Viper's Nest (8 page)

‘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 wasn’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 moving, 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.

There was an angry scrape of metal on tarmac and Cate’s nostrils were filled with the hot, dirty stench of burning rubber. She released the handbrake, her other arm screaming from the
effort of holding the wheel in lock, but somehow, amazingly, the car made it through the gap in the barrier, careered down a slope and along a wide gravel path before finally coming to a halt in
the grassy parking area.

‘Ritchie, get out – get out of the car!’ Cate was already looking over her shoulder. Unable to stop, the truck had gone roaring on up the road, but she knew it was only a
matter of moments before it U-turned back on the empty highway.

Ritchie’s head lolled as he tried to look at her. ‘Sorry,’ he said. He was fighting to keep his eyes open. ‘Sorry. Feel bad. Really bad. Leave me. Go.’

‘No way,’ said Cate, slinging her bag across her shoulders. She pushed desperately at her dented door, then, when it refused to open, swung round and kicked hard with both feet and
the cool night air rushed in, cutting like a sword through the fetid smell of sweat and fear.

She jumped out and ran around the front of the car. The bumper was hanging off, half under the car, the front tyres were so shredded that there was hardly any rubber left, and smoke was seeping
out from under the bonnet. The unmistakable smell of petrol hung in the air like an invisible haze.