Trapped

by Isla Whitcroft

  Then there was Marcus’s survival pack. She would be mad to leave it behind but, although the tin was small, it wasn’t invisible. She could do something about that too. She hunted through her belongings and brought out a small, unopened box of Tampax. She slid open the lid and pulled out the tubes and, when it was empty, pushed the survival tin, together with her sim card, into the bottom of the cardboard box. It was a perfect fit. Next she used her penknife to cut the tampons in half and placed them back in the packet on top of the tin. If any man was brave enough to check the box, they would find a full packet of tampons. She grinned to herself. There were definitely some advantages to being a woman.

  Finally she considered the gun, still hidden in the freezer, and made a mental note to find another hiding place for it soon. In the meantime, Cate was sorely tempted by the idea of creeping across the corridor to retrieve it to take with her. But if the guards did find it on her – as they probably would – she would be in so much trouble it didn’t bear thinking about.

  By seven-thirty her backpack was ready. As well as the survival kit, she had thrown in a jumble of girly stuff – mascara, flip flops, hairbrush and a spare T-shirt – in a bid to distract any prying eyes. Then she had showered, dried her hair and was now starving.

  The silence as she made her way through the middle deck meant that the children and Nancy were still fast asleep and Cate headed for the kitchen.

  Ten minutes later she was up on the top deck with Marcus, sitting in the sunshine, eating her way through several freshly warmed croissants plastered with a gorgeous blueberry jam and drinking a large mug of English tea.

  ‘I hear you have a boyfriend,’ he teased, swinging his long legs over a lounger and pulling it up close to Cate.

  She blushed. ‘How on earth do you know about Michel?’

  ‘Well, you see,’ said Marcus seriously, ‘anyone who comes into contact with you has to be vetted at the highest level.’

  Cate stared at him in horror.

  ‘We have had tabs on your Michel since you bumped into him at the nightclub.’

  He let her suffer for a minute before breaking into his now familiar giggles. ‘Sorry, Cate, couldn’t resist it. Of course we’re not following him. Try explaining that particular expense to Henri. No, he came to the boat yesterday asking for you and Wendy told me about him. He’s very good-looking,’ he added.

  ‘Mmm,’ said Cate, trying hard not to laugh too.

  Suddenly Marcus was serious. He went to the top of the spiral staircase, checking that no one was coming up. Then he took Cate by the hand, walked her over to the jacuzzi and switched it on. The pump whirred loudly into action, the froth rising quickly out of the large tub.

  ‘We can talk now,’ said Marcus.

  ‘According to Arthur, Nancy’s charity and Tass’s father’s bank are donating a small fortune to the Ramibian Ministry of science and medicine,’ said Cate slowly. ‘All back-pocket stuff, of course. We know some of it is a bribe, but part of it is going into another account. Arthur is trying to work out who owns it.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Marcus admiringly.

  ‘And Nancy let slip yesterday that Tass was helping her with some amazing save-the-planet scheme. Something that would make him into a bit of a hero. It’s to impress his dad apparently. And guess what?’ Cate went on. ‘She and the professor definitely knew each other. More than knew each other. They were working together, probably with Tass, although I couldn’t find out anything more about it.

  ‘From the way she was talking about him in the present tense, she doesn’t know he’s dead either. Unless, of course, she was putting on a very good act.’

  Marcus nodded thoughtfully. Then it was his turn. ‘Cate, yesterday, when you were on the beach I searched through Bill’s stuff. I checked everywhere, even the engine room, but I couldn’t find anything incriminating. We’ve had a tail on him though. Last night he told me he was going out to meet some yachtie mates. Well, they might have been mates but they weren’t yachties.

  ‘He took an inflatable dinghy out to The Good Times. As you know, that damn yacht has more security on it than Air Force One. If they hadn’t recognised the dinghy he was in, particularly at night, they would have sent out an armed response unit to investigate.’

  ‘But they didn’t?’ asked Cate.

  ‘No,’ said Marcus. ‘They knew he was coming all right. They didn’t even search him when he climbed aboard, let alone check over the laptop he took out of his rucksack.’

