The Devil's Triangle

by Mark Robson

  ‘We’ve told you, the raptors are more advanced than you think,’ Leah said firmly. ‘The raptors may look like little more than savage beasts, but they are incredibly clever.’

  ‘But the trim?’ Sam persisted. ‘What could they possibly want with that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Brad admitted. ‘Maybe they wanted to analyse the material to see if they can find applications for it that we’ve not considered. Look, I’m sorry about your boat, Sam, but we can talk more about that later. Please, come inside. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.’

  Sam nodded and followed Brad inside with Callum hard on his heels. A man was sitting in the living area. He rose to greet them. The first thing that struck Sam about the man was an ageless quality about his features. Sam would not like to have guessed if he was in his late twenties, mid-thirties or early forties. There were hints of grey at his temples, but with his athletic frame and smooth facial features the colour did not seem to fit with the rest of his appearance.

  ‘Steve, these are the boys I was telling you about,’ Brad said, his lips curving into a broad smile. ‘Sam. Callum. This is Steve Nawarinski. He was a pilot in the US military.’

  ‘Hiya, guys,’ the man began, stepping towards them and extending his right hand. ‘I guess you’d be Claire’s boy then, Sam. You have her eyes.’

  Sam froze.

  ‘You know my mother?’ he asked, his heart suddenly thumping painfully in his chest.

  ‘Yes, I’ve met her,’ Steve replied. ‘She’s a very special lady.’

  ‘She’s alive! Can I see her? Where is she?’

  Steve glanced at Brad, and Sam sensed an unspoken request for approval pass between them. The slightest of nods from Brad was enough.

  ‘I can’t be a hundred per cent sure,’ Steve said carefully. ‘It’s been some time since I last saw her, but yes, Claire Cutler was very much alive when we last met about three years ago.’

  ‘Where? Is it far? Can I go there?’

  Sam couldn’t believe it. His mum – alive! Before coming here he had long since stopped dreaming about that possibility. To think that his dad had been right not to give up all these years! It was like something out of a crazy dream. Was it possible that he could find her? His mind whirled as he waited for Steve’s response.

  ‘It was a long way from here,’ he said carefully. ‘I last saw her in the City of the Imperium. And three years is a long time in this world, Sam. I don’t want to get your hopes up too much. She could be anywhere by now.’

  Sam did not miss the unspoken ‘or dead’ that was implicit in Steve’s answer.

  ‘The City of the Imperium?’ he asked. ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘The City of the Imperium could be described as the raptors’ capital city,’ Brad explained. ‘The Imperium is their governing body. It’s about a thousand miles north of here.’

  ‘A thousand miles!’ Sam gasped, a cold, sinking feeling in his stomach. ‘How did you get there and back in one piece?’

  ‘Oh, getting there and back was the easy bit,’ Steve laughed. ‘The raptors don’t run everywhere, you know. I just took the train.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  As Niamh crossed the edge of the reef into deeper water, she got the distinct sense that Sam was in danger again. Although the feeling was vague, she felt her pulse quicken. He was running. He was on a beach. Something was chasing him. A ghostly pain spiked through her right ankle.

  ‘Where the hell are you, Sam?’ she muttered. But now that their link felt stronger again, Niamh suddenly had an idea. Taking a quick look around to make sure the area around the boat was clear, she eased the throttle right back, closed her eyes and deliberately put the boat into a gentle turn to the left. She held her breath as the boat tracked round in a circle.

  The motion of the boat was far less predictable in the turn. Niamh nearly lost her balance several times, but refused to open her eyes. Instead, she clung tighter to the wheel and concentrated on trying to establish which direction she could sense Sam most strongly from.

  The sensation of distant danger remained for a minute or two before melting away. Turning the boat with her eyes closed had only served to upset her stomach with the strange motion across the waves. On opening her eyes, Niamh turned the wheel until the boat was running straight and took another good look around. The nearest boat looked to be about half a mile away.

  ‘It’s no good. This isn’t working,’ she muttered, drumming her fingers on the wheel. ‘So much for the mental compass idea, Niamh! What now?’

