The Cassandra Sanction (28 page)

As Ben watched the beginnings of the sunrise spreading over the ocean, the plane gently banked as if heading for the smallest of the islands, which lay separated by a few kilometres of water from its larger neighbour. He wondered why they were flying towards it. There didn’t seem to be anything there.

But as the dark mound grew closer and details began to come into view, Ben was able to make out the shape of a lighthouse perched on the cliffs that overhung the northern end of the island. It looked like a miniature model from above. A round white stone tower, its tiny windows glinting red in the early light. At its foot was a cluster of white stone buildings that were the only habitation
he could see.

The aircraft swooped lower, and they overflew the island. It was humped like a gigantic turtle shell rising up out of the sea, sparsely covered here and there with woodland intercut with exposed ridges of rock and what looked like a tiny road winding lengthwise across it, to connect the lighthouse complex with whatever lay at the island’s southern extremity, not yet visible from
the air. As the plane descended lower still and passed over, now the rest of the island came into view: a long, flat prominence lying close to sea level. The first thing Ben saw there was the graceful twin-masted schooner lying at anchor within a short outboard ride of the shore, where a narrow wooden jetty stretched from a little boathouse. The sailing yacht was a striking enough sight on its
own; but what made him blink was the long, perfectly straight tongue of concrete skirting the edge of the island that he realised at second glance was an airstrip.

Ben estimated that the landing distance of a jet this size was about nine hundred metres, which Ben’s eye for measurements told him the airstrip exceeded by just a few plane lengths. A neat fit. Then whoever owned the jet presumably
owned the schooner, and probably the island too. They’d reached their destination. Ben felt a tingle of adrenalin, knowing that confrontation was coming.

The unseen pilot brought the aircraft around in a loop, approaching the island from the south. The sea rushed past below them as they dropped altitude. Ben caught a glimpse of the sailing yacht flashing by the windows. Then he felt the soft
jolt of landing, and their rapid deceleration on the airstrip. The aircraft taxied to a stop and the pilot began shutting down the engines. Moments later, Ben and Raul were escorted from the hatch and onto the concrete strip. The pilot emerged from the cockpit. Ben recognised him as the driver of the van that had taken them from McCauley’s place.

The October early morning chill wrapped itself
around them after the warmth of the aircraft. Raul looked at Ben, as if to say, ‘What now?’

Ben made no reply. He looked around him. The sunrise was slowly brightening the sky, its glow bathing the island blood red. Perhaps ten kilometres away to the west, Ben could make out the eastern side of the nearest neighbouring island and the tiny breakers rolling into the foot of its cliffs.

Hearing the sound of vehicles approaching, he turned to see two soft-top Jeep Wranglers bouncing along the little road towards them. The Jeeps pulled up in tandem a few yards from the aircraft. Motioning towards the lead vehicle, the Greyhound said, ‘They’re waiting for you up at the house.’

Ben looked at Raul, and Raul looked at Ben. No point in asking questions. They’d get answers soon enough.
And perhaps more.

The driver barely glanced at them as they got into the lead Jeep. He gunned the engine and they went roaring back up the narrow road, twisting through the trees, snaking their way back up the hill in the direction of the lighthouse. Ben twisted round to look behind them, and saw the second Jeep following with the four men inside. Then, as they cleared the brow of the hill,
the lighthouse came back into view and the ocean beyond it, the smooth horizon flooded with glittering crimson streaks by the rising orb of the sun.

The Jeep continued across the island until it reached the lighthouse. The driver stopped the car, still without a word or a glance. The tower that had seemed so tiny from the air loomed over them, shining white against the red sky. Both it and
the cluster of neighbouring smaller buildings were erected at the highest point of the cliff, with a sloping path down to the road. The second Jeep pulled up behind them as Ben and Raul climbed out. Two more identical vehicles were parked up by the lighthouse.

The adrenalin was pumping faster through Ben’s system now. In no way was he reassured by the change in demeanour of their captors.
Just because he couldn’t see the guns, it didn’t mean they weren’t there. And it didn’t mean he wouldn’t be seeing them again, at any moment. He and Raul had been brought here for a reason. Things could be about to turn very nasty. Which was fine by Ben. He was ready for whatever came next.

They’re waiting for you
, the Greyhound had said. The moment had arrived. Now for some answers, Ben thought.
All his senses on alert, he turned towards the lighthouse.

