The Devil's Triangle

by Mark Robson

  The deceleration and the crackling crunch of the bus’s tyres on the grit as it stopped took Niamh by surprise. She had not thought about the bus stopping before Miami. Her stomach tightened as she craned her neck to see who was going to get on. What if there were patrol officers at the bus stop?

  Three passengers climbed aboard. None were in uniform and none so much as looked at her. The doors hissed closed and the engine of the bus gave a guttural growl as the driver eased them out onto the highway again. Niamh leaned forward and ducked her head down into her hands. She could feel her face flushing and her heart was still racing.

  Don’t go getting paranoid, Niamh, she told herself, rubbing at her cheeks with the palms of her hands in an effort to disperse the heat she felt there. You’re being ridiculous!

  A mobile began to ring behind her. As the old lady in the seat answered, ‘Hello?’, Niamh’s heart leapt again. Ring-back! Niamh had not thought to try to block her number to the receiving phone. The police only had to look at the incoming number on her dad’s mobile and call it back to find out where she was. Ears pricked and concentrating intently, she listened.

  ‘Oh, yes! No, that’s fine. Now’s as good a time as any,’ the old lady was saying. ‘Yes, it’s working fine now, thank you . . . No, there’s been no recurrence . . . Yes, he was very efficient and polite – a very nice young man, I thought . . .’

  Niamh sighed with relief. It sounded like a customer-satisfaction survey or something.

  ‘Thank you, no. I’m sorry, but I’m headin’ up to Miami for a few days, so that’ll be impossible . . . No problem . . . Too far! Just passin’ through Marathon, so there’s a long old haul to go . . . Thanks . . . You’re welcome. Goodbye now.’

  Why had the old lady told them where she was? Perhaps it had been the police after all. What sort of information could they access about the owner of the phone number? Would they role play in order to obtain information with more subtlety? It sounded far-fetched – the sort of thing that happened in spy films. Niamh had a sour, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Could she take the risk that she had compromised her position? No. She had to get off the bus and find another way to Miami. If the police were on to her, they would not take long to catch up. Why had she made that call! With hindsight, it had been a stupid thing to do. Just because the phone wasn’t hers had not made it safe.

  Niamh grabbed the top of the seat in front of her and half rose. She had another problem, she realised. They were just leaving Marathon Key and the seemingly endless Overseas Highway stretched ahead. She had no idea where or when the bus would next stop.

  I’ll get off at the next island, she told herself. Maybe if I hitch a lift in the opposite direction for a bit, it’ll confuse my trail. She sat back down. ‘Think!’ she muttered. ‘Think!’

  Never had a vehicle seemed to trundle along so slowly. The long bridge crawled past at a painfully pedestrian pace and Niamh ground her teeth in frustration and clenched her fingers into fists as she willed the bus on. Seconds ticked by with interminable slowness as they dragged into minutes and she could not help feeling that every one was vital if she was to avoid being captured.

  The next island was not far away now. It was a fair-sized one, but it could have been tiny for all Niamh cared. She got to her feet and began to make her way forward, intending to ask the driver to pull over and let her off. It was about halfway to the front that she saw the flashing lights of the police traffic control point ahead some way ahead. A uniformed officer was standing in the road directing the cars through. Even at this distance she could see that his focus was on the approaching bus.

  ‘Oh, God, no!’ she muttered as a shroud of panic tightened round her.

  She was trapped. She looked around for a way out. An emergency exit sign at the back of the bus caught her eye. Could she get out through the back door without being noticed? It looked like her only chance.

  The bus began to slow. Yes, it was being flagged down and directed into a special lane. Niamh kept her head down as she moved to the very back of the bus. She could feel the other passengers watching her with a mixture of curiosity and the beginnings of suspicion.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said politely as she eased past the young couple at the back of the bus and into the corner seat next to the exit. They shuffled aside without question, still ensconced in their conversation and oblivious to anything unusual about Niamh’s change of seats. Taking her seat in the corner, Niamh could see some of the other passengers casting sneaky glances over their shoulders at her.