  When she had sensed the danger, she had felt sure that she would be able to get a fix on Sam. Her failure left her feeling lost and small again. Driving aimlessly up and down the coast was unlikely to achieve anything. From what she had sensed, Sam had obviously landed somewhere and there appeared no point in staying out on the water. It made little sense that Sam was on dry land, yet still in danger. Where could he possibly be? She needed to find somewhere out of immediate sight where she could hide and think. Out on the ocean she was too exposed and vulnerable. If the police or the coastguard caught her, the boys would be completely on their own. Of course, they might reach a phone at any moment and ring home to say they were safe. But it was weird: she just knew that Sam was not going to make that call – couldn’t make that call. Where could he be?

  It was a puzzling conundrum. Was it somehow connected with the Devil’s Triangle after all?

  Hide first. Then think, Niamh told herself. But where could she go that the authorities wouldn’t find her? The boat wasn’t going to be easy to hide.

  ‘Of course!’ she exclaimed aloud. ‘Monkey Island!’

  What was it that Dad had said about Monkey Island? It was deserted, having once belonged to one of the big pharmaceutical companies who had used the island as a breeding ground for monkeys to use as test subjects. The monkeys had stripped the island so bare of plant life that the company had been forced to round them all up and find somewhere else to raise them. But from her memories of seeing it from the Overseas Highway, the island had made a full recovery from the ravages of the monkeys, and hopefully there would be enough foliage to hide the boat. Would the satnav on the boat know where it was? Was Monkey Island even its real name?

  She tried typing in the name. It was no surprise to her that the database did not recognise it, but the island was not far away – a few miles at most. Niamh had seen it lots of times from the highway and she should remember enough to find it without using the navigation equipment. Surely there would be some sort of mooring there, she reasoned. The people from the pharmaceutical company would have had to moor up when they visited to collect animals for testing. It was certainly worth a try.

  Niamh turned the boat parallel to the coast and opened the throttle. The sensation of acceleration was exhilarating as the two enormous outboard motors poured their power through the propellers with a mighty roar. Within seconds, a rhythmic thump, thump, thump of the hull against the wave tops began. The boat skimmed from one to the next, giving Niamh the feeling that the boat wanted to leap into the air and fly . A fizzing hiss rose and fell in a softer counterpoint rhythm, as cloud after cloud of dense spray kicked outwards with each thumping impact.

  Shaking her hair out in the wind, Niamh was surprised to realise that driving the boat was actually quite fun. If it wasn’t for her anxiety over Sam and her father, and the fact that she was now a fugitive, this would have been a fantastic experience. It was no wonder Sam had nagged Dad about driving so much.

  Finding Monkey Island proved a little more difficult than Niamh anticipated, but after a few false attempts, she found it. The approach channel was mercifully obvious and Niamh drove the boat along it without difficulty. Unfortunately, the mooring point at the island offered nothing in the way of concealment for the boat. Although it would be shielded from the view of cars travelling along the Overseas Highway, anyone passing nearby in another boat would see it immediately.

  Niamh struggled for a minute or two as she
tried to manoeuvre the boat into position near the mooring posts. It was not as easy as her dad had made it look. The bump as the boat smacked against the docking jetty nearly threw her from her feet. Recovering quickly, she grabbed the rear mooring rope and leapt ashore. Once she had one rope looped over a mooring post, securing the other end of the boat proved easy.

  The silence as Niamh turned off the engines set her pulse racing again. First running away from a policeman, then theft – now trespass. How many more laws am I going to break before I get caught? she wondered.

  Taking the keys and tucking them into the pocket of her shorts, Niamh decided to take a walk around the island to find a place to conceal the boat. The island was not huge, but it might have an inlet or a second mooring point tucked away out of sight that would suit her purpose.

  Before leaving the boat, she ducked down into the cabin to see what the Mitchells kept there. To her delight, she found a half full plastic container of orange juice sitting in an ice bucket. The water in the bucket was cool rather than cold and there was no sign of any ice.

  Mitch must have taken this with him yesterday, she thought, taking a sip. ‘Nice!’ she added aloud, taking several large swigs to quench her immediate thirst. The sweet orange juice quickly washed the taste of salt from her lips.

