by Mark Robson
Sherri twisted and turned in the air, trying to disconnect from her harness for several seconds. Then, without warning, she dropped and the rope dropped with her. Sherri twisted in the air like a cat and landed on all fours, rolling to her right on impact. The rope continued to drop, snaking down into a pile all around her. It was then Sam realised it had been cut. Raptor faces were looking out through the hole they had sliced in the side of the building, but they were far too high up for even a raptor to consider jumping to follow.
Sherri was on her feet in a flash.
‘Come on!’ she urged. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Sam groaned as he forced himself to his feet and unclipped his carabiner. He could already feel where he was going to have some impressive bruises later. Even as he stumbled away, his rope began to fall into a pile behind him. They had cut that, too.
Nipper and Newton were already aboard one of the high-speed unmanned cabs that served as the city’s primary transportation system. From previous experience, Sam knew to expect a hair-raising ride through the city in the box-like contraption. Nipper was holding David, who was protesting and struggling in vain to escape Nipper’s iron grip. Sherri leapt on board, with Sam hard on her heels. No sooner was he in through the door than Newton slammed it shut and the car accelerated away so quickly that Sam had no time to find any sort of balance. He stumbled and fell, landing in a crumpled heap on the floor at the back, adding more bruises to his rapidly growing collection.
‘Owwww!’ he groaned, struggling to find his feet.
Sherri had been more prepared. As she had entered, she had grabbed for a handhold and managed to retain her balance. Even as the car zoomed away from the science labs, she pulled a cloth from an inner pocket and clamped it over David’s mouth and nose. He struggled for a few more seconds and then slumped, unconscious.
‘I should have done that to begin with,’ she muttered. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Nothing broken,’ Sam groaned, rubbing at his back where it had smacked into the rear seating. He recovered his balance enough to climb into a seat and gain a solid handhold for balance. The car seemed even more manic in its headlong race through the city than the last one Sam had ridden and he rocked as the cab flung them through the streets and on to the madcap racetrack that was the main thoroughfare through the city.
‘So why didn’t you use your knockout stuff earlier?’ he asked. ‘Or your gun? David would have been a lot easier to handle if he’d been out cold, or looking down the barrel of your pistol.’
‘I hoped he might join us willingly,’ she replied. ‘My mistake – sorry. He’ll be out for a while and he’ll probably have a nasty headache when he wakes up.’
Sam nodded and looked out through the back window of the cab. ‘Do you think we’ll be followed?’
‘It’s possible, but unlikely,’ said Sherri. ‘I think we took them so much by surprise that they’ll have problems tracing us. While we were looking for David, Newton made some quick modifications to this car to make sure it’s not easy to follow. We’ll ditch it in a minute and send it on around the city. When they finally do work out how to follow it, the car should lead them on a merry wild goose chase while we take to the under-city tunnels.’
Sam nodded. Despite a few unforeseen glitches, the operation had worked almost exactly as they had planned. He felt like a secret agent, or a member of an elite squad like the SAS. All he was lacking was a gun and if he could convince his mum he was responsible enough, he might be allowed to have one of those soon. Although he was hurting in several places, he felt a rush of elation unlike anything he had ever felt before.
If I’d known being an eco-warrior could be this much fun, I’d have signed up to Miss Turner’s Go Green Club years ago, he thought, clinging on to his handhold as the cab swerved right without warning. But somehow I can’t see Miss Turner organising the school’s Go Green Club to leap off buildings and kidnap scientists. It’s a shame – she would probably get a lot more members if she did.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The approaching wail of a siren woke Niamh from deep sleep with a start. Hurling off the duvet, she began scrambling into her clothes, eyes searching for her footwear and the nearest escape route. Why hadn’t she thought to plan for this before she went to sleep? Fumbling with the button on her shorts, she barged through the bedroom door and all but fell into the hallway even as the sound of the siren passed the house and began to recede into the distance.
Heart pounding and breath rasping, she leaned against the wall for a moment and slowly sucked in a shuddering, chest-filling breath of air as she fought to regain some composure.