  As the bus slowed further, Niamh picked her moment and threw her weight against the bar-style handle of the emergency exit. A high-pitched warbling alarm sounded at the front of the bus as the door swung open, but she barely noticed it.

  ‘Hey! Whaddaya think you’re doin‘?’

  Niamh ignored the driver’s shout. Instead, without hesitation, she jumped. It was quite a drop and she hit the tarmac hard. Her feet went instantly from under her and she tried to tuck into a roll. It was not a good landing. A burning sensation across her left side and back, and a sharper pain in her left ankle were instant indicators that she had hurt herself, but there was no time to consider them.

  On her feet and running in a limping gait across the road, there was a sudden squeal of tyres to her left. Her head snapped round and she gasped. The car was virtually on top of her. Instinct made her jump, and for the second time in a matter of seconds, her feet were swept from under her. Fortunately, having slowed for the police check point, the car did not hit her hard. Niamh rolled across the bonnet, not even reaching the windscreen before falling off the other side of the car and landing on her feet.

  People were shouting, but she ignored them. She clambered over the first of the two barriers in the middle of the carriageway. There was a fair bit of traffic on the opposite side, but there were gaps between the cars big enough for her to dart through if she was quick.

  Someone was coming after her. A glance. A uniform. It was all she needed to see. She scrambled over the second barrier and hesitated. Cars honked horns, some swerving slightly within the fast lane to give her more clearance as they passed. This was crazy!

  A hand grabbed Niamh’s shoulder and she screamed. She had not realised the police officer was so close. She twisted and squirmed, trying to get free, but the hand had grabbed a fistful of her T-shirt and try as she might, she could not wrench free.

  ‘Stop fighting me, Niamh! You are Niamh Cutler, aren’t you? You don’t need to run. I’m not going to hurt you.’

  Defeated, she slumped against the central reservation barrier and burst into tears.

  ‘Don’t do this!’ she sobbed. ‘Let me go. I have to find them. You won’t do it. No one will. I’m the only one who can.’

  ‘Your brother and the other boy, Callum?’ the policeman asked. ‘Niamh, we’ve got most of the Monroe County force lookin’ for ’em. Don’t worry. We’ll find ’em. Of course, if you know somethin‘ about their whereabouts, we’d be most grateful for the information.’

  He paused. Niamh said nothing.

  ‘Come on,’ he continued, climbing over the barrier and sitting down beside her without once releasing his grip. ‘We can talk about that later. Come with me. Let’s get you cleaned up. Looks like you took some nasty scrapes jumpin‘ from that bus. You’re one crazy young girl, you know! I thought you were gonna be flattened for a moment there.’

  The burning sensation on Niamh’s back and side began to pulse as she allowed herself to be led back over the barriers. She had failed them. After all her efforts and running, it was over and the boys would have to find their way back without her help. The distant sound of a wailing siren sounded. A patrol car was approaching at speed from the Marathon direction. Cars were slowing on both sides of the carriageway to see what was happening and a caterpillar effect was forming that looked likely to create a jam.

  The officer held out his hand and stopped the traffic so that they could cross back towards the bus and the
other officers at the checkpoint.

  ‘It was the phone call, wasn’t it?’ Niamh asked, looking up at him. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses.

  ‘Phone call?’

  ‘The call I made from the old lady’s mobile on the bus,’ she explained. ‘That’s what got me caught, wasn’t it?’

  The policeman looked at her and smiled.

  ‘I don’t know anythin’ about a phone call,’ he said. ‘I saw you jump from the bus and it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.’

  ‘You mean I could have slipped past you if I’d stayed on board!’

  ‘Possible, but unlikely,’ he said. ‘Unless you’ve picked up a very good false ID from somewhere. You changed your hair and clothes. I wouldn’t have picked you out straight away, but my colleagues and I have been stopping all buses, vans, lorries and any vehicles carrying teenage boys and girls of about your age. That’s the good thing about policin’ the Keys. With only one main road and the rail line in and out, unless your mark has a boat, setting a net to catch the folk we’re lookin’ for ain’t hard.’

