Viper's Nest Page 6

  The big man looked grim. ‘The Mexican government have now imposed a total news blackout which means that all media are being kept away from both the site and the search. They say it’s to prevent the search from being impeded by the media spotlight. More likely it’s because they don’t want to damage their tourist industry. The site is already open again to the public.

  ‘It’s a blow for us, no doubt about it. The journalists are usually the ones with the great local contacts, but most of them will be pulled back now. If the newspapers can’t cover the story, they’re not going to waste the manpower investigating it. I’ve spoken to some colleagues who practise law over the border. Kidnapping is a growth industry in Mexico right now. Most of it is drug-related – gang on gang – or revenge, but we can probably rule that out in this case. It’s my guess that this one is for money. In Mexico, even the poorest Yank is rich.’ He sighed. ‘I guess those kids were a prime target.’

  ‘Has there been a ransom request?’ Johnny asked eventually. ‘Whatever you need, I’ll do my best to raise it. Or should we offer a reward for information?’

  The man from the LAPD looked horrified. ‘With all due respect,’ he said, ‘that’s the last thing we should be talking about. If the kidnappers get a whiff that their captives have rich friends, the ransom demand will go through the roof. Anyway,’ he continued in his quiet drawl, ‘in these cases we normally get word from the kidnappers within forty-eight hours or so. I’m going to have to disagree with you, sir.’ He looked over at the lawyer. ‘My belief is that the longer time goes on without contact, the less likely it is that money is the motive. Which is, I’m afraid, bad news.’

  Cate listened to what he said. She couldn’t help thinking Dave Osbourne looked familiar. She looked at him more closely, noting his thick dark hair, his thin lips, the nondescript grey eyes that constantly moved from person to person watching, observing, assessing. For a few seconds their eyes met but there was no hint of recognition.

  ‘What about sending in American special forces to look for them, Uncle Jack? Or even a private company – the ones that specialise in kidnaps?’ Ritchie said.

  Dave shook his head. ‘Maybe, but not yet. To be honest, things are pretty touchy between the US government and the Mexicans right now. Our government has been leaning heavily on them to get their house in order over their drug trade, and in return the Mexicans are getting pretty defensive about outside interference. We can’t go charging in like a bunch of cowboys to the rescue. Then there’s the logistics. The region where the students went missing is covered with dense jungle, hills and a network of caves. You could send in an entire US army division, have them search for weeks, and still not find a soul.’

  A discreet buzz from a phone somewhere near Johnny broke the rather despondent silence that followed.

  ‘Excuse me.’ He hit the call button and listened intensely. He spoke rapidly in Spanish – so rapidly that Cate struggled to make sense of what Johnny was saying. She heard something about theft, treasures, Americans, before he finally hung up and turned to the table.

  ‘That was my journalist friend in Mexico City with some interesting news,’ he explained. ‘Before the news blackout was introduced, they had prepared a story on El Tajin. He says that there have been rumours for months of heists on other sites all over Mexico – objects stolen from museums and site exhibitions, and taken by truck to the coast where they’re then smuggled out of the country by sea. The government were denying this and every time he tried to contact the sites himself, he was stonewalled. He put all his correspondents on alert, briefing them to listen out for anything that might point towards whether the rumours were true. He’d got a call from his man in Veracruz, the closest big city to El Tajin. It appears that over the few days between Stefan calling the professor and the students going missing, the locals claim a group of strangers arrived at the local town in a convoy of black pick-ups. They kept themselves to themselves, didn’t eat in any of the bars, and spent their time holed up in a small hotel. The evening before the twins were reported missing, they checked out and paid their hotel bills in cash. I think we can assume the names they gave at the hotel were fake. All the hotel can tell us is that at least one of them had a US accent and another was almost certainly European.’

  He paused and looked at Ritchie. ‘I’m sorry to say this about your friends, but the locals are convinced that the students haven’t been kidnapped. The word is that they had found treasure and were stealing it from the site and selling these artefacts to their American friends, and then something went wrong. They reckon the students and their accomplices had to make a quick getaway back over the US border. In short, the locals don’t think the twins are innocent kidnap victims – they think they’re partners in a terrible crime.’

