The Island of Dragons (Rockpools Book 4)

by Gregg Dunnett

  She’d looked at the near-wreck again, trying to see it as he clearly was. “Perfect for what?”

  The plan, as she’d understood it that day, was that Billy and his dad would come to fix the boat up, as and when they had free time. She’d protested, saying Billy had no free time, not with cramming two years of high school into just one year, alongside all his other projects. That it would overtake his other, more important demands on his time. And maybe her lack of faith had offended him a little, because he hadn’t mentioned the yacht to her again, and she hadn’t asked, assuming it must have been one of the projects that fell from favor and would be quietly forgotten. It wouldn’t be the first. So as she drove down now it wasn’t with high hopes. She assumed that if the Caroline was even still here, it would have simply fallen further into disrepair.

  She crested the final rise in the track, as it led up to the flood embankment which cut off the view of the water. She held her breath as she did so. The image that she had in her head – the image that had forced her to turn away from the ferry to the mainland – was of a beautifully restored yacht, bobbing on silvered water, perhaps with a wisp of smoke coming from a new, stainless-steel chimney, indicating that a little wood burning stove warmed a cozy cabin.

  The car’s tires slipped a little on the gravel as she climbed the embankment, but she revved harder and they bit. And her heart sank. The boat was there, but it looked much the same as it had the previous time she’d seen it. If anything it looked worse, there was more tarpaulin, presumably covering more rotten wood and missing windows. Amber stared at it a long while, the engine still running. Then she turned it off. There was a sudden silence, that slowly revealed itself to not be silence after all, but a low moan from the wind, and the lonely cawing of some seabird. Billy would have told her what type.

  Suddenly she was crying again. What had she really been expecting, coming here? A miracle, that’s what. That the police, the FBI, Billy’s father – that they could all be wrong, and Billy somehow could be still with her. That the best friend she’d ever had, the boy who she assumed she would love as a brother for her whole life would be here, hiding away and living life the way he always had. But it was nonsense. Of course it wasn’t real. The police weren’t wrong, the FBI hadn’t made a mistake. They saw him onto the ferry, and they saw he didn’t get off. Abruptly she got out of the car, needing the cold wind to blow the now sobbing flow of tears from her face. And her feet seemed to take her automatically, down to the head of the jetty, and then out onto its rickety wooden boards. She picked up a rock as she walked, not knowing why but knowing she intended to smash it against the boat, to damn it for having given her false hope. She went right up to the Caroline, raising the rock, wishing she’d taken more of them. Before she threw it she saw that some work had been done. Presumably Billy’s dad – it looked well done. She wondered what Sam would do with it now. Would he finish restoring her now Billy was dead and had no use for a boat? What would any of them do?

  She didn’t attack the boat with the rock. Instead she just let it slip from her fingers, into the muddy water.

  The wind hadn’t dried her tears, quite the opposite. They flowed, fully, for the first time since she’d learned of Billy’s death. Perhaps because this was the first moment she truly believed. Now that she had looked Sam in the face. Now that she had been to his memorial service. Now she had come here, and confirmed he was nowhere. Not hiding out in his secret project but dead. Drowned. Gone. How was she supposed to go on? Now that Billy was gone.

  “Can you stop crying please?”

  The words, which came from nowhere, stopped her dead. She looked around. There was no-one. Not on the jetty, not on the boat. But then the tarpaulin was lifted from underneath, and Billy’s head appeared, a look of frustration and irritation on his face. “And whose car is that? Why didn’t you come in your mom’s car? I was watching for that one.”

  Amber was speechless. Literally unable to form a single word.

  “You better give me your phone. I can scramble the signal, so that no one will know you’ve come here, but I can only go back half an hour.” He came fully out of the tarp now, and into the cockpit, standing up. His hair was scruffy and messed up. He held out his hand.

  “Come on. They’ll be tracking you. I have to be quick to make use of the delay in the data. Make it look as though you’re at home.”

