by Mark Robson
‘Good work, team!’ Claire whispered. ‘It looks like we made a clean entry. Now let’s get up to the roof. This is where the fun starts.’
CHAPTER FOUR
‘Thanks so much for the lift. I really appreciate it,’ Niamh said.
‘You’re welcome. You sure you don’t want me to see you inside?’
‘No need,’ she assured him, hoping he wouldn’t insist. ‘It’s very kind of you, but I’ll just head inside and get myself cleaned up. Thanks again.’
‘Sure thing.’
Niamh stepped out on to the pavement outside the white wooden fence that surrounded the Lighthouse Court Hotel. She gave Bill a wave, hoping he would drive off, but he didn’t. It appeared he was going to wait and see her enter safely. Just my luck to meet a gentleman when I don’t need one, she thought. The entrance to the hotel’s front garden was through a high rectangular wooden frame that looked almost as if it should have a door set into it. The hotel itself was set back from the road, so at least she didn’t have to enter the reception lobby straight off the pavement.
Once inside the fence, Niamh set off round the side of the building that housed the hotel reception. Hiding out among the bushes, she waited a few minutes and listened. She thought she heard Bill’s pick-up pull away, but she waited a little longer, just to be sure.
As soon as she was certain that he had gone, Niamh nipped back out through the front gate and across the road to walk along the pavement outside the Ernest Hemingway Museum. The two-metre high red brick wall that surrounded the writer’s house seemed almost out of place among the wooden fences and wooden-built houses that dominated Key West. She passed by the museum gate and continued to the next junction.
A scruffy-looking artist, with his easel and a display of his work set out on the pavement, looked up and nodded as she passed. She returned the nod, instinctively picking up her pace a little as she walked by. He looked comfortable in his knee-length shorts and sandals; far more comfortable than Niamh felt in the heat of the afternoon. Despite only having left the air-conditioned environment of Bill’s truck a few minutes ago, she could already feel the first beads of sweat trickling down the middle of her back.
On the far side of the street the bottom metre of a square-cut telegraph pole had been painted white, and the street names were painted vertically downwards in black paint over the top.
‘Whitehead and Olivia,’ she muttered aloud. She looked right along the narrow pavement on Olivia Street. Cars lined this side of the road and trees from Hemingway’s garden overhung the pavement. It was not wide enough to park cars on both sides. She didn’t know this area well, and for a moment she considered continuing along Whitehead Street until she found a larger street with more people; wandering around the backstreets of Key West could be dangerous. But the longer she delayed, the less chance she had of catching up with Tony and getting to somewhere the police were unlikely to find her. The shop next to Flamingo’s Café where she had seen him about six or seven minutes earlier was only about two blocks from here, but there was no telling where he would be by now.
Don’t be a wuss! she ordered herself. You can’t do this alone. You need Tony’s help and you’ll never get Sam and Callum back unless you take some risks. Get moving. Now!
Crossing the road, she turned right and began to trot towards Duval Street, her eyes darting around constantly for any sign of movement. Seconds later, she emerged from the narrow road into the bustle of the busy tourist area and turned left. As her fear of meeting strangers on the quiet backstreet subsided, some of Niamh’s tension eased and she slowed back to a fast walk.
Now she was in the heart of Key West and, while it would not be at its liveliest until late evening, even in the heat of the late afternoon it was busy with people window-shopping. The pavements here were wide. On either side of the street very few of the buildings seemed to be the same shape or size. However, one design facet that did seem popular was the white, ranch-style gallery balconies above many of the shop fronts.
She scanned ahead for Tony and Tessa, barely needing to weave round people at all as she strode forward, but there was no sign of them. Niamh was still about a block and a half from where she had last seen them from the car. It would only take a couple of minutes to get there, but she didn’t want to charge headlong into them. If possible, she needed to keep Tessa from seeing her. Niamh had few doubts that Tessa would betray her to the police again in an instant if given the chance.
Ahead she could see the next junction. As she searched both sides of the street, something caught her attention that set her heart racing. At the next set of lights, just behind a white pick-up, was a police car.
