by Chris Vick
Jake wasn’t going to the police. But Dad didn’t know that.
Would the people he was working with threaten Jake? Buy his silence? Beat him up?
Worse?
Just how far would these men go to protect themselves?
She didn’t want to think about it, yet she couldn’t think about anything else.
*
It took at least half an hour to get there. She didn’t stop running, flat out, till she reached the end of the terrace. She hammered on the door. April answered.
Hattie was standing behind her mum. ‘Hannah!’ she shouted, squeezing past April. She threw her arms round Hannah and buried her head in her chest.
‘How lovely to see you,’ said April. ‘Are you all right? You seem a bit out of breath.’
‘Where’s Jake?’ said Hannah.
‘He’s not here, love. Gosh, everyone’s looking for him today. And there was a message from your dad on the answer machine this morning, asking if you were here. All very confusing.’
‘Who was looking for Jake?’ Her voice cracked. Her heart pounded with panic. ‘Tell me who, April.’
‘A man. Said he has a contract for Jake. Some boat work. He didn’t know about Jake’s leg. Good money too and—’
‘April, did Jake go with the man?’
April frowned. ‘No. Jake had already left for the harbour.’
‘When was this?’
‘Not long ago. Is everything all right, love?’
Hannah gently unlocked herself from Hattie’s embrace. ‘Yes, everything’s fine.’ She forced lightness into her voice. ‘I just need to see Jake, that’s all. As soon as I can.’
She saw the secret smiles. The hope on Hattie and April’s faces.
‘Ah, you need to see him. He left a note. He’s gone fishing with Sean and Goofy. But the man may have got to him before they set off. You might catch him if you’re quick.’
‘I need to use your phone. Now.’
‘Um, sure,’ said April, standing aside to let Hannah through. Hannah kept smiling. She didn’t want to worry them. She forced cheerfulness. A cap on the fear inside her.
She picked up the phone. ‘Oh God, oh God … What’s Jake’s number?’ She had never called him on a landline before, only on her phone, which was sitting on the table by her bed. ‘His number, April, what’s his number?’ she gabbled.
April gave it to her. Then: ‘You sure everything’s okay, love?’
Hannah turned away, focusing on listening to the rings. One. Two. Three. Too many. Pick up, Jake, pick up.
‘Hi, Mum,’ said Jake.
‘It’s not April, Jake. It’s me.’
‘Oh … Hannah.’
There was silence for a second or two. The heavy gap between lightning and thunder. Her heart burned just hearing his voice.
‘Um, how are you?’ he said.
‘Listen to me! Where are you?’
‘Down the harbour. We’re about to set off. We can do this, Hannah. Get your people out here soon, but we can do this.’
‘Do what? Never mind. Listen. Has my dad’s man found you?’
‘Your dad’s man? What do you mean?’
Hannah turned. April and Hattie were standing there, following every word. Eager for clues indicating the Great Reunion. ‘He’s been round here. Your house. He’s got a contract for you.’
‘Your dad’s … man … contract.’
Her words were like cogs falling into place.
‘Don’t speak to him, Jake. The deal he’s offering is bad. Very bad.’
‘We’re about to set off to sea.’
‘Don’t do that. Come home. Now.’ Hannah didn’t want to scare Hattie, but her voice was shaking. So was the phone in her hand. Jake’s mum saw it.
‘What’s going on?’ said April.
‘The offer of work isn’t a good one, Jake,’ said Hannah. He had to understand.
‘We’ll deal with that later,’ Jake said. ‘We’re out to sea. We’ve got a whale to rescue.’
‘What?’
‘There’s a whale caught in a net.’
The words made no sense. Whale. Net. Rescue. Impossible.
Then she realised. ‘It’s dead, I told you. Days ago. Just get here, now. Away from the harbour.’
‘You don’t understand. This is new, it happened this morning. A whale is caught in nets. I thought that was why you were ringing? We can do this. Just get your people out here. They’ll see our boat. We’ll shoot flares if we can get them.’
‘You need to come home … Jake, please.’
‘Okay, okay. I hear what you’ve said. I get it. I know Mum’s listening. Don’t worry, we’ll deal with your dad and his crew later. But we have to get out to sea now. It’s probably the safest place. Yeah?’
