by Mark Robson
‘If storms are forecast, then surely there’s all the more urgency,’ Niamh insisted. ‘If you can’t use the seaplane, then what about renting a light aircraft from the Summerland airstrip?’
Her dad’s expression became thoughtful. ‘I’ll try,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘But it looks like a fairly extensive line of thunderstorms. I doubt they’ll be keen to let me take anything up given the forecast. We might actually do better in Mitch’s boat.’
‘Won’t it be rough?’
‘Most likely, but Mitch has a good boat. It’ll be fine.’
‘Plane or boat, I’m coming regardless.’
‘Are you sure? I thought you didn’t like going out on the boat when it’s rough.’
‘I’ll make an exception today,’ Niamh said, putting as much steel into her voice as she could muster. ‘I’m not going to be left behind.’
When he nodded his agreement, she felt a warm rush of relief. Moira was lovely, but the way she felt right now, Niamh wanted to be with her dad. As things stood, he was all the family she had left. She listened as Matthew phoned first his friend Geoff, and then the local airstrip. As he had predicted, neither was willing to let him go flying in their aircraft. Even as he hung up from the second phone call, Niamh heard the sound of Mr Mitchell’s boat approaching. She ran across to the back window just in time to see it ease alongside the mooring posts.
‘Mitch is back,’ Moira announced from the kitchen. ‘Let’s go give him a hand to dock.’
She crossed the living area to the sliding door that opened on to the pool deck and beckoned for Niamh to follow. She glanced at her dad. He nodded and followed on behind. They skirted the pool and watched as Moira responded to her husband’s directions.
Moira was very businesslike as she looped the ropes round the bollards, checking the fenders and giving her husband a hand up onto the deck. She was clearly very practised.
‘Hi there, Matt! Nice to see you, Niamh.’
‘Mitch’ Mitchell looked the epitome of a United States Air Force officer: sharp haircut, V-shaped torso, square jaw and bright eyes that shone with intelligence and humour.
‘Sorry I don’t have any news of your boys,’ he added. ‘Don’t know where they’ve disappeared to. There’s not many boats out there today, what with the approachin’ weather an’ all.’
‘It’s good of you to go looking, Mitch,’ Matthew responded, meeting his firm handshake with a strong grip of his own. ‘Much appreciated. Are you OK to go back out? I’m pretty anxious to find them.’
‘No problem. Top her up with gas, grab some eats to keep us fuelled up and we’ll be on our way in no time. Looks like it’s gonna get rough out there soon, though. Not sure it’s gonna be a good idea to get too far offshore. Any ideas on where the boys might have headed to?’
‘Not really,’ Matthew said with a shake of his head. ‘Niamh says they went out fishing. I suspect they’ll have gone pretty much straight out to the drop off, but after that . . . who knows?’
Niamh couldn’t voice her feeling that they were looking in vain. Deep inside her she could still feel a strange, hollow space that something of her brother had previously occupied. He felt terribly distant. Dead? No. Reaching into the depths of the void where the sense of her brother had normally been so strong, she could still feel a faint hint of his presence. She had a vague impression of him: scared, cold and tired, but alive and battling to stay that way. The feeling should have been an encouragement, but for some reason, it deepened her sense of panic.
Although her memories were sketchy, Niamh still remembered something of the days immediately after her mum had disappeared. Most of it was vague, but a few clear flashes remained, especially her dad telling her that ‘Mummy was lost’ and that ‘Lots of people are out looking for her’. She could hear the phrases and the intonation in her mind, but not how he had looked as he had said the words. Had his expression been as lost and empty as it was now? Did he already believe the boys to be the latest victims of the Devil’s Triangle? The thought sent chills running up and down her spine.
