Viper's Nest Read online

  Novak was sitting with his back to her in a leather captain’s chair, his pale scalp gleaming through his closely shaven hair, his good elbow leaning on a wooden table. He was partially blocking her view of the man opposite, but she could see enough to recognise that he was Chinese, oldish, with greying hair and a thickset body.

  The two men were poring over photographs but, try as she might, Cate couldn’t see any detail, nor could she hear what they were discussing. She grimaced in frustration, then remembered her iPhone. It might just work. She reached into her pocket and clicked on to the camera. She held the phone up to the crack in the window and pressed first the film and then the zoom button.

  She had to stop herself from gasping in surprise. All the photographs were of what seemed to her to be Mexican antiquities, made from gold and silver, studded with semiprecious stones – death masks, necklaces, bracelets – all in high definition colour.

  She was just about to press the record button when she heard a sniffing around her ankles and felt a wet sensation on her bare feet. She looked down at a tiny rough-haired terrier on a lead. Stifling a yelp of shock, she instinctively pulled her foot away. The little dog bared his teeth in response and began to bark loudly.

  ‘What’s that, Zan?’ The Chinese man looked up sharply from his chair and Cate sank back behind the blinds, praying that the darkness would protect her from being seen.

  Cate reached out to stroke the dog in a desperate attempt to placate it, but it growled and then broke into a bark again. This time the Chinese man stood up and Cate saw Novak turning around stiffly in his chair.

  It was time to make a quick escape. Cate shoved her phone into her pocket, picked up her shoes and ran softly down the gangplank, the dog still yapping behind her. For a few terrible seconds she thought it would follow her, but it stopped just short of the bridge, its tail wagging furiously as the two men came out on the deck and peered out at the pontoon. She froze, hidden in the shadow of the boat.

  ‘Zan, Zan, hush. Who’s there?’ The Chinese man sounded angry, annoyed and the look of menace on Novak’s face left Cate in no doubt about how she would be treated if they spotted her.

  After what seemed like hours, the two men finally turned to go back into the cabin. Cate was just about to slip out of the shadows when she heard a rasping bark and saw the dog running out on to the gangway. It had obviously been let off its lead. Any time now, Cate thought, it would bring the men right to her.

  She frantically checked through her options. If she made a bolt for it, she knew they would catch her in an instant. She couldn’t get up on to the other boats – their vast hulls were slippery and impossible to climb up without at least a rope.

  Her eyes fell on a small metal box, just a few metres to her left. She recognised instantly what it was. When she had been working on Nancy’s yacht, one of her first jobs when they docked was to go on to the gangway and plug the yacht in to the marina’s power supply.

  She crept quietly over to the box, feeling for the thick plug which fed into the mains supply and tugged on it hard, yanking it out of its socket. A split-second later, the entire pontoon was in total darkness and Cate was running like the wind, back to the safety of the restaurant.

  ‘Pudding, Cate?’ asked Lucas, as she slipped back quietly into her seat, hoping that no one would notice her still-flushed face and rushed breathing.

  A large plate of miniature desserts had just arrived at the table, each one as pretty as a cupcake, and her mother and Nancy were cooing over them like excited schoolgirls. Her fears that she might be missed seemed to have been unfounded. Nancy was showing Cate’s mother a copy of Vogue with her on the cover and the pair of them were discussing just how stunning the supermodel was looking in a shoot for faux furs.

  Poor Lucas, thought Cate. He must have been bored.

  ‘I might model one at the charity fashion show,’ Nancy said thoughtfully. ‘They make me look, well, so classy.’

  ‘Speaking of the charity,’ Lucas wiped his mouth with a pure white damask napkin, ‘the documentary we’re going to play at the fashion show needs to be a real tear-jerker, to explain just why this fundraiser is so important, why people have to dig deep. Me and the band have decided that we need more footage on the street kids themselves. So we’ll be flying down to Veracruz, probably the day after tomorrow. We’ll be there for a few days while we shoot a few more scenes. Have you got time to come, Nancy? You could even be in the shoot. It makes sense. It’s your fashion show, after all.’

  Nancy pursed her lips. ‘Weeell,’ she said finally, ‘as long as I’m back in time to get my dress fitted and my hair done for the weekend. What about you, Cate?’