  ‘Laptop?’ Cate’s mind raced back to the sound of the moped being revved, Bill coming out of the doomed house carrying the bright blue laptop under his arm.

  ‘Yes, it was the blue laptop. Your job is to find out just why Bill was prepared to kill to get it.’

  At ten o’clock sharp, a dark red, open-decked powerboat, with Mikey and Ahmed on board, nosed its way alongside the Catwalk II.

  Nancy appeared in a short silk dressing gown to wave the children off. She looked glum, tired and older than her thirty years and Cate, remembering their conversation of the previous day, suddenly felt desperately sorry for her.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll have a great time,’ she said gently to Nancy. ‘And I’m sure you’ll have a fab day as well.’

  Now all the children were fitted with life jackets and safely aboard and Ahmed gestured impatiently for Cate to clamber onto the powerboat too. As she did so, Beech shook herself free from Ahmed, toddled over and snuggled onto her now familiar position on Cate’s lap. Willow planted a sticky kiss on her lips, and Cate looked back to see Nancy’s stricken face as she waved her children goodbye. Could this woman really be involved in an international ring smuggling beautiful animals?

  The wind was low and the sea calm. It was a perfect ten-minute ride out from the harbour. Suddenly The Good Times was looming above them, its tall sides blocking out the sunshine and, despite the heat and the bright blue sea, Cate felt her mood sinking.

  She’d texted Arthur that morning, but she felt sick as she thought about the task ahead. A lot could happen in the twelve hours before she was due to text again. Suddenly she wished that she was anywhere else, even back at home in London in the rain, gossiping to Louisa about what their mates were up to.

  Then she pulled herself together.

  Treat it like an exam, she told herself. It’s worst beforehand, not so bad during and great when it’s all over.

  Now the pilot was cutting his engines and the low wall at the rear of the super yacht slowly opened to allow the powerboat to drift quietly over a small watery ramp into a mini harbour. It came to a gentle halt next to three jetskis and a ski boat. Cate shook her head in amazement.

  ‘All aboard,’ said Mikey from the small platform. Cate took a deep breath, resisted the urge to ask for a lift straight back to the Catwalk II, and lifted Beech carefully onto the walkway. With Ahmed still on board, the powerboat reversed and headed back out. Clearly Tass wasn’t allowed to be without protection for even a few hours.

  With Mikey in the lead, the small party walked silently into a tunnel which led towards a lift.

  ‘The stairs are over in that corner,’ grunted Mikey to Cate. ‘The lift isn’t really for staff, but as you’re with the kids you can use it for now.’

  The heavily carpeted lift whirred silently upwards for what seemed like far too long and, as the doors opened, Cate realised that they were on the top deck, twenty metres above the sea. The view out to the horizon was breathtaking.

  Directly in front of her was the helicopter landing pad and beyond that was what looked like a glass dance floor, studded with lights and edged by a horseshoe shaped bar and huge sound system. Beyond that stood the bridge, surrounded by heavily tinted windows edged with black blinds, no doubt waiting to drop in an instant.

  Through the open door Cate clocked an array of controls and screens that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a NASA launch pad. From its roof, a radar mast reached up into the sky, its horizontal listening arm rotating through never-endin
g circles. And next to it . . . no, it couldn’t be.

  ‘Watch out for the missiles.’ Mikey followed her gaze. ‘Up there, above the bridge.’

  ‘Bit over the top, isn’t it?’ Cate tried to sound casual. ‘All this security. What are they expecting? World War III?’

  Mikey sighed, clearly exasperated by her naivity. ‘You’ve got no idea, girl,’ he said. ‘It’s all lovely here, I grant you, but out there in the big, bad world there are all sorts of people who would just love to get their hands on this yacht – and the people who own it.

  ‘Mr Taplinski does a lot of business in Africa and sometimes we sail there. Even you must have heard about the pirates that are taking vessels and holding them for millions of dollars of ransom. The only thing that will scare them off is a missile over their bows.’

