Trapped

by Isla Whitcroft

‘The beautiful people who hang out on the beach. They’re mostly Russians.’ He grinned. Cate felt herself relax. ‘It’s all Russians here now, you know – in fact, you might be better off forgetting about French and learning to speak Russian.’

  ‘She does already,’ Bill suddenly chimed in. ‘She’s quite the linguist,’ he continued with a friendly wink at Cate. ‘That’s why I took her on. Thought she might be useful when Nancy brings her international friends onboard.’

  ‘You clearly have hidden depths,’ Marcus said slowly, his dark eyes giving nothing away. ‘Anything else we should know?’

  He was still smiling but an anxious voice in Cate’s head was starting to chatter. Was this just easy banter or was there more of a sinister undertone to Marcus’s questions? Cate knew that she was way too tired to make a rational judgement.

  She shook her head and looked at her watch. ‘Do you mind if I skip pudding? I think it’s time that I turned in. It’s been a long day.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’ Marcus sat his large frame back in his chair. ‘I can see you’re going to be good for our health as well as our intellect, Cate Carlisle – I’m exhausted, too. I won’t be long behind you.’

  Back in her cabin, Cate lay in her bunk and sent the promised email to Louisa. She kept it light, telling her about the yacht and the good-looking guys in the sailing club. The other stuff could wait and, in any case, Cate thought that Louisa would accuse her of suffering from sunstroke if she told her about Andrei.

  The gentle motion of the water just a few metres below her bunk rocked her as if she were in a hammock and through her tiny porthole she could see the moonlight glinting on the water. Cate closed her eyes and breathed deeply, waiting for sleep to come.

  Half an hour later she was still, annoyingly, very much awake. She had heard both the men and Wendy turn in to their cabins and the sound of several groups of happy people wandering back to their boats from an evening out. She had tried absolutely everything she could think of to get herself to sleep but instead, by midnight, she had rather crossly come to the conclusion that there was nothing for it but to heed her dad’s advice – if you can’t sleep, don’t stay in bed.

  With a sigh Cate stepped out of her bunk, pulled on a sweatshirt, shorts and her deck shoes and unlocked her cabin door. She tiptoed quietly to the spiral staircase and up onto the middle deck. She paused by the main glass doors, trying to remember the six figure security code that Wendy had given to her earlier that day. Cate typed in the number, pulled at the handle and heard a subdued click as the doors glided open. She stepped out into the warm night air.

  Around her, the dimmed lights of the boats hardly detracted from the brilliant starlight and the almost full moon. A few hundred metres away, the walls of the town looked black and imposing.

  She sat quietly on one of the deck cushions, enjoying the feeling of being the only one awake in the world, when she heard low male voices coming from along the pontoon. Although she couldn’t hear what they were saying, the pace of the conversation sounded urgent and anxious.

  Cate knew that it was almost impossible to gauge the distance of sound on water, but still she craned her neck around the side of the deck to see if she could spot the owners of the voices. At the far end of the pontoon, as it curved away from her line of vision, she could just make out the shape of two men standing close together. Their body language was tense. A blond man with his back to her was frantically waving his hands around and the other was rubbing his forehead.

  As Cate’s eyes became more accustomed to the gloom, she saw that the large man facing her was none other than Marcus – who had just made a big show of going to bed early.

  Or his double again, she thought grimly. She paused for a moment. The last time she had thought she’d seen Marcus away from the boat, a man had been nearly beaten to death. This time she intended to find out, for certain, if it was Marcus, and what he was talking about.

  Cate looked around, gauging the best way to get nearer to the men without them noticing her. The walkway between Catwalk II and the pontoon was still down although the little gate at the end of it was locked with a number coded device. She hopped quietly over the top of it and moved quickly to shelter under the awning of the boat opposite.

  She tried to think rationally. The men were talking out in the open so they clearly weren’t expecting eavesdroppers. If she just kept quiet and moved along, using the boats for cover, she could get close to them. She glanced along the pontoon, selecting her route before she started out.

  Cate passed the first three boats without incident and paused in the darkness for a few seconds to check that the men were still talking. The next four boats were lit up by the moon so Cate crossed back over the pontoon into the shadows.