  “You’re not dead?” Amber managed. With the back of her hand she swiped tears from her cheeks.

  “No. But why did you take so long to come here?” Billy looked irritated again. “And can I have your phone, please?”

  Automatically she handed it over, and Billy disappeared out of view, pushing the tarp more out of the way, and revealing the steps down into the cabin. He didn’t tell her to come aboard, but after a few moments she did so anyway. This time when she stepped onto the wooden deck it tipped a little under her weight. Caroline was afloat this time.

  She lifted the tarp, and looked underneath properly. And then gasped. The inside of the yacht, which had been a mess of twisted electrical wires, warped wood and mildew, with an inch of oily water sloshing over the floor, was now entirely different. Now it looked polished and beautiful, almost completely restored. But the way it was set up was nothing like any yacht she’d been in before, instead it more resembled a high-tech control room, perhaps like the interior of one of those vans you see on movies, used for running a hostage situation or secretly monitoring a gang of mobsters. There were three computer screens set up on the saloon table, each of them apparently running some program or another. Billy himself sat in front of them, Amber’s phone in his hands and a puzzled look on his face.

  “Where’s your SIM card?”

  “I took it out.”

  “Oh.”

  “Will that work? Can they track it when it’s out?”

  “They shouldn’t be able to. But you should wrap it in silver foil. Just in case.”

  Amber looked in her purse, and after a moment pulled out the SIM card, which she had previously wrapped in silver foil. She held it up to show him.

  “Thanks.” Billy took it off her, and unwrapped it. Then he slotted it into a machine she recognized. He’d shown her it before, it was an external SIM card reader. She couldn't remember exactly why he had it. Then he turned to one of the laptops, which was connected by cable to the reader. A moment later he looked up.

  “You took it out at your house?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “That’s quite clever.” He extracted the SIM and wrapped it up in the foil again. Then he took it, and the phone and opened a small microwave oven that took up most of the space in the galley. He put them inside and closed the door.

  “I changed my boots too. In case they were bugged.”

  Billy frowned at this, as if it wasn’t something he’d considered. Or at least, that’s how Amber took it.

  “You didn’t say whose car that is. It’s probably OK, because I can see you weren’t followed. I was watching you come down the lane.” He tapped a couple of keys, and one of the screens switched to show two camera feeds from the road she’d just driven down. Amber glanced at them, but didn’t really look.

  “But you should still move it. Park it behind the boatshed.”

  Amber ignored him. Instead she stared around at the incredible interior of the little yacht, that was no longer a wreck, and at her friend who was supposed to be dead.

  “Billy, what the hell is going on?”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  He wouldn’t tell her. He wouldn’t answer any questions until she had gone back to the car, moved it behind the wooden boatshed where it wouldn’t be seen by anyone who happened to come down the lane. When she got back, she found he’d put a kettle on the gimballed stove, and was preparing coffee.

  “Billy, you have to tell me what’s going on. I thought you were dead,” Amber said, as she sat down.

  “Is the tarp fully over?” he replied.

  “Yes. And the car’s
moved and there’s no one around for miles, and by the looks of it you’ll be able to track it if anyone comes close and presumably launch missiles at them.” She answered. “Now tell me what the hell’s going on. I actually thought you’d killed yourself.”

  “No you didn’t.” Billy answered at once, as he measured three level spoons of coffee powder into the French press, and carefully folded the packet back up, then wrapped a rubber band around it, and put it back into the wooden locker.

  “What?”

  “You didn’t actually think I was dead. If you did you wouldn’t be here. And you wouldn’t have done that to your cell.” He turned to look at her. “I’m actually a bit annoyed it’s taken you so long to come here.”

  Amber’s mouth formed a word of protest, but it wouldn’t come out. She dropped it.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. Called me. Sent me an email. Something.”

