The 39 Clues: Unstoppable: Nowhere to Run (12 page)

“Hang on!” Fiona shouted, and she jerked the wheel hard to the left. The boat heeled on one side, and she cut across the inlet, skimming between clumps of rocks.

“We’re going to have to head for the channel,” she shouted. “I can’t reverse and get back to Runnybeg now.”

Dan looked behind them. The black boat was going slower, no doubt because they didn’t have Fiona’s knowledge of the inlet. The rocks could tear a hole in the hull. The boat looked like a powerful machine, a dark shark moving through the water. “Are you sure you can outrun them?”

Fiona glanced behind her for a split second, and he saw the doubt flicker on her face. “Possibly not,” she said, jerking her chin forward. “But I can outwit them.”

As she said this, she suddenly swerved the boat into a narrow channel Dan hadn’t noticed. As she followed the twisting channel, she gradually increased her speed, and then the harbor opened up in front of them.

It was just past dawn, and the gray water was still splashed with pink. The fishing boats were already specks on the far side of the harbor, headed out to deeper water. Fiona zigzagged through the anchored craft, her hands sure and expert on the wheel. The larger boat had trouble following her, so it veered off into the deeper water of the harbor.

“They’re going to cut us off!” Amy yelled over the sound of the wind and the water thumping against the hull.

Fiona didn’t answer. Her lips pressed together and her eyes narrowed. By slipping through the anchored boats, she began to angle toward shore.

“We’ll gain some time when the bay widens,” she shouted. “They’re too far out to catch us. At least for a bit.”

A bit
didn’t sound too encouraging, Dan thought, but he felt a rush of exhilaration as their boat shot out into open water. Fiona opened up the throttle. The boat slammed down on the waves, and spray drenched their faces.

They were ahead now, and gaining yard after yard. Dan looked behind again. Even though they’d shot ahead, judging by the speed of the other boat it wouldn’t be for long. Eventually the other boat would overtake them.

He moved closer to Fiona. “What’s the plan?” he asked.

“If I can outrun them and we make it to the cliffs, I can lose them. There’s a way.”

“The cliffs?”

“The Cliffs of Moher. They lie south of us. If I can get us there fast enough. That’s where Declan and his friends will be.”

“But how can he help us?”

“HANG ON!” Fiona screamed, suddenly cutting the wheel hard right. The boat heeled up on one side, and Dan dizzily hung on to the cabin rail. He saw a buoy pass inches from his nose.

They were out in the ocean now, the swells impeding their progress. The boat rolled as they cut across the waves, and Dan felt his stomach seize. He kept his eyes on the horizon.

“They’re gaining on us,” Ian called from the stern.

“I can’t get her to go any faster,” Fiona said through gritted teeth. “We’re almost there.”

Then the sun broke through the mist and fog, and through the faint rays they saw the cliffs rise before them, majestic and touched with morning light. Seabirds dove and wheeled above them.

“Whoa,” Dan called. “Those are some insane cliffs! What are they, a thousand feet up?”

“Almost . . . the tallest is more like seven hundred,” Fiona said, glancing behind her at the black boat. “It’s our only chance — they’ll be on us in a minute or two. But we’ll have company on the water, at least. The Aileens are running. Lucky for us, if we can manage not to sink.”

Dan pictured a team of Irish girls running along a cliff. Why would that help them?

“Who are the Aileens?” Amy asked.

“
Aill Na Searrach.
It’s a perfect wave,” Fiona said. “If conditions are right, and today they are, they can get as big as thirty, forty feet.”

“Did you say
forty feet
?” Ian yelled.

“What are those islands out there?” Amy asked, pointing toward massive hills ahead of them.

Dan saw Fiona grip the wheel harder. “Those aren’t islands. They’re waves.”

Dan squinted into the distance. They didn’t look like waves. They looked like distant islands that slowly moved across the surface until they grew into massive walls of water.

The boat pursuing them swung off to the left, edging them closer to shore. Closer to the Aileens.

“I won’t be able to hold the boat in that surf!” Fiona yelled. “We’ll break up! And if I go out to sea, they’ll overtake us!”

Dan could see the figures on the deck, the men dressed in black with black sunglasses. He recognized one, a short man with a blond buzz cut in a tight T-shirt. He was the man who’d held him on the bridge. The man raised a rifle.

“Get down!” Dan screamed.

Fiona didn’t move. A bullet smashed into the instrument board, cracking the speedometer. Dan crawled over and yanked Fiona down. She kept one hand on the wheel.

“Are you crazy?”