  Cate nodded. She had heard of the pirates. But she wondered too, whether there wasn’t another more sinister motive behind the fear. Maybe all this armoury wasn’t about stopping people coming on the boat as much as keeping something trapped here instead.

  By now Oak and the twins were running screaming with delight towards the large figure-of-eight swimming pool at the prow of the deck. A palm tree clad island and a bridge stood at the crossover point and at the far end were several water slides and a fountain to swim under. Inflatable dinghies, a blow up crocodile and some boogie boards bobbed on the surface.

  ‘There’s a wave machine and a sound system too,’ explained Mikey.

  ‘Any chance of a guided tour later?’ said Cate innocently, holding hands tightly with Willow and Beech to make sure they didn’t follow their siblings to the pool without her. ‘Not often a girl like me gets chances to look around a boat like this.’

  Mikey looked at her, considering her request. ‘Not being nosy, are we?’ he said. ‘You haven’t got a camera in that bag?’

  ‘No,’ said Cate, doing her best to sound outraged. ‘You know Ahmed searched it earlier. It’s OK, I was only asking. Oak wanted to see the submarine, but if it’s all top secret then don’t worry. I’ll explain. Come on, kids, let’s get changed.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ Mikey said. ‘It’s a bleeding big yacht and we don’t want you getting lost. I’ll see what I can do.’

  For the next hour the children were totally happy playing in the water. A lifeguard appeared and spent most of the time splashing around with a delighted Beech and Willow on his back, leaving Cate free to relax by the side of the pool.

  It was paradise, thought Cate, as she sucked at an ice-cold Diet Coke with a straw. Except that, somewhere on this yacht, evil had been planned and carried out, perhaps was being carried out still. As Mikey had said, The Good Times was a bleeding big yacht. It could hide an awful lot of secrets. Including a laptop that contained details so precious that they may have cost a man his life. Despite the sunshine, Cate felt herself shiver.

  Two minutes later, Mikey came hurrying up the stairs, followed by the boat pilot and three other men, all immaculate in stewards’ uniforms.

  Mikey beckoned Cate over towards him. ‘Cate, we have to go back,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s some sort of security emergency going on, something to do with paparazzi trying to climb onto Catwalk II. Not sure it’s too serious, but Tass wants to show them who’s boss anyway. He’s asked me to bring the security team back to them.’

  Cate’s heart sank. It looked like her golden opportunity was turning to dust. ‘But we’ve only just got here,’ she said, gesturing towards the children who were still playing.

  ‘You can stay. José here and his crew can look after you.’

  Cate tried to hide her delight but Mikey was desperate to get going, too hyped up for action to even notice her expression. ‘We’ll be back in a few hours. Be good.’

  Oh, I’ll be good all right, thought Cate to herself as she watched the powerboat bouncing low over the waves to Antibes harbour. Cate counted ten men on board including Mikey, all with a military look about them.

  It’s a small army, Cate realised with a start. This boat isn’t a superyacht. It’s a floating fortress.

  But for now the fortress was without its private army.

  ‘Can we have our tour of the boat now?’ she asked José, gesturing to the children. ‘They are very excited about it.’

  ‘A tour? I didn’t know about that.’

  ‘Mikey did promise us,’ said Cate, fluttering her eyelashes.

  ‘Yes, he did.’ Oak was at Cate’s side, looking up pleadingly at José. ‘He said we could see the submarine. I want to see the submarine. So does Elm and Ash and Willow. We’ve been looking forward to it for days.’

  ‘Kids, huh?’ José looked benignly at Cate. ‘Let me decide about that, but first we can look around the boat.’

  ‘Why not?’ said Cate, picking up her rucksack. ‘They could do with a break from the sun.’

  Cate’s head was soon reeling. They had walked through a vast salon with a sofa large enough to seat eight people and a dining table laid with gold-leafed crockery and cutlery for sixteen. The children had run around like lunatics in the ballroom and marvelled at the fish tanks set into the walls. Then, to squeals of delight, José had shown them the switches that slowly ratcheted back the dance floor to reveal another swimming pool, this one heated and complete with a jacuzzi.

