Archie bounded up, his ears pricked. With his nose to the ground he disappeared into the darkness and was back a few moments later with another white canister in his mouth, which he dropped at Maggie’s feet. She opened it and laid the note out in her hand, and they peered close to the fire to read it.
They’re coming. Ryan Snaith (small, freckles), Samuel Noyland (thin) and Paul Hodgson (not so thin). Leave the island while you still can – they are dangerous.
Just as they had thrown the scrap of paper into the fire, they caught the throb of an engine.
‘What shall we do?’ said Maggie. ‘I’m not going home now.’
‘We could climb a tree?’
‘They’re going to see our boat when they land. That’s it!’ she said, pulling Joel up by the wrist. ‘We need to get into the boat. We’ll stay out of their way until they’ve gone.’
Maggie poured some water on to the fire, grabbed the remains of the sausages and whistled to Archie to follow. They fumbled through the trees to the beach and shoved the boat hard out into the channel before clambering aboard. Taking an oar each, they sculled silently towards the moored yachts.
Out in the open, the first few stars were piercing the deep blue over the crinkled outline of the hills. The lake seemed to glow with a silvery light of its own. The only sound now was the dull throb of the engine, coming closer.
Maggie shuddered, and pushed Archie under a bench. ‘Keep low. Make it look like it’s empty.’ She offered Archie the sausages to keep him quiet.
They sculled through some moored yachts and found a vacant buoy. Maggie grabbed the ring and threaded Bobalong’s painter through it. Then they lay down in the bottom of the boat and listened.
The sound of the engine came level with them, and then slowed as the boat turned into the little bay on Ransome Holme. The engine was cut and they heard the bow crunch on the pebbles, a splash as someone stepped into the water, and low voices. There was an argument going on.
‘If you’d checked the tank before we left, you idiot, we could have been here ages ago!’
‘How was I to know we’d run out of diesel so soon? It’s the way you drive, Snakey. Burns more fuel.’
Maggie raised her head over the gunwale.
‘Be careful,’ whispered Joel.
Three torch beams were moving about in the trees.
The voices were louder now. ‘The fire’s still warm but they’ve put water on it, so they can’t be far away.’
‘Spread out and look.’ This was the one in charge. ‘Noyley, you go that way, Podge, that way, and I’ll stay here in case they come back.’
The three lights separated. After a few minutes of searching the lights came together again. There were whispers, then the sound of a cigarette lighter being struck. Once, twice, and suddenly the island was ablaze with firelight. There was the sound of rushing air. Sparks showered through the branches, as their tent burst into flames and lifted off the ground. The fireball fizzed and hissed for a few moments before the flames turned blue, and then died, leaving pungent fumes in the air, like the smell at the end of a firework display.
Maggie found herself moving in a fog of fury. Nothing she could do seemed fast enough. Her fingers fumbled with the rope. Her hands slipped as she grabbed the wet oars. They pulled the dinghy on to the beach and stumbled over some tree roots. As Maggie and Joel staggered into the clearing, all three torches were turned upon their faces.
Maggie spoke first, her voice breathless. ‘You’ve burnt our tent. What do you think you’re doing, you total nutters?’
‘Whoops!’ came the sarcastic reply. ‘Sorry about that. But this is our island. You’re trespassing. So get off it, now.’ It was the small boy, Snakey, the one who had tried to shoot the channel earlier.
Maggie was conscious of a rumbling growl coming from Archie beside her. Her throat felt tight as she spoke, but she forced the words out, hoping the piece of paper in the canister was not some sort of mistake: ‘Trespassing, are we, Ryan Snaith?’
There was a pause. By the glint of surprise in the boy’s eyes she knew it was correct. ‘Do I know you from somewhere?’
‘No. But we know you. And you, Samuel Noyland and Paul Hodgson.’
Snakey stepped up to her now and was about to grab her. Before he could, Archie sprang at him and let out a single bark. The boy blinked and stepped backwards. Archie stood firm, snarling deep in his throat. Snakey’s mouth twisted in anger, but there was also confusion in his eyes.
