Laura Marlin Mysteries 2: Kidnap in the Caribbean (13 page)

Celia and Sebastian sat in the rear of the limo and talked in low voices, glancing at the children from time to time. The bodyguards sat on either side of Laura and Tariq in the seat behind the driver, watching their charges with diminishing interest. It was clear that they thought two eleven-year-olds presented a minimal threat. Skye was a different matter. Large had threatened to push him out of the door at high speed if he so much as whimpered.

‘He’s a three-legged dog,’ Laura said. ‘What kind of monster are you?’

‘A monster from your worst nightmares,’ he leered.

‘Skye,’ called Laura softly, and the husky was on the seat in a bound. He sat squeezed between her and Tariq, facing the road ahead, tongue lolling.

‘If that mutt damages the limo, we’ll send him to the fur factory,’ Sebastian warned. ‘He’ll make a great coat.’

‘Why are you doing this?’ Laura demanded. ‘What is this about? Where are you taking us? Are you taking us to my uncle?’

Sebastian bared small white teeth. ‘So many questions, Miss Marlin. Don’t you worry your pretty little head. All will become clear in good time.’

‘I hope you understand the risk you’re taking,’ Tariq said. ‘Calvin Redfern will never let you get away with this.’

Sebastian laughed. ‘It speaks! Well, son, let me be the first to inform you that the Straight A’s have spent years perfecting the art of the kidnap. We most assuredly will get away with it. As for Calvin Redfern, he doesn’t exactly have a choice.’

Laura’s eyes roamed the limo, searching for an escape route. Tucked into the side panel of the left door was an orange cylinder. She was fairly confident that it was a signal launcher – a device used by sailors to set off emergency flares. A sort of mini rocket launcher. Her uncle had shown her one on a boat in St Ives. It was an odd thing to have in a limo and suggested that the LeFevers spent time at sea in situations that had the potential to become emergencies. She wondered what those situations were.

She did a mental rehearsal of snatching it from the side pocket, aiming it at the seat or the carpet and pulling its cord or trigger. Theoretically it would cause a fire, creating a diversion that might allow them to escape. But if it went wrong … Laura imagined blinding or burning someone in the car, perhaps even Tariq. It was not worth it. She’d have to wait for another opportunity and hope that it didn’t come too late.

The glass panel that separated driver from passengers slid back and the chauffeur enquired: ‘Everything all right wit’ you, folks?’

Laura felt like screaming, ‘You’ve kidnapped three people and a dog after dragging them halfway across the world on an elaborate con, how can everything be all right?’ but then she noticed something interesting. Skye was fixated on the chauffeur’s earring. A hunting light had come into his blue eyes. Laura had seen it only a couple of times before, but it had sent a chill through her. She loved him with all her heart but she never forgot that the wildness of his wolf forebears still lived in him.

As subtly as she could, she reached across and squeezed Tariq’s hand to alert him. He followed her gaze and tensed.

The chauffeur turned his head to check for traffic at an intersection and accelerated rapidly. His earring jerked and danced. As fast as a striking cobra, Skye had the earring between his jaws, almost pulling the chauffeur’s earlobe off. The man let out a screech of fright and pain and lost control of the car. It mounted a boulder on the roadside, burst a tyre and rolled twice.

Laura and Tariq, who were strapped in, had a hazy awareness of crunching metal and breaking glass. The limousine filled with black smoke. Everybody shouted at once. Skye barked frantically. The chauffeur slammed on the brakes as the carpet caught fire.

‘Get out! Get out!’ yelled Sebastian, wrenching at the door handle. Laura and Tariq stumbled into the night, their lungs burning, bruised but alive. The thin bodyguard staggered bloodily from the car and lost consciousness. The other fell to his knees retching. The hem of Celia’s dress had caught fire and Sebastian was beating it out with a palm frond. The chauffeur was slumped over the steering wheel, covered in broken glass. Once Celia was safe, Sebastian and Large dragged him free.

‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ Tariq asked Laura between coughs.

Laura grabbed Skye’s collar. ‘Yes, but wait one second.’ In the shadows near the car was Celia’s bag, thrown there by Sebastian. Some of its contents had spilled. Laura grabbed a fistful of dollar notes and their passports. ‘Is it still called stealing if you take stolen money from kidnappers?’

For an answer, Tariq grabbed her hand and they fled into the night. There were shouts, but before anyone could come after them the limousine exploded. The blast was so deafening that Laura’s ears rang for several minutes afterwards. Shards of burning metal flew in all directions. A great ball of white flame ballooned into the sky. The air was hot enough to roast potatoes.

Laura and Tariq ran without looking back. Still coughing and wheezing from the smoke, they tore through the darkness with no aim except to put as much distance between them and their captors as possible. There was no moon. At times, they could barely see their hands in front of their faces.

Tariq stopped. His lungs were burning. ‘Why don’t we give Skye his head and see if his instincts take over? He might lead us to safety.’

Released from his lead, the husky didn’t hesitate. He led them along a narrow path through a grove of ferns and trees, past the shell of a ruined house, and across a darkened building site. A stitch which started as a pinprick in Laura’s side rapidly became a twisting knife. By the time they reached a dirt road, Tariq was limping and she was in agony. In front of them was a line of palm trees and a silvery swathe of beach. Fishing boats winked like diamonds on the sea beyond.

Laura collapsed on the overgrown verge. ‘That’s it,’ she panted. ‘I don’t care if they catch us. I can’t move another step.’

Tariq sank to the ground beside her. He lay back and shut his eyes. Only Skye was keen to keep running.

Through the darkness came the clip-clop of hooves. A horse and cart rattled round the bend and pulled up beside them. A white-haired Caribbean man with a hat full of holes and a jacket full of patches gazed down at them.

‘Well, dis ain’t some’at dat Jess and I see every night. Youse all look weary and a bit sorry for youselves and we don’t tolerate no long faces here in da Caribbean. Can I offer you folks a ride?’

THE BLUE HAVEN
Resort had three swimming pools, five restaurants, two tennis courts, two private beaches, a gymnasium, a spa and a small cinema. Guests stayed in white clapboard villas scattered across five acres of grounds, lush with emerald grass and tropical vegetation alive with geckos, frogs and iridescent green hummingbirds collecting nectar from pink honeysuckle blossoms. Scarlet and orange hibiscus waved at the entrance of each villa.

‘Who’d have thought that the chauffeur who tricked me in St Ives a week or so ago would end up indirectly setting us free purely because he was vain enough to put on that ridiculous feather earring,’ Laura remarked the following morning as she and Tariq sat on the balcony of Guava Villa tucking into a breakfast of fried plantains, baked beans, scrambled eggs and pancakes dripping with maple syrup. Skye crunched up bacon slices at their feet.

‘I almost feel sorry for Celia and Sebastian LeFever,’ Tariq said, spearing a piece of pancake and several slices of plantain. ‘When Calvin Redfern escapes or we find him, which will happen, their lives won’t be worth living.’

‘You can’t possibly feel sorry for them,’ Laura told him. They’d enjoyed an early morning swim in the bay and her short blonde hair was standing up in spikes. ‘I hate to imagine what grisly fate they had in store for us. They’re the kind of people who keep sharks in their swimming pool. We’d have been fed to them, a limb at a time.’

Watching pelicans dive for fish in the lagoon below them, Laura almost pinched herself. It was hard to take in that they were temporarily safe and in this beautiful place when it had seemed certain their visit to Antigua would end in arrest or worse. Collapsed on the roadside the previous night, their situation and that of her uncle had seemed hopeless. Then, like Good Samaritans, Joshua and his old horse had come along.

‘Where you folks headed?’ he’d asked them, as if there was nothing in the least unusual about coming across an English girl, a Bengali boy and a Siberian Husky sitting on the roadside in the moonlight.

