The Missing Twin

by Alex Day

  A tiny breeze rippled across the water. Edie shivered as she tried the cabin door. It was locked. Of course it was. Why had she imagined that she would just be able to walk straight in? It wasn’t going to be that easy.

  Instinctively, she ran her hand along the ledge at the top of the door. But there was nothing there, no secret hiding place for a spare key. Edie was pretty sure that there was no other way into the living quarters of the yacht, but still she climbed up to the walkway that ran between the cabin and the safety rails to give access to the front deck. The boat’s design meant that here the cabin roof extended only a couple of feet proud of the walkway. There were skylights in the roof but Edie was sure they would be fixed closed and further investigation, kneeling on the slippery fibreglass, proved her supposition right. Crouching down and peering through into the cabin, she ran her fingers around the edge of the square of glass above the kitchen area. There was absolutely no seam, no possible place to prise it open. This was a serious yacht, ocean-going, designed for all sea and weather conditions.

  Edie sat back on her heels and sank into deep contemplation. Thinking about it like this, it was obvious. This yacht was far too luxurious, specialised, above all expensive, for the resort’s means. However successful, however popular, the rental of a few holiday cabanas or the sale of bottles of beer and tomato salads could not fund such a purchase and any old boat would have done for the trips Vlad advertised to hidden coves, caves and grottoes.

  There had to be another reason for the Radomira.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Edie

  The sudden motion of the yacht on a heightened swell shocked Edie to her senses. She realised how acutely visible she was, here on the roof, and scuttled crab-like down to the walkway on the seaward side. She stayed in a crouching position until her heart had stopped racing and her breathing slowed to something approaching normal. Then she raised her head and peered towards the shore. Making steady progress across the water towards her – or rather, towards the Radomira – was a small rubber dinghy. No motor was in use, but rather the craft was being propelled forward by the powerful thrusts of the oarsman. Edie could not at first make out who was on board but in just a few seconds the dinghy got near enough to see more clearly. Her heart skipped a beat.

  It was Vuk.

  In just a few seconds he would have reached the yacht, would get on board and find her there. Think, Edie screeched at herself, soundlessly. Gazing wildly around her, her eyes settled on the seating area behind the cabin. The bench-type seat tops lifted up to provide storage, she remembered from her trip with Zayn. The yacht had turned slightly in the wash from the dinghy and she was hidden, at that moment, from the fast-approaching Vuk. She lifted up the nearest seat. No good; it was stuffed to the brim with cushions. Frantically, she moved to the opposite side. This one was emptier; she was slim, it would have to do. She climbed in and let the seat close silently on top of her.

  It was pitch dark. Edie hated the dark; had always relied on Laura to be the brave one, the one who didn’t need a night light and would comfort Edie if they were staying in a strange place where the lamps were switched off at bedtime. But Edie was on her own now and she had to be courageous and strong, for Laura, because maybe, just maybe, this madcap venture would lead to finding her sister and then it would all be worth it.

  The Radomira rocked with the unmistakeable movement of someone boarding. In the blackness her eyes were redundant but every sound became amplified, every tiny shift in the yacht’s position felt as if it were tossing and turning on a violent sea. Edie lay, her body uncomfortably following the contour of the uneven mound of cushions beneath her, her fist stuffed in her mouth to prevent herself from whimpering with fear.

  Another, more intense rocking, the sloshing sound of water against the boat’s smooth flanks and the vibration that signalled the mechanised pulling up of the anchor. The motor started up, a discreet purring that was far from the noisy cacophony that an inferior outboard makes, and Edie felt them glide into motion. She imagined how beautiful the Radomira would look, slipping elegantly between the few sparse moorings in the tiny harbour and out to the open sea, exuding the confidence of affluence and superb design from each and every one of her glowing lights. She realised how absolutely stupid and ridiculously melodramatic she was being, stowed away in a cramped storage box like some kind of fugitive or (pathetically incompetent) amateur sleuth.

