The Devil's Triangle (11 page)

Visibility through the front windscreen was virtually non-existent. Once they lined up with the runway, they would be flying blind. Niamh couldn’t help wondering how her father intended to land when he couldn’t see anything. She watched as he reached and lowered a lever. There was a pause and for the first time a look of real concern crossed her father’s face.

‘Come on, gear! Lock down,’ he muttered.

‘What’s the matter, Dad?’

‘The undercarriage isn’t lowering,’ he explained. ‘I’m not sure . . . damn! Of course it isn’t lowering, Matt, you idiot! Without the engine, you’ve got no hydraulics! Don’t worry, Niamh. There’s an emergency free-fall system. If I just pull this lever . . . Come on, baby. Don’t let me down now.’

There was a
clunk
from underneath their seats.

‘Three greens!’ he announced triumphantly, pointing at the undercarriage position lights. He reached to his left and opened the storm window. ‘We have wheels. Now for the tricky bit.’

‘Do we have to go down so steeply?’ Niamh asked, edging as far back in the seat as she could.

‘Yes, honey,’ Matthew replied, his voice steady and reassuring. ‘We have to keep our airspeed up or we’ll stall. Can you take your feet off the rudder pedals, please? You’re making it hard for me to move them. Thanks.’

From the little Niamh could see out of the side windows and the smeared front screen, the ground was rushing to meet them now. It appeared that her father was wrestling with the controls as the turbulent air bounced them around in the final moments of the approach. The aircraft bucked and rocked like a mad bronco all the way down to the ground. Niamh couldn’t really see much, but she had the feeling that the aircraft was sliding to the left and her father flew the entire approach with his head all but stuck out of the little storm window he’d opened on his side of the cockpit.

In the final seconds, just as a crash seemed inevitable, Niamh shut her eyes, tucked her chin against her chest and tensed her body in anticipation of the impact. She couldn’t help herself. Her insides churned as the aircraft gave a sudden surge at the last second and twisted like a roller coaster entering a sudden climbing turn to the left. They thumped onto the ground, bouncing twice before they settled. Even then, Niamh could feel the gusting wind pushing at the machine – testing and flexing its invisible muscles as it sought to flip them over.

The familiar rumbling sensation of the wheels on the runway as they rolled to a stop left her feeling weak with relief as she cracked her eyes open. They were on the ground. Safe. Matthew let out a long sigh.

‘Well, that was entertaining!’ he said, removing his headset. He unclipped his harness and leaned across to give her a quick hug. ‘Geoff’s not going to be best pleased with the state of his aeroplane, but at least we’re down safely. Are you OK? You look a bit green around the gills.’

For a moment, Niamh was lost for words. Even had she not been reeling from the intensity of the experience, ‘entertaining’ would not have featured in her choice of descriptive words. Alarming. Terrifying. Even heart-stopping, but not ‘entertaining’.

‘I’m fine, Dad,’ she said eventually. ‘Or at least I will be when my heart and stomach get round to realising we’ve landed.’

CHAPTER NINE

‘Niamh’s in trouble!’ Sam yelled over his shoulder.

‘And we’re not?’ Callum called back, wearily heaving another bucket of water over the side of the boat.

‘She’s terrified. I can feel it,’ Sam added, ignoring his sarcasm. ‘I think she’s with Dad. They’re looking for us, but something’s gone wrong. They’re in danger.’

‘Well, unless you’ve been holding out on me and you’re really Superman in disguise, then I don’t see there’s much we can do about it.’

To Sam’s frustration, Callum was right. It was all he could do to keep them alive, and he would not have been able to do that if his friend had not been bailing out the boat continuously for what now seemed to both of them like forever. Callum looked worn out, but they could not swap places. There was no way he was fit enough to control the boat, even if he had known how.

For about the next ten minutes, Sam felt tightness in his chest that was nothing to do with his battle for survival. When the sense of fear turned suddenly to relief, he nearly fell over with the shock of the change.

