Chapter 17

The steady, powerful stroke of Gavin's crawl and the rhythmic scissoring of his legs ate up the distance at a fair rate. Whoever had programmed the GPS unit had set waypoints for him and the unit vibrated on his wrist as each marker was reached. The flippers made an incredible difference to the speed he would normally be able to achieve and that more than made up for the drag from the waterproof bag tied round his waist.

He'd quickly discovered however, that swimming in the ocean was much more difficult than swimming in any pool. Fortunately the weather was fine and the water calm, but there were still swells and currents and it tested his strength to the limits.

The swim was also mentally very tough and Gavin realised he'd underestimated how difficult the task would be. He tried to blank out the pain in his muscles, focusing instead on images of his loved ones to try to keep his mind occupied. He cycled through mental pictures of Fiona, Christine, Frank and Lizzie and was surprised when a further image appeared unbidden — an image of the beautiful Rose Sinclair.

Normally distance swimmers out in the ocean would have the re-assuring presence of a boat alongside them, but Gavin didn't have that of course. It was him and his physical and mental strength against the elements.

Already the sky to Gavin's left was beginning to get lighter and his watch told him that it was 04:28. He had been swimming for the best part of six hours now and Isla Santa was just visible in the gloom, much closer than he had expected it to be.

"I must be making better time than I thought. Tired. Need to pay more attention to the GPS," he warned himself.

The sun came up as if rising out of the ocean and Gavin had to stop swimming, treading water for a few moments just to enjoy the spectacular sight. He was aware that dawn and dusk were the most dangerous time for shark attacks however, and didn't hang around long. The island was close enough now to pick out details and Gavin angled a little to the east towards where he could see sand and dense vegetation.

The water shelved gradually and Gavin found that he was able to stand up while still thirty yards from the shore. He removed his flippers and began wading forward before stopping himself.

"Yeah, right. That would be clever! Leave footprints in the sand so that anyone can see. Stupid!" he chided himself, blaming the near mistake on exhaustion.

Even further east there was a series of rocks jutting out of the water and he changed direction to head for them instead of the sand. Carefully pulling himself out of the water, he took a moment to open the bag and retrieve his shoes. The rocks looked sharp and the last thing he needed was a cut foot. Once the shoes were on, Gavin danced nimbly from rock to rock until he was able to leap forward into the thick plant cover.

"Best to carry on and try to find a vantage point close to the monastery before everyone's awake," he thought.

An immediate problem presented itself however — the foliage was so dense that even Gavin's normally graceful, fluid movement was severely restricted. If he wanted to move quietly and without breaking fronds from the various plants, he would have to go very slowly.

He was glancing anxiously at his watch when he realised the 'jungle' was thinning out. Coming to a halt, he peered through the final few trees and low growing shrubs and saw that there was a clearing ahead. Gavin edged forward and had his first sight of the walled-in monastery.

"I guess the monks must have cleared away some of the jungle," he thought to himself.

He couldn't see any signs of life from the monastery as yet and was just about to move off again when movement caught his eye. There, sitting atop the wall, was a man smoking a cigarette. He had his back to Gavin — looking into the walled-in area — and Gavin almost laughed at how stupid that was. Easing back into cover, he took even more pains to move quietly now and headed for the point where the canopy seemed to reach closest to the stone wall.

Half an hour later, Gavin reached the end of the foliage again, this time on the lip of a steep cliff. He could see that the walls rose directly out of this rock and lowered himself carefully over the edge of the cliff so that he could begin to navigate round the enclosure. Again it was slow and painstaking work, as he looked for each hand and foothold. Eventually when he looked up, the gable-end of the little chapel was above him, integrated into the wall. There were two arched windows and he was hoping he would be able to fit through one of them.

Climbing upwards now, he still had to go slowly to avoid making any noise. When Gavin reached the first of the windows, he peered through it to make sure that no-one was inside the chapel. Finding it all clear, he slipped sideways through the narrow opening and found himself perched about eight feet above the floor.

The placement of the windows had obviously been designed to flood the little altar below him with light he guessed. Lowering himself until he was at full stretch, Gavin dropped the remaining foot or so onto the floor behind the altar and then examined the rest of the chapel.

The construction was basic but solid and there was little ornamentation to be seen. Clearly the monks who had once been here were somewhat austere in their worship. There was no seating, not even rudimentary benches or pews — in fact the only feature apart from the altar was a small wooden platform immediately below the bell that was suspended in a square opening in the wall opposite him.

