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Authors: Mark Robson

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BOOK: The Devil's Triangle
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Niamh laughed. ‘I can’t wait to see how you intend to get us down again,’ she said.

Callum didn’t notice when the aircraft stop climbing. They had still been rocketing skywards when a stewardess worked her way along the aisle handing out little plastic bags containing headsets. Sam showed him where to plug the jack into the armrest and Callum spent the next couple of hours happily watching a film on the small screen that was set into the headrest of the seat in front. Sam, he noted, was watching a different film, but Callum didn’t recognise it from the little he saw out of the corner of his eye.

When both their films had finished, Sam challenged him to various computer games and, before Callum realised it, another hour had passed. After being beaten for the umpteenth time at ‘Who Wants to be a Millionaire?’ Callum had to admit that Sam had better general knowledge than he did.

‘So much for my reputation as a geek!’ he said. ‘That’s enough thrashings for now, Sam. I need to pee and stretch my legs. Try Niamh. Maybe she’ll give you more of a game.’

‘You mean, you need the
rest room,’
Niamh corrected. ‘We’re going to the US. You might as well start getting used to their terminology.’

‘Fair enough,’ Callum replied, squeezing past Sam and into the aisle. ‘I’ll see you in a minute, y’all. I’m just off to the
rest room
. . . for a pee.’

Sam gave a bark of laughter. Niamh shook her head, but smiled as she did so. Callum looked a total nerd, but his appearance was deceptive. When he had first appeared at the house with Sam after school one day, she had found it hard to hide her surprise. He seemed an unlikely friend for her brother. Sam was tall, athletic and trendy, with a sharp haircut and clean-cut features, while Callum was a full head shorter, comparatively weedy-looking, with an unruly mop of hair and glasses straight from Austin Powers’ shelf. But Niamh had quickly warmed to his self-deprecating nature and sharp sense of humour.

When Callum returned, Sam had started watching another film. Callum didn’t fancy staring at the little screen again for a while so, settling into his seat, he reached down into his hand-luggage and pulled out a book. Niamh was also reading. Callum glanced across at Mr Cutler; he was still totally absorbed in his book.

‘So what’s with your dad and the Triangle?’ Callum whispered to Niamh. ‘All that rib-digging earlier has me curious.’

‘Didn’t Sam tell you?’ she replied softly, surreptitiously peeping round him to check for herself that her father was not listening.

‘Tell me what?’

‘Why we go to the Keys every year.’

‘No. Should he have?’

‘Typical! Sam hates talking about anything emotional.’

Niamh took another furtive look across at her father and then leaned right back into the seat to make sure she was as shielded as she could be by the two boys. ‘It’s where Mum disappeared nine years ago.’

‘Disappeared? You mean she just left?’

‘No,’ Niamh breathed. ‘She disappeared. Vanished.’

‘How?’ Callum asked.

‘Who knows?’ Niamh replied, her eyes wary and her voice sounding suddenly tight. ‘Dad’s pretty obsessed with finding the answer to that question, but aside from learning a lot of history, he doesn’t seem to have achieved a lot. To be honest, I don’t remember much about what happened. Sam and me were only five at the time, so all I can tell you is what Dad’s told us. Apparently, Mum was out in a boat with her dive partner studying nurse sharks. She was a marine biologist. Dad says she was involved in a project with a private marine research lab. One day, her boat didn’t return to the lab. The circumstances were so strange that Dad’s been haunted by the Bermuda Triangle phenomenon ever since.’

‘I’m sorry. That must have been tough.’

‘Yeah,’ Niamh said, unable to totally conceal the bitterness in her voice. ‘You could say that. Dad went through a really tough time with the police investigation,’

‘I didn’t realise the Keys were inside the Triangle,’ Callum admitted, not fooled for one moment by the dispassionate front Niamh was displaying. The pain in her eyes was obvious and although she was trying to sound cool and detached as she talked about it, hints of emotion kept leaking through. Although he didn’t want to pry and upset his best friend’s sister further, he found he couldn’t curb his curiosity. He had often wondered why Sam and Niamh lived alone with their dad. He had assumed it had been the result of a divorce. The idea that their mother had disappeared under mysterious circumstances was horribly fascinating.