‘She’s OK,’ he announced. ‘They both are. Whatever the danger was, it’s gone.’

Callum was busy retching over the side. ‘Whoopee!’ he replied lamely.

Sam gritted his teeth in a defiant grin as he returned his focus to the mountainous waves ahead. He knew his friend well enough to know that the sarcastic response was automatic. Niamh was safe, and the knowledge of this gave him renewed heart and strength. The boost proved invaluable, as the storm refused to let up and Sam was forced to dig deeper and deeper to find the strength to keep fighting it. Time ceased to have meaning as he negotiated wave after wave. When, finally, he spotted the flickering point of light ahead, he could not help wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him. Was it a miracle or a mirage?

‘A light!’ he called, a thrill running up through his stomach to his chest. ‘I’m sure I just saw a light ahead!’

In normal daylight he would never have seen it, but the clouds overhead were so thick that it felt as though night was falling early. Sam was soaked to the skin, shaking with cold, and his arms were weak from what felt like an age of wrestling to keep the boat from capsizing in the monster swell. Constant pricking needles of salt spray stung his eyes and his lips were sore from repeatedly licking away seawater.

A sudden spark of warmth ignited inside him as hope flared. He glanced back over his shoulder at Callum.

‘Did you hear me, Cal?’ he asked. ‘I said I saw a light.’

‘Great!’ his friend replied automatically, his voice barely audible above the wind and his tone registering little real interest. Callum appeared lost in a personal world of misery. He looked exhausted and hideously pale. Sam felt for him, but there was nothing he could do. He could not leave the wheel or they would both die. Callum had been sick so many times that he had nothing left to throw up, but his empty stomach had not halted his retching.

‘There it is again!’

It was barely more than a flicker – just to the right of their current course. It hadn’t been a hallucination. Sam could not tell if the light was coming from a point onshore or from another vessel, but he didn’t care. He turned the boat towards the source, watching intently for further telltale flickers.

A glance at the sonar screen told him they were still in relatively deep water, though it was definitely getting shallower. Given the visibility, he would have expected to be on top of the reef if the light was coming from the Keys. The swell alone was bigger than the two metres of depth he would have found there. His heart sank. The light had to be from another boat. There was no other explanation.

Another pulse of particularly intense rain lashed at him, driven on by the wild, gusting wind. It drummed on the boat’s surfaces so hard that Sam could feel the vibration of it, distinct from that of the engines. Forward visibility was poor at best, but for a moment, he felt as if he was driving blind.

He had little choice. Following the light was their only hope for survival.

When the change came, it came quickly. Sam glanced at the sonar again. They were entering much shallower water. The rhythm of the waves was changing and he could hear a booming roar ahead that could only be surf. The strange thing was that he wasn’t approaching the reef – that would have appeared like a wall on the screen.

‘This is all wrong!’ he muttered again. He must have thought the same words a thousand times over since they had entered the strange patch of water. ‘Hang on, Callum. It’s hard to tell for certain, but I think we’re getting close to the shore.’

‘Thank God!’

‘You can thank who you like,’ Sam called. ‘But we’re not out of trouble yet. Give it one last push with the bailing. It might make all the difference.’

Sam knew that even if they were not driving towards a reef, getting through the surf without capsizing would take a miracle. And if they made it to the beach – what then? How could he secure the boat? His dad would kill him if he wrecked it! But given the choice between staying alive and facing the wrath of his father, it was a no-brainer. His dad would want him to be safe rather than keep the boat unscathed. The boat was insured. They could always get another one.

‘I can’t see the light any more, but I can definitely see the shore now, Cal,’ he announced as he began to make out a treeline in the gloom ahead. ‘It’s not far. Hang on extra tight and be ready to jump over the side as soon as I yell. It’s going to get a bit hairy as we run at the beach. If I get it wrong, the boat could easily flip. How’s your swimming?’

