Trapped (5 page)

The gun! She still had the gun! How could she have forgotten? She should have told the police about it when they were doubting her. She could hand it in now of course, but after the dismissive way the
gendarmes
had treated her, she didn't much feel like going back to them any time soon. As Cate groaned at her own stupidity, there was a rap on the door and Wendy appeared.

‘Cate, dinner's served upstairs in the salon in ten minutes.'

Cate heaved herself off the bed, showered quickly and then pulled on her linen trousers and a T-shirt. She would have to think about the gun later.

Upstairs, the solid mahogany table was set with the jadegreen china and crystal glasses. Someone had lit candles and the wall chandeliers glimmered and sparkled reflective light over the highly polished wood and brass.

Wendy grinned when she saw Cate's stunned face. ‘Don't get used to it,' she laughed. ‘It's kind of a special occasion. Bill just passed his final nautical exams, I got a call from my waster
of a boyfriend at last and we all thought it would be a nice way to welcome you onboard.'

‘Sit down,' said Bill, pointing to a chair opposite Cate and pouring her some sparkling white grape juice that fizzed in the crystal flute. Cleaned up from their earlier meeting he now looked younger and more approachable. No more than thirty, Cate decided.

He and Wendy seemed like such decent people that she was tempted to confide in them. But then she remembered Bill's words – that he didn't want any trouble.

They'd never believe her anyway, they'd just think she was a drama queen, or a nutter and that would be her card marked for good. She wasn't ready to go home yet.

No, in the circumstances it was definitely best to keep quiet and so, as Bill proposed a toast, Cate made a big effort to smile.

‘To
Catwalk II
and all who sail on her,' he said. ‘And where is that Marcus when you need him?'

‘I'm here, man, don't rush me.' Marcus was carrying a large casserole. He placed it on a mat on the white linen tablecloth and proceeded to ladle out generous portions of steak in a rich red sauce topped with crispy brown miniature dumplings.

He smiled. ‘Tuck in, guys.'

Cate ate heartily, feeling more human with every mouthful. Suddenly the events of the day seemed like a dream, as if they had happened to someone else. She found herself relaxing and telling Wendy about how she knew Charlie (he was an old school friend of her dad's) and about her mad mum in LA who only rang when she was feeling low and then got upset if Cate ever asked anything remotely mother-like of her.

In return, Wendy confided that her American boyfriend was a loser but far too gorgeous to give up on, no matter how many times he forgot to ring.

Marcus, who was sitting opposite Cate, seemed very quiet compared to his earlier chattiness. ‘I forgot to ask, how was your run?' he said finally, his words wrenching Cate back to the chaos of the last few hours.

She looked up at him warily, but his face was expressionless. ‘It was, er, well, OK,' she said lamely. ‘Nice views.'

‘Did you see the Russians?'

This time she stared at him blankly, a feeling of panic rising from her stomach.

‘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.

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.