Laura Marlin Mysteries 2: Kidnap in the Caribbean

by Lauren St. John

  ‘Promise,’ Laura said, but she was talking to thin air. Rupert was already running up the path that led to the volcano. He paused briefly to yell: ‘Thanks, Jack,’ before disappearing from view.

  The postman shrugged. ‘Dese volcano scientists, day arl got one or two screws loose if you know what I mean.’ He was gone in a plume of dust.

  ‘What was that all about?’ Laura asked as they gathered up the breakfast things. At the caravan’s tiny sink, Tariq washed as she dried. Skye was dozing on the mat. Rupert had taken him on his early morning run and for once the husky was worn out.

  ‘I’m not sure, but it seemed serious,’ Tariq said. ‘He was telling me about his Early Warning system. He and a couple of earth scientists in Antigua have been working on a project to detect minute changes in soil chemistry that can predict an eruption up to five hours before even the most advanced computer monitoring system. With volcanoes, every minute counts, so that could save a lot of lives. If the delivery is from Antigua, it might mean the volcano is about to blow.’

  ‘Great,’ said Laura. ‘That’s all we need on top of everything else. As soon as Rupert returns, we need to persuade him to tell us where this lava tunnel begins and ends. Since we can’t exactly visit the public area of Marine Concern, we need to find another way in.’

  She wiped her hands on the tea towel. ‘Do you think Rupert is right about the skeletons? Why would anyone project skeleton holograms onto a mountain when there’s hardly anyone around to see them? Rupert has been here eighteen months and he hasn’t seen them once.’

  ‘But I saw them,’ Tariq said. ‘So did Joshua’s wife. What if they’re not directed at anyone in particular? What if they only appear if there’s something secret going on at Marine Concern – a mission involving the fishing boats, for instance? Maybe the skeletons are projected at the volcano as a precaution just in case someone happens to be around.’

  Adrenalin surged into Laura’s veins. ‘And who’s more likely to do something like that than the Straight A’s. Tariq, we’re on to something big, I know we are. Maybe my uncle’s been kidnapped because he stumbled on to a major plot.’

  There was a noise outside. She dried her hands and looked out of the window. In the short space of time they’d been inside, the weather had turned ugly. It seemed to her that the volcano was smoking, but cloud veiled the top of the hills and it was hard to tell. The caravan rocked in the wind. The door slammed shut.

  Skye leapt to his feet, barking. Laura hushed him. She went to open the door and was surprised to find it wouldn’t budge. Tariq threw his weight against it, but it was stuck.

  Laura returned to the window. She suddenly became aware of an odd, medicinal smell in the caravan and she wanted to air it out. She tried to undo the latch, but it needed a key. All of a sudden she was too exhausted to hunt for one. She was about to ask Tariq to help when she spotted the corner of a van. ‘Hey, we’re in luck. The postman is back again. If we yell, he’ll let us out.’

  But Tariq was incapable of yelling for anyone. He was climbing into his bunk as feebly as an old man. ‘I’m so sorry, Laura,’ he said groggily. ‘I can’t keep my eyes open.’ To Laura’s astonishment, his head slumped on the pillow and he began to snore.

  Skye was lying on his side near the door, eyes shut, dead to the world.

  Laura’s knees threatened to give way beneath her. She fell into a chair. She registered that something was very wrong, but her brain had turned to cotton wool and she was incapable of doing anything about it. Her vision blurred. A black snake, or perhaps it was a tube, was dangling from an air vent. ‘Gas,’ she thought weakly. Her eyelids drooped.

  The door opened and the bodyguards burst in. The thin, ghoulish face of Little peered down at her, like the Grim Reaper. ‘You and your associates have caused a lot of trouble to a lot of people, Miss Marlin,’ he said. ‘But your days of making mischief are over. Say goodbye to the good life.’

  ‘HOW WOULD YOU like to win a Caribbean cruise to an island with sand so white it sparkles – an island with three hundred and sixty-five beaches, one for every day of the year. Picture yourself in paradise. Imagine lying in a hammock sipping coconut milk while dolphins …’

  Laura willed her eyes to open. Her eyelids were so heavy it was as if they’d been stitched together, yet even in the depths of the fog clouding her brain she knew that her survival depended on her being alert. She was in a bare room containing nothing but two mattresses, two plastic beakers of water and a chair, now occupied by the Fantasy Holidays travel representative.