  ‘Me?’ Cate said surprised. ‘You want me to come to Mexico?’

  ‘Why not? You can keep me company. These shoots are sooo boring. Lucas disappears for hours at a time and when he gets back all he wants to do is sleep.’

  Cate’s mind did a quick scan back over the map of Mexico that Marcus had shown her that morning.

  ‘Did you say Veracruz?’ she said, trying very hard to make it sound like a throwaway question. ‘Isn’t that near to El Tajin?’

  ‘Very near,’ said Lucas, ‘but it’s not the best known of the archaeological sites in Mexico. I’m surprised you’ve heard of it.’

  ‘We did a Mexican history project at school,’ said Cate, not meeting his eye. She hated lying, especially to someone like Lucas who had shown her nothing but kindness. ‘I’ve always wanted to go there. But Mum and I have only just got together. I can’t just whizz off.’

  ‘Oh, Ronnie, you must come too,’ Nancy said casually. ‘You’re my new best friend. There’s a fab hotel in Veracruz. Infinity pools, spa, moonlit yoga, the most divine massage. My treat of course.’

  Cate’s mum beamed around the table. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘if you put it like that. Of course, I’d be delighted to join you. Cate, let’s go to Mexico!’

  ‘Darling, whatever happened to your shoes?’ her mother said as they made themselves comfortable in the limousine for the return journey to the Erin.

  Cate looked down at her feet and winced. That wretched dog must have been quietly chewing at her left shoe before it decided to lick her foot. The wooden buttons at the front were completely gone. She suddenly felt sick. She doubted the dog would have swallowed them, which meant that they were still back on the boat. So now Novak and his friend would know for sure that someone had been on that boat tonight.

  She just had to hope that they would never find out that it had been her.

  Cate’s mother’s house lay high in the Hollywood Hills at the end of a steep, winding road lined with bright pink bougainvillea and purple hibiscus flowers, which contrasted sharply with the harsh scrubland and dusty tarmac roads.

  Cate and her mother had both stayed at the hotel for the night. It was still early in the morning when they set out; the dew had not yet dried on the bright-green lawns in front of the white villas and apartment blocks that clung to the hillside with grim determination. The pine-scented air was sharp and clean, the sky a bright blue, not yet tainted by the LA smog.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Cate’s mother as the sports car turned sharply into an almost-vertical driveway and came to a halt in front of a large white archway. Cate had been too distracted by her mother’s crazy driving on the way up to look at the view, but now, as she got out of the car, she found herself gasping in amazement at what lay before her.

  Down in the valley below was the city of LA, a vast urban sprawl that stretched up and down the coast almost as far as the eye could see. Cate could just make out the highway running inland from the golden beaches and huge endless ocean.

  To her right, she spotted the famous Hollywood sign, and behind it the Santa Monica mountains rose up, menacing yet beautiful with their lilac-pink bodies topped with glistening white snow.

  Cate followed her mother through the archway and round to the back of the house. The garden had been dug into the hillside, with a lawn and ter
raced steps. On the first level, immediately in front of the house, lay a small kidney-shaped swimming pool, edged by dark red tiles on which large terracotta pots full of tumbling flowers were placed at regular intervals.

  ‘It’s gorgeous,’ said Cate, as she drank in the bright colours and felt the promise of warm sunshine on her face.

  Cate’s mother pushed open the large glass doors and, reaching inside, punched some numbers into the burglar alarm. To her own bemusement, Cate felt herself automatically watching her mother’s finger and memorising the numbers. Two – eight – zero – six. Arthur’s birthday. She wondered if that had been by accident or design.

  The ground floor was open plan, a wide staircase coming up from the middle of the floor to a galleried area above her. Cate’s room was at the end of the gallery, a small en-suite with a large window, which to her delight looked out on to the city below them.

  ‘It’s really pretty at night,’ said her mother as she helped Cate to unpack. ‘All the lights twinkling in front of you, up and down the hillside. Sometimes it feels as if you’re in the middle of the galaxy. Perhaps if you came to live with me, then you might get to know and love LA as much as I do.’

