Trapped (13 page)

Bill must be giving the engines a warm up before we go out
, thought Cate, enjoying the sense of anticipation uncoiling in her stomach.

She had a shower, washed and dried her hair and then tied it up in a ponytail. Up on deck, Bill was sitting at the steering console, watching the weather report on his sat nav. As Cate came towards him, he flicked the master switch to shut down the engines and slowly, almost painfully, they fell silent.

‘Morning,' said Cate. ‘Everything ready for the trip?'

‘Uh huh.' Bill was clearly not a morning person. ‘Right, Cate, you'd better get up on top deck and start storing all the movables away. Bring the sun loungers down below, shut up the bar and put away the parasols. We're not a huge boat and, although the weather forecast is showing calm, you can never be sure. Once we get past the point and head out to the main channel the wind can change really quickly.'

Cate nodded. Once they left the marina,
Catwalk II
was no longer a floating luxury hotel but a proper boat which had to obey the laws of the sea. She helped herself to a bottle of ice-cold water from the fridge in the salon and set to work.

At around eight, Marcus made an appearance in the galley and began to cook breakfast. Pretty soon the irresistible smell of frying bacon wafted out to the decks and Cate suddenly realised that she was ravenous. Ten minutes later, she and Bill sat cross-legged on the top deck in companionable silence, munching their way through a huge fried breakfast, all washed down with a large mug of tea.

Through the railings, Cate could see shoals of tiny silvery fish darting in and out of mooring ropes and knobbly brown strands of seaweed. The sky was already a deep unbroken blue and the dew that had formed overnight had burned off from even the shaded areas of the deck.

‘It's going to be a hot one,' said Bill, putting his plate to one side.

Bill smiled at her and suddenly Cate felt a surge of contentment. Yesterday's events seemed like a dream, as if they had happened to another person.

Wendy came on deck, clutching a mug of coffee. ‘Great dancing last night, Bill,' she grinned wickedly. ‘Amazing shapes. But did you have to tread on
all
my toes?'

‘Typical Yarpie, always blaming someone else for their misfortune,' said Bill good-humouredly. ‘It's just the same with cricket.'

Wendy rolled her eyes at Cate who grinned at them both. Bill and Wendy were such a good match, she thought, but of course neither of them realised it. Maybe one day.

At ten a.m. precisely, with no sign of life from Nancy, Jules or Lulu, Bill fired up the engines once more, and with immaculate precision the huge boat began to edge out of its mooring.

It was an agonisingly slow process and it had to be. Six million pounds' worth of yacht, with another six million moored on either side, meant that one false move, one tiny scratch or dent, could cost the insurers a small fortune and probably Bill his job. But Bill knew what he was doing and soon the boat had safely left her neighbours and was nosing away from the ancient harbour and out to sea.

Cate was just texting Arthur their code when she heard a voice close by. ‘Look behind you.' Marcus had come to join her up on the bow, a white baseball cap tipped over his eyes and a mug of tea in his hand.

‘Cate, I've passed on to Henri all the information you discovered yesterday. Let's just say that what you told us has helped us to fit together a few more pieces of the puzzle.' Marcus was speaking quietly and urgently.

‘There's more. The group we had under surveillance – the
thugs who put Andrei in a coma – chartered a helicopter first thing this morning. And guess what?' He didn't wait for an answer but continued grim-faced. ‘That same helicopter landed in a hotel garden in St Tropez just over thirty minutes ago. Make no mistake, we aren't headed to St Tropez purely for pleasure. Someone on the
Catwalk II
has a spot of business to do as well. The question is, who?'

‘Nancy,' said Cate immediately. ‘It's her boat and she calls the shots.'

‘She's the obvious one,' agreed Marcus. ‘But let's keep an open mind. Anyone could have put the idea into her head last night. Anyone.'

‘You want me to find out who.' It was a statement from Cate, not a question.

‘Thanks, Cate.' Marcus sounded relieved. ‘I know you've done so much already but you're just not going to arouse suspicion in the way I will. And let's face it – you're a natural.'

Cate cringed and pulled a face. She loathed being buttered up.

‘OK, OK,' said Marcus, reading her expression with uncanny accuracy. ‘Well, you
are
a natural, but let's be honest, I want you to do a job for me that I just can't do.'