‘The boundaries of the Triangle seem to vary depending on which book you read, but inside or out is a bit irrelevant really,’ she explained, her eyes distant.

‘Could the boat have sunk?’ Callum asked gently.

‘Mum and her partner were supposed to be working in shallow water. That’s where nurse sharks breed, so most of the research was being done in water that was only a couple of metres deep. If the boat had sunk, it should have been found. And even if they had gone out into deeper water, they had masses of emergency equipment: radios, emergency locator beacons and flares. They should’ve had no problems raising the alarm with the coastguard at the first sign of trouble.’

‘Maybe they were kidnapped,’ Callum whispered, lowering his voice still further.

‘Dad suggested that to the local Sheriff’s Office. But why would anyone want to kidnap two marine biologists?’ Niamh asked. ‘And if they had, then surely the kidnappers would have sent a ransom note or something. No. It was very strange. The two of them just vanished. There was a search of course. But after a few days it was called off, and Mum became a statistic. Just another missing person.’

The hollowness in her voice as she said those final four words sent a shiver down Callum’s spine. He knew he couldn’t ask any more.

‘I’m really sorry,’ Callum said, trying to think of something comforting to say. There didn’t seem to be any adequate words. ‘It must have been horrible for all of you,’ he added, knowing how lame his sympathy sounded.

Niamh nodded and gave him a weak smile.

Callum pushed his glasses up his nose again before stealing another glance across at Mr Cutler. He seemed so ordinary. How was it that something so extraordinary could happen to a man like him? It was like something out of a Marvel comic. He could almost see the blurb:

Meet mild-mannered teacher, Matthew Cutler, forty-something father of two by day – paranormal investigator by night.

What superpowers would he have? Callum nearly laughed aloud as he momentarily pictured Mr Cutler wearing a spandex suit, cape and mask. The image was ridiculous. The science teacher had a receding hairline, a few too many pounds round his middle and little rectangular reading glasses that were clearly not for show.

‘Dad has never truly given up on Mum,’ Niamh volunteered suddenly, breaking his ludicrous train of thought. ‘I’m pretty certain he still believes there’s a chance she’s alive somewhere, but I doubt he would ever admit that out loud. The life insurance company was slow to pay up after the coastguard called off the search, but when they did, Dad spent all the money he got on buying our house in the Keys and on kitting out a boat that he could use to search the waters there for clues. He gave up his career with Lloyds Bank and took up a teaching job so that he could use the long holidays to continue looking. I guess it’s nice to know that he loved Mum so much, but it’s also a bit sad that he can’t let her go.’

‘I’m just glad that I didn’t offer to lend him my book when Sam made that fuss earlier,’ Callum said.

‘Why?’

Callum closed his book and turned it face up on his lap to reveal the distinctive black cover. It was a copy of
Gone
by Michael Grant.

 
CHAPTER TWO

Sam Cutler was quietly amused at his friend’s reaction to the turbulent approach into Miami. Callum’s face turned a deathly shade of grey as the pilots wove between the worst of the heavy showers and battled their way down towards the runway. The majority of the flight had been smooth and predictably dull, but it was clear that Sam’s friend did not share the benefits of his travel experience.

Callum’s fingers were white with the ferocity of his grip on the armrests, and the muscles in his arms and shoulders looked bunched and tight. For the final ten minutes the aircraft bumped and bucked like a wild horse before a clattering
thump
announced their landing onto the wet tarmac of Miami International Airport.

A spontaneous ripple of applause from other passengers around the cabin was punctuated with the sound of relieved laughter. Sam had felt none of the nervousness displayed by many during the turbulence of the last few minutes. It had felt rather like the lurching, rolling simulator rides at Disney World, and he could remember far worse trips. Niamh had looked similarly calm, reading her book throughout the approach.