Her face was white, and her teeth chattered. “I didn’t think they’d actually
shoot
!” She looked at the torn-up dashboard. “With real
bullets
!”

“Just stay down,” Dan ordered.

“If I can’t see, I can’t steer!” she shouted. “We’ll either smash into the rocks or get swept into the surf, and that will be the end of us!”

Dan glanced back. “I think that’s what they’re going for,” he answered.

The men stood, the rifles held loosely in their hands. He could feel the boat groan as it bucked against the swell. If they allowed Fiona to steer, there was no doubt that she would be killed. But if they didn’t steer, they’d drift straight into those thirty-foot waves ahead, or into the rocks.

There was a huge tearing noise, and the boat shuddered. “We’ve hit something!” Fiona shouted. “Ian, can you go below?”

Ian bent over and crab-walked to the cabin as another spray of bullets thudded into the boat. He swung himself down the ladder.

A moment later he stuck his head out. “It’s bad,” he yelled. “We hit a rock, and there’s water pouring in.”

“They’ll pick us off if we jump in the water,” Fiona said. She was still pale, but she was no longer shaking. Her chin was set as she scanned the bay behind them. “Where are you, Declan, you eejit?” Her voice broke as she searched frantically behind the boat.

Amy crawled forward to sit with Dan, their backs against the cabin door. The boat was now listing to one side. Another wave pummeled them, and they slid a little farther toward the railing. It wouldn’t be long now before the boat broke up. The men on the other boat held their rifles, waiting for them to land in the cold water.

“Fiona,” she said.

Dan knew what she meant. Another innocent. Another life they’d placed in danger.

“I have to make sure she makes it,” Amy said. “So you — just swim. Swim as fast as you can. The water will be cold. You need to keep your muscles warm. Take Olivia’s book. And don’t look back for me. I’ll stay with Fiona. I’ll get her to shore.”

Dan looked at the roiling water. The rocks. The sheer cliffs. It would be a miracle if they could make it to shore. But he had no intention of swimming for it without making sure Amy was okay. Less than an hour ago he’d been furious at her. Now he’d do anything to save her.

“Piece of cake,” he said.

“There they are!” Fiona burst out.

Dan squinted against the sun. Small dark shapes were moving quickly, flying over the surface of the water . . . Jet Skis. Each of them held a pilot and passenger, and each of them were towing something long and sleek. . . .

“Surfboards?” Dan asked.

“It’s Declan and his crew,” Fiona said. “The Jet Skis tow them behind the peak of the wave, and they ride it in. They’re the few mad enough to surf Aileens.”

“They
surf
those waves?” Ian said, incredulous.

The Jet Skis veered and came straight toward them. The path would take them right between their boat and the black shark boat. The men on the boat quickly stowed their rifles.

They zoomed closer, forming a wedge and making straight for their boat.

One of the surfers raised a megaphone. “Need help over here?”

“Yes!” Fiona shouted, standing and waving. The Jet Skis surrounded the boat. The men on the other boat wouldn’t dare shoot now.

Declan sat on the back of a Jet Ski, dressed in a wet suit. “Looks like you could use a lift,” he yelled. He gestured to the surfers perched on the back of the Jet Skis. “These are my mates Sean, Rory, and Patrick. Climb aboard.”

“You first, Fiona,” Amy said. She hesitated, then thrust Olivia’s book into Fiona’s hands. “Take care of this.”

“I’ll take a ride with Sean, there,” Fiona said, indicating a red-haired boy with bright blue eyes that were fastened on Fiona. “He’ll take me back to the beach at Doolin. I’ll take your packs; we’ve got storage under the seat.” In just a moment, the backpacks and Olivia’s book were stowed away.

“Is that where you’ll take us?” Dan asked as he climbed aboard behind Declan.

“Can’t. The boat would just follow you in and pick you off when you dock,” Declan said. “And there’s fellas on shore at Doolin, waiting. You’re going to have to get to shore a different way.”

Amy slid off the boat behind Rory. With a grimace, Ian sat behind Patrick. They rocked in the water for a moment as the boat tilted over. Water poured onto the deck.

“You owe me a boat, Fee!” Declan shouted to his sister, grinning.

Dan lurched backward as the Jet Ski took off. He was glad to be leaving the bad guys in the dust, but it would help if at the moment he wasn’t heading toward a set of thirty-foot waves.

“Are you taking us to the beach?” he yelled into Declan’s ear.

Declan pointed to a wave as high as a building. “Only one way to get there, mate. The Jet Skis can’t maneuver in those waves.”

