Deep Water Read online

  The waves were stronger now, louder, running further up the beach than they had done earlier in the day. She swivelled round a log seat so that she was facing towards camp. She didn’t want anyone creeping up on her unannounced and listening to her conversation. Then there was the small matter of whether she let people know that, thanks to Arthur’s computer expertise, she had fantastic internet access in a place where it was usually pretty unreliable. But, mean as it sounded, she didn’t want people queuing up night and day to use her computer. She inserted the dongle, and tapped in the code to enable the signal-receiving booster to start searching for access. Crossing her fingers, she put on a tiny pair of headphones and switched on the webcam, positioning it so that it faced her directly.

  Finally, incredibly, she was online, in touch with the outside world again. ‘Hey, Arthur.’

  It was fantastic to hear her brother’s voice. ‘Sis, hi!’ There was a scrabbling sound as Arthur activated his webcam and then suddenly he was there, his toothy grin lighting up her screen. ‘How’s it going down under? We’re all fine here except Dad has twisted his ankle on the black run. Monique says it’s his fault for trying to beat her over some slaloms. They’ve had a bit of a tiff.’ He giggled and Cate did too. Their arguments never lasted for long. ‘Mon says that middle-aged men are over-competitive and shouldn’t be allowed on the slopes. She wishes you were here so she could go shopping with you instead of having to listen to Dad moaning.’

  ‘Oh, Arthur, don’t,’ said Cate half laughing, half serious. ‘I’m really missing you guys. I’m having a fab time here, but . . .’

  ‘But what?’ said Arthur. He suddenly sounded anxious. ‘There’s no trouble is there?’

  ‘Errm,’ said Cate. ‘The thing is . . .’ She knew it was pointless trying to pull the wool over Arthur’s eyes. He knew her so well, every expression on her face, every tone of her voice, as she did his. They were very close and it wasn’t unusual for one to know what the other was about to say even before they had opened their mouth.

  ‘Cate.’ Arthur’s voice was serious. ‘Honestly, you promised. I don’t think I can cope with any more drama. I’m just recovering from your last adventure.’

  ‘Arthur, cool it.’ Cate smiled. ‘No, it’s fine. It’s just that I wanted to ask you something. Hang on.’

  She stopped and looked around her. At the far end of the beach someone – it looked like Tuyen or Dan – was busying themselves with a fishing rod. Through the trees she could see activity around the kitchen but, as long as she kept her voice down, there was no one close enough to hear her talk. ‘OK, Arthur. Can you do me a huge favour?’

  ‘Go on.’ Arthur was guarded.

  ‘Can you see if you can find any cyber trace of someone called Rafe Schuster? He was staying here until a few weeks ago until he suddenly upped sticks and left. Didn’t tell anyone that he was going, didn’t say goodbye and no one has heard a word from him since.’

  ‘Have the police checked it out?’ Arthur asked.

  ‘Not interested,’ said Cate. ‘The thing is, as I’m beginning to realise about this country, people go AWOL all the time. It’s such a huge place, like a hundred times bigger than the UK. If people want to disappear, they can do easily and it’s almost impossible to keep tabs on them.’

  ‘I see what you mean,’ said Arthur thoughtfully. Despite himself, Cate could tell he was already intrigued by the challenge. ‘Does he have a mobile? You can track one of those pretty easily if you know how. I’ve got some software I got from a mate in Amsterdam that would do the trick. You got his number?’

  ‘I’ll get it from Michel’s phone and text it to you later,’ said Cate. ‘Anything else that would help?’

  Arthur thought for a second. ‘Well, his email address. His bank account details. But really, Cate, I’ll start with his phone.’ She could see him grinning happily to himself. ‘Did you know that anyone with an iPhone can pretty much have their movements tracked 24/7? You don’t even need surveillance equipment any more, just geeks like me!’

  Cate laughed. ‘Arthur, the geeks will inherit the earth. You just wait and see. In the meantime, guess what? Nancy Kyle is staying on Purbeck Island with her latest squeeze, Lucas Black – you know, the guy from Black Noir? He’s playing a birthday concert for the some massively wealthy Arab sheikh.’