‘It’s OK, Cal. You can relax now,’ Sam said, giving Callum a friendly nudge with his elbow as the aircraft began to slow. ‘We’re down. The only thing you have left to worry about is whether you’ll be allowed through customs. The Americans are quite particular about who they let in, you know.’

‘Ha, ha, Sam! Very funny. If they let you in, then I sure won’t have anything to worry about.’

Sam grinned. This holiday looked set to be the best he’d had in years. It would be so good to have Callum along. He was a good mate. Their friendship had begun on the first day of secondary school when they had both earned three days of detention and a reputation with the form teacher before even getting through registration.

Sam had started it, of course, but Callum had been quick to join in, spraying the boys in front of them with water from the high-pressure taps in the chemistry lab, which happened to be their form room. Those three days of lunchtime detention had sealed their friendship. Cal could be a bit serious and sensible at times, but he didn’t take much persuading to join in with some of Sam’s wilder escapades.

It had been something of a surprise to Sam that his dad had agreed so readily to Callum coming on holiday with them and, according to Cal, an even bigger surprise that
his
mum and dad had allowed it.

‘If it’ll keep you from getting bored and irritable, then great,’ Sam’s dad had said. ‘But if you have someone along this year, it’s only fair that it’ll be Niamh’s turn to bring a friend next time. Deal?’

Agreeing to that had been easy. Some of Niamh’s friends were pretty hot. All Sam had to do was to guide her a little in her choice and he stood to win both ways. He smiled at the thought.

It took about an hour and a half to get through immigration, collect their bags and clear customs. Sam’s father spoke to the man at the car-hire desk and picked up the keys to the car he had leased for the summer.

Moments later, they were out of the cool, air-conditioned airport building and into the hot, muggy depths of the dimly-lit multi-storey car park, their bags piled high on the airport trolley. The combination of the close heat and trapped exhaust fumes in the busy car park was horrid. Sam could taste the oily tang of diesel on the back of his tongue. It tickled, causing him to cough several times before they found their car.

The red SUV was comfortably big enough for the four of them and all their bags. The boys piled the cases into the boot and Niamh climbed into the front passenger seat, leaving the back to Sam and Callum.

Sam could feel trickles of sweat running down the middle of his back as he tried to get comfortable. His shirt was sticking to his body in several places. He lifted the front of it and wafted air up inside just as a loud rumble of thunder rolled around the car park.

‘Can you hurry up and get the air con on, please, Dad? I’m melting here.’ Sam turned to his friend. ‘Don’t worry, Cal. This rain won’t last long. We often have thunderstorms late afternoon when we’re here, but they rarely hang around. By the time we get to the house we should be able to chill out in the pool. I can’t wait. It’s just so hot! What are you doing, Niamh?’

‘Just texting my friend Beth.’

‘Already? What could you possibly have to tell her? We’ve only just landed.’

‘Stuff,’ she said cryptically, and after poking her tongue out at him for a second, she returned to tapping at the screen on her mobile.

‘How long will it take to get to the house?’ Callum asked, looking as uncomfortable in the heat as Sam felt.

‘It normally takes a couple of hours from here, Callum,’ Mr Cutler answered. ‘But we have to make our traditional stop at Denny’s on the way. What do you think, kids?’

Sam rolled his eyes at his father’s use of ‘kids’, but was quick to add his ‘yes’ to Niamh’s.

Callum looked confused. ‘Denny’s?’ he asked. ‘What’s that?’

‘It’s an American diner,’ Niamh told him. ‘There are loads of different diner chains over here, way more than in the UK. Denny’s is sort of an all-day breakfast place, but there’s Red Lobster, Chili’s, Dunkin’ Donuts, Frankie & Benny’s, TGI Fridays . . .’

‘We’ve got TGI Fridays in the UK,’ Callum interrupted.

‘Yeah, but nowhere near as many as they have out here,’ said Niamh.

‘And IHOP,’ Sam said. ‘Don’t forget IHOP.’

BOOK: The Devil's Triangle
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