“We’re going to” — Dan swallowed — “surf in?”

“You’ll be on the beach in less than three minutes!” Declan yelled. “All you have to do is hold on.”

The Jet Ski sliced through the water. They were now past the break. The Jet Ski rose on the high swell, then skied downhill on the other side. When it hit the trough, Dan felt the thud in his bones.

“They come in sets of seven,” Declan yelled. “We’re going to swing in behind the peak. See the barrel shape? ’Tis a beautiful thing. We’re going to shoot right inside one of those.”

Dan swallowed. He was shaking from cold and fear. He glanced back at Amy. She gave him a shaky thumbs-up. Ian just looked determined and terrified at the same time.

The boy piloting the Jet Ski looked out at the ocean. Apparently, he saw something Dan couldn’t. “Here we go! Next set!”

The Jet Skis idled now, and they could hear each other.

“Time to get on the boards,” Declan said.

Gingerly, Dan maneuvered himself onto the board. Declan told him how to hold on. Dan’s teeth were chattering so loudly he could hear the constant irregular rhythm.

“Won’t be long now, mate,” Declan said. “Just a minute or two.”

Dan looked over. Ian and Amy were on the boards as well.

“No time to waste,” Patrick shouted, pointing with his chin at the black boat. They could just make out the men standing on the deck, still watching them. One of them had binoculars trained on them.

Now Dan could see the swell of the wave, like an enormous leviathan moving through the water.

“When it’s over the reef, it will start to break,” Declan said.

“Let’s go!” the Jet Ski pilot called, and they shot forward at top speed. Declan rose gracefully, his feet spread on the board, balancing easily as they sliced through the water. They angled into the forming wave. Dan felt his body crouching on the board like a frozen thing, his mind screaming one word.

Nooooooooo!

Then the wall of water roared toward them and the board shot forward.

Dan’s stomach dropped as the power of the wave picked them up and hurtled them forward. He was at the mercy of a force so huge it seemed to suck the air from his lungs, and his head was filled with a booming, primal energy that pushed thought out of his brain and made him pulse with pure feeling.

They shot through a green icy tube of water. He guessed he was screaming, but the roar of the surf was too big around him and holding the slippery board was too hard. Declan’s every shift of weight caused another jolt of pure terror to shoot through him.

Through the tunnel of water he could see another surfer ahead, Amy clutching the board. They were parallel to shore, surfing down the curve. Dan could feel the power of the collapsing wave behind them.

“Hang on, we’re going to turn!” Declan shouted.

As if he could hang on any more than he was! Declan shifted his body, and the board turned in toward shore. Dan blinked the spray out of his eyes. Ahead, the other surfer had done the same. He saw Amy sliding across the board, and then she tumbled off, into the churning surf!

He didn’t hesitate. He rolled off the board, into the icy water.

Immediately, he felt the fury of the wave, and he struggled to keep his head above the swirling foam. He was like a stick bobbing in its propulsive force. The wave was like an animal, something alive that could easily snap his body in two.

He tensed his body, holding it straight, picking up the pulse of the great wave. He would drown if he got caught in the roiling sea. He had to keep going, find Amy somewhere in the wave.

Ahead, he caught a glimpse of brown — seaweed? No, Amy’s hair, streaming out behind her! She, too, was trying to bodysurf the wave. Declan was trying to slow his board, trying to keep Amy in sight.

The minutes seemed forever. The salt stung Dan’s eyes and he could no longer feel his fingers. He could see the beach ahead, and he reached out for Amy, trying to grab her foot, or her clothing. . . .

The wave exploded around him, roaring, crashing, and he felt the drag of the receding wave pulling him backward, but he fought to stay up, stay ahead, swimming now for his life, swimming toward Amy. . . .

Who was now flailing, her arms in her heavy wool sweater dragging her down under the wave. Dan dove straight down. The pull of the wave receded, and he could just make out the pale form of Amy’s fluttering hand.

He swam deeper, reaching out, reaching for that hand. And grasped it.

He tugged her forward, swimming until he thought his heart would burst in his chest. He hooked his arm around her and pushed up, up toward the faint light.

He broke through the surface, gasping, and Declan was there, astride his board, his face anguished. He reached down and dragged Dan and Amy over his board. Then he paddled to shore.

The other surfers and Ian came running. Together, they got Dan and Amy on the beach. Amy doubled over, coughing.

Declan sat, his head between his knees, his whole body shuddering. His cocky attitude was wiped away by near disaster.

Dan lay on the beach, trying to catch his breath.

