‘Nah, just a bit of island hopping to pick up their bosses.’
The sandy path which climbed up from the jetty led to a circular gravel drive. Ahead of them stood the castle, its granite stone looking almost comical against the background of tropical plants and blue sky.
‘They’re Spanish, aren’t they?’ said Cate. She put on her girly expression. ‘I thought I recognised the accent. I did Spanish for GCSE. I was rubbish at it.’
The pilot looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Close. They’re South Americans. From one of those tiny countries no one has really heard of. Patagonia, Catania – something like that.’
‘Cotia?’ suggested Cate, holding her breath.
‘Yeah, could be. Sounds about right.’ He gestured over towards a long, low building. ‘I’m off to the staff quarters to grab a quick change of shirt before I take the happy pair to pick up their bosses. Nice talking to you.’
‘When do you get back?’ Cate said desperately, hoping that she hadn’t pushed her luck too far.
He stopped still. ‘Bit curious, aren’t you?’ he said, his tone turning unfriendly. ‘Why do you want to know?’
Cate felt her stomach curling. ‘Oh, just in case Nancy is around and in a good mood,’ she said airily. ‘I might be able to convince her to say hello. You never know your luck.’
He relaxed, smiled and looked at his watch. ‘I’m due back in at around nineteen hundred hours. Maybe see you then? Cheers – Cate, wasn’t it?’
‘Babe!’ The scream reverberated around the vast marbled reception area of the castle. For a few seconds, Cate couldn’t see where the sound was coming from but then, looking up, she saw a slash of bright red lipstick topped by a shock of platinum hair leaning perilously far out over the heavy wooden gallery above her head.
‘Hi, Nancy,’ called Cate as the supermodel came rushing down to greet her as fast as her three-inch platform sandals would allow. ‘Great to see you. How’s life on Purbeck Island?’
‘Weeell . . .’ Nancy stopped suddenly and screwed up her face before presenting it again to Cate for a kiss on both cheeks. ‘Mwah, mwah, darling. I guess it is beautiful, and the villa is amazing and the food is out of this world, but overall it’s a tad, ummm, boring.’ She linked her arm through Cate’s. ‘The problem is, babe, seen one luxury island, seen them all.’
Cate thought of all her friends who would pretty much give their right arm to spend just a few days somewhere as incredible as this place. ‘How are things with Lucas?’ she asked. ‘You two managed to make up?’
‘Not sure,’ said Nancy doubtfully as she marched Cate past the smiling receptionist and out into the scented sunshine. ‘The thing is, I haven’t actually seen him that much since we had our massive row. He’s been locked away in the basement writing songs. He says he’s on a roll and has to go with it.’
‘Oh,’ said Cate. ‘Well, that’s musicians for you.’ She tried to think of a way to cheer her up. ‘Maybe it’s because of you, Nancy. Perhaps you’re his inspiration. He could even be writing a song about you. Perhaps you might even get a mention on the album cover.’
‘Sort of like his muse?’ said Nancy, smiling.
‘Sort of,’ said Cate, encouragingly.
They had walked past the pool area and were now heading along a narrow terracotta tiled pathway through what seemed to be a small rainforest. A canopy of trees and vines with huge leaves provided cooling shade and, not too far away, Cate could hear the tinkle of a waterfall.
As they crossed over a small wooden bridge, a flock of parakeets flew up in front of them and, through a strategically-cut pathway, Cate caught a glimpse of the harbour where she had just landed. A large white motor yacht was pulling away from the island. ‘Wow,’ she breathed. ‘This place is like a film set.’
‘I suppose it is,’ said Nancy vaguely.
Yet despite the perfection, Cate felt that somehow this version of paradise was nowhere near as lovely as the wilderness of Snapper Bay.
Meanwhile, Nancy had been hit by inspiration. ‘Never mind getting a cover mention, Cate. I’m going to be on the cover. Actually I will be the cover. A great big picture of me looking beautiful. Genius. I’ll tell Lucas this evening over dinner. He’ll have to forgive me then.’
‘Great idea,’ said Cate as enthusiastically as she could. Somehow she couldn’t quite see Lucas plastering a picture of a girl, no matter how beautiful, on his latest album cover – but then again, Nancy could be very persuasive.