  ‘No way!’ It was too much for Ritchie. ‘The twins would never be mixed up in something like that. Uncle Jack, you know Amber and Jade.’

  His uncle held up his hand. ‘Sure, it’s almost certainly just a local rumour, but the trouble with these rumours is that they sometimes have a way of catching on. Before you know it, people believe that they’re the truth. I should know, I’ve been at the receiving end of enough of them. But even so, Ritchie, you must stay away from this. I don’t want you getting involved in anything criminal.

  ‘I’m not giving up on your friends,’ he said, seeing the look on Ritchie’s face. ‘But let’s leave it to the professionals. Ned and I will make damn sure that the police keep on looking for those kids and doing everything they can to find them.’

  There was a silence and then, when it was clear no one had anything else to say, Johnny James stood up. ‘I’m sorry, folks, I think we’re done here. I’ve got a conference call coming in from my agent and my production company in a few minutes and I can’t keep them waiting. I’m within a whisker of signing one of the biggest film deals ever in the history of Hollywood and I don’t want to lose it.’ He smiled.

  Cate bit her lip and forced a smile in return. She was learning fast. This was LA, after all, where the chance to make big bucks took precedence over everything, even kidnap. She headed towards the door, which Johnny gallantly held open for her.

  Standing in the hallway, Cate noticed a narrow, white door opposite. A security keypad was attached to the door frame beside it – Cate spotted the eye-recognition screen. Serious stuff.

  ‘Uncle Jack’s panic room,’ said Ritchie quietly, as he joined her in the hall. ‘The place he heads to, clutching his paintings and valuables, in the event of a war, hurricane, tsunami, or just plain old-fashioned larceny. Apparently it’s bombproof, waterproof, fireproof and stocked with its own water, air and food supply. Not to mention a mean-looking armoury. For defence purposes, you understand.’ He smiled down at Cate sardonically, noting her amazement. ‘If you haven’t got a panic room, you’re no one, man! What were we just saying about the fun of being a celebrity?’

  The security door opened and Cate got a glimpse of the whitewashed walls and dimmed lights beyond, before a tall, thin man stepped out into the hallway and stood with his back to the slowly closing door.

  He was so pale he was almost albino. He met Cate’s gaze with his icy blue eyes, and stared at her intently, statue still.

  Her gaze slipped down his body and noted the tell-tale bulge at his hip. He was carrying a gun.

  Johnny came up behind them and laughed. ‘I see you’ve met Novak, my head of personal security. Novak, this is Cate, a friend of Ritchie’s. We’ve been discussing the disappearance of the twins.’

  The man inclined his long, narrow head towards Cate as a way of greeting, but stayed silent.

  ‘He’s not very talkative,’ said Johnny, ‘but he has one heck of a pedigree. Brought up in Prague, when the iron curtain fell he worked for the CIA, then MI5 and other security organisations he can’t even tell me about. He’s the real thing, although he does cost me a fortune – right, Novak?’

  Cate thought she caught a flicker of annoyance in those icy eyes. She w
asn’t surprised. She would hate to be discussed, boasted about like that as if she was some prize animal picked up for the highest price.

  Cate turned away from Novak and changed the subject. ‘I’ve just had a thought. Could my father be of any use? He’s Graeme Carlisle, a UN diplomat. He knows people all over the world and he’s been involved in resolving kidnappings and worked alongside private security experts. At least he’ll know who the best people are to contact for advice.’

  ‘Is that right?’ Johnny said slowly. ‘What an interesting girl you are, Cate.’ He glanced almost imperceptibly over her head towards Novak, and Cate saw, out of the corner of her eye, the security guard shake his head in a tiny movement.

  ‘Let me talk it over with Ned.’ Johnny was suddenly jovial again. ‘It’s a great idea but maybe we should keep this as tight as possible – for now at least. But thanks for the offer, anyway. Your dad sounds amazing. I know who to call if I get into trouble the next time I’m protesting against human rights violations in some third-world country.’