Callum might be absolutely fine of course. It seemed likely that he would still be with Sam. The last clear image she had seen through her link with Sam had been of Callum, but equally they could have become separated by now. Niamh had no way of knowing. Answers were out there somewhere, but her dad had been searching for clues about her mum’s disappearance for nine years. If this was any indication of what they were up against, finding her brother was unlikely to prove easy.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘Geoff, you’re a star! I can’t thank you enough,’ Matthew Cutler said, his mouth curving into a broad smile. He gave Niamh an excited ‘thumbs up’ gesture. ‘Yes, I’ll be careful. Don’t worry. I won’t do anything silly. I’ll stay below the cloud base and head straight back to the field when the weather starts to close in. Thanks again. I owe you one.’
He ended the call and put the mobile into his pocket.
‘Change of plan, Mitch,’ he announced. ‘Geoff changed his mind. He says I can take up the Cherokee to do an aerial search. The water is going to be too rough for landing his seaplane this afternoon, but he said that I can fly his Cherokee so long as I land ahead of the storms.’
‘That’s great, Matt,’ Mitch replied. ‘I’m nearly good to go again. I should be headin’ out in about five minutes. We’d better coordinate. No sense in us both covering the same area. Which way shall I head?’
Matthew looked thoughtful for a moment.
‘Go out to the edge of the reef and turn southwest. I’ll go north-east,’ he said.
‘Sure thing. I’ll stay out as long as I can. Good luck.’
‘You too, Mitch. And thanks again. I really appreciate you helping out like this.’
‘You’re welcome, Matt. And try not to worry too much – the boys’ll be fine, OK? Now get goin’. I’ll be listenin’ out on Channel 16 for any news from the coastguard. If you need to get a message to me, you’ll have to relay through them. I don’t think the frequencies on my radio are gonna be any use for chattin’ directly.’
‘That’s fine, Mitch. I’ll relay if I have to. Niamh, why don’t you stay here with Moira? I know you want to come, but . . .’
‘I’m coming with you, Dad,’ Niamh said quickly, matching her father’s quick stride as he made to leave. ‘You’re not leaving me alone.’
‘Honey, I’d love to have you keep me company while the men are out,’ Moira offered quickly.
A fire ignited inside Niamh. She wanted to yell at them, but she bit her tongue. What was it with the adults? Did they think she was totally useless?
‘No offence, Mrs . . . Moira,’ Niamh replied, quick to correct herself. ‘But I’d really like to go with Dad and help look for Sam and Callum. If dad is flying the plane, then he won’t be able to give his full attention to looking out for them. I know I can’t do much, but I can be an extra pair of eyes.’
She looked her dad in the eyes. There was reluctance there for a moment, but it melted away in the face of her determined stare. He stepped towards her and gathered her into a hug. Having his arms round her had never felt better.
‘You’re right, Niamh,’ he said, planting a gentle kiss in her hair. ‘But you’re so much more than just a pair of eyes. I just want you to be safe, do you understand?’
‘And I want you to be safe too,’ she countered. ‘Which is why I need to come along. You won’t be tempted to do anything silly if I’m with you. Without Sam around, you’re all I’ve got, Dad. I don’t want to lose you too.’
‘She’s a feisty one, ain’t she, Matt?’ Moira observed.
‘She is that,’ he agreed. ‘Come on, Niamh. Let’s get going. Moira, you wouldn’t happen to have a set of binoculars that Niamh could borrow, would you?’
‘You know, I just might at that! You guys just hang fire for a minute and I’ll see if I can find ’em.’
‘Great! We’ll wait in the car, Moira.’
Despite her worries for Sam,
Niamh could not help feeling a little excited about the prospect of going flying with her dad. Flying in a little aeroplane was nothing like flying in a 747 across the Atlantic. There was something more real about it. Flying on an airliner didn’t feel much different to riding in a train, or a bus, but flying in a light aircraft was unlike anything else she had ever done. Every bump on the runway and every slight shifting air current transmitted through the aircraft. It was like the difference between sailing in a dinghy and taking a trip on a massive cruise liner.
They jumped into the SUV and had barely strapped in before Moira was there with the binoculars.
‘Thanks, Moira,’ Matthew said, starting the engine. ‘We’ll see you later. Sorry if I was a bit abrupt earlier.’