  ‘Black Noir?’ Arthur wasn’t really up with the latest bands unless they happened to have a track on a computer game of his. Cate could see him typing furiously. ‘Oh yeah. It says here that they are the fastest-selling indie band of all time. And that Lucas Black is the most influential newcomer in music in the last decade. Respect!’

  ‘Anyway,’ said Cate, ‘Nancy rang up in a huge state. She thinks Lucas is having an affair and wants me to drop everything and fly to her rescue. But actually I was secretly hoping to see Lucas in concert and they do say Purbeck Island is fab.’

  There was a pause. Then Arthur spoke again, a quizzical look on his face. ‘There’s something else you want to tell me. I just know it. Go on, Sis, spit it out.’

  ‘Ohhhh Arthur, you’re too sharp,’ said Cate. ‘I was building up to that.’ She took a deep breath and screwed up her face against a sudden blast of dry, sharp sand from the beach as the wind picked up. ‘Promise you won’t be mad at me but, well, I’ve kind of hooked up with Marcus again.’

  ‘Marcus? As in IMIA Marcus? Out in Australia? What on earth is he doing there?’

  ‘I asked myself exactly the same question. Apparently the IMIA is concerned about some undesirables from a tiny South American country called Cotia rocking up in Sydney and headed, as it happens, to the Friday Islands. Which is where I come in.’

  ‘Cate!’ Arthur interrupted her. ‘You promised me you would just have a regular holiday and here you are already meeting up with the bunch who nearly got you killed last summer.’ Then, as always, his curiosity got the better of him. ‘What do they want with you, anyway?’

  Cate grinned at her brother. ‘Actually, the answer is, sadly, very little. There’s a very small chance that one of the bad boys they’re chasing came to the turtle sanctuary recently and, once the IMIA had worked out that I happened to be spending a few weeks up here, they asked me to keep an eye out for anything unusual or untoward. That’s all. Something and nothing probably. Apparently I’m cheaper than sending in one of their own undercover guys. Honestly, they make me feel so wanted!’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Arthur. ‘Why am I having trouble believing that? Cate, last time you went undercover for the IMIA my heart rate didn’t return to normal for at least a week.’ He gave a dramatic sigh, almost lost in the noise of the waves. ‘I know better than anyone else how useless it is to try and stop you doing something you really want to do. Just, well, don’t rush into anything. Remember, you don’t owe the IMIA a thing.’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ said Cate slowly. ‘But funnily enough, Arthur, it feels right to be working with them again. I’ve kind of missed it.’

  Arthur snorted. ‘Weird, Sis, weird.’

  ‘There’s another thing.’ Cate was talking even more quietly now, even though no one was around. ‘I’ve kind of been sworn to secrecy but you don’t count.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Arthur, raising his eyebrows as he always did when he was intrigued.

  ‘When I was at the Eco HQ in Sydney, it was attacked by a couple of thugs with strange accents. They set fire to it when someone was inside! How awful is that? I only just managed to get to him in time.’

  Arthur went pale. ‘Cate! This is starting to sound a bit heavy. Do you think it has anything to do with the Cotians?’

  ‘I really don’t know, Bro.’ Cate was whispering now. ‘I can’t see how – yet. But I promise if I find a link you’ll be the first to know.’

  They said their goodbyes and Cate walked back into camp, noticing the hammocks rocking in the stiffening breeze. The wind had changed direction, from a gentle northerly to a gusty south-easterly and now, in the distance, she could see heavy clouds beginning to
roll towards an almost unnaturally bright sky. The air felt different too, moist and heavy, and as Cate headed for the kitchen, she saw Noah and Michel were hard at work securing guy ropes and moving anything that wasn’t tied down into the timber hut. Michel had left his phone on a tree stump, and it took only moments for Cate to find Rafe’s number and text it to Arthur.

  ‘Hey, Cate,’ Michel called over to her just after she’s put his phone back in place. ‘Your first tropical storm is on its way. Don’t worry, it’s the leftovers from a hurricane up north so it won’t be too strong. But best to be on the safe side.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Cate. ‘What can I do to help?’