  He turned to his nephew. ‘Could you show Cate back upstairs, Ritchie? I’ll catch up with you real soon. Cate, it’s been a pleasure.’

  He pressed the lift button and instantly the door slid quietly open and Cate and Ritchie stepped inside.

  As they waited for the lift doors to shut, Cate glanced over at the security entrance to see Novak still staring at her, his expression unfathomable, his blue eyes now almost lifeless. Even when the lawyer crossed the hallway and whispered something quietly in his ear, he didn’t take his cold eyes off her. She felt a shudder of unease. That was one man she certainly wouldn’t like to cross.

  As Ritchie nosed the car out of the narrow lane and on to the highway, the last of the moon disappeared behind the scudding clouds. Apart from the beams of the headlights, the darkness was cut only by the overhead road lamps, which became more and more spaced out as the car headed south out of Malibu.

  Ritchie had been right about people going to bed early in LA. It wasn’t even midnight and the road was pretty much empty. In Europe the streets and bars would still be heaving with people.

  As they left Malibu, the road swung out towards the ocean. Cate’s side of the car was just a metre or so away from the edge of the cliff, with only the crash barriers between her and the ocean far below.

  Ritchie had hardly spoken since they had left the house. Cate looked over at him and tried to think of something to say that would cheer him up.

  ‘You know what, Ritchie,’ she began. ‘I don’t believe the twins would do anything bad either. Perhaps they got caught up in something beyond their control. Or maybe that reporter just got it completely wrong. It’s just a local rumour, after all.’

  Ritchie sighed. ‘I told Dave Osbourne that I thought he was wrong to tell Uncle Jack to back off from offering a reward. I even threatened to go to the papers. He wasn’t very pleased, I can tell you. He said I could put the twins in even more danger and I guess he has a point – not that I was going to give him the satisfaction of telling him that. Now I don’t know what to do,’ Ritchie continued. ‘Do I leave it like Uncle Jack says or should I go down to Mexico, even if I don’t know what I could really do there? But surely that’s what a real friend would do.’

  Cate thought for a minute. ‘You know what, Ritchie? I think you should sleep on it,’ she said. ‘You’re exhausted. In the meantime, I’m going to get my brother Arthur on the case.’

  Ritchie looked at her quizzically. ‘Your brother? Is he like a cop or a soldier or something?’

  ‘No.’ Cate giggled. ‘He’s fourteen years old, but he is just the most awesome computer whizz ever. He’s got this amazing network of contacts that spreads around the world. You have no idea just how many geeks are out there, tapping away at their computers, twenty-four/seven, all them experts in one area or another, and loving any technical challenge, especially if it’s something they aren’t meant to be doing . . . According to Arthur, you can solve almost any problem in the world by going online. It’s just a question of accessing the right person. I’ve learned never ever to underestimate Arthur and his mates, and boy, has he got me out of trouble a few times.’

  ‘Well,’ said Ritchie, ‘why not? Let me know if he comes up with anything.’

  Cate had already toyed with the idea of calling Marcus, her IMIA handler to ask him for his help – after all, the archaeological site was close to the sea, and the rumour mentioned the illegal ocean transport of artefacts. But she had quickly dismissed the idea, at least for now. IMIA’s brief was indeed to take on maritime investigation, but they only dealt with massive crimes that brought down governments, rocked stock markets and started wars. Rumours of the theft of a few artefacts and the disappearance of four students hardly fitted that bill.

  Cate thought longingly of the gorgeous deep bed waiting for her back at the hotel. She yawned and glanced over at Ritchie.

  He was staring at the rear-view mirror, an anxious expression on his face,

  ‘Everything OK? asked Cate.

  ‘Mmm, yeah I think so . . .’ He was hesitant, taking his foot off the accelerator and slowing right down. ‘It’s just that this car has been behind us pretty much all the way since we left Malibu. When we slow down, it slows down. We speed up and it does too.’ Ritchie wrinkled up his nose. ‘It does seem odd that it hasn’t passed us on the two-lane section.’

  ‘Maybe the driver’s just cautious,’ Cate said. She fought the temptation to turn around and check the car out. ‘What kind of car is it?’