Gavin saw that the stonework of the wall had been finished in such a way as to create steps up to the platform. Presumably that was to allow the bell-ringer to climb up. He crossed the chapel and quickly pulled himself upwards until he was on the platform.

The wooden platform didn't look entirely safe — no doubt the heat and humidity had taken their toll — and it creaked slightly as it took his weight. Thankfully it didn't collapse and Gavin pressed himself up against the wall before peering out through the opening that framed the bell itself.

Perhaps fifty yards away he could see the building where he thought Rose and Donald were being held. Gavin took note of the aerials that extended high above the roof of the structure and guessed that Osvaldo had radio contact with somebody.

Deciding that he wouldn't find a better vantage point than this, he settled down, untying the waterproof bag and opening it up. The first thing he reached for was his ski-mask and he pulled it on, revelling in the familiar feel of it on his head and the comfort it brought. Next he reached for his mobile phone. He'd promised Henry that he would check-in once he reached Isla Santa and this was the first real opportunity to do that.

Turning the phone on, he scrolled through the options and set it to vibrate mode. Once that was done he keyed in Henry's number and pressed the green call button. When nothing happened he looked at the phone's screen and groaned quietly to himself.

"Shit, no signal. Why didn't I think of that?" he berated himself.

In hindsight it stood to reason that there would be a good chance a remote island would be out of reach of the closest mobile mast.

"Isn't hindsight an absolute bastard! Forget it for now, maybe you can use Osvaldo's radio when the time comes. Let's focus on the job at hand," he told himself.

As she'd prepared for bed the night before, Rose had discovered that their accommodation had at least one significant deficiency — there were no toilets or bathrooms. There was one huge stone sink in the communal room, close to the well, but nothing else.

"Surely monks need to go to the toilet like anyone else? How are we expected to live like this?" she complained. "Where am I supposed to wash? This is insufferable!"

Osvaldo's response had been to suggest she wash in the ocean — as for the other, he detailed several men to think about erecting a basic latrine the next day.

"Until then you will have to make do with using the privacy of the surrounding jungle just like the rest of us," he informed her.

Rose had shuddered at such an idea, but now, in the morning, she was getting desperate to pee. She tried to ignore the persistent pressure from her bladder at first, but then decided that perhaps she could go for a swim and kill two birds with one stone.

Donald was already up and out of their room so she quickly dressed and grabbed the only towel she had with her. Without a swim suit, her underwear would have to do she thought, as she left the 'dormitory' and retraced her steps back to the jetty where the yacht was tied up.

Noises in the vegetation on the right-hand side of the path suggested that Donald was exploring and she called out a warning.

"Donald! Be careful, there might be snakes or other dangerous things."

"Okay, Mama," came the shouted response.

There was a narrow strip of beach beyond the jetty and Rose made her way to that before stripping down to her underwear and wading out into the ocean. Even this early in the day she could feel that the water was pleasantly warm and she used the soap she had brought to wash all over.

Gavin woke up when he heard the sounds of movement outside. He stood up so that he could peer past the bell to see what was going on. A glance at his watch told him he'd managed four hours sleep.

A black-haired boy of about twelve was scampering away from the other building and he guessed this had to be Donald. As he got closer, Gavin could see his skin tone was close to his mother's. When he was able to tell that the boy had brown eyes, he realised just how close the boy had come. It was obvious that he wasn't stopping either — his natural curiosity leading him to check out the only other structure around. Gavin eased himself down and lay flat on the wooden platform, praying that Donald wouldn't see him and give the game away.

Luck was on Gavin's side on this occasion. Finding the chapel bare apart from the altar, Donald decided to investigate the overgrown garden instead. Gavin stood up and watched the boy forcing his way through the vegetation, using his arms and feet to good effect. Within seconds he was swallowed up by the dense foliage, but the crashing sounds marked his progress.

Movement from the door of the structure opposite drew Gavin's eye and he saw Rose walking along the path. She had a towel over her arm and what he guessed was soap in her hand.

"I guess there are no bathing facilities over there," he thought to himself.

The path passed close to the chapel and Gavin was treated to a reminder of just how beautiful Rose Sinclair was. He watched her back and gently swaying ass until she disappeared out of sight then heard her calling out to warn her son to be careful.