  Tariq was sitting cross-legged on the second mattress, watching the woman. His expression said: ‘My hands might be bound and you might be twice my size and hold all the power, but it would be unwise of you to underestimate me.’

  There was no sign of Skye.

  ‘You lied to me,’ Laura said.

  The woman tossed her head like a horse and laughed. She had close-cropped blonde hair and a lean, muscular frame. Olive green cargo trousers, combat boots and a black T-shirt had replaced her Fantasy Holidays uniform.

  ‘You’re a liar,’ Laura said again.

  ‘Not at all. Every word was true. You did, as promised, win a luxury cruise to the Caribbean. You did go to a paradise island with three hundred and sixty-five beaches and turquoise waters. According to the hotel records, you ordered coconut milk to drink. It’s your own fault if you chose not to lie in a hammock. As for the dolphins, we have a couple here. I’m sure we could arrange a quick swim for you before … well, let’s say, before our plans for you unfold …

  ‘The only teensy weensy white lie I told was the bit about the Siberian husky. I never did like dogs. Worked a treat, though. I do believe that that was the part that convinced you to buy a ticket. We left the husky behind, by the way. He woke up unexpectedly and turned ugly. I believe one of our men was considering eliminating him when he ran away.’

  She stretched like a cat. ‘I should introduce myself. I’m Janet Rain. Not my real name, naturally, but it’ll do.’

  Laura wriggled upright. She flexed her numb hands in a bid to loosen the tape around her wrists. Pins and needles prickled in them. ‘You know perfectly well that, thanks to you and the rest of the Straight A gang, we’ve had the holiday from hell. What I want to know is why? Why did you go to so much trouble when you could have just kidnapped us in St Ives? And what have you done with my uncle? I want to see him. If you’ve hurt him, I’m going to devote the rest of my life to tracking you all down and sending you one by one to the worst prisons on earth.’

  Janet Rain laughed delightedly. ‘You’re quite a little character – you and your silent friend here. It’s almost a shame to get rid of you. You’re a regular Matt Walker.’

  ‘You haven’t answered Laura’s question,’ said Tariq, speaking for the first time. ‘Why did you do it? Why go to the effort of luring us to the Caribbean when you could have snatched us in Cornwall?’

  Her gaze fixed on him. ‘For the game, of course. That’s half the fun. You see, the Straight A’s believe the punishment should fit the crime. Ex-Chief Inspector Redfern has committed two grave sins—’

  ‘What sins?’ cried Laura. ‘You’re the criminal, not him.’

  ‘That’s a matter of perspective, my dear. Quite apart from the fact that Calvin Redfern – with the aid of you and your boyfriend here – has sent several of our most talented operatives to jail, he was in the process of disrupting our Atlantic Bluefin Tuna operation, potentially costing us tens of millions of dollars. We couldn’t allow that.’

  Laura was stunned. ‘That’s what all of this is about – tuna fish?’

  Janet waved a brown hand. ‘Among other things. Bluefin tuna are on the road to extinction. Yet people still love to eat them. Think about it – when did you last go into a café that didn’t sell tuna fish sandwiches? And it’s a sushi bar staple. That’s good for us because it drives up the prices.’

  ‘Fewer fish mean more money,’ Tariq said.

  Janet lo
oked at him. ‘Smart boy. One good tuna can earn us $185,000. The black market is worth $7 billion annually. You can imagine how upset we were when Chief Inspector Redfern started meddling. Although, ironically, that made it easier to get you all here. When he didn’t call right away to confirm your travel arrangements, we realised that he might be suspicious that a free holiday was a con. So we sent one of our best men to see him in the dead of night, claiming to have information on marine smuggling on a massive scale in Montserrat. Your uncle took the bait, hook, line and sinker.’

  Laura said: ‘That’s because it was true, wasn’t it? That’s what you do here. You trade in rare marine species while pretending to be a conservation organization trying to save them. That’s sick.’