  There were a few packets of nuts and some food bars in one of the little cupboards in the cabin. Niamh tucked a Nutri-Grain bar into one pocket and opened another. It was gone in a few bites, washed down with another mouthful of orange. The waffle she had eaten at the Mitchells’ seemed like an age ago even though it had actually been less than three hours.

  ‘Who would have thought becoming a criminal was such hungry work?’ she muttered and then laughed. ‘Talking to yourself as well, Niamh! Not a good sign.’

  She knew food would become a problem if she remained on the run for any length of time, but she had taken the edge off her immediate hunger. Shutting the door of the cabin behind her, Niamh climbed out of the boat and looked around. Do I go left or right? she wondered.

  ‘Eeny meeny miney mo . . . right it is.’

  Away from the mooring jetty, her progress slowed markedly. Tangled mangrove trees dominated, growing right down to the water’s edge. The heat among the trees was stifling and the further she went from the boat, the stronger the stench of rotting vegetation became. The whine of mosquitoes was becoming more frequent too. Niamh slapped at her neck and legs several times, but whether the tickling she felt was from the light touch of insect life, or from trickling rivulets of sweat, it was hard to tell.

  A sudden pattering of running feet made her gasp. It was a lizard – a big one. It had to be at least a metre and a half long with a striking black-and-white tail. There was a splash as it hit the water at speed and disappeared.

  ‘Wow!’ she exclaimed under her breath. ‘If the animals around here get much bigger, I’ll have to add monsters to my list of problems!’

  Another sound caught her attention. She paused, listening hard. Laughter. Voices – at least two of them. Someone else was on the island. The sound was coming from ahead and away from the water’s edge. Although they were too far away for Niamh to be sure, the relative pitch of the voices suggested that at least one was male. Who were they? And what were they doing here? The island was supposed to be uninhabited. For a moment, Niamh hesitated. Should she go back to the boat and leave or should she take a closer look?

  Curiosity won the day. Niamh crept forward, slipping between the trees as silently as she could. There was more than enough cover for her to be able to sneak up and get a look at them. As she got closer, Niamh caught a whiff of something other than the stench of the mangroves. She stopped for a moment and sniffed the air. There was no mistaking it this time. Someone was cooking fish.

  Laughter rang through the trees much closer this time and Niamh smiled. She couldn’t help herself. There was an infectious quality about it. Drawn by the voices, she moved closer until she could see the source of the noise and the delicious smell.

  A boy was standing next to a small campfire and feeding it with sticks. Sitting next to the fire, a girl was patiently barbecuing fish over the flames on metal skewers. The boy looked like he was a year or two older than Niamh. He had his back to her, so she couldn’t see his face. He looked slim to the point of being skinny, but fit, with a bleach-blond mop of unruly hair and was wearing brightly coloured, knee-length swimming shorts. The girl looked to be about Niamh’s age: dark-haired and pretty with the sort of curvaceous body that Niamh craved.

  Judging from their deep tans, Niamh felt it safe to assume they were locals.

  She pulled back behind a tree. What should she do now? Would it be safe to introduce herself? She peered round the trunk again, but ducked out of sight again when, by chance, the boy standing by the fire turned and locked eyes with her.

  ‘Who’s that?’ he called out, tensing as if ready to run. ‘Who’s out there?’

  The girl scrambled to her feet. ‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘Don’t mess with me, Tony!’

  ‘I’m not messin’ with you, Tessa. There’s someone out there watchin’ us.’

  ‘Carrie? Is that you?’ Tessa called.

  ‘What’s the matter, Tess?’ a girl’s voice answered from somewhere to the boy’s right. ‘You two missin‘ me already?’

  Niamh sat tucked down with her back to the tree trunk, thinking fast. The boy had seen her. From his reaction, she felt sure this group were not supposed to be here any more than she was. Would they be friendly? Her stomach began to rumble. It sounded so loud that she felt sure they must be able to hear it. The smell of cooking fish was so enticing that she decided to risk introducing herself in the hope they might share some.

  ‘I saw someone,’ Tony was saying. ‘Over there. Couldn’t have been Carrie. There’s no way she could move that fast.’