  Cate shot her a questioning glance. It was the first time her mother had ever mentioned anything about them living together.

  ‘You could think about coming to uni here,’ she continued. ‘UCLA has a great reputation for science.’

  As always, when she and her mother began to talk about anything remotely to do with their relationship, Cate felt tongue-tied, unable to say what she really wanted to for fear of provoking tears from either her mother or herself.

  ‘My teachers want me to try for Oxbridge,’ said Cate, eventually. ‘but I’ll certainly think about it.’

  The subsequent silence was broken by the sound of a car pulling into the drive below them. Cate’s mother looked out of the window and smiled.

  ‘Burt,’ she said brightly. ‘He’s early. We’ll be down in a minute, darling,’ she trilled out of the window as a dark-haired muscular-looking man jumped out of a bright-red hatchback. Even from that distance, Cate could see he was agitated, sweating profusely, pulling at the bag on his front seat in jerky movements. He slammed the door shut and the car shook. Beside her, Cate’s mother winced.

  ‘Cate’s here,’ she said, waving. ‘She’s just dying to meet you.’

  CHAPTER 12

  ‘Arthur, I have just sat through the worst lunch of my life – ever.’ Cate was up in the bedroom Skyping Arthur who was patiently listening to his sister’s rantings. ‘And I’m not talking about the food.’

  ‘Well, what’s he like?’ Arthur got straight to the point. ‘Better or worse than the yacht captain? Or the yoga instructor? Or the Kabala preacher? Has he got smelly breath? BO? A shocking beard?’

  ‘Arthur!’ Cate tried to sound outraged, but was too busy laughing. No matter how serious the situation, Arthur always managed to find the humour in it.

  ‘Actually I suppose he’s really good looking if you like that buffed Hollywood actor type. He’s a lot younger than Mum I’d say, only just forty, and he looks like he works out. But boy was he tense. He was sweating the whole time and kept snarling at Mum when she asked him if he’d had a good morning. He hardly even glanced at me, let alone spoke to me.’

  ‘Perhaps he was upset you were there,’ ventured Arthur. ‘Jealous, maybe?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Cate doubtfully, ‘but I got the impression it wasn’t personal. Every time a car drove past the house, he kept looking up; and when the patio door slammed, he jumped up as if he’d been shot. Hang on a second.’ She went to the window and came back a moment later.

  ‘Sorry, Arthur,’ she said, settling down on the bed again. ‘Just checking the coast is clear. It’s OK, Mum’s downstairs by the pool with Burt. I’d hate her to overhear. By the way, have you scrambled the Skype signal so no one can listen in?’

  ‘Of course.’ Arthur sounded slightly offended. ‘Do you even have to ask? Every single computer in the house – and that includes laptops, tablets and phones – has been given the same treatment. Bill Gates himself couldn’t crack my safety features.’

  ‘Cheers, Arthur. Just checking.’

  ‘No problem,’ said her brother cheerfully. ‘Anyway, apart from the weird boyfriend, what’s up? I’ve got nothing yet on those ancient sites you told me about. Even computer geeks need to sleep sometimes, you know.’

  ‘Really?’ joked Cate. ‘I thought you were up all night, like badgers and owls.’

  ‘Actually,’ Arthur corrected her, ‘that’s a myth. Owls hunt in the day as well as at night.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Cate. ‘I stand corrected. Anyway, Arthur . . .’ She was suddenly serious. ‘I need to tell you something. Fess up, really.’

  She had been dreading this moment, when she had to tell Arthur that she was working with IMIA again. She had hoped to keep it from him, but now, after last night’s episode, things had suddenly got more serious. She’d already sent a text to Marcus telling him what she had seen at the marina, and she had a gut feeling that IMIA were going to want more from her than just keeping an eye on Burt. If that was the case, she couldn’t keep Arthur in the dark any longer. For a start, she knew she could rely on him more than anyone to find out things that could make or break a case. And apart from the practicalities, it was great to have someone to talk to, to confide in when things got rough, someone who was always on her side.

  The last time she had worked for IMIA she had been lucky to escape with her life and, when she had returned from Australia, Arthur had made her promise that if the organisation ever contacted her again, she would simply walk away. How was he going to take the news that she had broken her promise?