She bit her lip. There was no time to talk. No way to reason with him. She had to act.
‘Jake, let us know where the whales are, soon as you can. I’ll tell Steve and Neil and we’ll head out. And I’m going to call help. Proper help.’
Another pause, as he realised.
‘No, Hannah. You can’t do that.’
She put the phone down.
‘What’s going on, Hannah?’ said April.
She couldn’t find a lie to tell. She had to speak the truth, even if it meant scaring them.
‘April. I’m calling the police. To get them to the harbour, to Jake, soon as they can get there.’
April put a hand over her heart.
‘The police? Hattie, go to your room. Me and Hannah need to talk.’
‘No!’ said Hattie. ‘Is Jake in trouble?’
Hannah took Hattie by the shoulders and held her gaze. ‘Jake’s going to sea to help with a whale rescue. He’s safe out there. Do you understand? He’s safe. But when he gets back in he’s going to need the help of the police. We all are.’
‘Why, Hannah, why?’
It was a burning question. It would have to be answered. But not now.
‘Honey, there’s no time to explain.’
‘April, get the car started. We’re going to the harbour.’ A plan was forming in her head. She’d ring Neil on the way. She’d make sure Jake was okay, or, if he’d left, follow him out to rescue the whale from the nets.
Hopefully the police would find Jake, or the men. If not before, if Jake was already out to sea, then after the rescue.
Then he would be safe.
And after that?
There was no ‘after’ in her head.
Jake
JAKE PUT THE phone in his pocket and looked out to sea.
Hannah. He’d spoken to Hannah. Just hearing her voice had set him spinning. It made the ground shift like sand in the tide, made him sick with missing her.
‘Oy, daydreamer,’ Goofy shouted. ‘Thought we was in a hurry.’ Goofy had laid a pile of gear by the skiff. He was picking the last items up and chucking them in. Flippers, wetsuits, surfboards in bags. Goofy tapped his nose. ‘Useful for shallow water, see. Go places a boat can’t.’
‘That was Hannah, Goofy. Bad news.’
Goofy froze, a pair of flippers in his hand. ‘Go on.’
‘Lancaster’s men know who I am. They’re coming here. Now.’
Goofy chucked the flippers in the hull and spat on the ground. He grinned. ‘We’ll be ready for the bastards. We owe them for your leg.’ He put a fist in the palm of his other hand and crunched his knuckles.
‘We’ve got Sean with us. And …’ Jake took a deep breath. ‘Hannah’s telling the cops.’
The grin fell off Goofy’s face. ‘Oh.’
Jake walked up to Goofy and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘They’ll be waiting when we get back. The men or the police. Maybe both. This isn’t your mess. You should get away. Me and Sean can deal with the whale.’
Goofy’s eyes darted to the road, to the cliffs. Searching for Sean, or the men, or the police. ‘I can’t be got by the law, Jake. I can’t.’
‘It’s all right. Go.’
Goofy dry-swallowed. He looked at
the skiff, then at Jake. ‘Sod it!’ He booted the side of the boat.
‘I mean it,’ said Jake. ‘Scarper.’
‘You’re going to take care of stuff, are you? Like that? And what if the men come and Sean’s involved?’ Goofy pointed at Jake’s leg. ‘I think we’d better crack on, don’t you? And leave Sean here.’
‘I got cans and cakes and everything!’ Sean ran up, waving a loaded plastic bag. Goofy grabbed the bag and hurled it into the boat. He grabbed Sean too, by his jacket, and pushed him towards the boat. ‘Help get the skiff afloat. Quick.’
Goofy and Sean put their shoulders to the fore, either side of the long boat, and heaved it down the slipway.
Jake stood by, feeling useless, still reeling from speaking to Hannah.
Goofy helped Jake get in, then climbed aboard himself. Sean waded in up to his knees. He put a hand out. Goofy ignored him, grabbed an oar, and pushed the boat away from the slip, into deeper water.
‘Hey,’ said Sean. ‘I’m coming.’
‘No, you aren’t,’ said Goofy. He knelt by the outboard motor, and lowered the propeller into the water. ‘Stand clear, Sean. Unless you want to lose a hand.’