‘That's better,' said Cate, grinning.

‘I'm stuck on the boat preparing food for tomorrow. Nancy and Tass have got a stack of friends coming on board for the day. But with any luck, you'll be free to go ashore once we've arrived,' Marcus carried on in a low voice. ‘If I get a chance, I'll get back and search her room again. You must try to keep an eye on who wants to rush off the boat and find out where
they're headed. Don't discount anyone, but keep an especially close eye on Nancy.'

Marcus's tone suddenly changed. ‘Next time, if you want a cup of tea you'll have to come and get it yourself,' Marcus said, laughing. ‘Worth coming up here for the view.' He nodded to Bill who had suddenly appeared just a few metres away from Cate. How long had he been standing there?

Cate suddenly laughed to herself. Bill spying on them? Lovely Aussie Bill, working for the bad guys? Not likely. She was getting paranoid.

Two hours later, with Nancy still showing no sign of emerging from her suite, the rumble from the engines slowed and quietened.
Catwalk II
was heading into St Tropez harbour.

Cate had heard and read so much about this beautiful French port – had even seen photographs and paintings – but nothing could have prepared her for her first sight of the town in real life.

Unlike Antibes, there was no fort perched high on a hill, no grim stone walls, not even an enclosed marina to block the view. Instead, the curved harbour came to meet the open sea, revealing pastel pink, green and beige buildings that stood red-tiled against a searing blue sky.

Then, as
Catwalk II
edged closer, Cate could see the prows of the gleaming yachts that were crammed, rear end first, into every centimetre along the wooden-fronted harbour.

Between the yachts and the tall, elegant buildings which huddled together around the open harbour, lay the cobbled quayside, where restaurants and bars spilled out almost down
to the water's edge. Soft top sports cars – Bentleys, Lamborghinis and the odd, lowly Porsche – were parked, presumably whilst their owners enjoyed a few hours wandering between the cafés and the shops.

Just as Cate was wondering if Nancy would ever emerge to enjoy the sights, she made her entrance into the salon.

As usual, Nancy looked amazing. Her lime and orange summer dress was cut on the bias and flounced out from the bodice into a tulip skirt. The matching head band with tails drifting down her back would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but on Nancy, with her height and figure, she simply looked as if she had stepped out of a Sixties film.

Only the diamond-studded phone clamped to her ear spoilt the illusion, not helped by the fact that she was barking down it in her all too familiar Essex accent.

‘Pierre, you are a god . . . no, you are a god.' Nancy was clearly in full charm mode. ‘We'll be with you by one, I promise, promise, promise, promise and can I please, please, please, darling, have that table under the big tree right by the beach. You know the one.' There was silence. ‘Pierre, darling, I love that table, you know I do.' There was another silence. ‘Franc who? What movie? God, that was years ago. I wasn't even born then. Can't you move them? Tell him I'll buy him champagne, give him an autograph, a kiss, whatever.' There was a pause, then Nancy played her final card. ‘Tass is meeting me there and you know how he loves that table.' Another silence and then a scream of delight. ‘Pierre, I adore you more than my mother, I swear it. Half an hour and we'll be moored up. I can't wait to give you the biggest kiss ever.' Nancy shut her
phone, heaved a sigh of relief and threw her arms around the nearest person, who happened to be an astonished Cate. ‘We're in!' she said. ‘That Pierre, he never can resist me.'

‘Le Ricochet?' Lulu asked Nancy.

Nancy nodded, her eyes shining.

Half an hour later, the boat was out of the harbour and rounding the coastline into Pampelonne Beach. One hundred metres out from land, the sea resembled a massive floating parking lot as at least thirty large yachts, many of them dwarfing
Catwalk II
, jostled for room to drop an anchor.

Most of them had helipads, all carried jet skis and had speed boats moored up alongside them. As they sailed slowly alongside one particularly huge yacht, Cate spotted two men on the top deck playing tennis on what looked like a full-sized court. She shook her head. This really was beyond awesome.

Suddenly the
Catwalk II
engines slammed into reverse thrust, the boat slowed gradually to a standstill and then Cate heard a rattle from far beneath her as the ten tonne anchor plummeted on its hefty chain down onto the sea bed below them.