  She picked her next destination and made a dash for it, coming to rest in between the prow of two boats. Terrified that Marcus may have seen the movement, she paused and listened, but the murmur of conversation continued.

  Only a few more boats to go and then surely she would get a clear view of the men. She steeled herself to make the last few dashes, and four boats later she was only a few metres away from her target. By now, the murmurs had become clear words and she listened intently, her heart pounding hard. The men were in darkness, the boats around them locked up and silent. They were speaking in Russian but Cate could clearly pick out words. Missing . . . man-hunt . . . inside information . . . smuggling.

  She was only half shocked, then, to see the glint of metal tucked into the back of the blond-haired man’s trousers and a wire which was clearly some sort of receiver running from the back pocket to his left ear. This was scary stuff and Cate suddenly began to wish she had never given into her natural curiosity. She felt frightened and cross with herself and she began to plan her route back to the boat and safety.

  Then Cate heard Marcus mention the name Andrei – he had to be talking about the man she had helped earlier that day. Just a few seconds later, his colleague put a hand up to his ear and gave a visible start.

  ‘There’s a new mobile phone signal right here,’ he said urgently to Marcus. ‘The signal is less than three metres away. Who’s there?’ he called out.

  Immediately the two men dived sideways, their hands drawing their guns as they went. In the silence, Cate fought a rising wave of panic as she tried to work out what to do. Should she stay quiet and hope that they didn’t find her? She pulled her phone out of her pocket and her trembling fingers pressed the off button firmly, realising as she did, that it was way too late for that.

  The two men were unnervingly still, but Cate knew it was just a question of time before they started their search. If she stayed where she was they would find her in seconds. She looked frantically around her for an escape route.

  They would see her immediately if she tried to board a boat. There was only one option – the water. Without thinking, she slipped off her deck shoes, pushed her phone back into its waterproof holder, tucked it into her pocket and edged backwards as quietly as she could. Her feet dangled over the edge of the pontoon and she bit her lip, bracing herself for contact with the inky liquid below. It felt surprisingly warm. Making as few ripples as possible, she slid silently into the sea, gripping tightly onto the edge of the pontoon with her fingertips for a few seconds longer whilst she waited for the unpleasant sensation of her clothes absorbing the water. Then she let go and began to swim silently alongside the boats and out into the centre of the marina.

  By now, the two men had edged back out of the shadows and, with their guns drawn, were checking out the pontoon. Cate watched in horror as Marcus moved cautiously towards the spot where she had been crouching just a few seconds before. He stood there, his gaze sweeping from left to right across the water. Suddenly he spoke in a voice that was quiet but menacing. ‘Cate Carlisle, I know you’re out there. Get out and let’s talk or I’ll get really annoyed.’

  The water suddenly felt like an icy shroud around her body. How on earth did Marcus know it was her? She
looked up at the huge hull of the boat above her – there was no way up its shiny sides. She was a strong swimmer but her speed would be no match for the bullets.

  Marcus spoke again. ‘Cate, you’re not quite as smart as you think you are. You left your shoes behind. You’ve got ten seconds to get out.’

  ‘I’ll scream!’ Cate spoke with a vehemence that surprised her. ‘I’ll scream and wake the whole marina up.’

  Through the darkness she heard Marcus’s reply. ‘Well, you can try, but then my friend just behind you will shove your head under the water so quickly that you’ll wish you’d kept your mouth shut.’

  Horrified, Cate turned and saw the grinning head of Marcus’s blond-haired partner silently treading water a metre behind her. He reached out a hand and grabbed the scruff of her T-shirt, twisting it tightly so that no matter how she tried to pull away, she was helpless as the large man towed her slowly back to the pontoon and to a grim-faced Marcus.

  Marcus held her by the shoulders, dragged her unceremoniously out of the water and dumped her on the pontoon. She stared up at him, her look of defiance rapidly turning to fear as he pushed the barrel of the gun in her chest and simultaneously raised his index finger to his lips. She debated whether or not to try to fight him off, but her clothes were wet and heavy and the element of surprise that had stood her in such good stead earlier in the day was gone. She was totally helpless and very, very scared.