  ‘The thing is, Arthur,’ she began slowly, ‘I don’t quite know how to tell you, but IMIA are involved with this . . .’

  Cate couldn’t bear to see Arthur’s face as he digested the news. She shut her eyes and waited for the inevitable explosion.

  After a few seconds’ silence she opened them again. Arthur was chewing on a cereal bar and looking remarkably calm.

  ‘Well,’ said Cate, ‘go on, Arthur. Say something. I know you’re going to be mad.’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s OK, sis,’ he said through a mouthful of food. ‘I kind of knew this was going to happen again. IMIA think you’re the bee’s knees, and you’re about as likely to give up on adventures as I am to sell my computers and buy a subscription to the National Trust.’

  Cate giggled. ‘So you forgive me?’ she said, flicking away a rather large fly that had landed on her thigh. ‘Thanks, Arthur. And you promise not to tell Dad any of this?’

  ‘Naturally,’ said Arthur gravely. ‘If you promise not to tell him that I’ve been hacking again. Even if it is on your behalf. I promised I’d give it up for Lent.’

  ‘It’s a deal,’ Cate laughed. ‘Honestly, Arthur, we’re so bad. I can’t think where we get it from.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Each other probably.’

  Cate put her bag down on the spare lounger at the side of the pool and tried to avoid the sight of Burt lying asleep on a green lilo, his muscular torso clad only in the tightest pair of Speedos she had ever seen. He had obviously calmed down since lunchtime. Perhaps he had simply been hungry.

  She glanced over at her mother. She appeared to be asleep too, but as Cate stuck her toe into the warm turquoise water, she opened her eyes and sat up.

  ‘Hello, darling, where have you been?’ she said brightly. ‘Do you still want to go shopping this afternoon? We can buy something special for our trip to Mexico.’

  Cate looked at the text she’d just received from Marcus. As she guessed, he wanted to meet. Today. Right now.

  ‘It’s OK. I’m fine for clothes, really I am.’

  Her mother stared at Cate in amazement. ‘I find I can always do with more clothes.’ She shrugged. ‘OK, if you say so. Well, how about a trip to the nail bar? Or the hairdresser’s? If you don’t mind me
saying, sweetie, your grooming is – well, a little British.’

  Cate looked at her mother, noting her extraordinarily long, thick hair and her French-polished nails, and bit her lip.

  ‘Thanks, Mum, but I actually wanted to meet someone this afternoon. A friend.’

  ‘Really,’ drawled her mother. ‘A friend of the male variety, I expect?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Cate. After all that wasn’t a fib. Marcus was male. ‘It won’t be for long,’ she said hurriedly. ‘He’s sent me a text. It’s just that with me going off to Mexico I thought I would catch up with him and make arrangements for when I got back.’

  ‘It’s that boy Nancy mentioned, isn’t it? Greg? Ritchie? The nephew of Johnny James.’ Her mother sounded amused, intrigued even. ‘I have to hand it to you, Cate, you’re a fast worker. You’re hardly in the country five minutes and you’ve already bagged yourself an eligible bachelor.’

  ‘It must be all that British grooming,’ said Cate, with an innocent look on her face. ‘So it’s OK if I go? I said I’d meet him at the pier. Is there any chance that you could run me down there, please? Or maybe Burt?’ She tried not to wince as she spoke. The last thing she wanted was to share a car with her mother’s boyfriend, but she was aware of the bugs that were burning a hole in her rucksack. She wanted rid of them – and fast.

  ‘Good idea. Burt, wake up.’

  ‘What?’ He sat up suddenly, nearly dislodging himself from the lilo in the process.

  ‘Burt, can you run Cate into Santa Monica? It will give you two a chance to get to know each other.’

  ‘No problem,’ he said, as he pulled himself out of the pool, his black hair slicked back from his face highlighting his razor sharp cheekbones, his perfectly white teeth gleaming against his tanned face. ‘I’ve got a bit of business in town, anyway. I probably won’t be back until late, so don’t wait up.’ He slung a towel around his shoulders and gave Cate’s mother a kiss.

  ‘More business?’ Cate’s mother laughed. ‘You are such a busy man nowadays.’