And saw the figure walking slowly towards them down the slope.

It was the shape of a woman, her outline darkly silhouetted against the sunrise. The ocean breeze caught her shoulder-length hair.

Raul was about to say something to Ben when he suddenly saw the woman too, and froze. A strangled sound came from his mouth, halfway
between a cry of pain and an unintelligible mutter. He stood staring at her for a moment that seemed to hang in time forever. Then tears welled up in his eyes, and he rushed towards her with his arms open wide.

‘Catalina!’

Chapter Forty-One

Ben stared at Catalina Fuentes. She was wearing jeans and a navy jumper, a far cry from the photos he’d seen of her. She was also about six times more attractive in real life. Her hair was trimmed a few inches shorter and dyed a few shades lighter, as if she’d been trying to alter her appearance. Most noticeably of all, it appeared that she certainly wasn’t dead. Raul had
been right all along.

‘You’re alive!’ Raul yelled in Spanish, his voice cracking with emotion. ‘Oh my God you’re alive!’

Ben watched him run up the path towards her. She’d stopped walking and was just looking at her brother. Instead of embracing him, she suddenly lashed out with the flat of her hand and slapped him hard across the cheek with a sound that reached Ben’s ears like the crack
of a whip.

‘
Eres un estúpido!
’ she shouted.

Raul drew back as if he’d touched a high-voltage fence. He touched his fingers to his cheek where she’d slapped him. ‘Why did you do that?’

‘You shouldn’t have come looking for me!’ Catalina yelled at him in Spanish, taking an angry step towards him. ‘Now you’ve ruined everything, you fool!’

It wasn’t exactly the welcome Raul had expected.
He was speechless with shock. Ben was almost as taken aback as he was. Raul stood blinking at her for a few seconds, then his shock burned away into anger and he started shouting back.

‘
I’ve
ruined everything?! What the hell is all of this about? Have you any idea what you’ve done to our family, to your parents? You broke their hearts. Are you crazy? Tell me!’

‘I’m not crazy,’ Catalina
said, tight-lipped. ‘If you knew, you’d understand.’

‘Then tell me!’ Raul yelled. ‘To begin with, tell me what the hell you’re doing here on this rock in the middle of the ocean!’

Catalina’s gaze shifted away from Raul and landed on Ben. ‘Who’s this with you?’ she demanded.

Ben walked towards them and was about to introduce himself, but Raul did it for him. ‘His name is Ben. He’s been
helping me to find you. It’s thanks to him that I’m here.’

‘Then he’s a stupid idiot as well,’ Catalina said. ‘Does he speak Spanish?’

‘
Sí
,’ Ben said.

She crossed her arms and gave Ben a hostile glower. She looked a million miles from the terrified, furtive victim Ben had observed on the pawnbroker’s security video footage back in Munich.

At that moment, a second figure emerged
from the lighthouse and started making his way down the path towards them. He was ten or a dozen years older than Catalina, slim and well-groomed with a thick head of hair going elegantly silver. He was dressed as if he’d been about to take in a leisurely nine holes before breakfast, in chinos and a silk shirt with a V-necked cardigan to keep out the morning chill.

Raul raised an accusing
finger at him. ‘Oh, no. Please tell me I’m dreaming. Keller? What’s
he
doing here?’

‘This is his island,’ Catalina said. ‘He owns it.’

‘I should have known that slimy bastard was behind this,’ Raul growled, clenching his fists.

‘You don’t understand,’ Catalina said. ‘You have absolutely no idea, Raul.’

Keller reached them. The four stood facing one another, Ben at Raul’s shoulder,
Keller at Catalina’s. Up close, Keller’s face was lined, but tanned and handsome. His eyes were cool blue. They passed over Raul and he looked at Ben. ‘Austin J. Keller the Third,’ he said confidently, putting out his hand. His accent was Canadian, softened by years in Europe. ‘And you are?’

Ben ignored the hand. ‘Interested in hearing some explanations,’ he said.

Keller stiffened, and
the confidence in his eyes wavered momentarily. Catalina and Raul were still bristling at one another. Raul was shaking his head in disbelief, his face dark. Catalina looked ready to slap him again. Behind them, Keller’s crew had got out of the Jeeps and were clustered beside them, watching from a distance and ready to intervene if needed.

