the question. ‘I’m married to her, she still puts up with me even after all the crap we’ve been through – and she’s having our baby. Why would you even have to ask?’
Her eyes couldn’t quite meet his. ‘No reason.’
He was sure there was one, but he had neither the time nor the inclination to discover it. ‘Right,’ he said, removing the angel from its padding. ‘Let’s get this party started.’
21
The journey around the island showed Eddie two very different sides of Antigua. The waters of the western shore, facing the Caribbean, were a calm and incredibly clear turquoise. By the time the Flirty Lady had made her way along the southern coast and turned north into the Atlantic, however, things had become considerably more choppy.
The dancers on the main deck were coping with the swaying floor with surprising ease. Tom had rounded up a group of young, mostly German holidaymakers. The promise of unlimited alcohol magically ended any questions about why the free cruise was being offered, and after one of the revellers connected an iPhone to the yacht’s speaker system to pump out an endless succession of Euro dance tracks, further conversation became impossible anyway.
The bridge provided only a modest amount of soundproofing. ‘I must be getting old,’ Eddie complained loudly after closing the door, deciding that Rothschild had made a very sensible decision by staying ashore. ‘Modern music all sounds the bloody same!’
Tom, at the wheel, grinned in agreement. ‘If they’d just stuck one track on repeat, I doubt I’d know the difference.’ He pointed ahead. ‘There it is.’
‘That’s Elliot Island?’ From this distance, only trees were visible above the rocky shoreline. ‘Where’s this place with the church?’
‘Eastern side. You can’t see it from here.’ He turned the wheel to the left. ‘We’ll go up its west coast and around to the north, then head back south past the village. That should bring them out to keep an eye on us, and give you your distraction.’
‘Did you talk to the police?’
‘Had a word with one of my mates. He says they’ll be ready for us, but they won’t come out unless something actually happens. I asked him about the people who own the island; apparently they keep well in with one of the local politicians, so he’s a bit cagey about going on to private property without a damn good reason.’ Tom nodded at a ship-to-shore radio. ‘Once you fire a flare, I’ll call them in, but it could take them a while to get here from Nelson’s Dockyard.’
‘Hope they’ve got something faster than a pedalo. All right, I’d better get changed.’
A few minutes later, Eddie had stripped down to a pair of swimming shorts. Tom gave him a wolf whistle. ‘Fuck off,’ said the Yorkshireman with a grin as he donned a scuba tank, then put everything he was taking with him in a bag that he clipped to the cylinder. ‘Okay, where’s the best place to drop me?’
The Flirty Lady was now circling the island’s north-western shoreline. Tom indicated a small bay. ‘That should put you about three quarters of a mile from the village. I’ll time it so we go past when you get there.’
Eddie surveyed the coast. ‘What’re the waters like?’
‘This side of the island’s shielded from the really big waves coming in from the Atlantic. Shouldn’t be any trouble to swim.’
‘Sharks?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Yeah, that’s helpful.’
‘They don’t work to a timetable. But you’re more likely to see stingrays than sharks. They’re generally friendly – don’t bother them and they won’t bother you.’
‘Me, bother anyone?’
They both chuckled, then Tom opened the bridge door and called to a white-shirted crewman keeping an eye on the partygoers. ‘Melvin! Take the wheel for a minute.’ The Antiguan hurried up to the bridge. ‘Right, let’s get you into the water.’
He helped Eddie down the stairs. ‘Hey, are we going swimming?’ asked a cheerfully drunk blond German.
‘Just me,’ Eddie replied. ‘Lost a contact lens overboard.’
‘Ah.’ The young man regarded him with owlish curiosity before smiling. ‘Ah! That is English humour, yes? Monty Python, Mr Bean? I get it!’
‘That’s the one,’ Eddie replied, impatient. ‘You know there’s free beer over there, right?’
The youth danced unsteadily away between his friends. Eddie shook his head. ‘Kids. Who’d have ’em? Oh, wait. Me.’ He sat on the boat’s port side and put on a pair of flippers.
Tom stood in front of him to block the view of anybody on shore. ‘Looks clear to go.’
Eddie peered past him. There was no sign of any human activity on this side of the island, but that didn’t mean it was deserted. He tested the scuba regulator, then pulled a diving mask over his eyes. ‘I’m ready.’
His friend nodded. ‘Melvin! Reduce to eight knots!’ He waited until the chug of the diesel engine slowed, then turned back to Eddie. ‘Good luck.’
‘See you soon.’ He put the regulator into his mouth, gave Tom a thumbs-up, then rolled backwards into the ocean.
Even in the subtropical warmth, the water briefly felt like ice. He flinched, then the initial shock passed and he kicked to move away from the yacht. Its swirling wake briefly pounded him, fading as the Flirty Lady continued on its way.
He turned on to his front and started swimming. Small fish glided past, paying little attention to the intruder in their realm, but to his relief nothing larger – friendly or not – appeared in the crystalline depths.