  The middle deck held the guest cabins, twelve in all, each with ensuite and a balcony so that they could enjoy the sea view as they travelled. Every room had its own theme – one was a beach hut on a tropical island, another the interior of a stately home complete with a velvet curtained four-poster bed. Perched above them all was the penthouse suite – a loft-style apartment which ran almost the entire length of the deck opening.

  ‘The bed turns,’ explained José, calling them into the room, ‘so you can change the view or enjoy the sunshine. And here,’ he gestured to Cate, ‘is room for one hundred outfits and fifty pairs of shoes.’

  Cate shook her head. ‘Awesome,’ she said finally. ‘Truly, truly awesome.’

  José shepherded them into the lift and down to the cinema complex. Oak tugged on his sleeve. ‘José,’ he said. ‘I really, really want to see the submarine.’

  ‘Submarine, submarine, submarine,’ the others chanted.

  ‘OK, OK,’ José said. ‘We’ll go there now. But you must do as you are told, OK? There are lots of things that cannot be touched and rooms we must not go into. You promise?’

  They nodded solemnly.

  As the lift doors opened on the bottom level, it was as if they had entered another world. They were now in the bowels of a working ship where there was clearly no interest in luxuries. The floors were bare metal or lino, and the walls and ceilings painted a bright white, made even starker by the fluorescent lights which ran the length of the ceiling. Behind the lift, through some double doors, men were moving about in what was clearly the engine room, and huge, gleaming metal pipes ran from the engines along the length of the floor and up through the ceiling above. They were hot and steam came hissing through from joints in the piping. Cate felt as if she was in a factory.

  ‘Stay away from the pipes,’ she told the children, showing them the steam, and, surprisingly subdued, they obeyed.

  Despite the piping and the fact that it was a hot summer’s day, it was clammy and cold. ‘We are now five metres under the sea,’ said José, by way of explanation as he saw Cate rubbing her arms in a bid to warm up.

  ‘Spooky,’ said Willow, and Cate nodded.

  ‘It is a bit,’ she said, ‘but José will look after us.’

  The group made their way along the deck, Cate falling gradually behind as she did her best to absorb every tiny detail. Halfway down she spotted a bank of CCTV screens watched over by a middle-aged man wearing a pair of headphones, next to him a small wall-mounted screen beeped as red dots moved slowly to and fro. Cate looked questioningly at José.

  ‘He is monitoring inside the boat and around the boat. The sonar system is here.’

  Cate tried to look bored as she
watched the screens out of the corner of her eye. On one screen she saw the swimming pool and inwardly shuddered at the knowledge that, whilst they had been splashing around, they had been watched by unseen eyes.

  Strangely, Cate couldn’t see the submarine bay on his screens. Did that mean it had its own security system, separate from the rest of the boat? If so, why?

  Finally they came to a walled-off area with a pair of thick steel double doors. ‘Through here is the submarine area,’ said José, stopping by the doors. ‘You all stay close to me or we will have to leave.’

  Everyone nodded, Cate watching closely as José punched in a code.

  Easy, thought Cate triumphantly, using her memory system once again. As they walked through the double doors she saw another door to her left. She made to go through it but José stopped her.

  ‘No, no,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You mustn’t go into that room. And in any case,’ he gestured at the security panel which was mounted on it, ‘this can only be opened with a hand scan, after being authorised from that computer over there.’

  He pointed down the corridor and Cate’s heart sank. Virtually opposite the forbidden room a guard was sitting at a desk, staring at a computer screen. He looked up at them, barely concealing his irritation at their intrusion.

  ‘He controls the doors,’ explained José, ‘to that room and to the submarine bay, but to get in you need special clearance.’ The children looked at him wide-eyed and enthralled.

  ‘Wow!’ said Elm.

  Cate turned to José, opening her eyes wide. ‘So what’s in that room?’ she asked innocently. ‘Is it something to do with the submarine? Or has he got the crown jewels in there?’ She put on a girly giggle.

  José shrugged. ‘I don’t know, miss. Not even I can get through.’

  ‘But what happens when the guard goes to bed?’ Oak asked. Cate was delighted. Exactly what she had wanted to know.