‘Normally, I’d say that I’d beat you to shore any day,’ Cal replied. ‘Feeling like I do now, I’m not so confident.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ Sam assured him. ‘Just do as I say and we’ll be back on solid ground in just a few minutes.’

‘Great.’

Timing would be everything, Sam realised. He needed to pick a wave and follow it in, staying in the calmer water between waves without getting caught in the back current as they made their final approach. He was glad the boat had such powerful engines. He could see the beach ahead clearly now. It looked sandy, and fairly shallow, which was a relief. It would allow him to hit the shore at speed and drive right up on to the sand without risking too much damage.

‘Before we go for it, Cal, can you open that cupboard to your left and pull out the yellow bag inside?’

‘I’ll try.’

There was a pause as Callum shuffled along the bench seat to the cupboard and fumbled with the latch. Sam did his best to slow the boat’s advance towards the shore, but he suddenly realised he had got too close to stop. A massive wave was building behind them, threatening to break earlier than the ones ahead. It was too late to try to turn back and go over it. They would flip for certain.

‘Hurry, Cal!’ he said, beginning to panic. ‘I can only give you a few seconds more.’

He heard the distinctive sound of the cupboard latch snapping open.

‘Got it!’

Sam gunned the engine and the boat leapt forward sending Cal reeling back. Instinct made him drop the bag and grab the side of the boat. The yellow satchel hit the deck and slid towards the stern.

‘Whoa!’

‘Sorry, Cal,’ he called. ‘It’s now or never. Grab the bag and don’t lose it. It’s a survival kit.’

‘I can’t reach it!’

‘You’ve got to! We’re in the middle of nowhere, Cal. We
need
it.’

Callum looked back at the bag. It was sliding around in several centimetres of water that had surged to the back of the deck. His eyes did not stay on the bag for more than an instant. They were drawn to the gigantic wall of water rearing up behind them. ‘My God, Sam! Behind!’

Sam flicked a glance over his shoulder and opened the throttle a little further.

‘I’ve got the wave,’ he replied. ‘You get the bag.’

The wave was closer than he would have liked and was even bigger than he had anticipated. It reminded him of the monsters that surfers in Hawaii dreamed of riding, except it was not glistening blue, but a dark, ominous grey laced with thick veins of creamy foam.

‘Now, Cal! GRAB IT!’

Callum didn’t move. He was frozen with fear.

Sam could not see him. His focus was already divided between driving at the beach ahead and keeping his distance from the monster wave behind.

‘GRAB IT NOW, CAL!’ he yelled again, instinctively sensing his friend had not reacted to his first order.

The urgency and authority in Sam’s voice spurred Callum into action. There was so much water still sloshing around that the bag was in serious danger of being swept over the low wall of the stern by the engines. Dropping onto his hands and knees on the deck, Callum began to crawl towards it. A sudden surge as Sam gunned the engines sent him sliding and rolling to the back of the boat. He impacted the back wall hard, momentarily wedging his body under the twin engines. They were hot, searing his left side with burning heat as he wrenched himself free.

‘Aaaarrrggghhh!’

The surge of power died and the change in momentum carried Callum forward this time: half rolling, half sliding across the slopping deck. The survival bag was swept with him and with a frantic scrabble, he grabbed it at precisely the moment he collided with the back of Sam’s legs, sweeping his friend’s feet out from under him.

Sam was taken totally by surprise. He crumpled onto Callum, desperately trying to retain his grip on the wheel. As he fell, he inadvertently dragged it to the right. The boat heeled round in a tight turn through ninety degrees just as the incoming wave broke behind them with a booming roar.

Now side on to the wave, the approaching wall of water sucked at them, a slavering maw of gigantic proportions. Sam scrambled to his knees, rammed the throttle to full with his left hand and spun the wheel to the left with his right. The engines roared and the boat reared in the water, twisting like a marlin trying to spit out a hook. The hungry mouth of water chomped behind, barely missing them with its great line of foaming white teeth. Sam felt Callum slide away from under him again, but could not look back to see if his friend was all right.