‘I don’t care who you are or how you know about us. You’re leaving. Now.’
‘Back to friggin’ China or wherever they come from, hopefully,’ said one of the others.
‘Or what?’ said Joel.
‘Or we’ll sink your boat, and you’ll have to swim home. Got it?’
‘Fine, we’ll go,’ said Maggie. ‘If this were Tahiti, we wouldn’t want to be on the same island as you.’
The boys’ attention was suddenly caught by something out on the lake and they flicked off their torches. In the darkness beyond the trees, a blue flashing light was moving slowly towards them.
Paul Hodgson swore. ‘Police! We need to go, Snakey.’
Snakey hesitated. ‘It might just be wardens. They can’t do anything, blue lights or no blue lights.’ But the boldness had left his voice. They could not hear an engine, only a faint buzzing sound, like a whisk. The trees around them were pulsating and the faces of the boys were picked up in blue, like three startled ghosts.
‘Wardens can do enough,’ Paul returned. ‘My dad will totally kill me if he finds out I took Stingray without asking.’
The piercing sound of a siren filled the air and a second blue light was moving around on the other side of the island, towards the harbour.
‘That’s not wardens. We’ve got to go. Now!’
The siren stopped and a man’s voice came from a loudspeaker somewhere out on the water.
‘Attention, attention. This is the police. We are pursuing three juveniles in a powerboat in connection with a suspected boat theft and harassment of lake users. Please report any sightings immediately.’
The other boys were looking at Snakey for a decision. He didn’t move. The message was repeated again from the loudspeaker, closer this time. Paul started towards the boat. Then Maggie could hear him splashing about as he pushed the boat away from the beach. As the engine came to life, the two other boys ran after him. They heard the boat accelerate into the blackness and before long the island was silent again.
Maggie was shivering and felt an urge to sit down. ‘Now what?’
The blue lights had disappeared without trace. They unloaded the few remaining items from Bobalong, grateful that their sleeping bags had not been in the tent when it was destroyed. Then they gathered some sticks, relit the fire and sat on the log where their campsite had been. The fire took hold, and made the night around them seem even darker. They watched the sparks shooting into the circle of sky above the trees. A bat swooped through the smoke.
‘Where’s Archie?’ Maggie said suddenly.
Then, out of the gloom, he appeared, with a white plastic container clenched between his teeth.
This time the note on the paper had been signed.
Sit tight. They won’t come back tonight. Tom.
P.S. I’m sorry.
CHAPTER 13
Tom left Maggot in the bay next to Bobalong and made his way to the clearing, where a thin column of smoke was rising from the remains of a fire and the sun was slanting through the trees on to three motionless bodies on the ground. The smallest of these rose and bent itself around Tom’s ankles, barking ecstatically.
‘Tom!’ said Maggie, squinting at him through bloodshot eyes. ‘How . . . ? What time is it?’
‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll explain.’ He threw some sticks into the fire, and wafted the embers with a piece of bark. ‘It’s nearly six. I’ve brought breakfast.’
‘Nice one!’ said Joel. He stood up, letting his sleeping bag fall
around his ankles.
‘Well, I—’
‘We’re like starving castaways being rescued by a passing ship,’ said Maggie. ‘I could eat a horse, now I think about it.’
Tom shook his head, smiling to himself at their unflagging cheerfulness, and began to empty a card-board box packed with food and cooking utensils. A little later the fire was crackling and spitting, and he was handing out fresh white baps stuffed with bacon.
Tom watched Maggie and Joel as they attacked their food, hot fat dripping on to their fingers. He felt good about the night’s work. He had freaked out the SBS, and made it up to Maggie and Joel at the same time. Two birds with one stone! But now what? Could he really trust them to help him? Anyone who had made an enemy of Ryan Snaith had to deserve some respect. And now he’d dropped the messages he would have to do some explaining.
He set about making some tea. And while they waited for the kettle to boil, Tom turned his thoughts back to last night, when he’d realized that his secret life was coming to an end . . .