  She could jump out of the box, present herself to Vuk as the sexual plaything he seemed to treat her as and, when he was in her thrall, get him to confess what he knew about Laura and about the hut on the hill; beguile him into telling her whose ID cards he had in his freezer, and why. Or, if that was a no go, at least sail her back to dry land so that she could … So that she could what? Not run away, not leave. No, she had to toughen up, step up to the plate, be brave enough to see this through and sort it out.

  She sank back down into the cushions.

  ‘Hello.’

  The voice barked out beside her, causing her heart to jump into her mouth and her breathing to momentarily cease. The game was up. She’d been found.

  And then the talking continued and she realised it was Vuk on the phone to someone, his English, with its hint of a northern accent, so familiar to her. After his initial greeting, he seemed to lower his volume and Edie struggled to hear through her prison walls. Only odd words were discernible: ‘quick’, ‘twenty minutes’ and, at the end of the short conversation, a cold ‘goodbye’. There was something about the words, the tone of voice, the purposeful nature of it all, that made Edie’s blood chill in her veins. Definitely not a good idea to show herself now. She would just stay put, and pray.

  ***

  It was impossible to tell how much time passed before Edie felt the slight tremor of the anchor’s release and descent to the sea floor. She was stiff and aching, and getting tired of constantly flexing her ankles and wrists to try to keep her circulation going. Something hard and awkwardly shaped was pressing against her leg and she shifted slightly to release the pressure. She remembered the corkscrew, still in her pocket from earlier that day, from a time when there had been nothing wrong with her life except that she didn’t know where Laura was. She couldn’t imagine why she still had the bloody thing with her but she couldn’t do anything about it now, couldn’t even reach her pocket to get it out.

  The deck beneath her trembled as Vuk moved along it in the direction of the cabin. She pictured him unlocking the door, opening it, going inside. It was hellish, and frightening, and at the same time absurd not to know what was going on, where she was or why. Edie felt tears prick beneath her eyelids and the heat of imminent weepiness suffuse her.

  The sound of the cabin door slamming shut snapped her back to her senses and she felt the yacht rock once more as Vuk descended the ladder – into the dinghy? – and then a few more gentle undulations from the wash he created as he power-rowed away before all was still.

  Edie waited. She counted to one hundred once, ONE-hippopotamus, TWO-hippopotamus, THREE-hippopotamus, as she remembered learning in childhood in order to be sure of each count taking one second exactly and as she did when free-diving. When she had reached one hundred, she started again. At two hundred, she stopped. Slowly, cautiously, her heart pounding and her blood coursing through her veins, she reached her hand up to the seat-lid. She rested her fingers against the cool, silky flatness of it. Pausing, she summoned all her courage. She could still pretend it was a surprise for Vuk, a game, a light-hearted casual thing, something that had occurred to her he might be amused by. She could rely on her innocence, her perceived empty-headedness; Vuk would dismiss her as a silly little girl rather than a cunning investigator of crime. She could still do that. But where up to now she had managed to convince herself that Vuk would not harm her, that he was not that bad, she no longer believed it. Vuk had no more loyalty to her than to the resort cat.

  She was on her own, with only her wits to rely on.

  Flinging the lid
open, she leapt out, amazed that her limbs still did her bidding after such bunched-up confinement. Once out and having encountered no one, she instinctively ducked down between the two facing benches. All of her senses were on high alert as she listened and stared, hunting for signs that she was not alone in the darkness. Unlike the picture in her imagination, there were no lights lit anywhere on the Radomira. But the moon was almost full and the stars gleamed and shone. She waited a few seconds, searching with eyes and ears. There was nothing. She slunk along the deck until she reached the cabin door. The handle seemed still to be warm from Vuk’s so recent touch. She pressed down on it and the door swung open.