‘Bastards!’ cried Sean. He waded deeper, to the port side. He clung to the boat, tipping it. ‘You said I could come!’
‘Things have changed,’ said Jake. ‘It’s dangerous.’
‘I don’t care!’ Sean got an arm over the side and tried to haul himself up. Jake pushed his brother back into the sea.
‘Listen. I was shot, all right? Bloody shot. There are men after us. The police are coming. Go back to the shop till they arrive. You’ll see their car go by. Tell them where we are.’
Sean was shoulder-deep, now. His grip on the gunnel was stopping them leaving.
‘I’m coming with you.’ Sean’s eyes stabbed into Jake. With hope, disappointment, pleading.
‘Shit!’ said Goofy. He was staring at the harbour. A Range Rover was racing up to the boathouse. Goofy leapt up, grabbed the back of the boy’s jeans and pulled him over the gunnels like he was a sack of spuds.
‘Sit there!’ he ordered, pointing to the starboard side.
Goofy squatted at the aft. He sparked the engine and released the throttle. The boat lurched up. They raced out of the harbour.
Jake’s gut heaved, with the acceleration and with fear. He half expected a BAM of gunshot to break the air.
‘Stay low,’ he shouted at Sean.
The boat screamed through the chop, batting through waves, sending sheets of spray over the bow, charging up bigger waves and thumping down the other side.
Jake looked behind Goofy. The Range Rover stopped outside Lancaster’s boathouse. The painted ‘W’ was still there, next to the anchor. The doors opened, showing a gleaming motorboat on rollers.
‘Shit,’ said Jake.
‘What?’ Goofy shouted.
‘Lancaster’s speedboat,’ Jake shouted back. ‘They’ll wheel it down and launch in a minute.’
Sean lay hunched in the side of the boat, clinging to the gunnel with one hand, grasping his bag of food with the other, his eyes shot with excitement and fear.
‘What they going to do?’ he whimpered.
‘They aren’t joining us for a picnic, are they?’ said Goofy. ‘Hold on. This is going to get sick.’ The engine sounded a throaty, desperate whine. The aft sank and the bow lurched high as they picked up speed. They headed for the Cape.
Jake’s stomach melted as the skiff swerved a portside arc. Goofy was dodging waves. But he couldn’t dodge them all. They charged into a hefty one. It dragged at the skiff like a heavy hand.
He looked at Sean, cowering there, and cursed himself for being a fool and putting Sean in danger.
‘Boat’s not made for these conditions,’ Goofy shouted. ‘We’ll need to be careful.’
‘And lucky,’ Jake said to himself.
They charged past the edge of the Cape and out to open sea. Straight ahead were the Pendrogeth Islands, stark, sharp and dark in the thick sea. A lighthouse shone on the largest rock. Normally they’d go round it, because these rocks had teeth. One crack, one savage denting, and they’d sink.
Jake looked back. The land was distant already. The men, stick figures, were climbing aboard the boat. How many? Two, at least.
Jake tried to imagine what would happen if the men caught them.
What weapons did they have against guns? Knives. A spear gun in the locker. He pictured them throwing the cans of fizz Sean had in the bag.
Laughable.
If they were caught, they were screwed.
If.
Goofy’s plan was clear enough. Take the skiff where the motorboat couldn’t go and run quick out the other side. Make distance, buy time. The rocks were deadly, the swell mean, and the skiff too small for the conditions. But right now these things weren’t a disadvantage, and might even give them an edge. They could get through. The motorboat would struggle.
And they knew the place. Lancaster’s men didn’t.
After the Pendrogeths there was a long stretch of water past Mottle Island, then the Gunner Isles where the whales were. A maze of reef and rock.
If they made it there, they had a chance of losing the men altogether. A good chance too.
Jake looked back. The motorboat was in the water now, racing towards them, a steady ‘V’ of white water in its wake. Jake calculated how soon it would catch them; how soon they would reach—
His body slammed into the side of the skiff. The boat made a gut-churning turn.
‘Jesus!’ A stack of hard granite loomed ahead.
‘Look out!!’ Jake braced. He put one arm over his head, exactly as he did when he got thrown off a big wave. The skiff carved round the rock, missing it by a foot.