‘Blue Haven Resort,’ Tariq answered, quick as a flash. ‘We’re staying there. We took our dog for a walk and got a bit lost.’

‘Dat right?’ Joshua muttered but he didn’t say anything. ‘Well, hop in, boy. Don’t know exackerly which hotel dat one is. I ain’t from around here. But I’m guessing it’s near Blue Haven bay, not ten minutes down dis here track.’

And with a click of Joshua’s tongue and flick of the reins, they were on their way.

‘Are you nuts?’ Laura whispered to Tariq as they bumped through the darkness along a beach road. The air smelled of coconut and sea salt. Skye hung over the side of the cart, fur ruffling in the breeze, determined not to miss a single scent. ‘The Straight A gang booked us in there. We might as well call them and say, “We’re staying in the most obvious place in Antigua. Come and get us!”’

‘It’s because it’s so obvious that we should go there,’ Tariq told her. ‘They won’t think of looking for us there for days, and by then we’ll be long gone. Anyway, grown-ups always underestimate kids. They don’t think we can find our way out of a paper bag. Celia and Sebastian will be picturing us as couple of crying babies, lost in the rainforest, right now. The last thing that would occur to them is that we might hitch a ride to our hotel, calmly check in and stay the night.’

‘If the hotel allow us to check in without a grown up,’ Laura said. ‘They might not. They might even call the police. But if it works, it’s a great idea. Matt Walker says the simplest plan is usually the best one.’

She scooted along the wooden bench. ‘You said you’re not from around here, Joshua. Where’s home?’

He pointed at the shimmering sea. ‘Dat’s home, right der.’

Laura thought at first that he meant he lived on a boat, but then she saw it: a dark shape on the horizon. A swirl of cloud obscured the top.

‘Dat der’s Montserrat.’

‘Montserrat, the volcano island?’ Laura felt her heart clench. It had been the part of the trip her uncle had been most looking forward to.

‘Sure is, honey love.’ Only with Joshua’s accent it sounded like ‘onny lov’.

‘Were you there when it erupted?’ Tariq asked excitedly. He’d been learning about volcanoes at school and found them fascinating.

‘Sure was. And for tree years before dat when earthquakes trembled and rocked da island like it was a dinosaur wit’ indigestion. Da Soufriere Hills Volcano erupted on 18 Joolly 1995 after lying dormant for centuries. For two years dat volcano billowed smoke twenny-four seven. Burning rocks and steam came pouring down the mountain. Dey buried Plymouth, our capital city. Nowadays, it ain’t nutting but a ghost town.’

‘My uncle says that two-thirds of the islanders were forced to flee and that most of them never went back,’ Laura said. ‘Is that was happened to your family?’

At the mention of family she was reminded once again of her uncle’s plight. Her stomach heaved. Where was he? Had they hurt him? Was he afraid? Would she ever see him again? She took a deep breath. Yes, she told herself firmly, she would. She definitely would.

The cart slowed. An arching blue sign announced the Blue Haven Resort. A security guard stepped from his hut and regarding them enquiringly. Joshua was talking but she’d missed some of it.‘… because of dem skeletons,’ he was saying.

‘I beg your pardon,’ Laura said. ‘Would you mind repeating that?’

‘I say my wife and I were ’vacuated after the volcano, but we went back soon as we could. We lost everything but we wanted to help rebuild our homeland. Dey call it da Emerald Isle, you know. Folks say it’s as lush and green and beautiful as Ireland. All was coming along nicely till around one year ago when da skeletons started.’

Tariq craned forward. ‘What skeletons?’

‘Skeletons dat dance on the slopes of da volcano. I tell my wife it’s a trick of da light, but she tell me she see dem clear as day close to the dolphin place. Other people see dem too. Not once. Two, three, five times. So I move her to Antigua because she weren’t giving me no peace about it.’