It took only a few minutes before the seabed became visible, gradually rising to meet him. The currents became stronger as the water shallowed. He ploughed on, waves buffeting him, until his fins brushed the ground.
If anyone was watching, they would be able to see him by now. Eddie breached the surface and stood, water streaming down his mask before clearing to give him a view of the little bay.
Nobody in sight.
He waded ashore, kicking off his fins. The stony beach was des
erted. He looked along the tree line, but saw nothing. A glance back out to sea: the Flirty Lady was out of sight, though he could still hear the faint rumble of its engine and the pulse of Europop.
He removed the scuba tank and opened the bag, taking out a baggy shirt and a pair of deck shoes with thick rubber soles. Both were soaked but would dry out quickly enough in the heat. The distress flare and gun went into his pockets.
The final item was the angel. He picked it up, then hurried across the beach into the trees beyond.
Fifty yards away, a camera mounted on the trunk of a palm tracked him until he was lost to sight amidst the greenery.
‘This is getting tiresome,’ said Nina as her two guards escorted her into the control room. ‘Bring me here, send me back, bring me again . . . you might as well set me up a bed in the corner.’
‘I wanted you to see this,’ Cross replied from his chair. ‘And you too, Mr President,’ he added as Dalton entered, looking as annoyed as Nina at the summons.
‘See what?’ Dalton demanded.
The cult leader activated the video wall. ‘This was filmed a few minutes ago.’
Nina took in the surveillance footage. The camera overlooked a small beach, the Antiguan mainland visible on the horizon. It slowly panned across the vista – then abruptly zoomed in on something in the water.
A figure emerged from the ocean, plodding through the breaking waves and discarding a pair of flippers. She recognised him instantly.
‘Your husband’s here,’ said Cross.
Nina’s delight was mirrored by Dalton’s alarm. ‘Chase is here?’ he squawked. Learning that the Englishman had escaped from his kidnappers in New York had unsettled the former politician; his being only a short walk away brought outright horror. ‘Here on the island? Oh my God!’
‘Hope you’ve got space in your baggage for your ass, because he’s about to hand it to you,’ said Nina, unable to contain a smirk.
Dalton went to Cross, grabbing the swivel chair and pulling its occupant around to face him. ‘You’ve got to stop him! That man’s a maniac, a psycho! You have no idea how many people he’s killed – and now he’s coming for me!’
‘He’s not coming for us,’ Cross corrected, his annoyance clear. ‘He’s coming for her. Look.’ He paused the playback, zooming in on Eddie as he took something from a bag. ‘He’s brought the angel. The real one.’
‘You’re sure it’s real?’
‘Of course I’m sure. The fake was a decoy so he could locate the Mission, but now that he’s bargaining for the lives of his wife and child, he’ll have to use the actual angel.’
Dalton withdrew, still agitated. ‘So where is he? Why aren’t you tracking him?’
‘The cameras only cover the shoreline. Don’t worry, though,’ he added as the ex-president shot him a look of dismay. ‘Once he gets close to the Mission’s perimeter, we’ll pick him up again.’ He tapped another control. ‘Paxton? Get the chopper ready. We move out as soon as the angel’s secured.’ He waited for an acknowledgement, then made another announcement. Nina heard it echo over the public address speakers outside. ‘This is Ezekiel. A visitor is about to bring us the third angel. Everyone be ready for him.’
He stood, turning to Nina. ‘Come on, Dr Wilde. Let’s meet your husband.’
The sound of a voice over loudspeakers in the distance made Eddie crouch behind a tree and draw the gun, checking the vegetation for threats. Nobody was there, but he was now on full alert.
Cautious, he continued through the jungle. Before long he saw faint paths. Rather than follow them, he moved parallel to one, keeping in the undergrowth as he advanced.
Something man-made ahead, a straight line standing out amongst the curves of nature: a wooden post about fifteen feet tall at the intersection of two paths. He looked at its top. A black sphere was mounted upon it. A camera. Had it seen him?
‘Mr Chase!’ The voice he had heard earlier, now perfectly clear and audible. ‘My name is Ezekiel Cross. Welcome to the Mission.’
‘Oh, bollocks,’ Eddie muttered. That answered his question.
‘We saw you the moment you set foot on the beach,’ the unseen man continued. ‘And we know you’ve brought the angel – the real angel. Your wife is here with me.’
‘Let me talk to her!’ he yelled at the camera.
He didn’t expect a response, but after a moment he heard a new voice: Nina’s. ‘Eddie! It’s me, I’m okay. They’re—’
She was cut off, Cross speaking again. ‘Follow the path if you want to see her.’
Eddie glared at the camera, then continued onwards. Before long, he saw a wire fence ahead. ‘Keep going, Mr Chase,’ said the voice. ‘Head to your right. There’s a gate.’
He reached the fence. Through it he saw the village spread out before him. Small wooden houses led his eye to the Mission’s centrepiece: a church, its spire rising high above its surroundings.
