‘Thanks, Cate, if you’re not too tired that’d be great.’ Wendy sounded pleased and slightly touched, and for a few seconds Cate felt a pang of guilt that she was not exactly offering because she was feeling helpful. ‘But if she wants to go back into the room for any reason you have to leave it immediately. Be careful.’
Don’t worry, thought Cate, her heart racing at the thought of her first ever spying assignment. You have no idea how careful I’ll be.
There was a clatter of footsteps on the pontoon below and the two of them rushed to peer over the polished timber handrails. Beneath them on the pontoon stood three men. Two were tall, easily topping six foot four and dwarfing the smaller man who stood between them.
‘They’re early,’ said Wendy through a gritted smile as she waved to them.
One of the bodyguards was very broad, his shoulders straining out from an oversized beige jacket and his thick neck almost as wide as his closely shaven blond head. As Cate looked him up and down she spotted a bulge around the left waist of his dark blue chinos, scarcely concealed by the jacket he was wearing.
Armed, thought Cate. The other man was as dark as his companion was blond. Dark skinned, dark hair cut in a similar but slightly less severe manner than his colleague. He was dressed all in black: black T-shirt, jeans and leather ankle boots. The entire effect was one, Cate thought, of a pantomime villain. But any urge to snigger at his appearance quickly faded when Cate spotted that he too was armed and this time there was no attempt to cover up what looked like a pistol equipped with a silencer. An assassin’s weapon, Cate thought with a shiver, and shot a sideways glance at Wendy to see if she had noticed. But her boss seemed oblivious.
‘Good evening, Tass,’ she called down to the smallest of the three men below. ‘Great to see you. Welcome aboard.’
Without waiting to witness his raised hand of acknowledgment, she moved quickly towards the spiral staircase and disappeared down them at double-quick pace with Cate following at a distance.
As they reached the boarding deck, they saw that the two bodyguards had already put on deck shoes and were striding purposefully up the gangplank. Cate took a deep breath as they came towards her.
‘Welcome aboard,’ she said with her best smile. ‘I’m Cate and I will be happy to help you.’
Both men inclined their heads politely as they walked past her. ‘I’m Mikey,’ said the tall blond-haired man with a distinctly Cockney accent. His pale blue eyes were expressionless and he had the sort of bland face that was hard to remember, a face that would blend easily into a crowd and be hard to describe after he had gone. ‘And my mate ’ere is Ahmed. He don’t speak much English but he’s good wiv a gun.’
Ahmed turned a pair of very pale green eyes on Cate and then passed over her dismissively.
‘Nice to meet you, Cate, and fanks for the welcome,’ continued Mikey. ‘But don’t worry, luv, we’ve been ’ere before. We know where everyfing is and we’ll make ourselves comfortable. Now if you don’t mind, we’ll just check out the boat for anything untoward. In our own time.’
Cate looked uncertainly towards Wendy who was at the bottom of the gangplank exchanging kisses with Tass then nodded at her. ‘Whatever, Cate,’ she said. ‘Just let them get on with it. They’ve got a job to do protecting their boss.’
Suddenly Cate felt a lurch of panic. The gun was still tucked carefully under her bed, a place that no doubt the men would look first. She had a sickening feeling that she had been terribly, stupidly, careless not to have dealt with this problem before.
Cate turned to the men and in desperation she watched them as they set off to the top deck.
Cate had to get to her cabin now, but as she tried to make her escape she heard Wendy calling her back.
‘Cate. Cate, this is Tass Taplinski.’
Reluctantly, Cate turned back and then had to stop her jaw from dropping. She had seen pictures of Tass over the years, coming out of nightclubs with a gorgeous woman on his arm, at Ascot, Wimbledon and the Stowe Ball, and of course the latest shots of him at various social events with Nancy Kyle. But, Cate realised, those pictures which had shown him to be a good-looking guy had hardly done him justice. Standing in front of her, gazing into her face with his extraordinary almond-shaped blue-black eyes was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen in her life.
