Eye of the Storm (19 page)

Niamh’s heart gave a flutter of excitement as Tony’s image appeared on her laptop screen.
Whoever invented Skype is a genius!
she thought.

‘Hey, Niamh! Great to see you. How was the flight home?’ His voice came out of the speakers slightly out of synch with the lip movement on the screen image, but it was wonderful to
hear his voice.

‘Not bad, thanks. The cop they sent with me was about as chatty as a stone statue, but it was pretty uneventful. You OK? How’s Carrie?’

‘She’s fine. She’s in the other room at the moment, but she’ll be through in a minute for a chat. I’m missin’ you already. I just felt I’d started to
get to know you when the cops came an’ whisked you away. They wouldn’t say who tipped them off, but I’m sure it was Tessa. We had ’em round again today askin’
questions.’

‘Same here,’ Niamh said. ‘I had my first interview today.’ She stared at Tony’s face on her laptop screen. Even slightly distorted as he was by the laptop camera,
he looked gorgeous. What she wouldn’t give to be back in Florida with him and Carrie now!

‘Really? How did it go?’

‘It was no big deal,’ she told him. ‘It seemed to be a form-filling exercise. The real deal is going to be tomorrow. I’ve got to go somewhere in Banbury to a special
police interview room. It’s not at the police station, but apparently, an officer from the CID is going to do the questioning.’

‘CID?’

‘Criminal Investigation Department,’ Niamh explained. ‘Not the regular street police. I must admit, I’m a bit nervous. What if I say the wrong thing? I might get Dad into
even more trouble.’

‘Hey, don’t think like that!’ Tony said. ‘You’ll do fine. You know your dad’s innocent, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, that’s what you tell ’em. Carrie and me’re still lookin’ through your dad’s notes. There’s loads of crazy stuff in there. You done any
more?’

‘No,’ Niamh said, feeling instantly guilty. ‘There’s not been much time since I got here and I don’t have them on my laptop. Can you talk me through getting them
the way you did with Beth?’

‘Sure. No problem. I’ll copy them to online storage while we’re chatting and talk you through pickin’ ’em up before you go.’

‘That would be great. Thanks. Have you found anything new?’

‘Not really sure it’s new, but your dad seems to have concentrated a lot on the reports of magnetic anomalies and incidents where the sea has been reported as lookin’
different. In one of the files he’s marked at the bottom
Note to self: what if it really
was
a different sea?
Not sure what he means by that. You?’

‘I don’t know,’ Niamh replied. ‘If I’m allowed to visit him, I’ll ask.’

‘Won’t he be upset that we’ve been goin’ through his personal files?’

‘I doubt it,’ Niamh said, giving him a smile. ‘In fact, I’m sure he’ll be pleased we’re trying to help.’

‘I hope so.’

Tony helped Niamh retrieve the files he’d posted online and then for the next ten minutes they revisited the topic of magnetic anomalies, the Hutchison Effect and the Philadelphia Project
that had seemed so promising before the police had knocked at the Dales’ door. Once again, the hairs on the back of Niamh’s neck prickled. She felt sure they were on the right track,
but she simply didn’t know enough about the physics involved to construct any sort of working theory on how such forces might form or how it would help them find the boys.

Niamh fell silent, staring at Tony’s image on the screen. Their discussion had gone round in circles and now that she could see no way forward with it, the sudden silence was stretching
into the realms of awkwardness. Perhaps she should change the subject for a bit. What else could she talk about? She wanted to say something, but ‘Boy, you look hot!’ was all that kept
coming to mind and she couldn’t bring herself to say that!

‘So is that your bedroom?’ Tony asked.

‘No,’ Niamh said, looking round the room, grateful that he had introduced a new topic of conversation. ‘At least, I’m not at home, if that’s what you mean. My room
at home is more colourful than this and nowhere near as tidy. I’m staying with my aunt at the moment.’ She lifted the laptop and walked round the room, giving him a virtual tour.
‘Her house is a bit like a mansion. It’s comfortable, but I hardly dare to touch anything in case I break it.’