The evening after his discovery in the workshop – the stomach-turning moment of clarity when an array of facts suddenly aligned, like landing lights on a runway – Tom decided to try and have another look over Benson Isle. The island, with its guard dogs and warning signs, had always intrigued him, but now it was time for a proper nose around. He was on his way there, flying fast and low over the water, when he spotted Stingray heading in the same direction. He remembered the conversation he had half-overheard on the last day of school. He had to steady his hands on the controls, as the memory of the locker returned. He climbed higher and watched the three boys erratically head down the lake towards Ransome Holme.
When he saw them trying to shoot the gap, and Joel stupidly trying to stop them, he knew things would turn out badly. If Maggie and Joel’s camping trip was about to be ruined, it wasn’t really his fault. After all, he told himself, he had warned them. If he helped them now, they’d have to know about Skylark, there’d be a big fuss, and everything would be out in the open.
But then, with a rush of shame, he remembered how badly he had behaved when they’d first arrived.
He circled around again, wondering what to do. He saw Stingray head off to the fuel depot in Birthwaite Bay, and watched while Joel struggled out of the water and stood on the shore, talking to Maggie. They would be distraught, their day ruined by Snakey, Podge and Sam Noyland. And no one knew what that was like better than he did.
He reached for a notepad and turned Skylark home.
‘So, let me get this straight,’ Maggie was saying now, clasping a mug of tea on her knees. ‘You can actually fly this . . . drone thing . . . up and down the lake and watch what people are doing without them ever knowing. All from your garden shed?’
‘Well—’
‘Basically you’re a spy.’
‘I—’
‘It explains a lot. That’s how you knew where we were on Saturday, what kind of fish Joel was trying to catch, and how you saw the pirates arrive on the island; and sent the little messages to help us.’
‘Pirates? Oh, Snakey and his gang. Well, I’m usually keeping my eyes on them. But why were you trying to stop them shoot the gap? You could have got yourself killed.’
‘We’d just discovered a water rail nesting on the little island,’ Joel explained. ‘I thought they might also wreck their boat and kill themselves. But the bird was my main concern, to be honest.’
Maggie laughed at this, although Tom wasn’t sure it was intended as a joke.
‘What about when it was dark?’ asked Maggie.
Tom shrugged. ‘Night-vision camera.’
‘So presumably it was you who called the police?’ said Joel.
Tom hesitated. ‘Well, um—’
‘Am I right in thinking,’ said Maggie, ‘that your aunt doesn’t know about any of this stuff?’
Tom shrugged.
‘How did you keep it so secret?’ asked Joel.
‘Everyone just assumes that I’m hooked on some computer game or something. The truth is I’ve never played a computer game in my life.’
‘Flying real drones certainly beats computer games,’ said Joel brightly. ‘Although I guess it means being stuck in that workshop all the time.’
‘I don’t have much choice about that, do I?’ Tom heard the bitterness in his own voice. Maybe this wasn’t going to work, after all. He felt a fresh sense of urgency, like something cold on his skin. He’d stayed long enough.
Joel glanced at Tom’s stick. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Tom, getting to his feet. ‘As a matter of fact, I can fly Skylark from anywhere, using a tablet as a mobile base station. But I prefer the workshop.’
‘Skylark?’ repeated Joel. ‘Is that—’
‘Shh! Listen . . .’ Tom cocked his ear to the sky.
‘That helicopter’s low,’ said Maggie. ‘Look, it’s landing on the big island.’
Across the channel, the treetops in the middle of Benson Isle were bending, as a dark blue helicopter swayed and tilted in descent, and then disappeared from view beneath the canopy.
‘Strange,’ said Tom.
‘Who lives on that island anyway?’ said Maggie. ‘Joel and I were wondering about exploring there some time.’
‘No way,’ said Tom. ‘The owners are very secretive and people say there are guard dogs loose in the grounds to stop anyone landing.’