‘No problem, Matt,’ she said. ‘Good luck and be careful.’
‘Always.’
They reversed off the drive and sped off up the narrow road towards the Overseas Highway. The airstrip was less than five minutes away and before she knew it, Niamh was out of the car again and running after her father towards the hangar.
‘Ned! Can you do me a favour?’ he called, catching sight of a man in blue overalls on the other side of the building.
‘Sure, Matt. Whaddaya want?’
‘Ring Miami and file me a VFR flight plan, would you? Sam’s gone out in my boat and not come back. I’m going to go and look for him in Geoff’s Cherokee.’
‘OK. One VFR flight plan coming up. How long are ya plannin‘ on headin‘ out for?’
‘About two hours should do it,’ Matthew said. ‘I doubt the weather will let me stay up for that long, but I’d rather overestimate.’
‘It’ll be in by the time you get her fired up,’ Ned promised. ‘Do ya know where Geoff keeps the keys?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘Fly safe.’
‘Thanks, Ned. See you in an hour or so.’
Niamh found she was almost running to keep up with her father as he made a beeline for a smart-looking aircraft to the right of the hangar, conveniently parked near the main door. It was mainly white, with two mustard-coloured stripes along the length of the fuselage – a thick one with a thinner one above it. Every surface of the machine shone as if it had been freshly polished.
‘The door’s open,’ her father told her as they approached. ‘You can take the right-hand seat today, but you’ll have to wait until I finish the preliminary checks and the walk round or I’ll have to climb over you to get in. I’m just going to pick up the keys.’
‘I’m going to sit in the front?’ she asked.
‘Yep. You’re going to be more than just a passenger today, remember?’
Waiting behind the right wing for her father to get the keys, Niamh felt all knotted up inside. She stuffed her hands into her pockets and shifted her weight impatiently from foot to foot as she watched her father run across the hangar and retrieve the keys. The sense that Sam needed help had not abated. She could not help feeling that if they didn’t find him soon, it might be too late.
Matthew returned, climbed up onto the wing and into the cockpit. He had barely climbed in before getting out again. He raced round the aircraft, moving control services, checking panels and muttering the whole way round. There was no mistaking the urgency in the way he was moving. At one point, he touched something that set off a buzzer in the cockpit, but after a flash of panic, Niamh remembered this from previous trips. It was supposed to happen.
A minute later and he was back, climbing onto the wing root again and urging her to follow him up.
‘Remember to stay on the black area,’ he warned as he climbed in through the door and across into the left-hand seat.
Sitting in the front for the first time, she found it tempting to grab the steering yoke and play with it. Rather than annoy her father, however, she stowed the binoculars and strapped herself in. The straps were similar to that of a car, but instead of pushing the shoulder strap fastener into a slot, she found it hooked onto a metal spigot. It was a bit weird, but not difficult.
‘All set?’ Matthew asked. ‘OK. Put the headset on,’ he directed, pointing to where it was hanging. ‘We’ll just be a moment. I’ve got some checks to do before we can go, but they won’t take long. Can you pull the door shut for me?’
Niamh did as she was told, and he leaned across her for a moment and fiddled with the door until he was convinced it was secure.
‘It’s not that I don’t trust you to shut a door,’ he said, giving her an encouraging smile. ‘But Cherokee doors have a bit of a reputation for coming open in flight. Let’s not take any chances.’
She watched with fascinated admiration as her father’s hands flashed around the cockpit, setting instruments, flicking switches and manipulating controls. He muttered an incomprehensible stream of jargon the entire time.
‘CLEAR PROP!’ he yelled suddenly, apparently to no one in particular, and with a cough and a splutter, the propeller chattered into life.
There was another quick flurry of hands and mutterings.
‘Temps and pressures in the green,’ he said clearly.
As Niamh related ‘green’ with ‘go’, that sounded good. It was. With a quick look around to make sure no one was anywhere close, Matthew Cutler released the brakes and began to taxi the aircraft out of the hangar and towards the end of the grass strip. Niamh knew enough to realise that his weaving path was to check the steering and compasses, rather than due to any lack of control.
