Blood Ransom (9 page)

Blinking against the glare, I followed Milo along the path. Paul was on duty at the gate, dressed in jeans and another rugby shirt.

He nodded at Milo, who nodded back.

I looked round as we passed the gate. We were surrounded by moorland – wild and green. The land rose up into hills on either side and up ahead, meeting a bright blue sky. Milo led me
through the trees that surrounded the fence round the house. As we emerged on the other side, my mouth fell open. The rest of the island was bleak and scrubby but here the land dropped sharply,
leading down to a long, smooth sandy beach. The sea sparkled beyond. It was beautiful.

As soon as I saw the water I started planning how I could slip away from Milo and swim out to sea. Surely another island – hopefully an inhabited one – couldn’t be far
away?

‘Awesome, isn’t it?’ Milo said with a grin.

We went down onto the beach. Milo couldn’t take his wheelchair onto the sand, so he stayed on the path, but I walked onto the sand and peered out to sea.

‘The nearest island is fifteen miles in that direction,’ Milo said, pointing to our right. ‘Also deserted.’

I sighed. So much for my idea of swimming for it.

‘And there’s a cave over there.’ Milo indicated a line of rocks that separated the beach from the trees beyond. He smiled, clearly enjoying his role as tour guide. ‘The
cave’s cool, but wait till you see the view from the hill in the middle of the island.’

I nodded. Getting the full lie of the land would definitely be useful. I followed Milo back along the path. Beyond the house the land rose steeply. My heart beat faster. The little jetty where
we’d docked before was just over this hill. Maybe there were other jetties and other boats. If I could work out how to start the motor I’d surely be able to steer a small boat until I
reached land.

‘I’m going to go down to the sea over there.’ I pointed to the coastline. It was partially hidden from view by trees. Milo wouldn’t be able to see me.

‘That’s fine, but just so you know, you won’t find a way off the island, Rachel,’ Milo said, shielding his eyes from the sun. ‘John – the other guard –
he’s taken the boat to the mainland for supplies and even if it wasn’t miles to the nearest island there are rocks everywhere. The jetty we tied up at is the only place on the island
where you can get close enough to shore to moor a boat – and even that’s dangerous.’

‘Right.’ I didn’t want Milo to see that he’d read my mind so well. Without looking back I jogged over the moorland and towards the sea. It really was the most beautiful
day – not a cloud in the sky and just a gentle breeze drifting in off the water.

I reached the beach and walked along it, looking out at the endless sea beyond. The rocks Milo had mentioned were clearly visible close to shore. My heart sank as I realised he was right. You
couldn’t land a boat here, much less swim – those rocks would cut your legs to ribbons in seconds.

I trudged back towards Milo, a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach. There was, clearly, no way off the island unless I could somehow manage to get hold of the keys to the one boat when it
returned, reach the jetty where it was tied up and work out how to drive it without running myself aground on the rocks just below the surface of the water.

Milo had trundled himself further along the path while I’d been gone and was now at the foot of the hill he’d mentioned earlier.

He watched me as I walked towards him, his dark eyes anxious and intent.

I couldn’t work him out. He looked so like Theo and yet there was something about him that was completely different – an awkwardness, a defensiveness . . . and the way he was acting
about tricking me before . . . like it wasn’t really his fault . . .

I was seized with a sudden thought. ‘How many more clones of Elijah are there?’ I asked.

‘None after me and Theo and Daniel.’ Milo’s face took on a pained expression. ‘At least, I don’t think so.’

There was a moment’s silence, the only sound the wind whistling off the sea.

‘How could you just stand by while Elijah killed a totally innocent little boy?’ I said.

‘I didn’t know that’s what he was going to do,’ Milo insisted. ‘He doesn’t really talk to me – like I told you, I think I remind him of his
failures.’

‘But you knew he wanted to kidnap
me
,’ I said. ‘Maybe he’s planning on killing me too.’ My throat tightened as I said the words.

‘I honestly don’t believe that,’ Milo said, his face screwing up into an anxious frown.

‘No?’ I said. ‘Are you sure? He told me that he was researching the difference between clones and non-clones and that he needed to do some tests on my blood . . . that
there’s something in me – a genetic quirk, he called it – that his other clones don’t have. D’you know what that’s all about?’