‘Here we are,’ said Nancy finally, turning under a metal archway which was smothered with large purple flowers. ‘Home sweet home.’
Cate had been expecting the sort of villa she and her family stayed in when they holidayed in Greece or Spain – a white or stone cottage with a red tiled roof and perhaps a small swimming pool. Instead, this place was like a Georgian mansion, huge floor to ceiling French doors on the ground floor and large sash windows on the first floor. In front of them lay an improbably smooth, bright green lawn which ran up to the steps of a white pillared porch. An archway at the other end of the building led through into a courtyard where Cate could see a waterfall running down to a layered water feature.
‘The pool’s round the back,’ said Nancy carelessly as she opened the front door. The sound of a complicated guitar riff floated up from somewhere beneath them, followed by a few ripe curses.
Nancy raised her eyebrows at Cate and then opened her wide mouth. ‘Valentina!’ Nancy yelled at the top of her voice, making Cate jump. ‘Visitors.’
A small grey-haired woman scuttled out of one of the enormous doorways which lined the galleried hallway. She looked harassed, her small beady eyes darting nervously at Nancy, but when she saw Cate she gave her a welcoming smile. ‘Welcome to Villa Romantica,’ she said, rushing forward to pick up Cate’s rucksack. ‘Let me show you to your room, Miss.’
‘Later, babe,’ said Nancy as she disappeared off through another door. ‘Catch you later.’
Cate’s room was vast, with views that overlooked the front lawn at one end. The other end was dominated by a large four-poster bed swathed in acres of pale muslin and behind that wooden blinds covered a huge window. Cate peered through the slats and looked down onto the oval swimming pool where Nancy was already ensconced on a lounger, a waiter serving her what looked like a very large glass of champagne. Opposite Nancy, on the other side of the pool, Pete the drummer and the Aussie soap star were cuddled up on a double rocker which swung out over the water. Next to Nancy, thought Cate, the soap star, with her tiny white and gold bikini and her white stilettos, looked like a supermarket checkout girl.
As she watched, she saw a man with long, dark hair walk into the garden and head for Nancy. She sat up and smiled broadly at him, presenting the side of her perfect face to him for a kiss. He looked familiar and after a few seconds Cate remembered why. The man standing in the garden below her was none other than Wayne Shawn, one of the world’s most famous cricketers. He was retired now – Cate knew that from Arthur who had had a poster of Wayne on his wall for years – but he often made the headlines, mainly for his unlikely conquests of the most eligible women in the world.
If I were Lucas, thought Cate as she saw Nancy move over on the lounger to make room for Wayne to sit down, I wouldn’t sulk in the basement for too much longer.
The windows opened out onto a tiled balcony where Cate found a table and chairs and a couple of teak sunbeds as well as a fridge stocked with mini bottles of water, Coke, and lemonade. She searched in vain for the ensuite, pushing on false doors and opening wardrobes until she finally found a discreet door in the corner of the room. Behind it was a marble bathroom, complete with very wide, claw-footed roll-top bath.
There was a tap at the door and Cate called, ‘Come in.’ A young maid was carrying a pile of fluffy towels that almost obscured her face. She went into the bathroom and reappeared a few seconds later. ‘You need anything?’ she asked in a Russian accent. ‘Shall I unpack?’
The maid was probably o
nly a few years older than Cate but she seemed so tired and careworn. Looking at her name tag, Cate felt a pang of pity for the girl.
‘Everything is fine, thank you, Marissa,’ she said, smiling at her. On an impulse she reached into her purse and brought out a twenty dollar note, placing it gently into the surprised maid’s hand.
‘Please,’ said Cate. ‘The room looks lovely and I’m very grateful.’
The maid looked at the note and then at Cate and smiled. ‘Thank you very much,’ she said as she made her way towards the door. ‘You are a kind girl.’
Cate sat down and pulled out her phone. Marcus took so long to pick up that Cate was beginning to think she had made a mistake when she had dialled his number.
‘Marcus, the Cotians are coming right here to Purbeck Island.’ Cate’s words tumbled out in rush.