‘Mornin’, Niamh. You OK? You look like you just saw a ghost or somethin’.’
As far as Niamh could tell, Carrie had not even noticed the siren. She did her best to give Carrie a smile, but she could feel that her face wasn’t responding.
‘Just feeling a bit jumpy,’ she admitted.
‘Come on through to the kitchen and I’ll get you a cup of tea. That’s what you Brits like to drink in the mornin’, isn’t it?’
‘Tea would be lovely,’ Niamh agreed.
A few minutes and half a cup of tea later, Niamh was sitting at the breakfast bar eagerly tapping at the keys on Carrie’s laptop and feeling worlds better.
‘She’s online,’ Niamh announced excitedly. She clicked on Beth’s name and a chat window opened at the bottom of the screen. With quick finger strokes, she typed a greeting.
Morning, Beth. You OK?
There was a slight pause and an answer appeared with a gentle popping sound.
Afternoon! Great thanks. You?
Then underneath appeared:
What’s so urgent? Boy news?!
Niamh thought for a moment. Beth lived just across the road from her and the girls spent all their free time together. In other circumstances, after not having spoken to Beth for so long, Niamh would have been dying to fill her in on her kiss with Tony, but sitting next to Carrie, on her bed and using her laptop, it didn’t seem appropriate to chat openly with Beth on Facebook about her brother. Besides, now wasn’t really the time for boy talk; she needed to get Beth to get the notes from her dad’s computer.
‘Tell her you need her to get your Dad’s notes,’ Carrie urged.
As it happens, there might be . . . But before I tell you about that, I need a favour. You busy today?
Tease! Go on. What do you need?
Can you go to my house and log in to Facebook from the computer in my dad’s office? You know where the spare key is. Dad’s password is Cla1re01.
Oooh! I suppose so. Are you sure you’re dad won’t mind though?
No, it’s fine, honest.
OK. But come on as I’m doing you a favour you have to spill some boy goss! Who is he?
Niamh felt her face begin to heat up. What could she say about Tony with Carrie sitting beside her? There was no reason to think that Tony had told his sister about their kiss in the back of the car yesterday. How much should she say?
His name is Tony. No juicy details till you get to Dad’s computer. I’ll wait online.
Pictures?
Niamh glanced at Carrie, her cheeks burning.
Carrie laughed. ‘I’m sure I can find somethin’ for you,’ she said.
Yes.
Cool! I’m on my way! Give me 5 mins.
The green dot disappeared from next to Beth’s name, signifying that she had gone offline.
‘So, you and Tony are an item then?’ Carrie stated more than asked as she leaned back against the headboard. ‘That was fast work for him. He’s not normally so quick when it comes to girls.’
‘I wouldn’t say “item”. We got to spend some time together yesterday afternoon, and we like each other, yeah,’ Niamh mumbled.
‘See? I told you he was into you, didn’t I?’ Carrie put her arm round Niamh and gave her waist a gentle squeeze. ‘I’m glad you two are hookin’ up. You’ll be great together.’
‘I hope so.’
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‘I know so.’ Carrie swung her legs off the bed and got up. ‘Do you want some breakfast? I’ll go make it while we wait for your friend to get to your house.’
‘That would be nice. Thanks.’
‘What would you like? Pancakes? Waffles?’
‘Just some toast, thanks. I’ll come with you. We can take the laptop through to the kitchen.’
Tony was in the kitchen. He’d laid the breakfast bar with place settings, bowls and plates, and had poured three glasses of fruit juice.
‘Mornin’, bro’. This all looks very organised. Should I ask what the occasion is?’ Carrie teased.
‘No occasion,’ he replied, trying to look nonchalant. ‘Just looking after our guest.’
‘Guest? That’s a bit formal, isn’t it?’ she said, giving him a cheeky wink.
‘Oh, leave him alone, Carrie,’ Niamh said, giving her a friendly push on the shoulder. ‘He’s being very sweet. Thanks, Tony. Where should I sit?’ She put the laptop down on the breakfast bar where they would all be able to see the screen and gave him a warm smile.