‘No,’ Milo confessed. ‘Like I told you before, Elijah does all his research in an old barn at the other end of the island. Some guy pays for it – a private backer. Elijah
built a kind of lab there when we came to the island four months ago. I’ve never been inside.’

‘Then you don’t know anything about Elijah’s intentions, do you?’ I said. ‘For all you know, he might be planning to murder me tomorrow.’

Milo fell silent.

I glanced up the hill beside us. Even if there was no way off the island, it would be worth climbing it just to get my bearings.

Milo followed my gaze. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait for you here.’

The wind whipped up as I climbed the hill. I had to hold my hair back to stop it flying into my eyes. I reached the top and looked around. Now, at last, I had a sense of the island as a whole.
Straight ahead of me was the farm building where I’d spent the night – with the pretty beach and the cave beyond. At the opposite end of the island was a crumbling, stone barn –
that must be the place where Elijah had set up his lab.

There were no other buildings. In fact, the only other man-made structure at all was the jetty with its little shelter. There were no boats in sight.

I strained my eyes, looking for other islands. It was a really clear day, I realised, so I must be able to see for miles and yet there was nothing but water all around.

I stomped back down to Milo.

We stood staring at each other for a moment.

‘Your hair looks really pretty in the sunlight,’ he stammered.

I rolled my eyes. ‘I’d like to wash it,’ I said, feeling irritated. What on earth did Milo think he’d achieve by paying me compliments?

‘I’m sure I can arrange that,’ Milo said eagerly. ‘There’s a proper bathroom at the end of your corridor next to that restroom you’ve already used
and—’

‘Don’t do me any favours,’ I snapped.

Milo looked crestfallen. ‘Rachel, I’m real, real sorry everything’s turned out like this . . .’

I opened my mouth to snap at him again. It was beyond irritating that he should act so polite around me when it was entirely thanks to him that I was a prisoner here in the first place.

But I stopped myself. Whatever the reason Milo was trying to be so friendly, it was surely worth my while taking advantage of it. If I couldn’t get myself off the island then I was going
to have to find some way of communicating with someone who could rescue me.

‘How do you stay in contact with the outside world here?’ I asked. ‘I mean, I know from when we came here that there’s no signal for a mobile.’

‘That’s right,’ Milo said. ‘There’s no landline or mains electricity or anything. We bring everything in and there’s a generator for the lights and
heating.’

‘What about the internet?’ I said.

‘Nope, nothing,’ Milo went on. ‘Elijah has some sort of radio, but it’s kept in his office which has about three locks on the door.’

At last, something I could maybe use. It wasn’t much, but some hope was better than nothing. If I could reach the radio, then I had a chance of contacting the police and my parents.

Milo glanced at his watch. ‘I’ve got to make some sandwiches for lunch. You’re supposed to come with me, but I don’t want to force you. You can go back to your room if
you’d rather.’ He looked up at me hopefully.

Wow, thanks.

Again, I resisted the impulse to bite his head off. I hesitated, holding my hair off my face again. The wind was definitely getting stronger, though the sun was still burning down.

‘Sure.’ I attempted a smile. ‘Would you like me to push your chair?’

28

‘What do you mean, he looked like me?’ I said. ‘You said he was in a wheelchair.’

‘Yeah.’ Dean McRae stared at me, anxiously. ‘He
was.
I didn’t mean that . . . his face was a bit like yours, just older, late teens maybe.’

Lewis and I glanced at each other. We pushed McRae for more details but it was soon obvious he didn’t have any. The only person he’d dealt with was this mysterious guy in a
wheelchair who looked like me and the only name he’d picked up was that of the woman Rachel was being taken to see: ‘Calla’.

We left McRae with dire warnings not to tell the wheelchair guy we’d been asking questions. We found a café out of the rain, and sat down over egg and chips to discuss what to do
next.

Lewis was stumped.

‘I just don’t get it,’ he said. ‘In all the time I was with Elijah I didn’t
ever
see or hear about anyone in a wheelchair
or
anyone called
Calla.’

‘What about when you worked undercover at RAGE?’