Also visible were three men dressed in white, coming up the slope towards him. The sight of more cameras overseeing the entire village explained how they knew his position. ‘All right, I get it – you’ve got the whole Big Brother thing going on,’ he shouted at the nearest. ‘You can see me, but I can’t see Nina. Where is she?’
‘She’s outside the church, with me,’ said Cross. ‘You have my word that you won’t be harmed as long as you bring me the angel.’
Eddie eyed the approaching men. None appeared armed, though he didn’t accept his mysterious host’s assurances for a moment. Keeping the gun trained on them, he went along the barrier until he reached the gate and entered the compound.
The men came closer. ‘Back off,’ he warned them, waving the gun.
‘Let him through,’ said the amplified voice. The white-clad reception committee moved back. Eddie started towards the church, the men following at a discreet distance.
The houses he passed were all pristine and tidy, almost to the point of sterility. ‘I’m in fucking Toytown,’ he muttered, wondering where the residents were. Apart from the men behind him, there was no sign of anyone.
That changed as the church came into full view ahead. A crowd waited outside – he guessed eighty or ninety people. All were dressed in white.
Except one.
‘Nina!’ he yelled, seeing his wife at the front of the congregation.
‘Eddie!’ she cried back, joy in her voice as well as tension. Two men, Simeon one of them, stopped her from running to him. ‘I’m okay, the baby’s okay!’
‘You can see she’s alive and well,’ said the voice. For the first time, Eddie laid eyes on the man responsible for everything that had happened; the robed Cross stood close to Nina, speaking into a small headset microphone. A black case was at his feet. ‘You came to make a trade.’
‘Yeah,’ Eddie replied. ‘But first . . .’ Holding the statue under one arm, he took out the flare and popped off the plastic cap. Pointing it upwards, he used his thumb to hook the pull-tab on its base. The projectile rocketed from the tube with a flat bang and a trail of smoke, arcing into the sky. Its parachute deployed after a few seconds, the bright white star drifting out to sea.
People in the crowd exchanged anxious looks. ‘That was to tell the Antiguan police that you’re holding a kidnap victim!’ Eddie called as he resumed his march towards the church, aiming his gun at Cross. Simeon angrily drew a pistol in his bandaged hand. ‘They know I’m here too, dickhead. So killing me’d be a really bad idea. I’m told Antigua has the death penalty for gun crimes.’
Cross waved for his henchman to lower the weapon. ‘Only God will take any lives here.’
There was a commotion at the church doors. Eddie looked towards them – and was shocked to see Victor Dalton pushing through the crowd to reach Cross. ‘He’s called the cops?’ the former politician said. ‘We’ve got to get out of here! If I’m still here when they arrive, I’ll be linked to a federal crime!’
The Yorkshireman neared the group. ‘You!’ he barked at Dalton, who flinched. ‘You’
re behind all this? I should have fucking killed you when I had the chance!’
‘Paxton’s ready with the chopper,’ Cross told his partner, unconcerned.
Eddie looked around at the whine of a turbine engine starting up, seeing a helicopter on a pad near the cliffs. Beyond it he spotted the Flirty Lady cruising southwards past the village, its passengers waving to those on shore. ‘Going somewhere?’
‘We have a plane to catch,’ replied Cross. ‘But first, Mr Chase, we had a deal. The angel for your wife.’
‘Eddie, you can’t let them take it,’ protested Nina. ‘They’ll use it to kill hundreds, maybe even thousands of people!’
Simeon raised his gun again. ‘We’re doing God’s will. Now, hand it over.’
Eddie kept his own weapon and gaze fixed on Cross. ‘You’re right, we made a deal. I’ll honour my side, if you honour yours.’ Dalton’s gaze flicked nervously between the two men.
Cross was silent for a long moment, then he nodded. ‘Let her go.’
‘What?’ barked Simeon. Anna was equally shocked.
The cult leader turned his cold gaze upon them. ‘Do you trust me?’ he asked.
The question caught them both off guard. ‘Yes, of course,’ said Anna. ‘But—’
‘Then don’t question me. We can find the last angel without her.’
She nodded. Simeon was more reluctant, but lowered his gun. Cross looked back at Eddie. ‘The angel?’
The Englishman put the statue on the ground, then warily stepped closer to Nina, holding out his free hand. She reached for it, then stopped. ‘Don’t give it to them, Eddie,’ she pleaded.
‘You trust me, don’t you?’ he asked.
‘Yes, but . . .’ Another moment’s hesitation, then she took a firm hold of him. ‘There aren’t any buts.’
‘That’ll upset Sir Mix-a-lot. Okay, let’s do this.’ The couple backed away, Eddie keeping the gun raised. ‘There’s your statue.’
‘Hold it,’ said Simeon. ‘How do we know this isn’t another fake?’
Cross picked up the figure. He turned it over in his hands, holding it up to the sunlight to examine the fine details. ‘It’s real,’ he announced. ‘It’s real!’ He faced his congregation, holding the figure above his head. ‘The third angel of the apocalypse is ours!’ Joyous awe spread through the crowd, some of his followers bursting into tears.