‘The middle will be fine,’ he said.
‘So that you get to sit next to Niamh wherever I sit,’ Carrie observed. ‘Sharp move, bro’. I like it.’
‘Carrie!’ Niamh warned, taking the middle seat. ‘It’s fine if he wants to sit next to me, because I happen to want to sit next to him.’
Niamh could feel her face burning again at her declaration, but the smile Tony gave her made the feeling of embarrassment worthwhile. She took her place and began sipping at her orange juice, hoping that the chilled drink would help to cool her flushed cheeks.
‘OK, I’ll stop my teasing. I assume that was Mom I heard leavin’ a little while back.’
‘Yeah, and Dad went to work just after seven.’
‘Thought so. Well, as you’re playin’ host, Tony, Niamh would like some toast, and I’ll have pancakes with maple syrup, please.’
Tony’s eyebrows rose as his sister sat down to Niamh’s right, placed her hands on the breakfast bar and smiled at him.
The computer gave out a popping sound that announced someone was sending a message on chat. Niamh ran her finger over the mouse mat and the screensaver disappeared, leaving the familiar format of Niamh’s Facebook home page.
‘Wow! That was quick,’ she said, looking at the screen. ‘Beth must have sprinted.’
In your dad’s office. You were saying about Tony…?! Need I ask if he’s hot?
Niamh looked across the breakfast bar at Tony who was loading the toaster with bread.
Yes, I think you would say so. I’m looking at him now.
He’s there! Could be awkward.
You’ve no idea! His sister Carrie is sitting next to me. She says she’ll find me a photo to send you later, but can you do something for me first?
Sure.
Open Word. Then click on Open Document.
Done.
There should be a folder called Devil’s Triangle or something similar.
Got it.
I need you to email me a copy of the folder to my hotmail address.
Hasn’t your Dad got this with him on his laptop? I didn’t think he went anywhere without it.
Dad’s not here right now and there’s something we need to find out.
OK. Just a mo . . .
There was a long pause, then another pop.
Can’t attach it. There’s loads of sub-files and dozens of documents in each.
Niamh groaned.
‘What’s the matter?’ Tony asked, moving around the breakfast bar so that he could see the screen. Niamh was glad that the earlier dialogue about him had scrolled off the top of the window.
‘Beth can’t email the whole folder because it’s too big and it would probably take ages to attach each document individually.’
‘Use online storage then.’
‘What? How do I do that?’
‘There’s loads of websites who offer online storage that can be accessed from anywhere with an internet connection,’ he explained. ‘It’s simple: upload the file to a site, access it from here, copy it on to our computer and delete the online copy. Job done.’
‘Why does technology have to be so . . . technical? It would have been so much easier if she could have just emailed it.’
‘I can do it for you,’ Tony offered. ‘How about I talk to your friend and you girls finish making breakfast?’
Niamh nodded and dashed off a quick explanation to Beth.
Handing over to Tony. He’s going to talk you through some online thingy that should mean you can send me the file.
Cool!
For the next few minutes the girls chatted and laughed as they heated Carrie’s pancakes, and Carrie tried to convince Niamh to try spreading both peanut butter and ‘jelly’ on her toast. The girls bantered about the different cultural food clichés they associated with either side of the Atlantic, with Tony throwing in the occasional comment. All the while, Tony’s fingers tapped away on the keyboard.
‘Got it!’ he announced suddenly.
‘Really?’ Niamh asked. ‘Brilliant! Thanks, Tony. Can I just have a quick chat with Beth before she goes.’
‘Sure.’
Hi Beth – Niamh here again. Thanks for that.
No probs. Tony made it easy. Don’t forget that you owe me a photo.
I won’t. Will email a photo in a minute. Should be waiting for you by the time you get home.
Great. Hey, it sounds as though someone’s opening the front door. Have you got a cleaner coming in, or something?
‘Damn!’ Niamh cursed. Her mind began to race and her fingers darted all over the keyboard, sending a string of short messages in rapid succession.