  CHAPTER 4

  Marcus began to laugh. ‘Cate, what are you playing at?’ he said. ‘Aren’t you meant to be fast asleep in your cabin?’

  Stunned, Cate said nothing.

  He spoke again, more gently. ‘Cate, you’re not in danger. I promise you.’

  Cate tried desperately to read his expression. Was this some sort of trap?

  ‘OK,’ sighed Marcus. ‘I can see I’m going to have trouble convincing you I’m not about to finish you off with a bullet or drown you in the marina. Kids today . . .’ he shook his head theatrically, ‘. . . they’re so damn cynical. Don’t worry, Piot, I’ll deal with this.’

  He grabbed her hands and heaved her to her feet. ‘Come on,’ he said briskly, quick-marching her back towards Catwalk II. ‘We’ll get you warmed up and then we are going to talk.’

  Ten minutes later, Cate was sitting in the tiny galley wrapped in a huge towel, drinking a cup of hot chocolate. Marcus was perched across the narrow bar from her, his dark eyes staring directly into hers.

  ‘Right, Cate. Tell me why on earth you crept up on us like that? What were you thinking?’

  Cate was silent for a few seconds, whilst she gathered her thoughts. Marcus waited patiently.

  ‘I saw you this afternoon, up on the Cap,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Yes, you did,’ agreed Marcus. ‘I’m sorry I lied. I was meeting a – a business contact but he didn’t turn up. It was kind of private, that’s why I didn’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘Your meeting wasn’t with someone called Andrei?’ Cate asked, watching closely for his reaction.

  ‘How in God’s name do you know that?’ he asked her curtly, his eyes wide. ‘Have you seen him?’

  Cate weighed up his response. If he was telling the truth, then it explained why Andrei was alone and helpless when he was attacked. If he was lying – well, that could mean a hundred different things.

  ‘Cate, this is important,’ Marcus said urgently. ‘Andrei’s missing, he could be in real danger. We need to find him fast, for all sorts of reasons.’

  Could she trust Marcus? She remembered her feeling of ease around him when they first met, then the fear as he ruthlessly stuck a gun at her chest. She looked at his anxious face and made up her mind. She told him everything: about her run, the fight, the aftermath and her encounter with the gendarmes. Marcus let her talk, his face expressionless and then, when she had finally finished, he reached for his phone, punched in a number and spoke quickly into the receiver.

  ‘Piot, we have a lead on Andrei. I’ll meet you by the car in five.’

  He rang off. ‘I just can’t believe I was so close to Andrei – I could have helped him,’ he said regretfully. He paused for a few seconds, then spoke again. ‘Right, can you do your best to tell me exactly where you left Andrei? And then, Cate, you are going to bed.’

  Cate opened her mouth to protest but Marcus silenced her. ‘You’ve done enough and you look half dead. We’ll take over now and I’ll explain everything in the morning. Trust me.’

  He was right about the exhaustion. Cate felt cold and tired and despite her best efforts her eyelids were drooping. It was the second time that she’d had to guide someone to the place of the attack and wearily she sketched a map which picked out the yacht club, the turnings and finally the large villa where she had last seen Andrei. As he studied the map Marcus nodded his head.

  ‘I know where that is,’ he said grimly. ‘There’s a safe house nearby. He must be holed up there. I just hope we won’t be too late. Cate, you’ve done well.’

  Cate had just enough energy left to drag herself down the stairs to her cabin. As she collapsed onto her bunk she heard Marcus’s footsteps moving quietly back along the pontoon outside her window. She tried to work out whether she had done the right thing by confiding in him but she was too tired to think any more. Seconds later she was asleep.

  Cate woke with a start to the unmistakable sound of a helicopter clattering overhead. The vibrations from the propellers were so strong that for a few surreal seconds she thought the chopper was going to land on the boat itself. Then she heard screaming and laughter coming from outside and, pulling on shorts and a T-shirt, raced up onto the outer deck.