‘Cool.’

‘No. Definitely not cool.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper and flicked a glance in the direction of the door. ‘Especially as staying here means having to put up with
Archie.’

‘Archie?’

‘My cousin.’

‘Ah! The rich cousin. I’m jealous already.’

Niamh laughed. ‘Believe me, you’ve got nothing to be jealous about,’ she said, keeping her voice very low. She wouldn’t put it past Archie to be listening at her door.
He’d followed her around like a lapdog from the moment she’d arrived. ‘If you met Archie, you’d know what I mean. He’s a geek of the highest order.’

‘He’s there with you,’ Tony replied. ‘That’s enough to make me jealous.’

‘Aww! You say all the right things.’

The next forty minutes passed in a blur. Tony made conversation easy, continually finding new things to talk about. Carrie joined them after a few minutes and Niamh was amazed, and a little
irritated, when Archie knocked on her door and called for her to join them for dinner. She looked at her watch, surprised to see how much time had passed.

‘OK, Archie. I’ll be right there,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Listen, guys, it was great to chat,’ she told them. ‘Keep looking through the files for me,
please? I’ll do the same. I’ve got to go now, but I’ll speak to you again late afternoon or early evening your time tomorrow.’

‘Sure thing, Niamh. Good luck for tomorrow,’ Tony said.

‘Bye, Niamh,’ Carrie added.

‘Thanks, guys. Bye for now.’

Niamh broke the link and switched off her laptop. Pausing to take a quick look in the mirror to check her hair, she took a deep breath and opened the door. Archie was waiting for her on the
landing outside. He was so upright and stiff he looked like a soldier on parade.

Perhaps Aunt Aggie puts extra starch in his clothes so he can’t slouch,
she thought, biting at her lower lip to keep from giggling. ‘You OK, Archie?’ she asked aloud,
unable to meet his eye as she swept past him and headed for the stairs.

‘Fine thanks,’ he replied, half-running to catch up. ‘So what were you doing? Did I hear you talking to someone?’

Niamh thought for a moment. She was tempted to say something like ‘I was just rehearsing the pack of lies I’m going to tell the police tomorrow’ or ‘I was just arranging
to hijack a jet so I can fly back out to Florida’. He was so gullible that he would probably take whatever she told him at face value, but she found she hadn’t got the heart to wind him
up.

‘Yes, you did,’ she said. ‘If you must know, I was talking with my boyfriend and his sister.’

‘Oh! Boyfriend. Of course. Wizard,’ Archie said, his enthusiasm clearly forced. ‘On your mobile?’

‘Internet: Skype.’

‘Super.’

And to Niamh’s relief, her admission killed the conversation stone dead.
Is Tony my boyfriend?
she wondered.
It feels like he is, but we’ve not exactly gone out on dates or
anything. We’ve had one proper kiss. Does that count? If nothing else, telling Archie I have a boyfriend should keep him from getting any daft ideas. He’s the sort of dork who might see
being my cousin as an advantage in winning my affection.
They descended the stairs in silence and then Archie rushed ahead to open the door to the dining room for her, standing bolt upright and
staring ahead as she passed.

All he needs is the white gloves and he’d make a great butler
, Niamh thought, thanking him. She took her place at the dining table. Checking her watch she saw it was exactly six
o’clock. Was life always this regimented with Aunt Aggie? What must it have been like for Archie, growing up with her for a mother? She looked across at him and he immediately looked down at
his place setting and busied himself making minute adjustments to his cutlery placement.

And I thought I was unsure of myself around boys,
Niamh thought.
Archie is so shy!

Making polite small talk over dinner was surprisingly easy. Aunt Aggie was well versed in dining-room etiquette, and she effortlessly steered the conversation through a string of innocuous and
trivial subjects. An hour later, Niamh left the table and returned to her room.