Amy looked up through her tangle of wet hair. “Saved my life again, bro,” she said raggedly. “I owe you two.”

Up above, Sean and Fiona ran down the cliff’s switchback trail, their arms full of blankets. Amy tried to struggle to her feet. No doubt her knees were just as liquid as Dan’s. Ian shook sand out of his trouser pockets.

“Declan, we’ve got to move,” Patrick said. “We’ve only got a few minutes before they call to shore and tell them we’ll be coming up the cliffs.”

“Right.” Declan stood, tossing his dark hair out of his eyes.

The black boat was just a dot in the distance, heading back the way it came.

Dan realized he was freezing, shaking so badly he was having trouble walking. Fiona ran down the beach and threw a blanket around Amy, then Dan. “Come on,” she urged. “There’s no time.”

They followed the surfers up the path to a caravan of vehicles. Declan led the way to his truck. He opened the doors for them. “I’ll be back in a tick,” he said, and then disappeared into the van parked next to them.

They fell into the truck, shivering. Fiona passed in a thermos and cups. “This is nice and hot; it will warm you up. Declan will drive you to the airport. There’s a private plane there. Here’s the number of the pilot. He’ll take you anywhere you need to go.” Her blue eyes were fierce. “You’ll be safe, I promise you. Declan can drive like the devil and he knows these back roads like nobody else.”

“He surfs like the devil, too,” Dan said. The shaking was coming under control.

Declan reappeared, now dressed in jeans and a thick wool sweater, his hair slicked back. He slid behind the wheel.

“Good-bye, Fiona,” Amy said. “Thank you for everything. That’s not nearly enough to say, but . . .”

“Don’t worry,” Fiona said. “We’ll meet again. I’m sure of it.” She shut the door, then gave the truck a pat. Declan hit the gas and they took off, spraying dirt as they peeled out of the lot.

It wasn’t until they were halfway to the Dublin airport that they warmed up completely and Amy felt her brain beginning to work again.

“How did they find us?” she wondered. “We haven’t used our phones for e-mail. We hardly left the house in the past two days. . . .”

“Except for Ian,” Dan said. “Did you notice anything suspicious when you went for your walk?”

Ian shook his head. “No surveillance. I would have seen it. Just me and my bike. Of course, I almost got run over, but that was an accident.”

“Accident?” Amy asked sharply.

“My bike met the fender of a Range Rover,” Ian said. “Lucky for me I wasn’t on it at the time. The driver gave me a ride as far as Ballycreel.”

Amy was instantly suspicious. “What was her name?”

“How do you know it was a girl?”

“Because if I was going to try to put a track on us through you, I’d use a girl to do it,” Amy answered.

“Her name was Maura, and she wasn’t some spy, she was a very lovely and very rich young woman in her daddy’s expensive car, and she gave me a very short ride over some very bumpy fields to the nearest village,” Ian said huffily. “End of story.”

“How did the accident happen?” Dan asked.

“I don’t appreciate being cross-examined,” Ian said. “I’m a Lucian. I know what I’m doing. I didn’t tell the girl my real name. I made sure she was gone before I walked back to Bhaile Anois.”

“Did this girl ask to use your phone?” Amy asked.

“No. It was never out of my possession. Except . . .” Ian suddenly stopped. His face went red. “Except when she hit the bicycle, I dove for cover, and the phone flew out of my hands. . . .”

“And she picked it up.” Amy held out her hand. “Let me see your phone.”

“This is ridiculous!” Nevertheless, Ian sighed and dug in his leather backpack. He handed his phone to Amy. The words
KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON
mocked him from the cover.

Amy turned on the phone. She looked at it, then handed it back. “You have to input your code.”

With a roll of his eyes, Ian typed in his number code.

WRONG PASSCODE

Try Again

Ian typed it in again.

WRONG PASSCODE

Try Again

He turned the phone around in his hands. “This isn’t my phone! It’s all scuffed and scratched.” He looked up. “Jake must have taken my phone by mistake.”

Thoughts tumbled in Amy’s head. It all made sense. “She put a tracker on your phone,” she said. “That’s how they tracked us to the area. But Jake took your phone by mistake this morning. That means they’re now tracking
him
.”

Amy quickly dialed Ian’s cell number. Ian’s voice came on the line. “You’ve reached me. Leave a message. Don’t make it tedious. Good-bye.”

“He’s not picking up,” Amy said frantically. “If there’s a tracker on his phone, Pierce and his men know where he is. They’ll go after him and Atticus!”