Lewis shook his head.

‘Maybe it’s a code name?’ I said.

Or maybe Rachel’s disappearance doesn’t have anything to do with Elijah or RAGE.

The thought sat between us, unvoiced. Lewis stared at his plate of food, his eyes hard. I rested my head in my hands. The idea that Rachel might be in some sort of random trouble that Lewis and
I couldn’t know anything about was more than I could bear.

The egg on the plate in front of me was congealing around one of the chips. I pushed it away.

‘Let’s go back to where McRae told the police he saw Rachel kill herself, the place where Wheelchair Guy told him to say he’d found her purse and ID card . . .’

Lewis nodded. He paid and we left the café. We drove back towards the West coast. Once we’d arrived in Roslinnan, it only took ten minutes to get to the beach where Rachel was
supposed to have drowned. We walked up and down the shore, but saw nothing that could possibly be connected.

I don’t really know what I’d been expecting, anyway. Lewis and the police had already been here – not to mention several days’ worth of tides ebbing in and out, clearing
away everything left on the sand.

It was late afternoon by now and had turned into a beautiful day. I stared out over the sparkling water. Somehow the glittering waves just reinforced how helpless I felt.

‘It’s certainly deserted round here,’ Lewis mused. ‘A good place to fake a suicide.’

I looked up and down the beach. Not a single person in sight and rocks blocking the view on either side.

‘We don’t even know if Rachel was ever really here,’ I said with a sigh.

We trudged back to Roslinnon. Lewis found a B&B and insisted I set up a new email account and email my mum from the local internet café while he called Rachel’s dad to tell him
what we’d found out from McRae. I sent my email, reassuring Mum once again that I was fine.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Rachel the whole time. Was she okay? Was she trying to find a way out of wherever she was? Was she thinking of me?

In the end I couldn’t bear my own thoughts. I went for a walk, arriving back at the B&B just before I was due to meet up with Lewis – who we’d claimed was my older brother
– for dinner.

I sat in the little dining area next to the pub part of the B&B – staring blankly at the map of Scotland on the wall above the fire. It was one of those ancient maps, drawn centuries
back, with the land divided up into the clans that, I assumed, had once owned them.

The woman who ran the B&B bustled over several times. I think she felt sorry for me having to wait for my ‘older brother’ to come down from his room.

I tried to smile and be polite, but to be honest everything felt like it was spinning out of control. I’d come all this way and Mum would be mad and Lewis and I had, surely, done
everything we could to find Rachel. But nothing had worked.

‘So where are you and your brother going on your trip?’ the B&B lady was asking.

‘Dunno,’ I said, staring at the map and hoping she would go away.

The B&B lady followed my gaze. ‘Are you planning to visit any of the islands while you’re here?’

‘I’m not sure yet,’ I said carefully. ‘I suppose they’re all really built up now, aren’t they?’

‘Not at all.’ The lady paused. ‘That is, there’s a fair amount going on, on some of the bigger islands like Eigg and Muck . . .’

‘There’s an island called
Muck
?’ I said.

‘Aye, but when you come to the Outer Hebrides there’s some isles that are still completely deserted.’

Deserted.
I stared at her. What would make a better hiding place for an outlaw like Elijah, or a terrorist organisation like RAGE, than an empty island?

At that moment Lewis arrived, his hair wet from the shower, and the B&B lady bustled away.

I leaned forward in my chair. ‘Let’s do a search on the islands off the coast here,’ I said in a low voice. ‘See if there’s anywhere Elijah or RAGE could be hiding
out.’

Lewis shrugged, clearly not as sold on the idea as I was, but he took out his phone and we both bent over our mobiles.

Intent on my search, I found a list of Outer Hebrides islands straightaway. There were loads of them, most of them absolutely tiny.

One name immediately jumped out at me.

‘
Calla
,’ I said, looking up at Lewis. ‘That’s
it.
The Isle of Calla – it’s a
place
, not a person.’

Lewis nodded, staring intently at the map of the islands showing his own phone.

I jumped to my feet. ‘Lewis, that island
has
to be where Rachel is,’ I said, my voice trembling with excitement. ‘We have to go there now!’