  “I couldn’t. Any of those things and they’d have known. They’re watching you, and Dad, and me, or at least all my old accounts, which is all they think is left of me. I did think about sending you a coded message, but the FBI have people who are way smarter than you are. They’d have cracked the code before you would. Then they’d have known I was alive and before too long they’d have found this place. And I can’t let that happen. Not until I have enough evidence.”

  “Well thanks.” Amber said.

  Billy turned to look at her quizzically, then turned back to the coffee.

  “Hang on.” Amber stopped him. “Slow down. I don’t understand.”

  “I know.” Billy frowned. “That’s why I’m making coffee. I need to explain it all.”

  He poured two cups and handed one to Amber, who sat down. It was warm and cozy in the cabin, despite the computers everywhere.

  “What is all this?” she began, casting her eyes around.

  “It’s all old stuff. From the loft. Dad brought it down.”

  “Your dad? So he knows? That you’re alive?”

  “Of course he does.”

  “But… But he’s just held a memorial. For your death.”

  “I know. I told you. We have to make it look like I really am dead, or they’ll find me.”

  Amber paused to take a sip of the coffee. It tasted bitter and harsh, but she appreciated the hit it gave her. For a second she smiled, wondering if she should pinch herself, but knowing there was no need. This was too weird to be a dream. Billy was alive!

  “Who’s going to find you? Who’s watching you?”

  “The FBI. If it had just been a normal murder it would be left to the island police, but because it was a bomb, it’s classed as domestic terrorism, and that’s a federal offense.”

  The casual way he talked about it reminded Amber what he’d been accused of doing, something she’d succeeded only in suppressing, because it was too awful to think about. But now, here, she knew it had to be faced.

  “The bombing… Billy… did you..? I mean…”

  “Did I do it? Of course I didn’t. What do you take me for? It was James and Oscar. You remember them.”

  Amber stared at him. It took her more than a few moments to place the names. “Those two rich assholes you were hanging about with? At the restaurant? Why? I don’t understand.” A memory floated in her mind. Saying the exact same words to Billy’s father, a few days earlier.

  “Billy, you need to explain.”

  “I am explaining, you keep interrupting me!” Billy paused to take a sip of his coffee. “Say, you didn’t bring any food did you? I have to ration everything I have, Dad can’t come too often or he might be noticed.”

  Amber considered answering, but decided against it. Instead she tried to work out what she needed to understand most to make sense of all this.

  “Why were your fingerprints on the bomb that killed that security guard?”

  Billy’s lips thinned, and his brow furrowed before he answered. “Well they weren’t really. But I suppose I was tricked.”

  “What does that mean?” Amber shrugged helplessly. “What does that even…”

  “They weren’t on the actual bomb, just the outer casing. They used a pressure cooker. They’re quite good for bombs because they initially contain the explosion, just for a few microseconds, but then they fail and it magnifies the forces. Sort of like a lens.”

  Amber waited until it seemed he was done. “And your fingerprints?”

  “Oh. I touched it. James and Oscar invited me to dinner, in James’ dorm room, and they cooked with a pressure cooker. I thought it was weird at the time, but I didn’t figure out why. They made me pick it up, and I guess they must have been super careful to not touch it themselves. Then they put the bomb inside, so mine were the only prints.”

  “OK.” Amber said slowly. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I’m trying to find out.” Billy went back to his computers, typing something quickly.

  “But you planted it?” Amber went on. “The FBI agent, she said they know you were there? You made a fake identity to rent a car? You booked the ferry?”

  “Hmmm. Yes. Sort of.”

  “So you were there? You set the bomb?”

  “No. I told you. I didn’t know there was a bomb. When the explosion happened I thought there must have been an accident on the site.”

  “But what were you doing there?”

  This time Billy took a deep breath and told her, explaining about the plan to fly the drone above the Fonchem site, to use an infrared camera to identify the supposed leak, and then to send the evidence to the island’s TV and newspapers, influencing the public meeting to decide on the site’s expansion. Amber listened, asking questions where Billy was hazy or skipped on the details, which was often.

