Laura Marlin Mysteries 2: Kidnap in the Caribbean (18 page)

Rupert tore the envelope in his eagerness to open it. ‘I’ll tell you in a minute.’ But when he’d read the contents he went still and said nothing.

‘What is it?’ asked Laura. ‘Is something wrong?’

But Rupert was miles away. She had to repeat the question twice before he said distractedly: ‘What? Oh, umm, I don’t know, to be honest. I need to go to the observation platform to take a few readings. The keys to the caravan are in the door. Make yourselves at home. I’ll see you shortly. Promise me you won’t go anywhere without me.’

‘Promise,’ Laura said, but she was talking to thin air. Rupert was already running up the path that led to the volcano. He paused briefly to yell: ‘Thanks, Jack,’ before disappearing from view.

The postman shrugged. ‘Dese volcano scientists, day arl got one or two screws loose if you know what I mean.’ He was gone in a plume of dust.

‘What was that all about?’ Laura asked as they gathered up the breakfast things. At the caravan’s tiny sink, Tariq washed as she dried. Skye was dozing on the mat. Rupert had taken him on his early morning run and for once the husky was worn out.

‘I’m not sure, but it seemed serious,’ Tariq said. ‘He was telling me about his Early Warning system. He and a couple of earth scientists in Antigua have been working on a project to detect minute changes in soil chemistry that can predict an eruption up to five hours before even the most advanced computer monitoring system. With volcanoes, every minute counts, so that could save a lot of lives. If the delivery is from Antigua, it might mean the volcano is about to blow.’

‘Great,’ said Laura. ‘That’s all we need on top of everything else. As soon as Rupert returns, we need to persuade him to tell us where this lava tunnel begins and ends. Since we can’t exactly visit the public area of Marine Concern, we need to find another way in.’

She wiped her hands on the tea towel. ‘Do you think Rupert is right about the skeletons? Why would anyone project skeleton holograms onto a mountain when there’s hardly anyone around to see them? Rupert has been here eighteen months and he hasn’t seen them once.’

‘But I saw them,’ Tariq said. ‘So did Joshua’s wife. What if they’re not directed at anyone in particular? What if they only appear if there’s something secret going on at Marine Concern – a mission involving the fishing boats, for instance? Maybe the skeletons are projected at the volcano as a precaution just in case someone happens to be around.’

Adrenalin surged into Laura’s veins. ‘And who’s more likely to do something like that than the Straight A’s. Tariq, we’re on to something big, I know we are. Maybe my uncle’s been kidnapped because he stumbled on to a major plot.’

There was a noise outside. She dried her hands and looked out of the window. In the short space of time they’d been inside, the weather had turned ugly. It seemed to her that the volcano was smoking, but cloud veiled the top of the hills and it was hard to tell. The caravan rocked in the wind. The door slammed shut.

Skye leapt to his feet, barking. Laura hushed him. She went to open the door and was surprised to find it wouldn’t budge. Tariq threw his weight against it, but it was stuck.

Laura returned to the window. She suddenly became aware of an odd, medicinal smell in the caravan and she wanted to air it out. She tried to undo the latch, but it needed a key. All of a sudden she was too exhausted to hunt for one. She was about to ask Tariq to help when she spotted the corner of a van. ‘Hey, we’re in luck. The postman is back again. If we yell, he’ll let us out.’

But Tariq was incapable of yelling for anyone. He was climbing into his bunk as feebly as an old man. ‘I’m so sorry, Laura,’ he said groggily. ‘I can’t keep my eyes open.’ To Laura’s astonishment, his head slumped on the pillow and he began to snore.

Skye was lying on his side near the door, eyes shut, dead to the world.

Laura’s knees threatened to give way beneath her. She fell into a chair. She registered that something was very wrong, but her brain had turned to cotton wool and she was incapable of doing anything about it. Her vision blurred. A black snake, or perhaps it was a tube, was dangling from an air vent. ‘Gas,’ she thought weakly. Her eyelids drooped.

The door opened and the bodyguards burst in. The thin, ghoulish face of Little peered down at her, like the Grim Reaper. ‘You and your associates have caused a lot of trouble to a lot of people, Miss Marlin,’ he said. ‘But your days of making mischief are over. Say goodbye to the good life.’

‘HOW WOULD YOU
like to win a Caribbean cruise to an island with sand so white it sparkles – an island with three hundred and sixty-five beaches, one for every day of the year. Picture yourself in paradise. Imagine lying in a hammock sipping coconut milk while dolphins
…’

Laura willed her eyes to open. Her eyelids were so heavy it was as if they’d been stitched together, yet even in the depths of the fog clouding her brain she knew that her survival depended on her being alert. She was in a bare room containing nothing but two mattresses, two plastic beakers of water and a chair, now occupied by the Fantasy Holidays travel representative.

Tariq was sitting cross-legged on the second mattress, watching the woman. His expression said: ‘My hands might be bound and you might be twice my size and hold all the power, but it would be unwise of you to underestimate me.’

There was no sign of Skye.

‘You lied to me,’ Laura said.

The woman tossed her head like a horse and laughed. She had close-cropped blonde hair and a lean, muscular frame. Olive green cargo trousers, combat boots and a black T-shirt had replaced her Fantasy Holidays uniform.

‘You’re a liar,’ Laura said again.