Craning his neck to make sure no one was approaching the airstrip to land, Matthew drove them out on to the grass runway, lined them up and eased the throttle up to full power. Despite her anxiety about Sam, Niamh felt a thrill of excitement. The aircraft began to accelerate down the runway, bumping and hopping as it went. One final hop and they were airborne, climbing gently away from the ground.
Niamh loved this part: the throbbing roar of the engine and the rapid change from the real world to the surreal, detached view from high in the air. It was the most wonderful feeling.
‘Key West radar, this is Cherokee November tree ait fife fouer Echo, VFR out of Summerland, 500 feet, climbing 1000, turning north-east.’
Niamh glanced across at her dad. He sounded so different talking on the radio. It was almost as if he was talking another language. A woman’s voice suddenly responded, sounding loud through the headphones.
‘Cherokee fife fouer Echo, good afternoon. Continue VFR to the north-east. Nothing to affect. Contact Miami FSS. Report on recovery.’
‘Cherokee fife fouer Echo, wilco.’
‘What was that all about?’ she asked.
‘I was just telling the local radar station where we’re going,’ he explained. ‘It was a courtesy call. We’re flying under something called VFR, which is short for Visual Flight Rules. In most places around the world we wouldn’t have to talk to anyone, but the airspace around here is quite sensitive. Once we’re checked in with the Flight Service Station, I’ll just have to make position reports every ten minutes. They like to keep an eye on light aircraft in these parts, probably because of all the problems they have with drug runners.’
Easing the steering yoke to the left, Matthew tipped the aircraft into a banked turn that carried them across the Key and out over the water. The turquoise water of the shallows sparkled in the sunlight. Beautiful. Real picture-postcard material, Niamh thought. But she didn’t dwell on it. Even as they rolled wings level, she drew out the binoculars and started scanning the water for boats.
Niamh spotted Mitch’s boat quickly. He was well on his way to the edge of the reef. She pointed him out and her father nodded.
‘We’ll just go and let him know we’ve seen him,’ he said.
Niamh felt her stomach rise as her father pushed forward on the yoke, nosing the aircraft into a shallow dive. The sensation was rather like going over a humpback bridge, but it went on for longer. She could see Mitch’s boat clearly now through the binoculars. Mitch was waving.
‘He’s seen us!’ she exclaim
ed. ‘He’s waving.’
‘Great. Let’s wave back then.’
To Niamh’s surprise, her father began rocking the wings of the plane left and right in a rapid oscillation.
‘Whoa!’
‘That should do it.’
‘I should say so!’ Niamh gasped. ‘Can you warn me next time you plan to do something like that, please, Dad? You nearly gave me a heart attack!’
‘Sorry!’
He glanced across the cockpit at her and gave an apologetic smile. The haunted look was still there in his eyes and yet, despite the circumstances, she could see he was getting pleasure from flying the plane. Flying was like a drug to him, Nimah realised. It was easy to see the attraction – especially in a location like this.
‘Apology accepted,’ she said. ‘OK, let’s see if Sam is where he said he was going. There’s a boat over there that’s about the right size.’
The next fifty minutes raced by as they checked all the boats close to the reef line for about twenty miles to the north-east. On the first return run, they flew over all the boats they could see up to about three miles further out, though there weren’t many. The line of huge black clouds rapidly approaching from the south-east had clearly put off the more cautious boaters from venturing far.
Next they flew up and down over the more immediate shallow waters off Summerland and the nearby Keys. There were many more boats here, some of similar size and design to theirs.
‘There!’ Matthew announced eventually, pointing with his throttle hand while easing the aircraft into a turn towards the boat he had spotted. ‘Eleven o’clock. Approximately one mile. It looks like our boat. Is it them?’
Niamh followed his directions and the line of his finger. The boat did look like theirs. She focused in the binoculars and tried to steady them.
‘Turn left a bit more, please,’ she said. ‘I can’t see them well enough.’