Strong wavy hair curled over olive-tinted skin and, despite the fact that he had not played on the tennis circuit for almost five years, he still had the physical tautness and toned hardness of a professional athlete. He was around five foot ten, Cate guessed, but his broad shoulders and narrow hips made him look much taller.
There was, thought Cate, something almost fake in his perfection, as if he had been airbrushed into looking that good. He belonged on the pages of magazines and in the movies – not here standing in front of her. She sighed inwardly.
To her annoyance, Cate felt almost breathless as she shook his hand and she guessed he knew the effect he was having on her.
‘Well hello, Cate,’ he drawled in an accent that was an attractive mix between his native Russian and North American. ‘It’s very good to meet you. It’s always great to have new people around and if Wendy recommends you – well, any friend of hers is a friend of mine!’
He turned to Wendy and anyone could see the effect his words were having on her – she smiled adoringly at him. That made Cate want to giggle.
Get a grip girl, she thought. He’s a smug poser who loves himself far too much.
‘I know where to come if I need anything,’ said Tass, turning back to Cate. ‘And now, if you two ladies will excuse me, I must go to see the gorgeous Nancy. Ciao, ciao for now.’
He headed through the glass doors and towards the master suite. But before he could take more than a few steps, there was a huge scream as a whirl of energy flung herself into his arms.
‘Darling, Tass!’ It was Nancy, immaculately dishevelled and smelling of Chanel No 5. ‘What kept you so long, you naughty boy?’
Taking his hand she led him back into the salon of the boat. Wendy heaved an audible sigh and Cate shot her a sympathetic glance.
But she had more pressing concerns on her mind. The gun had to be hidden and hidden quickly.
‘Wendy,’ she said. ‘Now everyone’s on board do you mind if I have a quick break to freshen up and have something to eat before we start serving dinner. Is that OK?’
Wendy, still in a dreamlike state, waved her hand vaguely and Cate shot off down below decks. To her relief, the bodyguards had not yet made their way to the crew quarters. She thought fast. It was way too late to hand the gun into the police and she didn’t want to just pitch it overboard in case it somehow got washed ashore.
She had to be honest with herself. The events of the last two days meant that she actually liked the thought of having a gun around. It was her protection if the worst came to the worst. She shook her head, amazed at how much her world – and her attitudes – had changed in just a few days.
Cate suddenly had a brainwave. She headed to the mess room and opened the small chest freezer in the kitchenette. A few seconds of rummaging around and she had what she was looking for – a packet of frozen vegetables. Her heart racing, she double checked that the corridor was still empty and nipped back into her room, fished the gun from under the bed and slipped it inside her T-shirt.
No one ever eats brussels sprouts, she thought to herself as she slid the pistol inside the packet of stubby vegetables. She pushed it right down to the bottom of the freezer. ‘And no one ever looks more than three quarters of the way down a freezer.’
She was just re-arranging the chips and frozen burgers over the gun when she heard a noise in the corridor. The bodyguards were on their way. For an instant she panicked, but then, as the steps drew nearer, she reached for a frozen dish marked Chicken curry. A few seconds later, as the bodyguards walked stealthily into the room, she was sitting at the bench gazing at the whirring microwave.
‘Starving,’ she
said brightly. Her heart was racing, petrified by just how close she had come to disaster.
The two men nodded in return and got to work carrying out a thorough search of the mess room, checking the TV cables and behind the pictures on the walls.
To Cate’s horror, Ahmed lifted up the lid of the freezer and had a quick look inside, moving a few bits of food around. But the gun stayed hidden.
‘Fanks,’ said Mikey over his shoulder as he left the room, the only word either of the men had spoken since they came in. Friendliness was clearly not their priority.
The microwave pinged and Cate sank back onto the bar seat, unsure whether or not to be relieved or terrified. God, that was close, she thought. And the evening had hardly even begun.
CHAPTER 7
Carrying a bucket containing cloths and numerous polishes and sprays, Cate walked towards Nancy’s bedroom feeling sick with fear and excitement. It was her first real spying assignment.
Just half an hour earlier, she had been up on the top deck serving champagne to a slightly drunk Nancy who was clinging to a rather bored-looking Tass.