A cloud of gulls and gannets filled the air. Goofy slowed the throttle as they swooped another tight bend.
‘You almost killed us,’ said Sean. He sat up, his head bobbing about like a panicked meerkat.
Goofy didn’t seem to hear. His hand gripped the tiller and his gaze stayed dead-ahead steady.
‘Watch out!’ Sean screamed as they skimmed another rock.
The boat slowed. ‘Get over the bow,’ said Goofy.
Jake pulled himself to the front of the skiff. It hurt. His leg shrieked with pain.
‘You’re bleeding,’ said Sean. A small trickle had escaped the bandage, run down his leg and smeared into the water at the bottom of the boat. He must have torn the wound when he was thrown. He leant over the bow, as far as he dared.
They were in the shallows. Smack in the heart of the Pendrogeths. A risky place for a bigger boat, but it was easy to see the rocks: patches of light stone and banks of seaweed. In between were thin, curving paths of deep water to follow.
Jake shouted instructions: ‘Left. Sharp right. Dead ahead.’ Slowly they weaved and dodged, till they saw a gap between small islands, showing the open sea.
The sight of it teased them. But they could hear the motorboat getting closer.
Goofy released the throttle. The skiff charged forward – and a sickening crunch sounded. The skiff croaked as it scraped across rocks. They were stuck.
‘She’ll tear if I force it,’ said Goofy.
‘Shit,’ said Jake. ‘We got to get out of here!’ The engine was phutting quietly now. They could hear Lancaster’s boat getting closer every second.
Jake felt sweat drip down his brow and heard his own noisy breath. Gulls cried sharply above, a cloud of them, like they were singing out: Here they are, here they are.
‘Sean, take the tiller,’ said Goofy, then launched himself off the side, landing on the rocks, thigh-deep in water. The boat lifted a few inches.
Goofy pushed the boat forward. It stuck again.
‘Steady. Kill the engine. Lift the propeller.’ Sean did as he was told.
The swell was sweeping over the rock, lifting the skiff a foot only for it to drop again when the water retreated.
‘Quick!’ said Sean.<
br />
‘I can’t force it,’ snapped Goofy.
With every wave that came through, Goofy pushed the boat onwards a couple of feet.
They did this to a rhythm.
Strand, lift, push.
Strand, lift, push.
‘Shit … oh shit,’ Jake mumbled to himself. What had he done? What had he got Sean into? He wasn’t religious, not a bit, but in his head Jake spoke to someone, to something: Please, please let us get out of this. Back to land. To safety. To the world they knew. Not this alien world, where men with guns were slowly, steadily making their way towards them.
Lancaster’s boat throbbed and whined nearby. But …
‘It’s not getting closer,’ said Jake. ‘Sounds like they’re looking for a way into the rocks.’
‘Good,’ said Goofy. ‘Because they won’t find one.’ A surge of swell lifted the skiff, and they were free. The boat wobbled, like she was surprised to find herself in deeper water.
Sean helped Goofy in.
The waters ahead were clear. A channel, as wide as a road, led between the rocks and out to open sea.
Goofy lowered the propeller and started the engine. The boat shot between the rocks, hit the deep and headed out in a straight line.
Jake looked back. The men must have heard them: the motorboat was racing for the outskirts of the rocks, away from the Pendrogeths. It was a long distance, a large semicircle tract, but the boat was fast. And as soon as they rounded the outer rocks they’d be headed their way. Straight at them like a shot arrow.
The skiff covered the open sea quickly. They made the distance to the Gunners before the motorboat was even halfway across, then headed round the islands, in a long arc. It would look like they were going further, to the Outer Gunners. Maybe even headed to the Scillies.
But as soon as they’d gone far enough to lose sight of Lancaster’s boat, Goofy swerved the skiff in a U-turn and headed into the heart of the islands.
The skiff carved and weaved. Its wake vanished quickly in the choppy sea. There was no trail for the men to follow. No way for them to see where the skiff had gone. And there were plenty of channels: pathways between the islands.
Jake was lost too. Only the sun, sneaking behind fast-racing clouds, gave him any clue as to which direction they were headed in.
They broke free of the bulk of the islands, and made a line to the smaller Gunners.