No
Might be the police
No time to explain
Shut down and get out. Quick!
Beth’s status went from green to grey. She was gone.
‘What’s the matter?’ Tony asked.
‘I may have just dropped Beth into a whole load of trouble,’ Niamh sighed, logging out of Facebook. ‘I hope not, but she is not likely to be very pleased with me if the police find her in the house and decide to question her.’ She minimised the internet window and double-clicked on the Devil’s Triangle folder that now sat on the desktop.
She knew her dad had been collecting information about the Bermuda Triangle for a long time, but just how big was his master folder of information? A window opened with a choice of three sub-folders labelled Sea, Air and Theories. She clicked on Sea. Within Sea was a further selection of sub-folders labelled Derelicts, Debris Found and Disappeared Without Trace. She clicked on Derelicts. A long list of documents appeared, organised by date order. Top of the list was The Mary Celeste – Dec 1872.
‘Wow!’ Carrie breathed, her head appearing over Niamh’s shoulder. ‘Your dad really did his homework, didn’t he?’
‘Yep. He always has been thorough,’ she said, opening the top file.
‘So how do you want to do this?’ Carrie asked. ‘Should we all look at the files together, or should we copy the lot to other computers and each take a section separately?’
‘Perhaps we could start by looking at them together and see how we get on,’ Niamh suggested. ‘I think we’re far more likely to find fresh answers if we throw ideas around as we go.’
‘Together it is,’ Tony said, looking very happy with her answer. He climbed on to the stool to her left and sipped his orange juice. ‘So, the Mary Celeste, then. Funny, I always thought it was the Marie Celeste.’
‘Lots of people make that mistake,’ Niamh told him. ‘But Dad told me that the Marie Celeste was actually the ship in a fictional story written by Arthur Conan Doyle some time after the events of the real mystery. I’m sure the similarity of the names was deliberate, but lots of people now confuse the fictional ship with the actual one.’
‘Conan Doyle – the guy who wrote Sherlock Holmes?’ Tony asked.
‘Oh, yeah, that’s right
! The cool detective dude with the hat. Loved the film. Robert Downey Jr! Yum!’ Carrie said.
‘Really? You’re jokin’, right?’ Tony looked shocked. ‘He’s ancient!’
‘Fit though,’ Niamh observed, giving Carrie a wink.
‘Girls, girls!’ Tony protested. ‘Boy present! Can we keep our minds on the problem, please?’
‘Oh, OK. If we must,’ Carrie sighed. ‘But we could do with thinkin’ like a detective if we’re going to solve this mystery.’
‘Thinkin’ like a detective, yes,’ Tony agreed. ‘Thinkin’ about an actor who plays a detective . . . I don’t think so.’
‘You’re no fun,’ she replied, sticking her tongue out at him.
‘Oh, look!’ Niamh said, pointing at the screen. ‘Dad’s put a relevance note at the bottom. Relevance — Low. I wonder if he’s done that with all of them. That would make it a lot easier to sort through everything.’
He had. Niamh opened several of the files in the folder on derelicts and they were all noted as: Relevance – Low.
‘I guess he must have decided that none of the derelict mysteries have much in common with your mum’s disappearance.’
‘Well, some of these derelicts were found a long way from the Triangle,’ Niamh pointed out. ‘The Mary Celeste was found near the Azores which is not even close to the Bermuda Triangle. Given that it was a long way away, a long time ago and that it was just the people who vanished, you have to admit that there’s not much in common between that and my mum’s disappearance.’
‘Fair enough,’ Tony said. ‘But let’s try not to rely on your dad’s system, or we’re not gonna reach any conclusions of our own.’
‘Good point. So let’s start by trying to think about the big picture. Boats, aircraft and people in the Triangle either disappear without trace, disappear leaving some evidence of disaster, which is often as baffling as the disappearance itself, or experience weird phenomena. But what does that tell us?’
‘Maybe there’s more than one phenomenon at work?’ Carrie suggested.