He walked away from the campsite to the water’s edge to get a better view. There was a touch of warmth in the air and a bank of cloud had drifted over the valley, covering the peaks and curling over the treetops, giving them a steamy, tropical appearance. He could hear the helicopter engine winding down. It wasn’t the Puma he’d nearly collided with three days ago. From the brief glimpse he’d had, he thought it was an Airbus H125, a five-seater popular with private owners. But there had been something unusual about it that he couldn’t put his finger on.
Then, from behind one of the yachts moored in the channel, appeared the Invincible, the orange speedboat with the triple outboards. Straw-hat man was alone in the boat, and he was making for the jetty on Benson Isle.
Tom felt a cold wave of fear inside, as he looked across the water. There was some secret mischief going on behind that dark curtain of trees. If he could get on his own in Maggot somewhere quiet, he could call Skylark up from home in minutes and piece the clues together that no one else seemed to notice. This, he told himself, jabbing his stick into the shingle beach as he turned away from the shore, was the one thing he seemed to do well.
CHAPTER 14
Tom went back to the campfire and grabbed his rucksack.
‘Where did that dog get to?’ Maggie was saying. ‘Don’t suppose you noticed where Archie went did you, Tom?’
‘No. I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.’
‘But you’ve only just got here.’
‘I can’t explain now.’ He didn’t look round. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.
He was making his way to where he’d left Maggot when, from somewhere out on the water ahead of him, came the unmistakable fury of a Cobra engine being hammered. Why had he not been watching?
He got to the beach in time to see Stingray’s back end slash past a hire boat, leaving it bouncing and rocking like a bath toy, the family inside visibly shaken. The boys were high-fiving each other as the black boat curved away around the headland.
Suddenly the longing for eyes in the sky was all consuming. There was a quiet bay beyond the car ferry, where he could anchor, call up Skylark and get to work, without distraction.
Because his bad leg made pushing a boat off a beach almost impossible, he usually left Maggot floating in a few inches of water, with a line from each end tied to a tree or root. He waded out to unhitch the stern rope, and noticed a rainbow puddle of petrol fanning out on the water near the propeller shaft. He checked the fuel cap and it was completely loose. Through the trees behind him he could hear Magg
ie calling for Archie. Across the channel on Benson Isle, the orange speedboat was tied up at the jetty now and he could see the driver walking up the woodchip path that ran into the trees, carrying a briefcase. He clambered into Maggot and pulled the starter, but instead of a welcoming gurgle of power, the propeller flicked round a couple of times and then stopped.
‘I’m going to kill him this time,’ he spat through clenched teeth as he yanked the cord, but there was no sign of combustion. He yanked the cord again, and again, and again, until his fingers stung, but he knew the engine was dead, and that Snakey had messed things up after all.
He hadn’t noticed Maggie standing at the bow, watching him.
‘What’s the matter?’ she said.
‘Snakey!’
‘What?’
‘He was here. All of them. They’ve put water in my fuel tank!’
‘Tom, Archie’s gone missing. He’s not on the island.’
‘They must have taken him too. How did they land on the island without us noticing?’
‘It must’ve been when we were all distracted by the helicopter. That’s why we didn’t hear Archie barking.’ She looked over his shoulder to where the hire boat was meandering back towards Birthwaite Bay, still bobbing on the remnant of Stingray’s wash, then turned and ran back to the campsite. Tom waded back to the beach with his rucksack, pulled out a nine-inch tablet and slumped on to the pebbles. He opened the screen and typed in a code to activate Skylark’s automatic launch and locate function, a feature he had tested a few times but never needed to use before.
It took a few seconds for the computer in the workshop back home to lock on to his position, then the launch icon on the tablet began to blink red, while the flight parameters were calculated.
Behind him he could hear Maggie shouting for Joel to gather their things.
The icon turned orange and the details of the flight path the autopilot would follow to get to Tom appeared on the screen: four and a half miles at forty knots, adjusted for the strong headwind that was blowing up the lake, would give a flight time of six minutes and twenty seconds. He tapped the screen and the launch icon turned green, just as Maggie and Joel arrived back at the beach.
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