The Devil's Triangle (31 page)

The monocar that Nipper and Sam were piggybacking did an abrupt turn to the right, spearing off along a branch rail that took them away from the madness of the central hub. Looking over his shoulder, Sam watched as two further cars, both toting unorthodox passengers on the roof, swung right to follow them.

‘Grrrrrrr!’

The growl from Nipper said it all. Sam had no idea how, but it appeared that the following raptors were somehow controlling the direction of the cars. They were being shepherded and now that they were away from the hub, it was impossible to make a quick switch and throw them off track again. Sam looked left and right as the car zipped along a narrow alleyway between two buildings. Where were they going?

Another alley merged from the left and to Sam’s amazement, a car carrying Grunt and Callum sped out to join the rail just in front of them. More cars followed, some with raptors clinging to the roof. Looking back, Sam watched with dismay as one of the trailing raptors made an incredible leap forward to a closer car. It did not land cleanly and spent a second or two scrabbling for balance, but it did not fall. He could see others preparing to follow suit. There was no way that Nipper could make a similar jump carrying him. The gap to the car ahead was far too great.

Nipper called out a series of penetrating clicks, followed by a long, loud growl. Grunt acknowledged from the car ahead with the sound for which he had been named. Sam had no idea what they had agreed, but he could feel Nipper’s muscles bunching again, so he braced himself for another leap. Surely he was not planning to try to jump forward to join Grunt on his car?

At an unspoken signal, both raptors simultaneously threw themselves sideways from their respective cars. Even hitting the ground at a sprint was not enough for the rapotrs to keep their feet under them. They tumbled, rolling so quickly that Sam was too disorientated to tell how Nipper shielded him from the impact. His head was still spinning when he realised the raptor had somehow rolled upright and was running again with Grunt matching him stride for stride.

The two raptors were racing along at an insane speed, but still it was not fast enough. The trailing raptors, having jumped to follow, were unencumbered and gaining ground all the time. Nipper angled left and headed for an alleyway between two buildings. He appeared to be heading for the outer wall of the city, but no sooner had he turned into the alley than Sam’s heart sank. It was a dead end. They were trapped. The two raptors slowed as they reached the end wall. There was no time to break any panels. Their pursuers were too close behind. Nipper came to a halt and carefully placed Sam down on the ground before turning to face the pursuing raptors.

The light in the alleyway was slightly dimmer than it had been out in the wider spaces between the buildings where the rail cars ran, but it was bright enough for Sam to see that these raptors all had a darker shade of scales than Nipper and Grunt. There were five of them blocking the way back out into the open. Seeing that their prey was trapped they slowed and formed a line, advancing side by side, a walking wall of muscle and teeth. Behind them, another raptor entered the alleyway and paused at the entrance.

At first, Sam was not sure, but when the wall of raptors stopped and parted to let the leader through, he saw the scars and knew instantly that it had to be the same one.

‘It’s the scarred raptor from the train,’ Sam gasped, looking at Callum. ‘Look at the line of marks on his legs. I think he’s the one who killed Brad.’

The incoming raptor bared his teeth in a wide grin and nodded.

‘He understood you,’ Callum muttered. ‘Careful what you say.’

Nipper suddenly hissed and the scarred raptor stopped his advance. Two paces behind him his five followers also stopped. Scar and Nipper faced one another for a moment and both bared their teeth. It was hard to tell whether this was a display of defiance, aggression or contempt.

Scar spoke first, firing out a staccato sequence of clicks that echoed in the enclosed alley. Nipper responded in kind. Despite not understanding anything of the language, Nipper’s posture and deep-throated growling response were not hard to interpret. He was not going to back down.

‘If I was a betting kind of guy, I’d say that the big old raptor over there just asked Nipper to do something and Nipper told him to go to hell,’ Callum whispered.

‘No bet here,’ Sam replied. ‘That’s how I read it too.’

There were another couple of exchanges, but the tone and posturing remained the same throughout. Suddenly, Scar roared, causing Sam and Callum to jump. Nipper and Grunt visibly tensed, but neither of them backed down one iota.

‘They can’t fight all six of them,’ Callum muttered. ‘They’ll be slaughtered.’

‘You saw what Nipper did to the scientists,’ Sam said, trying to sound optimistic.

‘Yeah, but those were highbrow scientist types. These look like a bunch of skinhead thugs by comparison.’

Sam had to admit he was right.

It appeared Scar had made his final point. He turned and walked back through his line of followers, who instantly closed ranks and stepped forward as one. Nipper growled so deeply that Sam could feel the sound vibrating through his chest. Grunt added his voice and the two leaned forward, bunching their muscles in preparation for the inevitable attack.

It was not to come.

To the boys’ amazement, Nipper and Grunt suddenly spun and crouched over them, shielding the boys’ bodies just as a shocking sequence of minor explosions went off all around them. The rattle of shattered plastic panels raining against the opposing walls was followed instantly by the unmistakable sound of gunfire. Sam tried to wriggle into a position to see what was happening, but Nipper held him down and gave him a warning growl.