Jules and Lulu stood to one side, pointedly ignoring the display of awkward affection. Cate even thought she saw contempt in Lulu’s face as she watched Nancy planting kisses on the handsome Russian’s cheek, but she could have been wrong.
The soft, early evening darkness had pushed back the last of the sun’s rays and the splash pool, lit up by underwater lights, stood out against the twilight like a huge shimmering sapphire.
After such a hot day, the cool night-time air felt like a caress on Cate’s bare arms as she handed out drinks to the four adults, none of whom bothered to thank her.
A table for two, laid with crisp white linen and furnished with silver cutlery and a double candelabra had been set by the side of the pool. As Marcus carried in a seafood paella and lobster platter, Lulu and Jules stood up.
‘We’re off to town,’ announced Jules. ‘We’ll see you guys in the morning.’
Neither Tass nor Nancy took any notice of his words. Indeed they didn’t even look in his direction but, as they left the deck, Lulu beckoned sharply to Cate to follow.
‘Leave them,’ she hissed as Cate moved up behind her. ‘Can’t you see they want to be alone?’
Cate followed behind, then watched carefully as Jules and Lulu tottered off down the pontoon. Cate began to account for everyone left on board. Tass and Nancy were safely on the top deck. Marcus was still in the galley: she could hear his singing as he concocted some amazing dessert, and Wendy was waiting on the main deck until whatever time the happy couple decided to call it a night.
Downstairs in the staff mess room, Cate found Bill playing cards with Mikey whilst Ahmed sat away from the others, on one of the red bar stools. It was a perfect time to go spying.
Cate made a big show of going over to the small sink and pulling out cleaning products and a bucket. ‘Just tidying up some of the main rooms,’ she said to no one in particular. Bill and Mikey ignored her and carried on with their good-natured banter but Ahmed turned and gave her a slow stare.
‘Which rooms?’ he asked.
‘Not sure yet,’ said Cate blithely. ‘P’raps the main salon and the bathrooms. Depends.’
‘Tell me when you’re going into Miss Kyle’s room,’ Ahmed said, gazing into Cate’s eyes as he spoke. She held his gaze but behind his pale eyes there was an emptiness which made Cate shudder inwardly. ‘I like to check and double check. Understand?’ He spoke flatly, without drama and Cate struggled to find a reply. Then Bill came to her rescue.
‘Blimey, mate, you’re a bit keen.’ The Australian spoke without looking up from the cards he was holding.
‘That’s Ahmed for you,’ said Mikey. ‘Likes to keep ’imself busy.’
Cate nodded and went back upstairs clutching her bucket and dusters. She didn’t have much time, she reckoned, before Ahmed came looking for her. Something told her he wasn’t the type to make idle threats.
Cate hesitated, wondering whether to ask Marcus to act as look out, but when she poked her head around the galley door he was gone, the kitchen immaculate and clearly shut up for the night. Cate cursed silently, thought for a few seconds and then ran back downstairs. She nipped into her room, grabbed her laptop from under the bed and then went to the laundry cupboard and pulled down a couple of thick towels.
With the computer tucked between them, she carried the towels ostentatiously and slowly past the mess room door. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ahmed look up as she went by. To him she was just carrying a pile of towels. He had no idea that they were hiding another pair of eyes.
At the top of the stairs, she dumped the towels, opened up the laptop and removed the tiny detachable webcam. Looking quickly around her, she spotted a crack between the door and the wall and, switching the camera on, she slid it quickly into the gap.
Reaching the safety of the middle deck she heaved a huge sigh of relief. So far, so good. But she had very little time left to play with. She picked up the towels and laptop again and walked quickly towards Nancy’s suite, then stopped and listened intently, her heart beating loudly, her breath shallow.
All was quiet, with just a few sounds of chat and music wafting down from the top deck where, pudding over, Nancy was presumably still snuggling up to her man. But just to make sure, she knocked softly on the door, then a second time more loudly. She opened it quietly. The bedroom was almost dark, lit only by a wavering light coming in through the portholes.