With the engines cut for the first time in three hours, there was an overwhelming sense of peace and silence, broken only by the sound of waves splashing gently onto the hull of the boat and the hum of chat and laughter coming from the shoreline.

Cate saw a small, deep lilac speedboat, nosing its way out from the beach pontoon towards the
Catwalk II
. Pierre had obviously been keeping an eye out for them. Nancy appeared on the middle deck, applying last-minute lipstick and smelling
of expensive perfume, trailed by Jules and Lulu who were both dressed in white linen, so bright that it hurt Cate's eyes just to look at them.

‘Cate, you're coming with us,' Nancy said, much to Cate's surprise. ‘I want a lovely, big table full of happy, smiling people.' She stuck her head through into the inner deck where Bill was now chatting and joking with Wendy. ‘You too, guys,' she said.

‘OK,' said Bill, coming back outside, ‘but I'll take our own boat just in case there are any problems and I have to come back to
Catwalk II
quickly. I'll follow you to the restaurant.'

‘Yeah, whatever.' Nancy wasn't interested in the details.

Lulu, standing behind her, turned to Cate and looked her up and down. ‘You look like a cleaning lady,' she said with her usual charm. ‘I wouldn't expect you to know it, but Le Ricochet happens to be one of the most exclusive restaurants in the entire world. People wait for months just to get a table. You've got two minutes to go and make yourself look respectable.'

Bullying always made Cate want to fight back and this time was no exception. She would show Lulu. Back in her cabin she leapt into the shower for thirty seconds to freshen up then, whilst she dried, opened her tiny wardrobe, scanned it and quickly settled on a pair of lemon capri pants and her one expensive top, a short asymmetrical Jil Sander kaftan that Monique had passed on to her.

She quickly undid her ponytail and stuck her head upside down to brush out her thick blond hair. She just had time for a quick flick of mascara, a slick of her favourite pink lip-gloss and a squirt of perfume and to grab her rucksack, then she was running back up to the deck just as the tender from Le
Ricochet came alongside the
Catwalk II
.

‘You look lovely, Cate,' said Wendy, cool and elegant in a three-quarter-length baby blue kaftan.

‘Sure does,' said Marcus, who had just appeared. Even Nancy gave her an appreciative nod, although predictably Lulu shot her a filthy look.

Who cares?
thought Cate.
I'm getting used to your little ways and they don't bother me any more, you miserable old bag
. She giggled to herself as the small group, headed by Nancy, stepped one by one from the rear of the large yacht into the little boat.

‘Welcome aboard.' The boatman seemed genuinely delighted to see them, greeting them with smiles and hand kisses as they boarded his vessel.

As she looked over towards the fast approaching beach, Cate shivered, part in excitement and part in fear. She had crossed a boundary now, from interested bystander to a player in an increasingly sinister investigation. The next few hours could see her world changed forever.

Clearly Nancy could hardly contain her excitement, craning her neck and even jumping up from her seat to try to get a better view ahead. Finally, she could bear it no longer.

‘Will Pierre be there to meet me?' she asked the boatman. ‘Does he know I'm here?'

Cate cringed with embarrassment, but either the boatman had impeccable manners, or he had heard it all a thousand times before. ‘Madame Nancy,' he said smoothly, ‘Pierre is beside himself with excitement at your coming. It is an honour. See, here he is on the pontoon.'

Cate looked at a tall, middle-aged man who was standing on the wooden jetty which was now just metres away from them. His thick, dark hair was turning grey, but his body looked fit and toned and even from this distance you could see he had an air of supreme confidence. This was a man in charge of his kingdom.

He stood still until the tender came alongside and then strode over to extend a hand to Nancy as she jumped, dangerously quickly, from the boat onto the pontoon.

‘Darling Pierre,' she shrieked, throwing her arms around his neck and depositing lipstick kisses all over his tanned face. ‘It's been too long. You're looking so gorgeous, there should be a law against it. I am just so, so, so, so excited to see you.'

Cate watched in admiration as, with precise charm and politeness, Pierre allowed himself to be embraced for just the right length of time before extracting himself gently and without causing any offence.