‘Take them down!’ yelled a woman’s voice. ‘Don’t let them get away!’

More gunfire.

‘The leader. Take out the leader!’

Further shots. A pause.

‘Hell and damnation!’ she cursed. ‘That’s twice he’s given us the slip! No, don’t go after him. There’ll be more of them here any minute now. We need to make ourselves scarce. Come on, guys. Get the kids and let’s get the hell outta here before we have a real fight on our hands.’

‘Yes, ma’am!’

Nipper got up and before Sam had a chance to move, a man grabbed him by the hands and dragged him to his feet. The man looked at him and grinned. He looked like a modern-day pirate. His dark beard and moustache were flecked with grey, and his teeth were yellowed and crooked.

‘There’s no mistaking it,’ he announced. ‘This has to be your boy, Claire. He looks just like you.’

Sam’s heart threatened to stop altogether. Claire? His mother? Here? He looked around and there she was, unmistakably older than the woman in the photos that Dad held so dear, but definitely the same person.

‘Mum?’ he said.

‘Sam!’

Sam wanted to say more. A million questions crowded in his mind, but he suddenly found he could scarcely breathe as his mother swept him into a crushing hug. The unmistakable outlines of several weapons pressed hard against his body, including what felt like a pistol in her right hand. This was not quite the reunion he had imagined, but he didn’t care. Against all odds he had found his mum. Nothing else mattered at that moment.

‘Are Matt and Niamh with you or did you cross alone?’ she asked urgently.

‘No,’ he answered. ‘Just me and my friend, Callum.’

‘Claire, I hate to break up the party, but we need to get out of here,’ the bearded man announced, scanning the alley with worried eyes.

‘Sorry, Sam, but Nathan’s right,’ his mother said softly, giving him an extra hard squeeze before letting him go. ‘Bring your friend and follow me. Stay close. I don’t want to lose you again. As soon as we’re in safe territory, I want you to tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out. Oh, and I’ve got nine years of hugs to catch up on,’ she said, giving him a warm smile. Even as she spoke, she was simultaneously flashing hand signals at the men and raptors around her with her left hand. From the pistol in her right hand, a thin coil of grey smoke was curling from the barrel. ‘For now we’ve gotta concentrate on getting away from here or we’ll all end up dead.’

‘Sure, Mum,’ Sam said, holding his voice firm; it felt so bizarre to say that word after so many years. He looked at her alert posture and the other gun holstered at her right hip. Her hair was tied back in a functional ponytail. She looked fit and dangerous. It was fair to say that she was about as different as she could be from the person he had been expecting to meet.

‘Hey, Sam!’ Callum whispered. ‘You never told me that your mum was a Sarah Connor clone. You know – Sarah Connor from the
Terminator
films.’

Sam looked him in the eye as he replied. ‘Believe me,’ he whispered back. ‘I had no idea what she was like. No idea at all.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

‘Hello? Who’s this?’ Niamh asked, keeping her voice low and leaning forward to prevent the lady behind from listening in.

There was a slight pause.

‘Hi there, Niamh. This is Niamh, isn’t it? I’m afraid your father can’t answer the phone right now, but he’s very concerned about you. We all are. Can you tell us where you are?’

Niamh knew instantly that she was talking to a policeman. She had seen enough films to know that the police had the technology to track incoming calls. They were probably tracing the signal so she needed to keep the call short.

‘Just tell my dad that I’m fine and that Sam is alive. I’m going to bring him back,’ she murmured quickly.

‘That’s great news, Niamh,’ the voice assured her smoothly. ‘I’ll be sure to pass on the message. Have you heard from Sam? Do you know where he is?’

How much to say? The policeman would not take her seriously if she told him she had a telepathic bond with her brother. Anything along those lines would make her sound crazy.
He’s stalling you
, she told herself.
Keeping you on the line to get a lock. Get off the phone now.

‘In a manner of speaking,’ she said softly. ‘He’s gone north.’

She punched the disconnect button. North – why had she told them that? Something inside her had felt an irresistible need to justify her inner knowledge that Sam was still alive. The whole of North America was north of the Keys, but Niamh couldn’t help feeling annoyed with herself. Had she been quick enough to avoid them tracking her? The phone call had only lasted a few seconds – less than thirty for sure. She didn’t know how she could check the length of the call on this sort of handset. She turned to the old lady from whom she had borrowed the mobile and handed it back.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Here’s a couple of dollars.’

‘Oh, don’t worry about that, honey,’ the lady said, closing Niamh’s fingers round her money. ‘You were only a few seconds. Did you get through OK? The signal comes and goes a bit around here sometimes.’

‘It was perfect, thanks.’

Niamh gave the lady another smile before turning around again to avoid being drawn into an extended exchange. They were approaching Marathon Key now. It was one of the more densely populated islands and Niamh spent several minutes looking out of the window at the houses and the shops. There were a few people walking around, but most had more sense than to take a stroll in the intense heat of mid-afternoon. She saw another Munroe County patrol car parked up in front of one of the real-estate offices. There was no sign of the officers though.

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.’