So far the only sign of Osvaldo and his men he had seen was the guard who remained sitting on the wall on the other side of the enclosure.

"Okay. That's two possibilities. I could maybe get to the boy when he's on his own, or intercept Rose when she goes to wash. Rose would be the better bet, but beggars can't be choosers."

As the day progressed Gavin napped on and off, but cursed himself for forgetting to bring any water. The little chapel grew hot and he consoled himself by focusing on the fact that he hoped things would be brought to a head that night.

"I can go one day without water," he thought.

The only other thing of note for some hours was being woken again by the noise of two of Osvaldo's men digging a pit and trying to erect a frame around it. Gavin couldn't understand what they were doing at first and then it dawned on him.

"Oh. No bathing facilities and no toilet!"

The men cut and lashed large palm fronds to their rickety frame to provide some privacy for whoever might use the emergency latrine. Gavin could see they were just putting the finishing touches to their handiwork when Osvaldo walked out of the dormitory.

"Idiots!" he shouted at them. "It needs to be much further away from the building or we'll be breathing in the stink!"

What Osvaldo said was patently true and the two men cursed but walked to a new spot further away before starting over again.

By mid-afternoon Gavin's thirst was driving him crazy. He'd stripped back the wet-suit as much as he dared, but was still sweating heavily, as the inside of the little building was like an oven. Even the ski-mask had come off. He decided there was nothing for it but to leave the chapel and try to find a source of drinking water. At the very least it had to be cooler outside.

Climbing down from the platform, he carefully positioned the altar below one of the windows and hoisted himself up before squeezing through the opening.

Instead of working his way sideways, Gavin climbed straight downwards until he reached a narrow ledge just above the ocean. Something about the ledge appeared strange and he realised that it wasn't natural. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to break the rock away to make a path and he wondered where it led.

Following the path, he remained alert for any sign of danger and was pleased to find that the left-handed curve it took eventually led to a point not far from the jetty where Osvaldo's yacht was tied up. Beyond the boat he could see a small beach and Gavin wondered if that might be where Rose had gone to bathe earlier. If it was, he now had a route to follow that might allow him to contact her. There were no signs of life on the yacht, but he didn't linger, instead retracing his steps to the point below the chapel.

Realising that he still hadn't identified why the path was there, Gavin continued on, the cliff face now curving round to the right. About two hundred yards further along he came to a fissure that had a trickle of water leaking from it. When he dipped his fingers into the water and brought them to his mouth he was delighted to find that it was cool and fresh.

The sound of voices startled him and he looked round to identify where they were coming from. Standing on the ledge in clear view as he was, his only means of concealment was either to dive into the ocean below, or hoist himself into the crack in the cliff-face. He opted for the latter and turned sideways-on before slipping inside.

The voices were louder once he was inside the crack and Gavin realised that they were echoing around him. Making his way by touch alone, he inched his way deeper into the rock-passage until he noticed some light coming from above him. There was also another noise coming from up there and he tried to isolate it from the voices he could hear.

The noise was like a rhythmic creaking, almost like a pendulum that needed oiled, but Gavin was stumped as to what was making it. A sudden rushing noise warned him that something was falling down towards him and he managed to scuttle backwards just as something struck the water at his feet.

"A bucket! It's a well. There must be a well inside the dormitory so they can draw up water. The creaking noise I heard was the rope the bucket is tied to."

Gavin was excited by the discovery.

"Now there are three possibilities," he thought.

Henry and Richard Malmesbury were concerned as the day wore on and there was still no word from Gavin. There were so many things that could go wrong they knew. Confirmation had been received that he had been dropped safely onto Isla Corsa, but his call to let them know that the swim had been completed successfully should have come by now.

"Perhaps he decided to wait until tonight to try the swim? Or maybe he's timing it so that he arrives on Isla Santa when it's dark?" suggested Malmesbury.

"Or maybe he's already drowned or been picked up by Osvaldo?" said Henry pessimistically.

"How long will you give him before sending in the FAT boys?" Richard asked.

Henry sighed, his nerves frayed in the extreme. He had gambled on Gavin MacSween, perhaps gambled with his grandson's life. Had he made a mistake?

"You may be right, he could have delayed the swim for one reason or another," he said. "I'll arrange for the helicopter to return to Isla Corsa to see whether he's still there or not. If he's gone, he'll need to wait until he has the cover of darkness tomorrow night to carry out his plan. After that I can't hold the FAT back any longer."