  Janet bounced to her feet with a grin. ‘No, that’s business genius. There are billions to be made out of endangered marine species. People focus on the cute and cuddly things – snow leopards, pandas, gorillas. They forget about the sea creatures. Nobody ever fell in love with a starfish or a tuna. If there was one less shark in the sea, who’d care?’

  There was a long silence. Laura thought of her classmates back in St Ives. Most of them thought of sharks as marauding man-eaters that should be killed before they ripped you to pieces. And Janet was right about nobody loving starfish or tuna. Until her uncle had told her that tuna fish were on the verge of extinction, Laura had eaten dozens of tuna sandwiches without a qualm.

  ‘You still haven’t told us why you’ve brought us to the Caribbean,’ Tariq said. ‘What did you mean when you said the punishment should fit the crime?’

  Janet rang a bell and the bodyguards appeared. ‘I think,’ she said, ‘it’s time for a tour.’

  The C-shaped marina was a floating aquarium concealed by a white roof. The sound and smell of the sea was everywhere, pouring in through open vents. Escorted by Little and Large, the children were forced to follow Janet Rain as she walked the length of it, explaining the fate of each creature as they walked.

  In the furthest tank were seahorses. They were the most angelic, pretty things Laura had ever seen. They bobbed sweetly in the water, oblivious to the terrible end in store for them.

  ‘By this time tomorrow they’ll be freeze-dried, packaged and on their way to Beijing,’ Janet said. ‘With over twenty-five million of them traded a year, they’re real money-spinners. No trouble either.’

  Laura and Tariq looked at each other. Neither of them spoke.

  Next came several tanks of turtles, their shells like works of art, followed by banks of pulsing coral and coloured ribbons in the shape of mythical animals. It was only when she saw them moving in slow duets, like dancers, that Laura realised they were alive.

  ‘Weedy and leafy seadragons from Australia,’ Janet informed them. ‘Seahorse family. Nature’s miracle. Much prized by collectors.’

  They’d reached the end of the first section. Little spoke into a radio and a steel gate opened. Janet gave them a malevolent grin. ‘And now for the monsters.’

  ‘I thought they were already here,’ Laura said, but her words bounced off Janet Rain like rubber bullets off a steel tank.

  They passed through a door and Laura bit back a gasp. They were on a narrow walkway. On either side of them a row of giant tanks, each as big as an Olympic swimming pool, held dozens of sharks of different species. A Great White poked its head out of the water and sniffed the air.

  ‘Watch your step,’ warned Large. ‘You might fall in and then it would be dinner time.’ He made a ghastly crunching sound and licked his lips.

  Janet Rain giggled. ‘You are a tease, Mr Pike.’

  She turned to Laura and Tariq. ‘All those summer movies about tourists being gobbled by Great Whites with jaws as big as caves are fabulous publicity for the Straight A’s business. Guess how many people are killed by sharks each year? Around four. You have more chance of being struck dead by a falling coconut. Sharks don’t like eating humans. However, humans love eating sharks. Nearly a hundred million are killed every year, mainly for shark fin soup, a Chinese delicacy. Some are sold as “rock salmon” in British fish and chip shops. ’Course, the sharks we have here are mainly rare species like spiny dogfish and oceanic whitetip, and therefore much more valuable.’

  She paused. ‘Naturally, these large fish are demonstration models only. Customers view them, place their orders and then our boats go out to hunt them. We believe we have the most sophisticated fish tracking sonar in the world. If you know what to look for, sea creatures are basically swimming money. Take those dolphins over there. People will pay anything to swim with dolphins. We capture them, train them and pack them off to theme parks.’

  A blue pool with a variety of toys beside it held two listless dolphins. A trainer was trying to interest them in a bucket of dead fish.

  ‘Damian, make them do a trick,’ yelled Janet.

  The trainer straightened. Laura recognised him immediately as the tall pirate from the ship, the one who had tried to coax her into the laundry hamper. He was no longer wearing his pirate regalia, but his sneer was unmistakable. He blew a whistle and one of the dolphins obediently turned a triple somersault. A strong stench of chlorine rose from the pool.

  Laura fought back tears. ‘You’re inhuman,’ she screamed at Janet. ‘You and everyone else in the Straight A gang. You’re barbarians.’