  The approaching patrol car forced its way through the traffic and up to the checkpoint. The officers inside jumped out.

  ‘Is that her?’ the driver called. ‘Is that Niamh Cutler? We radioed ahead to tell you she was on the bus, but got no response.’

  ‘Yeah, this is Niamh Cutler,’ the officer called back. He turned back to her. ‘Seems the boys were on to you anyway. Don’t feel bad. You’re not in any trouble that I know about. The family you stole the boat from don’t want to press charges.’

  ‘They don’t?’ Niamh said, surprised. ‘Mr Mitchell looked furious.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t doubt he was at first. But it seems they care about you, Niamh. Lots of folk do.’

  ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘We’ll get you cleaned up and you’ll be sent home on the next available flight,’ the policeman said. ‘Your father’s due to take off shortly, so I’m afraid you won’t be able to fly back with him.’

  ‘And what about my brother?’

  ‘As I said, the Monroe County force have all been alerted to look for the boys.’

  ‘But I heard on the news that the search had been called off.’

  ‘That’s just the coastguard’s active search,’ he replied. ‘We’ll keep lookin’. Don’t you worry. We don’t give up so easy.’

  Niamh looked up at the man. He looked and sounded genuine, but she could not help feeling that he was almost reading from a script.

  ‘You won’t find them,’ she said softly. And she knew that that was the truth of the matter. Wherever the boys were, they were not in Monroe County.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Sam couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. For several years now he had viewed his father’s obsession with the circumstances surrounding his mum’s disappearance as a weakness, yet here she was, very much alive and larger than life. His dad’s tenacity and refusal to just walk away and accept her death suddenly looked very different in the light of Sam’s reunion with his mother.

  He and Callum were led through one of the holes that had been blasted in the side of the alley. The majority of Claire’s party were human, but there were also several friendly raptors waiting on the other side of the wall. Claire led the party left towards the nearby outer city wall where they began to descend in quick succession through an open trapdoor in the ground. She paused a moment and spoke with some of the raptors in their own language before dropping down through the hatch. The strange stream of sounds appeared to flow naturally from her mouth and it was clear to Sam that she was far more fluent than Brad had been.

  Thinking of Brad made him think of Leah. What was she doing now? Was she OK? How was he going to get word to her about Brad? It was not a pleasant train of thought.

  The pirate-faced man called Nathan went immediately ahead of the two boys, with Nipper and Grunt following close behind. Two more men with guns, together with another raptor formed the rearguard. The drop through the trapdoor was a little less than two metres into a dark passageway that appeared to run parallel to the outer wall of the city in both directions. Sam and Callum were led to the left where several glowing torches were already lighting the way with a soft white glow. As they looked back, Nipper, Grunt and the two men with guns all dropped into the tunnel behind them. Once inside, their two raptor friends had to stoop as they were far too tall to walk upright. The final raptor shut the trapdoor without entering the tunnel.

  ‘What about him?’ Sam asked Nathan, gesturing upwards.

  ‘Don’t worry about . . .’ the man made a sound in his throat that sounded a bit like ‘Krrrick-crack’. ‘He’s a born survivor. He’ll cover our tracks and lead the Imperium scum a merry dance before losing them. Come. We’d better get as far away from here as we can, just in case. Watch where you’re placing your feet and try to move quietly. Raptors have acute hearing. Let’s not give them any easy leads.’

  Sam could not see his mother. There were too many bodies ahead of him in the narrow passageway. He could only assume that she was somewhere at the front of the party leading the way. It was hard to believe that he had actually found her after all these years of thinking her dead. Sorting through his feelings was difficult. He was excited, but also shocked to see her wielding guns and ordering men around like a general. Sam had always had the impression from the photos that she was a gentle, inquisitive sort with a love of nature. It was hard to reconcile that image with his first impression of the reality.

  The party moved silently along the passageway for some distance before turning left into an adjoining tunnel. As they moved, Sam noticed many other branching passageways. It appeared there was an entire labyrinth of them running below the city. What are they for? he wondered. There’s no smell of sewage and they don’t appear to be conduits for cables, or pipes.