‘Not at all. Every word was true. You did, as promised, win a luxury cruise to the Caribbean. You did go to a paradise island with three hundred and sixty-five beaches and turquoise waters. According to the hotel records, you ordered coconut milk to drink. It’s your own fault if you chose not to lie in a hammock. As for the dolphins, we have a couple here. I’m sure we could arrange a quick swim for you before … well, let’s say, before our plans for you unfold …

‘The only teensy weensy white lie I told was the bit about the Siberian husky. I never did like dogs. Worked a treat, though. I do believe that that was the part that convinced you to buy a ticket. We left the husky behind, by the way. He woke up unexpectedly and turned ugly. I believe one of our men was considering eliminating him when he ran away.’

She stretched like a cat. ‘I should introduce myself. I’m Janet Rain. Not my real name, naturally, but it’ll do.’

Laura wriggled upright. She flexed her numb hands in a bid to loosen the tape around her wrists. Pins and needles prickled in them. ‘You know perfectly well that, thanks to you and the rest of the Straight A gang, we’ve had the holiday from hell. What I want to know is why? Why did you go to so much trouble when you could have just kidnapped us in St Ives? And what have you done with my uncle? I want to see him. If you’ve hurt him, I’m going to devote the rest of my life to tracking you all down and sending you one by one to the worst prisons on earth.’

Janet Rain laughed delightedly. ‘You’re quite a little character – you and your silent friend here. It’s almost a shame to get rid of you. You’re a regular Matt Walker.’

‘You haven’t answered Laura’s question,’ said Tariq, speaking for the first time. ‘Why did you do it? Why go to the effort of luring us to the Caribbean when you could have snatched us in Cornwall?’

Her gaze fixed on him. ‘For the game, of course. That’s half the fun. You see, the Straight A’s believe the punishment should fit the crime. Ex-Chief Inspector Redfern has committed two grave sins—’

‘What sins?’ cried Laura. ‘You’re the criminal, not him.’

‘That’s a matter of perspective, my dear. Quite apart from the fact that Calvin Redfern – with the aid of you and your boyfriend here – has sent several of our most talented operatives to jail, he was in the process of disrupting our Atlantic Bluefin Tuna operation, potentially costing us tens of millions of dollars. We couldn’t allow that.’

Laura was stunned. ‘That’s what all of this is about – tuna fish?’

Janet waved a brown hand. ‘Among other things. Bluefin tuna are on the road to extinction. Yet people still love to eat them. Think about it – when did you last go into a café that didn’t sell tuna fish sandwiches? And it’s a sushi bar staple. That’s good for us because it drives up the prices.’

‘Fewer fish mean more money,’ Tariq said.

Janet looked at him. ‘Smart boy. One good tuna can earn us $185,000. The black market is worth $7 billion annually. You can imagine how upset we were when Chief Inspector Redfern started meddling. Although, ironically, that made it easier to get you all here. When he didn’t call right away to confirm your travel arrangements, we realised that he might be suspicious that a free holiday was a con. So we sent one of our best men to see him in the dead of night, claiming to have information on marine smuggling on a massive scale in Montserrat. Your uncle took the bait, hook, line and sinker.’

Laura said: ‘That’s because it was true, wasn’t it? That’s what you do here. You trade in rare marine species while pretending to be a conservation organization trying to save them. That’s sick.’

Janet bounced to her feet with a grin. ‘No, that’s business genius. There are billions to be made out of endangered marine species. People focus on the cute and cuddly things – snow leopards, pandas, gorillas. They forget about the sea creatures. Nobody ever fell in love with a starfish or a tuna. If there was one less shark in the sea, who’d care?’

There was a long silence. Laura thought of her classmates back in St Ives. Most of them thought of sharks as marauding man-eaters that should be killed before they ripped you to pieces. And Janet was right about nobody loving starfish or tuna. Until her uncle had told her that tuna fish were on the verge of extinction, Laura had eaten dozens of tuna sandwiches without a qualm.

‘You still haven’t told us why you’ve brought us to the Caribbean,’ Tariq said. ‘What did you mean when you said the punishment should fit the crime?’

Janet rang a bell and the bodyguards appeared. ‘I think,’ she said, ‘it’s time for a tour.’

The C-shaped marina was a floating aquarium concealed by a white roof. The sound and smell of the sea was everywhere, pouring in through open vents. Escorted by Little and Large, the children were forced to follow Janet Rain as she walked the length of it, explaining the fate of each creature as they walked.

In the furthest tank were seahorses. They were the most angelic, pretty things Laura had ever seen. They bobbed sweetly in the water, oblivious to the terrible end in store for them.

‘By this time tomorrow they’ll be freeze-dried, packaged and on their way to Beijing,’ Janet said. ‘With over twenty-five million of them traded a year, they’re real money-spinners. No trouble either.’

Laura and Tariq looked at each other. Neither of them spoke.

Next came several tanks of turtles, their shells like works of art, followed by banks of pulsing coral and coloured ribbons in the shape of mythical animals. It was only when she saw them moving in slow duets, like dancers, that Laura realised they were alive.

‘Weedy and leafy seadragons from Australia,’ Janet informed them. ‘Seahorse family. Nature’s miracle. Much prized by collectors.’

They’d reached the end of the first section. Little spoke into a radio and a steel gate opened. Janet gave them a malevolent grin. ‘And now for the monsters.’