  An extraordinary sight greeted her. A bright pink helicopter hovered metres above the boat, hardly clearing mast height. The passenger side of the chopper was open and out of it was leaning one of the most famous women in the world. Her trademark, razored red bob – one of the most copied haircuts of the moment – clashed horribly with the pink paintwork of the helicopter and an enormous pair of sunglasses covered most of her fine-boned face. Her wide, thick-lipped mouth was painted with lipstick which perfectly matched her hair colour and her voice, incredibly, rose above the noise of the machine.

  ‘Catwalk II – I love you, you are so beeeeuuutiful, I love you! Bill, love ya, Wends, love ya, whoever you are in the cute shorts, love ya. See you in a mo, guys, so get yourselves together pronto, no pressure. Love ya.’

  The raucous voice, with its strong Essex accent, and the clatter of the helicopter brought people out onto the decks of nearby boats to stare in amazement. Then the helicopter rose up into the air, turned abruptly to the right and was gone. Nancy Kyle was in town!

  It was only just after nine, but as Cate went back down below she found Wendy already hard at work in the master cabin.

  ‘Good, you’re here,’ the South African said calmly. ‘I hope you enjoyed your lie-in. Now it’s time to earn your keep.’

  For the next thirty minutes, Cate, conscious that this was the first chance to prove herself, worked harder than she had ever done in her life. The beds were turned down and aired, already clean bathrooms were made fresh and sparkling, any trace of human activity was removed from the thick pile carpets in the lounge and bedrooms and mahogany furniture and brass fittings were polished.

  Finally, just as Cate was straightening the last of the thick, fluffy towels on the top deck, the opening act of the Nancy Kyle show began.

  First into view on the pontoon came a man and a woman, so strikingly different from each other that they could almost have been picked for the visual effect they created as they walked side by side. The man was very tall and painfully thin, with black spiky hair adding to his height. His dark, Asian features, all razor-sharp cheek bones and pointed nose, contrasted almost shockingly with the round blondness of the petite woman at his side. Even her painfully high heels, ridiculously unsuitable for the slotted marina walkway, didn’t bring her up to the chest of her companion and she had to trot to keep up with him
. In turn, he flounced rather than walked, looking, Cate thought, sulky and displeased at life in general.

  ‘Lulu and Jules,’ said Wendy, who was, by now, standing on the outer deck ready to greet them. ‘One is Nancy’s ever loyal and incredibly efficient PA, the other her stylist, fitness guru and personal astrologer. I’ll leave you to guess which one is which.’

  ‘Jules, Lulu, welcome aboard,’ she said cheerfully as the couple reached the gangplank. ‘It’s great to see you both again. Help yourself to deck shoes.’

  With evident relief, Lulu kicked off her heels and walked up the gangplank. ‘Good to see you too, Wendy,’ she said in an accent that Cate struggled to place. Czech? Hungarian, maybe? ‘Sorry about the surprise, but well, you know how Nancy is. She only decided to come here when she woke up this morning.’

  Wendy shrugged and smiled. Lulu, completely ignoring Cate’s outstretched hand, walked onto the deck and flopped down on one of the cream sofas.

  Meanwhile, Jules was wrestling with the straps of a soft leather rucksack. ‘I am simply not wearing other peoples’ deck shoes,’ he shouted crossly up the gangplank. ‘It is too, too gross for words. I have brought my own.’

  Cate felt the urge to giggle, before catching a warning glance from Wendy.

  ‘Cate, can you go and help Jules with his bags?’ she said quietly. ‘Lulu, you must be desperate for a cold drink.’

  Five minutes later the two newcomers – Jules resplendent in a pair of highly polished snakeskin deck shoes – were settled on the inner deck, sipping cold lemonade from tall, frosted glasses.

  ‘This is Cate,’ said Wendy.

  Jules looked her slowly up and down. ‘English,’ he said, making the word sound remarkably like an insult. At any second Cate expected him to shudder and cover his eyes.

  ‘Cate is my right-hand girl,’ said Wendy firmly, ignoring Jules’s rudeness. ‘If I’m not around, just ask her for anything you need. She is multilingual.’

  ‘Take it back. Can’t be English, then,’ murmured Jules.