  Tariq put his arm around her, causing Little to give him a shove. ‘Don’t let them get to you. We’ll get out of here and we’ll get justice.’

  ‘You will get justice,’ said Janet Rain, overhearing him. ‘Indeed you will. That’s why we’ve brought you all the way to the Caribbean. We’ve brought you here to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget, Laura Marlin. We’ve brought you here to watch Calvin Redfern die.’

  ‘WHAT I DON’T understand is why this sudden obsession with fish,’ Rita Gannet said as Jimmy returned to the short video on octopi and their young for the third time. ‘You’ve never shown the slightest interest in any sea creature in your life. Now they’re so important to you that we’ve had to leave our fabulous Antiguan resort, a place with every conceivable form of entertainment, to come to Montserrat. If it were the volcano you wanted to see, that would be one thing. But no, you had to come to this fish research place. What is it called again?’

  ‘Marine Concern. Mum, look at how incredible she is. I thought octopi were like blobs of jelly, but this octopus mum is the most loving mother in the sea.’

  ‘When do we see the man-eating sharks, that’s what I want to know,’ Bob roared. ‘What time’s this tour thing? Ten a.m.?’

  The visitors’ museum attendant, a pale woman with glasses and hair tightly bound in a bun, regarded him with thinly veiled dislike. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I’m afraid all aquarium tours have been cancelled for the day.’

  Bob advanced on her. ‘You cannot be serious. Have you any idea how much it has cost us to fly to Montserrat? A king’s ransom, that’s how much. The flight was so bumpy I almost lost my breakfast, and let’s not get started on the taxi from the airport. Fleeced we were, absolutely fleeced. I’m surprised he didn’t ask for my watch. And after all that you want to break the heart of my boy, Jimmy.’

  The attendant was impassive. ‘I apologise for the inconvenience, sir, but it’s out of my hands.’

  ‘This is an outrage,’ Bob said. ‘Why weren’t we told? I want my money back. Rita, are you hearing this?’

  ‘What, dear?’ Rita mumbled from the depths of a sensory experience booth. She had pressed the button marked Hunting Turtle. ‘Ooooh weeeh, Bob, you need to feel this to believe it.’

  Jimmy held tightly to the badge in his pocket. His mind was racing. It had taken considerable effort to convince his parents to leave their magnificent resort and take a day trip to Montserrat, all so he could visit a sea life research facility, something that at first they’d refused point blank to consider.

  He’d spent an equal number of hours scheming how to free Laura and Tariq if they had, as he suspected,
been kidnapped. The aquarium tour had been key to that. And all the time, he was haunted by the thought that they might have spun him a pack of tall tales. That Laura’s detective uncle might be a complete fiction and that the badge might mean nothing at all. It might have been Laura’s feeble way of saying sorry for letting him down.

  But the thing he returned to time and time again was how they’d saved his life – or at the very least saved him a trip to the hospital, at the adventure centre. They’d also kept their word about keeping him company on the ship, and had gone out of their way to include him, even when he sensed they’d rather have been alone. That’s why he’d been so determined to be the detective he’d boasted he could become and do his best to help them. He’d spent ages on the internet at the resort figuring out where Marine Concern were located and how on earth to persuade his parents to take him there.

  And after all that, here was this museum attendant, a woman with a face like a prison guard, telling them the aquarium tour was cancelled. She didn’t look in the least bit sorry. He had the feeling that she enjoyed ruining their day.

  It wasn’t hard to make himself cry. All he had to do was imagine what would become of Laura and Tariq if he couldn’t help them.

  ‘I want to see the sharks,’ he sobbed. ‘Miss, I want to see the sharks. Please, miss, let me see the sharks.’

  ‘Sorry, kid, the sharks are out of bounds today,’ said the attendant, trying unsuccessfully to hide a scowl. She didn’t like children at the best of times and this boy with the wild hair and T-shirt so vividly stained it was practically an artwork was no exception. ‘Try the volcano. It’s much more exciting.’

  Jimmy stopped blubbing. He sniffed and said: ‘Either you let me do the aquarium tour or I’ll tell people that Marine Concern is a front for some shady operation and that you kidnap small children.’