Turning her laptop on, she opened her father’s files on the Devil’s Triangle. For several minutes she re-read the section on the Philadelphia Project, but after looking at the same
few paragraphs several times, she realised that although her eyes were scanning the words, nothing was going into her head. She could recall almost nothing of what she’d been reading. Anxious
feelings about the interview with the CID were destroying her powers of concentration.

Perhaps it would be better just to relax and get an early night, she thought. Hoping to distract herself, she picked up a book from her bedside table and climbed into bed. It turned out that she
was more tired than she’d realised, because after only reading a few chapters she felt her eyes beginning to droop.

* * *

To her surprise, it seemed almost that she had blinked and it was morning. She sat up and looked around, momentarily confused. The clock next to the bed read 07:35 –
early, but not ridiculously so. As her mind oriented and placed her at her aunt’s house, fleeting snatches of dreams hovered at the edges of her mind and she tensed. A momentary, ephemeral
memory of running through magical gardens linked by strange gateways, being chased by police; bluebells in the woods; lying on a branch watching as a drip of sweat fell towards one of the
policemen; a fight; one man dead with a knife in his chest.

No,
she thought, remembering.
I’m mixing fact with fiction. The man killed by the knife was in the book I was reading. Come on, Niamh! Pull yourself together.

More images surfaced: more running, this time through dark tunnels. She was breathless and anxious. They were after her, hunting her. Not police, but creatures – powerful creatures –
incredibly fast and covered with scales, their mouths full of wickedly sharp teeth. She was trapped. They were everywhere. There was no way out. Terror! Terror in the dark.

She blinked a few times. That wasn’t from the book.
Sam?
She closed her eyes and reached inside to the place she could normally feel him. Was he still alive? Her body was rigid with
tension. Breathing in through her nose, she deliberately drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment before slowly releasing it. Then she took another. He was still there. Faint, but definitely
there.

Feeling light-headed with relief, she staggered out of bed and across to the bathroom to wash. Splashing her face first with hot water and then with cold, she lifted a towel from the rail and
buried her face in it. For a moment, she held it still, then almost like a child playing peek-a-boo, she peered over the top and into the mirror above the sink. What would the police think if they
saw her like this? There was a haunted look in her eyes that no amount of make-up was going to hide. If they saw her as she was now, they would think she was hiding something for sure!

‘Calm down,’ she breathed aloud, and thought.
Sam’s alive. As long as he stays that way, there’s hope of finding him. Concentrate on that.

The interview was due to start at ten and Aunt Aggie had said it was only a ten minute drive to where it was going to be conducted. Niamh had about two hours to pull herself together. Crossing
back to her room, she dressed quietly and then crept downstairs to the kitchen with the intention of foraging for some breakfast. To her surprise, Aunt Aggie was there already.

‘Morning, Niamh. You’re up bright and early. Nervous?’

‘A bit,’ she admitted.

‘Don’t worry, dear,’ Aggie assured her. ‘It’ll be fine. You’ll see. And I’ll be right there with you.’

‘You will?’

‘Yes. I asked the constable the other day and he said it was fine for me to sit in on the interview if you want me to.’

‘Thanks, Aunt Aggie. I appreciate that.’

Did she want Aggie there? Some of the things that seemed likely to come up in the interview would sound pretty outlandish. In particular, the mental link with her brother and some of the strange
images she had been receiving from him. Niamh decided the best thing she could do was to give them the truth. What they made of it was their problem. However, she was concerned about what Aggie
would think. If her aunt formed the impression that she was lying, Aggie was likely to then consider her untrustworthy. The implications of Aggie forming this opinion of her for the rest of the
summer holidays could be considerable.

Niamh fretted about this as she toyed with a bowl of muesli, eventually binning half of it and retiring back up to her room where she picked up her book again. Opening up to the bookmark, she
skimmed back a few paragraphs to refresh her memory and quickly found herself embroiled in the story once more. Before she knew it, Aggie was calling her name and a glance at the clock showed it
was time to go. There were precious few pages of the book left and the murderer was surely about to be revealed. Unwilling to leave it, she tucked the bookmark back in and slipped the book into her
handbag.