  He looked carefully as they went, searching for clues without success. There were markings on the walls of the tunnels by which they were apparently navigating, but nothing to indicate the purpose of the maze of passageways.

  Taken by surprise, Sam walked into Nathan’s back as he stopped without warning. He began to whisper an apology, but Nathan placed a finger to his lips in a clear signal for silence. There was a slight scraping sound and a rectangle of light appeared in the ceiling ahead. The tension in the air was palpable as someone was lifted up through the open hatch.

  ‘All clear,’ Claire confirmed in a low voice.

  One by one the group climbed up into the room. Nipper and Grunt lifted Sam and Callum up through the ceiling and leapt up into the room after them with ease. Claire was waiting. Nipper had barely put Sam down when she pulled him into her arms and held him close. She was strong, he realised, as she all but crushed him with the hug.

  ‘Easy on the ribs, Mum!’ he squeaked. ‘I’ve picked up a lot of bruises today.’

  ‘Sorry!’ she apologised, easing off the pressure. She had tears in her eyes as she spoke again. ‘It’s just so good to see you. Once I realised what had happened, I never thought I’d see you again. But how did you get here? Where are Matt and Niamh?’

  Sam felt his face redden as he answered.

  ‘Me and Callum here sort of borrowed Dad’s boat to go fishing

  ‘What do you mean, “sort of borrowed”?’ she interrupted, holding him at arm’s-length and raising an eyebrow. ‘Don’t tell me your father has let you turn into a thief?’

  ‘No, Mum! Don’t think that. Dad’s been great. It’s just . . . well, he kept disappearing off and leaving us on our own while he looked for . . . He’s never given up on finding you, Mum. I was bored, so I thought I’d take Callum out fishing. We were only going to be out for a couple of hours and I planned to get us back long before Dad got home. There was a strange-looking patch of water and . . .’

  ‘. . . you crossed over to this place,’ Claire finished. ‘Poor Matt! First me and now you as well! He must be beside himself with worry. The damned Imperium hav
e a hell of a lot to answer for.’

  Sam thought about that for a moment. From what little he knew, her accusation didn’t make any sense. Claire saw his confusion and laughed. She drew him into another hug. He didn’t mind at all. Hugs had never felt so good.

  ‘To be fair, Sam, it’s not really the fault of the current crowd,’ she admitted. ‘But they’re as bad as the original culprits for closing their minds to what is happening. The Bermuda Triangle phenomenon is the fault of the raptors and it’s not limited to that region. The effects of what they’ve done are most concentrated there and in the waters off the Japanese coast that some have dubbed the Devil’s Sea, but there’ve been incidents right across the globe. And it’s getting worse.’

  ‘Sorry to butt in, Mrs Cutler,’ Callum interrupted. ‘Before he was killed, our friend Brad told us about the raptors pumping radioactive waste into the Earth’s core causing the crossings, but he said it was just a rumoured theory.’

  ‘Mum, this is my friend Callum Barnes,’ Sam offered by way of introduction as he eased free of her embrace.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Callum,’ Claire replied, giving him a warm smile. ‘I’m not sure what your friend told you, but we believe we’ve got enough evidence now to prove to any who are willing to listen to the facts that the magnetic storms are to blame for the rifts forming between dimensions. As far as we can tell, at the heart of the most intense storms magnetic disturbances form that are so strong, they literally slice through the fabric between universes.’

  ‘So do the rifts work both ways?’ Callum asked eagerly. ‘Do you think we could get back to our world through one of them?’

  ‘We don’t know for sure,’ Claire said carefully. ‘People have tried, but to our knowledge no one has successfully managed to penetrate safely to the eye of a storm at the peak of its strength. That’s when the rifts form. As far as we can tell, the rifts are normally short-lived. To make a successful crossing would mean getting to the eye of a seriously powerful storm, locating the rift and crossing through it during a relatively tiny window of opportunity. Don’t think I haven’t considered trying. I would have given anything to get back home to you, your sister and your dad, Sam. Believe me, I would. But the storms are so unpredictable and to try in any of the boats we’ve built here would be suicide.’