  ‘It’s some kind of pick-up. Dark colour. I can’t see the licence plate.’

  Cate could feel her heart beginning to beat just a little faster. They hadn’t passed another car for a good few minutes and she was beginning to realise just how isolated they were.

  Ritchie took a sudden left off the highway, the little car rocking as it almost skidded on to a side road. The pick-up truck carried on, roaring up the highway. Cate breathed a sigh of relief, but kept watching over her shoulder and caught sight of brake lights flaring in the darkness. It had passed too quickly for her to catch the number plate, but Cate saw the large tractor-like wheels and an oversized rear bumper. It was just like the truck she had seen outside Mexicano Magic.

  ‘Well, whoever it was has gone now,’ said Ritchie, pulling back out on to the road.

  Cate gave herself a mental shake. One of the downsides of her recent adventures was that she now had a tendency to read far too much into perfectly ordinary everyday events. There must be hundreds of trucks in LA that looked like that and certainly a whole stack of idiot drivers too.

  They were just through the first in a series of sharp bends when there was an ear-splitting crunch and the car leaped forward through the air before crashing back down on to the road. The impact shot through Cate’s body, propelling her violently forward before her seatbelt wrenched her painfully backwards into her seat.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ Ritchie was grappling with the steering wheel, trying desperately to control the car as it careered sideways across the highway.

  He looked in the mirror and let out an exclamation of horror. Cate glanced in her side mirror and saw a dark, wide shape behind them – a vehicle without headlights and riding so close to them that she could hardly tell where Ritchie’s car ended and this one began.

  But even though the vehicle was unlit, she could still pick out the giant tractor tyres and large bull bars, which looked to her terrified mind like a giant, macabre grin.

  ‘It’s back,’ she shouted above the noise of the engine revving. ‘The truck that was behind us earlier. Whatever you do, don’t stop!’

  ‘Hold tight!’ Ritchie yelled, and the car jerked forwards again, this time landing almost against the cliff-top barriers. Cate was ready for the impact, but even so it still sent agonising shockwaves through her body and it was all she could do not to scream out.

  ‘Can you outrun him?’ she asked.

  Miraculously, the car was still m
oving, but it felt as if at least one of the tyres was damaged and there was an ominous grinding coming from somewhere beneath her feet.

  ‘I’ll try,’ Ritchie shouted back over the noise of the engine. He stamped on the pedal and the little car gallantly pushed forwards. But a quick glance behind showed Cate that the truck was on them again, this time pushing rather than crashing into them, forcing the car nearer and nearer to the cliff edge and the long sheer drop to the ocean below.

  They’re trying to push us over the cliff, thought Cate, cold fear twisting in her stomach. They’re trying to kill us! But why? Her mind was racing, trying to make sense of the madness. Was it her they were after? Or Ritchie? Or was it a case of mistaken identity?

  Cate was just reaching into her bag for her phone when she saw a road sign up ahead, reminding drivers that they were coming up to a picnic area.

  ‘Turn in,’ she yelled, pointing to the sign. ‘Turn in there, Ritchie, we can’t outrun them – it’s our only hope of losing them.’

  He stared at her blankly, his eyes faint and distant.

  ‘Ritchie,’ she said again, more urgently, ‘listen to me. Concentrate. Come on, Ritchie, please.’

  Then she saw the blood. Lots of it, coursing down the left side of his head, falling on to his pale shirt.

  Her heart sank and she gave another despairing glance behind her. The truck had dropped back slightly. Getting ready for another attack, she thought grimly, then looked up ahead. There were no other cars around, no last-minute saviour on the horizon. She was on her own.

  The gap in the barrier was nearly on them and Cate made up her mind. Taking a deep breath she moved over towards Ritchie as far as her seatbelt would let her, grabbed the wheel with her left hand and with her right pulled hard on the handbrake.

  ‘Brake, Ritchie brake!’ she screamed in his ear as she yanked hard at the wheel and somehow Ritchie heard her and understood, pushing his right leg forward on the brake, hurtling the car into a skid.