  ‘Can you go and get the showers down and bring them into the kitchen?’ asked Noah. ‘Then go and give Mitsu and Jacob a hand on the beach. Everything needs bringing up well beyond the high tide mark and tying down securely.’

  Three hours later, just as the last of the kayaks had been strapped securely alongside the kitchen, the storm hit. The rain came first – a few heavy splatters developed slowly but steadily into a continuous stream of heavy drumming on the wooden roof. It was only mid-afternoon but outside it was almost pitch dark, the blackness broken only by the occasional whip crack of lightning which was followed by thunder so loud Cate was almost deafened by it.

  The eco-warriors sat around the kitchen table, drinking coffee, playing cards and reading. Tuyen had tried to work on his laptop but had been told abruptly to switch it off. ‘If we get a direct strike that laptop could explode like a bomb,’ Jacob said grimly. ‘You’ll just have to live without it for a few hours.’

  Even the gas cylinders had been disconnected, to avoid the potential risk of lightning causing a spontaneous ignition and explosion and now the hut was lit only by reserve oil lanterns, hung from the ceiling beams.

  Funny how quickly nature can make us regress, thought Cate looking around her at the strange shadows. One minute we’re all laptops and mobile phones and then we’re reading by oil lamps. We think we’re in charge of our lives but we’re so not.

  She was trying to catch up on some A-level course work. It was a particularly tricky piece of pure maths and naturally Michel couldn’t resist giving her some helpful advice, even though it meant yelling in order to be heard.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind, Michel,’ said Cate, shouting back, ‘but the Baccalaureate is completely different from our A-levels.’

  ‘Not different,’ said Michel with an infuriating grin, ‘just harder, that’s all. Which makes me perfectly qualified to tell you exactly what to do with this particular equation.’

  Cate bared her teeth at him in a mock growl.

  He held up his hands in surrender, lay back on the bench and closed his eyes. ‘OK, OK, let’s change the subject. Have you heard from the beautiful Nancy yet?’

  Cate stared at her boyfriend in amazement. Was he a mind reader? ‘As it happens I got a call from Nancy this morning. She’s having a few problems with Lucas.’

  ‘What’s the matter? Hasn’t he proposed yet?’ he joked, shouting into her right ear as another roll of thunder swept over the camp and off out to sea.

  ‘Don’t be mean, Michel,’ said Cate, smiling. ‘She’s distraught because he’s invited an old flame out to sing with him. She wants me to go out to the island tomorrow afternoon in time for the concert to give her a bit of moral support. You can come too! It should be brilliant.’

  Michel screwed up his face. ‘I’d love to, Cate, really love to, but Jacob and I have vowed that we’re going to clear those old trees away tomorrow – we keep putting it off.’ He smiled then. ‘But if you want to go, then go, Cate. It’s a great opportunity. And after all, you’re on holiday, not here to work.’

  ‘I feel bad leaving you,’ said Cate, wincing slightly, ‘but she really does need a friend and I think I’m pretty much the only person here she knows. Even before this row I got the feeling that she and Lucas weren’t exactly getting along too well. I’m not sure that a supermodel whose idea of classic literature is reading back issues of Hello! magazine is going to have that much to talk about with an indie musician who devours Sartre and Graham Greene.’

  Michel laughed. ‘Does Nancy even know who Graham Greene is? She probably thinks he’s a hot new designer. Or a Formula One racing driver.’

  ‘Stop it!’ Cate was trying hard not to laugh. ‘I’d hate to see Nancy go through another high profile break-up.’

  Michel put his hand out to cover hers. ‘Cate, go. It sounds great. I’ll miss you but, hey, you’ll be back in a couple of days. And maybe I can come with you another time.’

  A few hours later the wind was still gusting but the worst of the storm had passed. Cate got up and wandered over to the window. The rain was running down the glass in rivulets rather than being thrown against it like shrapnel and Cate could see down to the beach. The waves were fast and low. Creamy foam was breaking right at the top of the beach by the palm trees where she had been sitting just a few hours earlier. Every so often, one would race on and reach the clearing. It was a good job that the kitchen was built on stilts she thought. She was longing to be out of the confined space of the kitchen. The boys were mostly dozing. Tuyen and Dan were back on the laptop again. Mitsu was engrossed in her book and Josie, who had quietly slipped into the kitchen just before the storm broke, was listening to her iPod.