‘You already met my guys,’ Keller said. Pointing at
the Greyhound, he added, ‘That’s Bauer. He’s my chief of security.’ Then he pointed at the pilot. ‘Avery, he’s my Top Gun. Then there’s Spencer, Willis, Emmert, Fulton and Griggs. They’re all good guys.’

‘You can tell the Magnificent Seven not to get any closer,’ Ben said.

Keller stared at him for a second, then waved a discreet signal to his men, telling them to stand down. ‘I think we’d
all better go inside.’

The interior of the lighthouse was adapted into one of the most luxurious homes that Ben had ever seen, a circular open-plan mansion on numerous floors that must have cost millions to convert. The art and antiques were worth probably as much again. But then, Ben realised, millions were clearly nothing to a man who owned private islands and jets and could sail the world
in his magnificent twin-masted schooner. So this was Austin Keller. The man whose name Raul Fuentes couldn’t utter without the prefix ‘That bastard’. The man who’d broken Catalina’s heart. And now, it appeared, the man Ben and Raul had to thank for bringing them here. Ben was beginning to realise how mistaken his assumptions had been – but the truth seemed even stranger.

‘So this is where
you’ve been all along, is that right?’ Raul said, still speaking Spanish and looking around him as if he could spit on the priceless Persian carpet under his feet. ‘How nice for you.’ Eyeing Keller with open dislike, he then switched to English to snort, ‘Are we allowed to know where we are, exactly?

‘The island of Icthyios, west of the Southern Sporades,’ Keller said with something of a flourish.
‘Karpathos a little to the south of us, Rhodes a touch further to the east. Our own little private haven, right where the Aegean meets the Sea of Crete. Eight and a half square kilometres. Mentioned in Ovid’s
Metamorphoses
.’

Ben realised his location estimate was off, but only by about five hundred or so miles. ‘And nobody lives here?’

‘Nobody but us,’ Keller said, proudly sweeping his
arm.

‘Icthyios,’ Raul said. ‘Isn’t that some kind of skin disease?’

Keller flushed a shade darker and cleared his throat. He glanced at Catalina, then smiled and in a breezy tone said, ‘You must be hungry. Some breakfast, perhaps?’

‘Let’s go,’ Raul said to Catalina. ‘We’re getting out of this place.’

‘Go where?’ Keller asked, eyes widening.

‘I was talking to my sister, if you
don’t mind.’

‘I’m sorry things are like this,’ Catalina said to Raul. ‘What more can I say to you?’

‘You could tell me what happened. That would be a start.’

‘I wasn’t in the car,’ Catalina said.

‘Obviously. I gathered that.’

‘I drove all the way to Rügen Island, making sure nobody followed me. I took the car up onto the cliff path and parked a little way from the edge with
the gearbox in neutral. Then I got out, and reached back in and put it back in drive, took off the parking brake, and I stood back and watched it roll off the edge.’

Catalina’s eyes clouded thickly with tears as she spoke. ‘You want to know the last thing I said before I did it? I said, “Forgive me, Raul.” Because I knew how badly I was going to hurt you, and everyone else that I love. I can
hardly stand the guilt, living with what I did to you all. But I did it for a reason, Raul. You weren’t supposed to come looking for me. This is all messed up. You’ve compromised my whole plan.’

Raul was crying, too, as mixed emotions of relief and anger finally got the better of his self-control. ‘Your
plan
? What kind of plan is it to pretend to your family that you didn’t even want to go
on living? Was that your idea, or do we have this guy to thank for it?’ Raul jabbed a finger towards Keller without looking at him. ‘I mean, we all know he’s this oddball recluse or whatever he’s supposed to be, and he was always pressuring you to run off and hide away someplace in one of his retreats with him. I thought that was all over and done with, years ago. I thought you were stronger than
this. How could you do it?’

‘I am not an oddball recluse,’ Keller said, indignant. ‘I just value my privacy, is all.’

‘You’re getting this completely wrong, Raul,’ Catalina said. ‘Austin had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all. I’d never intended to involve him, but then I needed a safe place to go, and he offered to bring me here. Up until that moment I acted alone, just me, nobody
else, and it was the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make. You have to believe that hurting you, hurting our parents, was the last thing on earth I would ever have chosen to do. But I had no choice.’