Niamh did not hesitate. She turned left and entered through the door of the nearest shop. As she stepped inside, she realised it was an art gallery. Several tourists were browsing the long, narrow shop. Stepping straight past the nearest person, she positioned herself so that she could see back through the front windows.
‘Can I help you?’
It took a moment for Niamh to realise that the woman was talking to her.
‘No, thanks,’ she replied, moving around so she could keep eye contact while watching the road with her peripheral vision. ‘Just browsing. It’s my dad’s birthday in a few days. I’m just looking for ideas.’
The police car cruised past and Niamh could not help switching her focus and following it with her eyes as it went by. The car was in view just long enough for her to see that there were two officers inside. Was it just a regular patrol? Given the crawling speed they were doing as they passed, she felt sure they were looking for something, or someone – most probably her. Their HQ would have radioed out that she was missing again by now.
I’ve got to find a way to disguise myself – and fast, she thought.
She had to find Tony and get away from the centre of Key West; it was her best chance of evading the police. Darting out of the front door of the shop, Niamh turned left. Tony could be anywhere by now. As she walked, she felt a prickling sensation down her back. Something was not quite right. On instinct she glanced over her shoulder and a cold shock of horror ran through her. The patrol car had pulled to a halt a little way down the street. Its hazard lights were flashing and one of the officers was already out of the car and walking in her direction along the pavement on the other side of the road. He wasn’t moving with any sense of urgency, so it seemed unlikely that he had spotted her.
Her body tensed, desperate to run, but the quiet voice of reason inside her mind said Don’t. Running will draw his attention.
Barely able to breathe for the tension inside, she gritted her teeth against the pain and strode along the pavement, trying to disguise her limp. Determined not to look back a second time, she concentrated on searching ahead for Tony and Tessa.
‘Please be easy to spot,’ she muttered. ‘Please.’
She looked across at the vertical street-name sign as she approached the next junction – Petronia. It was a narrow one-way street. She paused briefly to look to her right and then crossed the road at a brief trot before slowing again when she reached the other side. Her ankle was throbbing, fit to explode.
‘Don’t look back,’ she breathed. ‘Just keep going.’
There he was! Tony was ahead. He was standing outside a clothing store on the far side of the street, leaning against one of the old-fashioned lamp posts that looked like they had been there a hundred years or more. Tessa was looking in the window of the shop, her attention drawn by something on display. Niamh glanced at the sign above the door. Evan & Elle, she read. After a moment, her brain registered the humour in the shop title and her eyes went back to it. She read it a second time and smiled. Given the state of her nerves, it felt good to smile. I’ll bet it was a Londoner who named that shop, she thought.
Angling between some bikes that had been chained to stands and what looked like a newspaper dispenser, she stepped up to the kerb, looking both ways before making a quick dash across the road through a usef
ul gap in the traffic. During her scan for traffic, she noted that the policeman had fallen back a little way, but he was still moving along the road in her direction. She had to keep moving.
Niamh walked right up to Tony and placed a hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t seen her coming and jumped at her touch. As he registered who she was, his eyes widened with shock, but Niamh’s warning look stopped him from speaking.
‘Outside Sloppy Joe’s – fifteen minutes. Alone,’ she ordered softly, barely slowing as she continued past him.
She itched to look back to see what he would do next. Although she barely knew Tony, she felt certain he wouldn’t disappoint her. Somehow he would meet her as she’d asked. In the meantime, she would have to keep from being picked up by the police again.
Sloppy Joe’s was a fair walk. Was it five blocks or six? She should have given Tony more time. It was probably going to take her the full fifteen minutes just to walk there, but it was too late to worry about that now. She couldn’t go back. Why on earth had she picked it? A famous tourist location, and a bar no less – they wouldn’t even be able to go inside and talk! There were loads of places closer. Being a local, Tony would have known them all, but for some reason Sloppy Joe’s was the first name that had sprung to mind.