  ‘I’m just going out for some fresh air,’ Cate said softly to Michel. He opened one eye and nodded sleepily back at her. ‘I won’t be long.’

  Cate slipped through the door and out onto the porch. She loved storms, the spectacle and the exhilaration of nature at its most unpredictable. She stood there, enjoying the sensation of the warm wind whipping her face, watching the trees bend and twist as the last of the storm moved away from land and out to the vast Pacific ocean.

  Cate had been staring out to sea for several minutes before she realised what she was looking at. Lights. Faint, sporadic, but definitely lights – blue and purple, not on the water, but under it. She looked away and then back again, rubbing her eyes to rid them of the salty moisture that was being blown into them. But there was no mistake. The lights were still there. Cate considered going back into the kitchen to ask Michel to come with her, but discounted it almost immediately. She knew that if he didn’t try to dissuade her then the others would. In any case, there was no telling how long the lights would be there. She had to take her chance now.

  Miraculously, despite the winds, the tepee was still standing firm. Cate went straight to her camp bed and felt underneath it for the washbag Marcus had given her. She pulled out the camera pen and a torch, slinging them into a small, waterproof pouch around her neck before running swiftly towards to the beach. The lights in the water were gone now, but up ahead in the darkness she caught glimpses of the sea pitching and swirling, a very different beast from the calm placid waters of earlier in the day. Suddenly she saw them again, this time at the far end of the beach, where she had run earlier that day. It felt like they were teasing her and she knew she had to try to find out what they were. She set off into the wind, stumbling over unexpected sand hillocks and exposed roots, until she reached the far end of the beach and pressed in behind a wide tree for a breather from the fading storm.

  She peered through the darkness, trying to see down to the water, waiting for the lights to reappear but there was nothing until the scudding clouds parted, and the moon appeared, washing the beach with a silvery glow. At first she mistook their shiny blackness for seals, but then two of them stood up and she saw them clearly, five men in the surf, twenty metres away from her. She dodged back behind her tree. What on earth were they doing out in this storm, in a protected bay? They were putting themselves in great danger, not just from the high waves but also – she shuddered remembering the day before – from shark attack. There could be an innocent explanation she supposed, but she had to be sure.

  She took the camera pen from the bag around her neck. Cate couldn’t see their faces in the low light but maybe th
e camera could. Henri had said it was infrared. Hardly daring to breathe in case they heard her, she pointed it towards the men.

  She had taken a barrage of pictures when another man appeared out of the water, carrying a large bag which he strapped around his waist. He was taller than the rest, thinner and with a confidence about him that made Cate think he was in charge. His face too was a blur in the night but, as he turned and beckoned to the others, she snapped quick pictures of him anyway. The tall man pulled out a torch and seemed to start signalling – a red light flickered across the water and out to the mouth of the bay. A few minutes later a purple light appeared just beyond the surf. It flashed on and off for a few seconds and, without a word, the five men slipped one by one back into the inky blackness.

  Cate lay in the wet sand trying to make sense of what she had just seen. Divers, that was for sure, but what were they doing here? And why were they coming at night? They hadn’t been carrying harpoons, so they weren’t fishermen. And there was an odd noise too – a subdued thudding that stopped when they left. Whatever they had been doing, they had finished. For now at least.

  Cate headed back to camp and had just reached the kitchen when she saw someone standing in the shadows. He turned as she approached the door. ‘Miles,’ said Cate, shocked. ‘When did you get back here? I thought you were still in Sydney.’

  His face lit up when he saw her. ‘Cate! Our hero,’ he said, putting out his hand to give her a high five followed by a huge hug. ‘Where have you been on this dark and wild night?’

  Cate was about to tell him she had been on the beach but something made her hesitate. If there was one thing she had learnt last summer, it was the virtue of keeping your mouth firmly closed unless you had a very good reason not to. ‘Just to the loo,’ she said, thinking on her feet. ‘Then checked on our tepee. Everything’s still standing.’