  Niamh stood up and moved out from behind the tree.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, putting on her best British accent. ‘I’m terribly sorry to have surprised you like that. I heard you laughing and thought I’d come and see who was making all the noise.’

  ‘See! I told ya, Tessa,’ the boy said in a low voice.

  Tessa was irritatingly gorgeous, Niamh noted, now she could see her better. Huge dark-brown eyes stared out from under perfectly shaped brows. Classic high cheekbones, a cute, slightly upturned nose and full, pouting lips gave her a sultry look. Niamh felt sure boys would line up to take her out.

  To her alarm, Niamh saw that both Tessa and Tony had armed themselves with vicious-looking spears. Both held them poised, but looked more ready to run than throw their weapons.

  ‘What’re you doin’ here?’ Tessa snapped, ignoring Tony and directing her question at Niamh. ‘This place is private property.’

  ‘I could ask you the same question,’ Niamh replied, stepping forward slowly and trying hard not to let her envy of the girl’s figure colour her voice. ‘I’m guessing you’re trespassing every bit as much as I am. Would you mind lowering the spears, please? You’re making me nervous.’

  ‘Yeah, sure, sorry,’ Tony said, glancing at the spear in his hand as if noticing it for the first time. He gave a chuckle and lowered it. Tessa was slower to lower hers. She looked less than pleased by the intrusion. Another girl appeared out of the trees. She was wearing a one-piece, mid-blue swimsuit with aquamarine panels down each side. ‘Hey, sis. We’ve got company,’ Tony called out to her.

  Niamh could see the sibling likeness immediately. Carrie’s hair was the same white-blonde as her brother’s, and she had the same striking blue eyes. Niamh felt another swift pang of jealousy. Her own blonde hair and blue eyes felt plain by comparison. Why did she have to be such a plain Jane?

  ‘Niamh Cutler,’ Niamh said, stepping clear of the trees into the tiny clearing where the trio had built their fire. She extended her hand to Tony first and her heart gave a flutter as he took it in his. ‘Nice to meet you, Tony.’

  ‘That’s a neat accent. English, right?’
he asked.

  ‘Right,’ Niamh confirmed. She turned to Tessa and offered her hand again. The girl took it reluctantly. She had the sort of grip that her father would have called a limp fish. That thought put a genuine smile on Niamh’s lips. Turning to Tony’s sister she completed her greeting. ‘And you’re Carrie? Nice to meet you.’

  ‘Howdy,’ she said, flashing a bright smile. ‘Carrie Dale – Tony’s my big brother.’

  ‘A pleasure,’ Niamh said. ‘Nice fire,’ she added. ‘And the fish smells fantastic. Any going spare?’

  The three American teenagers glanced at one another. An unspoken agreement passed between Tony and Carrie. Tess looked sullen.

  ‘Sure,’ Tony answered. ‘If you’ll tell us how you got here, and if there’s any adults with you.’

  ‘Well, my dad was accused of murdering my brother and his friend. The police arrested him and wanted to take me in too, so I stole a neighbour’s boat and came here to hide from them,’ Niamh said casually. ‘Don’t worry. There’s no one else with me . . . and I’m not expecting anyone, unless the police find a way of tracking me.’

  Tony laughed as the girls’ jaws dropped. ‘Nice one,’ he said, shaking his head and pointing at his sister. ‘You girls are just too easy to mess with. It’s OK, Niamh. If you don’t wanna tell us why you’re here, that’s cool. So long as you’re not gonna rat us out to the cops, I don’t really care. We come here ’cos it’s a great place for spear fishin’ and there’s no tourists to bother us. Come on, share some fish and tell us about England. Do the girls there all have cute accents like yours?’

  Tessa flashed him a glance of pure poison. Niamh blinked. Had she imagined it? Tony appeared oblivious. Was he flirting with her? Could Tessa be jealous?

  Niamh nearly laughed aloud. She was being ridiculous. In what universe would a girl like Tessa ever need to be jealous of her? The pause was beginning to extend uncomfortably. Tony’s question hung in the air and she needed to answer, preferably without alienating Tessa.

  ‘Probably,’ she replied, smiling nervously at him. ‘I guess that after handing out the perfect bodies to the American girls, it was all God had left to give us Brits.’