In the heat of the afternoon sun, the stinging from the scrapes and bruises Niamh had sustained from her earlier leap out of the moving bus began to increase, as she forced herself to keep up her brisk pace. It seemed that the further she walked along Duval Street, the more her tension eased and the more painfully aware of her injuries she became. It was with no small amount of relief that she finally saw the black and white frontage of Sloppy Joe’s ahead. On the central awning was written Pina Coladas. Just the thought of any drink made Niamh realise how thirsty she was; at this point she would have willingly killed for a tall glass of chilled orange juice.
Limping right up and underneath the awning, Niamh was relieved to stop. She leaned against the wall right at the corner of the street. The urge to sink down to the pavement to rest was strong, but the danger that this would draw attention kept her on her feet.
Her tongue felt swollen and her lips were dry.
‘Hiya!’
It was Niamh’s turn to jump.
‘Tony! You scared me!’
‘Sorry about that, but what’re you doin’ here? I thought you were headin’ out of the Keys.’
‘I was,’ Niamh explained. ‘But it’s been a bit of a crazy afternoon.’
‘Before I ditched Tessa, a cop passed us. From the way he was scannin’ Duval Street, I’d say he was looking for someone. Was he after you by any chance?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she replied. ‘But I was trying not to take any chances. How did you get ahead of me?’ she asked as Tony stepped fully into the open from round the corner to her right.
‘I left Tessa with a lame excuse, left Duval and paralleled along Simonton in case she tried to follow me,’ he explained. ‘You don’t look so good . . . Jeez, what have you been doin’? Those are some scrapes! Have you been fightin’? Are you OK?’
‘I’ve felt better.’
‘Let’s get inside. You need to clean those cuts and grazes up, and I’m bettin’ you could do with a drink.’
‘We can’t,’ she protested, looking towards the entrance to the bar. ‘I’ll never pass as old enough.’
‘Not in here,’ Tony laughed. ‘My aunt Jo-Ann lives about two blocks from here on Eaton. She’s friendly and she always has plenty of cool juice in the fridge. Come on. I don’t know what you’re doin’ in Key West, especially as Carrie sent me a text sayin’ you were on a bus to Miami, but from the look of them scrapes I’m guessin’ you’ve got another good story to tell.’
Niamh pushed away from the wall and took a sharp intake of breath as her ankle threatened to buckle under her weight. Tony was there instantly. He put an arm round her waist, his body positioned to prop her up.
‘Thanks,’ she gasped, her face hot with embarrassment at the intimacy she felt in his touch.
‘You’re welcome,’ he grinned. ‘Or perhaps I should say “My pleasure”. That is what you Brits say, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah,’ she said weakly.
They crossed the road and had begun to head back along Duval Street when Tony stopped suddenly and dragged Niamh around to look at the adjacent shop window.
‘That policeman is comin’.’
‘The same one?’
He glanced across her. ‘Yep,’ he confirmed, sounding nervous.
‘He could be on a regular patrol, I guess, but something tells me that’s unlikely. Quick! Let’s get off Duval. Which is the quickest way to your aunt’s place?’
‘The quickest way is back past the cop. Come this way. It’s a little further, but we’ll be out of his sight more quickly. If we don’t move quick, he’ll see us.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Niamh said softly. ‘If he’s looking for me, then he’ll be looking for a girl on her own. I doubt he’ll look twice at a couple.’
‘Where did you learn to be so devious?’
‘I read a lot.’ She grinned.
Trying to relax and act casually, Niamh let Tony lead the way along Duval and off into a side street. Even though her ankle was throbbing with pain and her shoulder felt like it was on fire, she felt lighter than air as he guided and supported her. Reunited with Tony, her confidence soared and suddenly she felt more positive about making progress with her search for Callum and Sam. If anyone could help her, it would be Tony and his sister.
CHAPTER FIVE
The roof of the school was neither flat nor sloping, but almost like a scaled-down landscape with rolling hills and an occasional steeper mountain peak. As Sam emerged out through the forced panel and on to the roof, he noted that the shapes of the geodesic panelling here were every bit as irregular as they were on the walls. There was a strange sense of strength about the irregularity. All of the panels seemed to fit together in an elaborate three-dimensional jigsaw that, while strange to the eye, gave an impression of solidity.