She heard him take in a deep breath. ‘Hey, Cate, chill. Take it easy, will you?’ Marcus was clearly in one of his laid-back moods. ‘Are you sure you’ve got the right guys?’ He was speaking loudly over a roaring noise in the background.
Cate paused for a second, thinking things through. She hated breaking her word to Miles and Matthias but she’d known that this time would probably come.
‘Marcus,’ she said, ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’
He listened in silence as she recounted the events of that terrifying afternoon back in Sydney.
When she had finished, Marcus let out a low whistle. ‘So you think the two men you saw today were the same thugs who tried to set fire to your mate? Cate, you really should have told me about his before.’
‘I know,’ said Cate, wincing, ‘but I hate breaking my promises and I wasn’t sure if there was any link. But now . . .’ She stopped again to compose her thoughts. She had to convince him of the importance of what she had seen. ‘The pilot told me they were bodyguards, and that their Cotian bosses are arriving this evening. This could be the perfect opportunity to find out what they are up to.’
‘Cate Carlisle, I knew I was right to bring you back on board,’ Marcus said, trying hard and failing to keep the smugness out of his voice. ‘Just wait till I tell Henri. He thought you were a one-hit wonder, that you’d never be able to play to the same high standards as the summer.’
‘OK, OK, Marcus,’ said Cate stiffly, not quite sure whether to be pleased or annoyed that she had become the subject of a competition between the two IMIA agents. ‘Can we get back to the Cotians? So much has happened the last twenty-four hours that I’m not sure I can think straight any more.’
‘Sure, sure.’ Cate could hear Marcus pulling himself together. ‘OK, Cate. We’ve got a Cotian using Snapper Bay as a pick up and drop-off point for money and guns. And you’ve just seen two men leave Purbeck Island who are probably, if your pilot friend is right, Cotians who you can definitely place as the thugs who set fire to the Eco Trust’s headquarters.’
‘With someone in it,’ Cate reminded him.
‘With someone in it,’ agreed Marcus. The line was beginning to crackle.
‘Marcus,’ said Cate curiously. ‘Where are you?’
‘On an Australian air force jet flying over New Zealand as it happens,’ said Marcus cheerfully. ‘They offered me a jaunt up to the Arctic Circle and I couldn’t resist it. Sorry, Cate, I had no idea things would move this fast.’
‘Marcus,’ said Cate sternly. ‘At nineteen hundred hours several Cotians, if that’s who they are, will arrive on Purbeck Island. You promised me I wouldn’t have to get involved. Just keep a look-out, that’s all, you said. I was really hoping that I could hand everything over to you now and get back to my holiday.’
‘Sorry, Cate, no can do,’ said Marcus. ‘We won’t land in Sydney for another two hours. The earliest I can turn it around up to Purbeck will be for around nine-thirty tonight. Until then it’s over to you. You know what to do. Listen in to their conversations, try to work out where they’ve been hiding. Cheers, Cate.’
‘Marcus!’ Cate said, exasperated as the line went dead. She threw her phone down onto the sofa beside her, then, after a few minutes, began rummaging into her rucksack for the bag of tricks Marcus had given her. It looked as if she would be needing them sooner that she had anticipated. She looked longingly out at the swimming pool where she had hoped she would be spending the rest of the day and sighed.
Cate was meant to have spent the last few hours sleeping. At least that was what she’d told Nancy when she called up to her room to ask why she wasn’t at the pool. But in fact Cate had been very busy indeed.
First stop had been the jetty, now completely deserted as most of the resort seemed to be taking a siesta. Cate stripped off her light cotton dress and sandals and, clad only in her swimming costume, eased herself slowly into the water, using the slats to pull herself beneath the wooden frame. Holding onto one of the damp jetty posts with her left hand to keep herself above water, she fumbled in the waterproof bag slung around her neck. She didn’t know much about the Cotians’ plans but she did at least know where and when they would be arriving.
The bug was no larger than her little fingernail, and it slotted perfectly into a small crack Cate found in the wood just above her head. As a precaution, she shook the slat hard but the bug stayed firmly put. That done, Cate dropped gently into the water and dived into the depths leaving hardly a ripple behind. By the time she surfaced, she was metres away from the jetty – to anyone watching, she was just another swimmer on a hot afternoon.