  “But what did that have to with James and Oscar? I didn’t think they even liked you. It certainly didn’t look like you liked them?”

  “I didn’t. They didn’t. But I thought they were OK for a while. Like I say, they tricked me. I think it’s to do with Lily.”

  “Lily?”

  “You remember her…”

  “The rich bitch?”

  Billy turned sharply. “She’s not a rich bitch.”

  Amber caught the change in his tone, but decided she would worry about that later.

  “Whatever. What does she have to do with it?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. At least I don’t think so. It’s just when I started going out with her, James got jealous and that’s when he planned to set me up.”

  “Did I just hear that right?” Amber stopped him. “Did you just say you started going out with the rich bitch?”

  “She’s not…”

  “OK. Alright, alright. But still. How the hell did that happen? She’s like…”

  “What?”

  Amber didn’t reply, so Billy pressed her.

  “She’s like what?”

  “I don’t know.” Amber looked away.

  “Are you saying I’m not good enough for her?”

  “Fuck no.” Amber’s head snapped back around. “She’s not good enough for you. But even so, you’d expect someone like that to date a certain type. And it’s not you.”

  The tension in Billy seemed to ease a little.

  “Look, when you say going out with – what are we talking here? Did you..?” Amber’s voice faded out, and when Billy just stared back, his forehead still creased and dark, she just asked him outright.

  “Were you sleeping with her?”

  After a pause, he nodded.

  “Christ Billy. And she was going out with James, he’s the good looking, arrogant one?”

  “I don’t think he’s good looking.”

  Amber let it go. Trying to recap in her mind. It still didn’t make sense.

  “But the FBI agent told me they thought this bombing was just the latest in a series, that went back before you even went to college. That’s before you even met this Lily, so that couldn’t have been abou
t framing you. Why were they doing it?”

  “I don’t know. I’m trying to find out, but there’s a lot that doesn’t make sense. That’s why I’m pleased you’re here. At last.”

  Amber picked up her coffee, only to discover it was cold. She had no idea how long they’d been talking. She put it down, and Billy saw the problem. He picked it up and took it to the little microwave. He took out the phone and SIM card and heated up the coffee. While Amber was waiting she got up and stretched, her fingers easily touching the roof of the cabin as she reached upwards.

  “How did you get here?” she asked, when he set the coffee back in front of her. “Everyone thinks you’re dead because you got on the ferry but didn’t get off. Did you jump in?”

  “No. It was freezing. I’d have died for sure.”

  “Then how did you…”

  “I was freaked out. I had a feeling there was something odd going on, when we were waiting to test out the drone, and I’d already decided I wasn’t going to have anything more to do with James and Oscar. There was something not right with them. But I had no idea what was really going on.” Billy paused. He got up and went to a cupboard, and pulled out a packet of cookies. “I was kind of saving these for a special occasion. But I guess this kinda counts.” He offered them to Amber.

  Amber waved them away. “Go on.” But she had to wait until Billy had taken and bitten into one of the cookies. When he continued the explanation there were crumbs falling from his lips.

  “When the explosion happened I went to look. I saw someone had died, I could tell he was security from the bits of jacket, and it was obvious there was nothing I could do to help. I was pretty scared, I thought there might be another explosion, that the site was blowing up. And I thought we’d get blamed, even though we had nothing to do with it.” He took a deep breath, then pulled a second cookie from the packet. “Are you sure you don’t want one?”

  “I’m sure. Go on.”

  “OK. I went back to where we’d parked the car. I thought I’d find James and Oscar there, waiting for me. But I didn’t find them. I waited ages. I went looking for them. So then I figured they must have thought I died in the blast, and since I had the car keys on me, they must have tried to escape on foot. In the middle of the night, when it was freezing cold.”