  There were no lights on inside the cabin, either, but there was enough illumination to see by coming through the skylights in the roof. Edie crept through the kitchen and dining area and towards the prow of the boat where the sleeping cabins were. In the furthest one – the master bedroom she was sure the yacht-designers would promote it as – there was a comfortable looking double bed and small shower room. It was all in pristine condition, clean and new. What would a boat like this cost? Second-hand, 200 or 300K US? New, at least half a million, probably more.

  Edie ran her hand along the white sheets on the made-up bed. It was peculiar and she didn’t understand it but there was something very wrong going on aboard this yacht and whether it had to do with Laura or it didn’t, she was going to find out what it was. At that thought, she almost snorted with derision at herself. She had left herself no choice.

  The boat swung on its anchor and the subtle change in its lilting motion signified the arrival of someone. Right in front of her was the wardrobe door. Edie snatched it open, flung herself inside and pulled the door closed. It was tiny, smaller in dimensions than the seat she’d just got out of, but at least she was upright. The other advantage was the view offered by the small gap above one of the door hinges; although minuscule, Edie could see a small slice of the bedroom through it. It was through this gap that, in utter disbelief, she watched the scene that unfolded before her eyes.

  ***

  The first person to enter was a boy, a teenager. He was dressed like teenagers everywhere; blue jeans and a T-shirt. But his clothes were old and worn, the T-shirt so faded that its original colour was impossible to tell. In the brief glimpse she caught of his face, Edie saw his mouth set in a sullen frown and sensed the air of barely suppressed anger that hung about him. Behind him came a man, slight and wiry, whose eyes within his pinched face darted all around him like a frightened bird. Edie heard a small child’s voice call out something in a language she did not recognise. She thought it was a girl but it was hard to tell and whoever it was did not appear in her field of vision. And then the doorway was filled by the next person and it was Vuk, and he was half-supporting, half-carrying a figure wrapped in what looked like a blanket despite the heat. The bundled figure turned its face towards the wardrobe and Edie as they passed and Edie saw that it was a woman. That briefest of glances was enough to see the sweat shining on her skin and the fever burning in her eyes. She looked barely alive.

  A smell had accompanied the people into the room, of body odour and unwashed clothes, of rot and decay. Edie could feel a sneeze building inside her and frantically wrinkled her nose, expanding and contracting her nostrils to prevent it from bursting forth. Attention back on the group now gathered within the room, it suddenly occurred to Edie what was familiar about them. With a jolt of her stomach, she recognised them as the string of people she’d seen silhouetted against the night sky at the hut on the hill.

  Vuk got the sick woman to the bed and heaped her upon it. She emitted a groan as she sank down. A child – the one who had spoken as she entered? – began to cry. Edie heard the sharp slap of flesh against flesh and imagined the hand that had landed on the child so violently. Was it Vuk’s? She hoped not, and then realised immediately that it didn’t matter anymore anyway. Whatever Vuk was doing, it was not pretty and it almost certainly was not legal and so her association with him was over.

  She heard herself think this and had to struggle to stop herself from laughing out loud. It suddenly occurred to her that she was in the gravest danger, that what had begun as a simple quest to find a missing sister had led to her being witness to a crime, and the people committing that crime – Vuk, Vlad, maybe others as well – were not the kind to understand or appreciate that her involvement was well-meaning and not in any way meant to be a threat. If they found her, she could not even imagine what they might do to her.

  ‘Stay here.’

  The words, barked out in a ferocious whisper, made Edie jump and almost give the game away. It was Vuk speaking, just inches away from her. Squinting through the gap, all Edie could see was the black expanse of his torso right in front of the wardrobe.

  ‘You stay here,’ he repeated. As he spoke, Edie could feel the boat turning. So Vuk definitely wasn’t alone; someone else was driving the Radomira, and from the sensation in her stomach, they were picking up speed fast.

  ‘Make no noise. The children must be quiet.’

  Vuk was speaking in a truncated version of English, the way you speak it when either you don’t have a good command of the language or the person you are addressing doesn’t. So these pitiful people did not speak the local language, nor English – or at least, not much English.