The seaplane was bang on time, skimming low through the sunset haze and landing on the pinky water with hardly a splash. Cate was sitting fifteen metres away, halfway up a vast redwood tree in a treehouse that had clearly been designed for a small child.
‘Thank God,’ she muttered as the plane door finally opened. She had only been there for ten minutes but already her legs were aching from their cramped position and she had banged her head at least five times on the timber roof.
The bald security guards were out first, walking to the end of the jetty, scrutinising the trees and bushes, looking up and down the path and the deserted beach. For a few awful seconds, Cate thought they might spot the treehouse and come to investigate. Cate bit her lip as she watched the smaller of the two men kneel down and stick his head underneath the jetty horribly close to where she had placed the bug, before he stood up and signalled to someone inside the plane.
Seconds later, two men, immaculate in neatly creased chinos and expensive-looking shirts, got out of the plane and were stood on the jetty waiting for their bags. Cate brought out her camera pen and zoomed in on them, photographing their faces. Then she put on some headphones, switched to record on the handheld bug receiver and began to listen. At first she struggled to hear above the gentle hiss of the water. But then she heard voices, which became words and then conversations. She sat up, concentrating hard. Cate wasn’t bad at Spanish but she had no idea how close European Spanish would be to South American Spanish.
Five minutes later she pulled off the headphones and sat back on her sore legs, her mind racing. These men were going to be joined by several others for some sort of meeting. She’d heard where, now she somehow had to find out just what was on the agenda.
Room 14 lay right at the end of a very long corridor of conference rooms on the second floor of the castle. Cate strode along the thickly padded carpet doing her best to look as if she was totally entitled to be there, despite the fact she had already passed three signs that said Entry to authorised staff and guests only.
The plan was the best Cate could come up with at such short notice. She was carrying a couple of listening devices in the pocket of her cropped trousers, and she wanted to get into the meeting room, plant them and get well away before the meeting began at eight. She had no wish to get any closer than that to these killers.
For now the corridor was empty. As Cate neared the end she heard the sound of guitar music coming from a room to her left. She paused and pushed on the door gently. To her surprise it opened easily onto a va
st room about the size of Cate’s assembly hall at school. At the far end was a stage, and on it, Lucas Black was standing, eyes closed, his fingers dancing over the strings of his bright blue guitar, rehearsing for the gig. It sounded amazing and she could have stood there all day listening to him perform.
She pulled herself together. She had other things more pressing to attend to. Cate knocked gently on the door of Room 14 and waited, her heart beating fast. There was silence. She tried again and then turned the handle and went inside. The room was low ceilinged and windowless, lit only by a couple of low level lamps. It was dominated by a long, polished wooden table and rather plain wooden chairs covered in dull brown leather. At the far end, a large screen hung on the wall, ready for use, a projector beneath it whirring away gently.
Cate was inexplicably assailed by feelings of panic and claustrophobia, which she did her best to ignore. She looked around her for somewhere to hide the bugs. Under the table would have been the obvious place but after watching the security guards check out the jetty she was pretty certain they would carry out the basic checks here too. She looked under the lamp and along the wooden skirting board but knew they would check there as well.
She was just about to unscrew the projector casing when she heard a clattering sound outside the door. Before she had time to do more than move away from the projector, a trolley was being pushed into the room followed by none other than Marissa. She stared at Cate curiously before breaking into a smile as she recognised her.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘What are you doing here?’
She parked the trolley next to the table and began to unload jugs of water, wine, plates of whitebait and smoked salmon, wafer thin slices of salami, chorizo, hams and bowls of delicious smelling pastas and garlicky olives.
‘Errm, I was just exploring the hotel,’ Cate said lamely.
To her relief Marissa seemed to accept Cate’s feeble excuse. Marissa took a bunch of keys from her belt and walked over to a small door in the corner of the room. It opened to a miniature laundry room and Cate could see stacks of tablecloths, napkins and a couple of the blue and white staff uniforms hanging up.
Deep Water Page 13