Einstein and Newton had taken the lead again and were bounding over the lumps and bumps of the roof surface, their claws clicking against the panels with every leap. Sam followed as closely behind as he could, but with more care and stealth. When he caught up with the raptors, he held back from the edge, as there was no safety rail. Raptors, it seemed, had no use for such features. Nor, apparently, did they fear heights. Einstein prowled along the very edge of the roof with no regard to the deadly drop. His concentration appeared set on the gulf between this rooftop and that of their target. Turning, he beckoned to Nipper and Grunt, who were approaching with the heavy bags of equipment. They wasted no time. Within a matter of seconds, an impressive frame was slotting together, each pole sliding into place with a reassuring clunk.
‘Blimey!’ Callum gasped. ‘Look at them go!’
Einstein lifted out the special, heavy-duty crossbow contraption and slotted the bolt in place. Laying out a coil of lightweight rope, he passed the end to Claire, who tied it off on one of the crossbars of the frame that was still under construction with a self-tightening knot. Sam watched her work and noted that she kept her eyes averted from the edge of the building throughout.
Einstein hefted the crossbow up to his shoulder and took aim. Angling the bolt high above the target roof, he fired. There was a loud thunk and a whizzzzzzz as rope fizzed out of the coil in a high arcing snake towards the roof of the Imperium laboratories.
Sam held his breath as it went. The bolt would have to penetrate the surface of one of the panels on the opposite roof, to give the grapples a suitable hold, as the smooth surface of the tightly interlocking plates offered no suitable grip. But what if it didn’t break through as the raptors said it would? He needn’t have worried. Einstein knew exactly what he was doing. He and Newton had done their calculations perfectly. The metallic torpedo punched downwards and smacked through the neighbouring rooftop, puncturing a panel with a clean entry hole. Wh
ether by luck, or by exceptionally good shooting, Sam didn’t know, but the grapple pierced one of the highest points of the roof.
Einstein turned and fired a quick sequence of clicks and growls at Newton, who replied with a short grumbling answer.
Claire placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.
‘What did they say?’ Sam asked.
‘Einstein asked Newton if it mattered that the entry hole was close to the edge of a panel,’ his mother said, looking thoughtful. ‘And the nearest translation I can give to Newton’s response is: Who knows? Ask me one on apples.’
‘A raptor with a human sense of humour!’ Callum sniggered. ‘I think I’m going to like him.’
‘Way to fill me with confidence!’ Sam complained. ‘Are you sure these raptors know what they’re doing?’
‘Don’t worry, son,’ Claire soothed. ‘You won’t be going first and the raptors are heavier than you. You’ll be fine. I wouldn’t be letting you go if I didn’t believe that.’
He looked at her and saw the truth of what she was saying. He could see there was worry in her eyes, but belief was there in greater measure. She trusted her team implicitly.
‘Thanks,’ he said, and drew her into a hug.
‘I wish I was going with you,’ she sighed. ‘Sherri and the raptors will keep you as safe as I could, but I’m not saying you won’t be in any danger, Sam. Just make sure you do as you’re told, or there’ll be hell to pay when you get back to base. Now I’ve found you again, I’m not planning on losing you any time soon.’ She smiled at him, her tough exterior breaking for a moment.
‘Don’t worry, Mum,’ he assured her. ‘You’re not going to get rid of me that easily. I won’t do anything silly, I promise.’
‘Time to go,’ Sherri interrupted.
The frame was finished and secured. The cable had been routed over the top and Grunt was tensioning the cable-like rope with a ratchet mechanism that he had mounted within the structure of the frame. Nipper clipped his runner over the rope, twisted his hands through the safety loops and gripped the runner bar. With a flash of his impressive rows of teeth, he lifted his legs from the rooftop and began the long slide to the neighbouring roof.