  ‘How long?’ The voice was soft and low, but fear was audible in every syllable. Was it the man or the boy speaking? Edie couldn’t tell.

  ‘Not long.’ Vuk snapped back his answer as he turned to leave, the dark shadow that blocked Edie’s view moving away.

  Now she could see the bed, with the sick woman lying upon it, and gathered in a little huddle on the corner nearest to Edie’s hideaway, the man, the teenager and two tiny girls, their faces piteously white and drawn, dark circles of exhaustion around their eyes. One of children began to whimper, a fretful, desperate sound that seemed to encapsulate the terror and despair that suffused the atmosphere of the room. Neither the boy nor the man tried to silence the girl, or to comfort her. Vuk had shut the door of the bedroom behind him and Edie hoped that her sobs would not be audible outside.

  The movement of the Radomira indicated that they had reached open water again. Edie thanked her lucky stars that she had good sea legs. But the heat inside her tiny enclosure was becoming unbearable and she was desperately thirsty. Despite the advantages of being upright, the air inside the wardrobe was so thick and hot that breathing was difficult. Perspiration was trickling down her brow and off the end of her nose but she didn’t dare try to move her hands or arms to wipe it away. Instead she tried to ignore the sweat beads’ tickling motion, to take deep long breaths to combat the incipient claustrophobia.

  And still the heat suppurated around her. The wardrobe walls were pulsating, condensation building and running downwards, the air thick as treacle. Her clothes were drenched. She felt light-headed and dizzy; was it possible to go on sweating even when you were dehydrated? She squeezed her eyes tight shut and then opened them again. The brown pattern on the wood of the wardrobe door swirled and turned before finally settling to stillness. Edie was not sure how much more of this she could bear. Vuk had said not long.

  She forced herself to stay calm, clenching and unclenching her fists, licking the sweat off her upper lip only for it to gather again in seconds. She imagined diving off the boat and into the cool water through which they streamed, pictured the clear depths beneath her, the darting fish and waving fronds of seaweed. Concentrate on your breathing, she told herself again and again. That’s all that matters. A breath in. A breath out.

  The bedroom door banged violently and Vuk entered. Edie was struggling to stay conscious, awake and focused. Her head was spinning, her legs trembling, threatening to give her away. She heard Vuk speaking but the words were fuzzy and unclear and coming from far, far away. Then there was an echoing emptiness all around her that filled her ears and reverberated around her brain. The boat lurched on a high wave causing Edie’s head
to fly backwards and hit the wall behind her with a dull thud. She lost her balance and lurched forward, crashing against the wardrobe door with all of her body weight. The door flew open. Edie shot out and collapsed onto the bed in a sprawling heap, barely aware of what had happened she had been so close to fainting.

  She opened her eyes to be greeted by Vuk’s face looming above her, his mouth twisted into a hideous grimace of rage.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Edie

  ‘What the fuck are you doing here, you stupid bitch?’

  Edie flinched at the language; not in front of the children, Vuk, she was thinking as another part of her brain was trying to tell her something, to make her aware of something.

  She sat bolt upright, her forehead smashing against Vuk’s nose.

  ‘Shit!’

  His hand shot up to his face in a protective reflex action at the same time as he aimed a slap at her that hit her cheek with a stinging bite. It served the purpose of bringing Edie’s fuddled mind to its senses. She had to get out of there. She leapt off the bed, evading Vuk’s outstretched arm, dodging around the teenager and the man who now stood, dumbstruck in bewilderment, in one corner of the room. The two little girls, she observed, were curled up against the woman who was presumably their mother. They, too, were watching what was going on with fear-widened eyes. The woman appeared dead to the world, face pressed into the bedcovers.

  Speeding along the short corridor that led out to the deck, Edie desperately tried to formulate a plan. But there was none. She was on a boat, out at sea, alone and vulnerable. The idea that Vuk would not harm her seemed laughable now. It was clear that he would stop at nothing.