Cate padded silently over to the bedside table and switched on one of the lamps which gave out a light just bright enough to see by but, she hoped, dim enough not to attract attention. Nervously, she checked out the bathroom and the dressing room, looking behind the doors and back into the depths of the closets. To her relief there was no one lurking – she was definitely on her own.
She switched on the laptop, put it on the dressing table, clicked for the webcam viewer and held her breath. To her delight a flickering picture of the lower stairwell came up on the screen. She turned up the volume and within seconds could hear the faint noise of Bill and Mikey chatting just a few metres away. It was basic, she couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it did the job. As long as Cate kept an eye and an ear out for her laptop, she should have advance warning of anyone who came up the stairs from below deck.
Now she was ready to go to work. She started in the bathroom, rummaging amongst the numerous bottles of Crème de la Mer cleanser, La Prairie night cream, and Bulgari scented body soufflés, valiantly resisting the urge to spray some extremely expensive Tom Ford Night Orchid on her wrists.
She moved on into the dressing room and worked her way methodically through the clothes in the wardrobe, checking even the smallest pockets and the linings, but the best she could come up with were receipts from Harvey Nichols (three sarongs), Gucci (two pairs of sunglasses) and Tiffany’s (a gold ankle chain). She even checked inside and underneath each of the exquisite shoes.
For a few seconds she stopped and caught herself in the middle of her task. How do I know how to do this? she wondered. Just how have I come from being a schoolgirl on the number 42 bus to a secret agent searching the shoes of a supermodel?
The drawers were crammed with at least fifteen handbags that Cate had never seen before, ranging from tiny little Chanel evening numbers with delicate gold chains to a huge vintage Kelly bag that looked as if it belonged on a Sixties film set.
Despite her best intentions, Cate was starting to flag; the tension and the fear of being caught, not to mention the lack of anything specific to search for, was beginning to grind her down. As the seconds ticked by it was becoming harder and harder to fight the voice in her head that was saying, ‘Get out! Get out now!’
But still she hesitated. She didn’t, couldn’t, just give up. Not when logic and instinct told her that somewhere in this room could be the information that could help her discover the dreadful fate of those lovely animals.
The fl
ickering screen of the laptop showed that she had already got through four minutes of searching time and Cate, suddenly panicked that she might have missed some signal of approaching danger, used up a few more precious seconds standing by the speaker, ears straining to hear any unusual sound.
But there was no change, nothing to hear apart from the reassuring murmur of the men from the deck below and the music coming from the top deck. She forced herself to stop and think. If Nancy Kyle was carrying something precious, or dangerous, with her, she wouldn’t want the hassle of finding a hiding place every time she checked in somewhere new. It was risky and inconvenient. Far better to keep it hidden in something that travelled with her, something familiar, and easy to reach.
But what? Cate had already checked Nancy’s clothes and her toiletries and just about everything else in her suite that went where she did. Perhaps there was nothing to find. Maybe Marcus and his mates had got it all completely wrong about Nancy.
And just then, Cate’s gaze fell onto the large silver-framed photograph of Nancy with the mountain gorilla and she nearly kicked herself with frustration at her stupidity. How could she have missed such an obvious hiding place?
Cate turned over the heavy frame and undid the catches at the back. The thick wood backing came away easily and taped on the inside was a piece of paper. Cate let out a breath of air. Success.
Trying hard to control her natural inclination to rip away the tape, Cate instead carefully peeled it from the frame, noting exactly where it had been placed. The thick piece of paper was small, less than ten centimetres by fifteen centimetres and folded over twice. Curiously Cate opened it.
The beautiful and the rare animals of the wilderness thank you for your generosity and courage. Your name will go down in history. Such a beautiful woman, you are, quite literally, saving our planet.
Despite herself, Cate found herself grinning at the flowery language, before beginning the task of working out the flamboyant signature at the bottom. It took a few seconds to pick up the rhythm of the bright green inked letters but finally she had it. Frederico Mantoni. Or it could be Mantani. She had no idea of knowing whether it was important but at least it was something concrete to go on.
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