They were only half a mile out of the harbour when Tamsyn felt the boat begin to slow.
Domi looked surprised too, frowning at George.
“Why are we stopping?”
“Just picking up some travelling money,” he said.
He drew up next to one of his own orange buoys with a green flag on the top, hooked it out of the water and pulled on the rope, hand over hand, lifting a lobster pot from the sea. But instead of crustaceans, Tamsyn saw a heavy waxed bag wrapped in layers of cellophane, and from the shape of it, she was guessing it contained bank notes.
He kept hauling on the rope and a second lobster pot thumped onto the deck. He was going for a third pot when Domi pulled out a small but lethal-looking knife, cutting the rope with a fast, upward slice.
“We don’t have time!” he snarled.
Mason clenched his fists, his face dark with anger.
“That was my savings!” he bellowed. “I needed that!”
“Too bad,” said Domi indifferently. “Now get back in there and drive this thing.”
Cursing under his breath, Mason did as he was told.
“So that’s how you did it,” Tamsyn breathed. “We were looking for strangers bringing drugs into the harbour, but it was you all along. Business as usual. Maybe even Grandad’s pots, as well.” She laughed cynically. “We always wondered why you carried on crabbing when you were doing so well with ring-netting. But this way you could visit the pots any time and no one would think twice about it.” Realisation caught up with her. “And you used the Daniel Day to do it, didn’t you? That’s what all those problems with Grandad’s spark-plugs were about! It was you making sure that you had use of his punt whenever you wanted, wasn’t it?”
Mason didn’t even bother to deny it and smiled at her proudly. “Tha’s right, so they would never come looking for me if they found anything they shouldn’t. But the police round here are too dozy to even suspect a thing,” and he shot her a scathing look.
Tamsyn swallowed painfully.
“Because you were family. Grandad trusted you. We all trusted you. Grandad would never…”
Her words faded away as her throat closed up.
She couldn’t see where her grandfather was lying, but she knew he was out on the deck. He’ll be cold without his oilskins, she thought. Colder than death.
“Anyway, you’re wrong,” she said dully, pushing tangled hair out of her face. “We know all about yachts coming up the Bay of Biscay with drugs from Turkey and North Africa. We were close. We would have got you sooner or later.”
George shrugged. “Madder do it, I’m done here. I’m not going back.”
Domi shot him a sharp look.
“What?”
“I’ll take you to the rendezvous, but I can’t go back now.”
“That’s not what we agreed.”
“Yeah, well, plans change,” said Mason as he glanced at Tamsyn. “You know that.”
“Going to live in Albania, are you, Uncle George?” Tamsyn asked, derision in every syllable.
“I was thinking Spain,” Mason replied. “Costa del Sol, that’ll do me. I’ve got enough money to disappear.” He glanced at Domi. “I can set up for you there. Maybe Portugal – Costa Verde is nice. Start again. We can make it work.”
“I will consider your offer,” Domi said coolly.
Tamsyn ignored the Albanian and directed her words to the man who’d betrayed her whole family.
“I’ll find you,” she said quietly. “I’ll find you and I’ll arrest you and I’ll see you in prison for the rest of your life. And I’ll never forgive you.”
Domi chuckled quietly.
“He can’t afford to let you live, little girl. He killed your father, he killed your grandfather, and now he’ll kill you.” He grinned at her. “He must really hate your family.”
Her gut churned. Stay alive! Say something and stay alive!
“I didn’t tell you all the places they’re looking for you,” Tamsyn said hurriedly, a cold sweat breaking out across her body as she lied through her teeth.
Domi’s gaze narrowed. “Tell me now.”
“Why should I? You’re just going to kill me anyway.”
He stared at her, his icy blue eyes entirely without emotion.
“But I can make it quick, or I can make it painful.” His upper lip lifted. “You choose.”
Tamsyn’s intention had to been to keep him talking but she felt completely out of her depth.
“Why did you kill Jowita or Saemira or whatever you call her?”
“Because she stole from me,” Domi said, his mouth tilting into a cruel leer. “She thought that because my brother was fucking her cousin that this would protect her. No one steals from the Hellbanianz and lives.” He folded his arms across his chest. “That would be bad for business.”
Tamsyn frowned.
“How did she steal from you? We found her stash in the churchyard and there was only a little bit of money in it, less than £2,000. There was no online account on her burner phone, and her personal phone wasn’t used for online banking either. We know you took her car so if the money wasn’t there, where is it? We don’t have it – the police never found any other money.” She paused, seeing that Domi was listening. “There were no drugs either.” She shrugged. “Maybe she had another hiding place.”
Domi exploded, grabbing her by the hair and dragging her across the deck until they were face to face.
“You’re lying! The bitch stole my money and now the police have it!”
“We don’t! We didn’t find any money.”
“Where’s my money?” he screamed, spittle hitting her face.
“I don’t know anything about your money! I promise.”
“You’re lying! I know you’re lying. You police found it!”
“We didn’t! All we found were Saemira’s phone, gun and car keys. That’s all! Almost no money! No drugs!”
“Then you took it! You and your grandfather. Tell me now, or I will cut off your fingers one by one until you tell me!”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know!” she screamed.
Domi let her fall to the deck and was silent, his fury shutting off as if someone had flipped a switch.
She scuttled away from him, crouching by the side of the wheelhouse, watching him warily. He was frowning and staring out to sea. George was keeping both of them in sight, squinting out of the corner of his eyes, but he did nothing to help her.
Tamsyn massaged her scalp where he’d torn out a clump of hair by the roots. If she could only keep him talking…
She edged away from George so he couldn’t hear her over the sound of the engine.
“Why did you kill Saemira?”
Domi shrugged.
“She wouldn’t tell me where the money was.”
“I bet she was scared,” Tamsyn said quietly.
“Of course!” Domi sneered, his eyes lighting up at the memory. “They’re always scared.”
“But she didn’t tell you what you wanted to know.”
Domi scowled. “No.”
“Maybe she didn’t know.”
His eyes clouded and he frowned, deep in thought.
“Did you kill her at the harbour?”
“No.”
“Then where? It must have been somewhere private.”
He smiled at her, as if amused by her questions.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it does.”
He shrugged but didn’t answer.
“Why did you cut her tongue out?”
“She was a snitch. What is it the Americans say? Snitches get stitches and end up in ditches. Do you English say that, too?”
Tamsyn ignored his question.
“Are you sure that she was a snitch? Who did you think she was talking to?”
Domi scowled.
“To the filthy pigs,” and he spat on the deck.
Tamsyn was surprised.
“No, she wasn’t. We had no idea. We didn’t know anything about Saemira until we found her body. Nobody even knew she was in the UK.”
“You’re lying!” he snarled.
“I’m not. Why would I? I’ve got nothing to gain and everything to lose. When you killed her, you made a giant mistake. We had no idea who was handling the distribution,” and she shot George a vicious look which bounced off his broad back. “We didn’t know anything about Saemira. Who told you she was talking to us?”
Domi’s eyes narrowed and his gaze swung slowly toward George. Tamsyn saw the exact moment that realisation dawned in the Albanian’s mind.
“You! You told me that Saemira had been skimming money and talking to the pigs,” Domi shouted. “You told me this!”
Tamsyn saw George’s hands clench on the wheel.
“She was! I confronted her about it and she started making up all sorts of lies.”
“The police didn’t know anything about her!” Tamsyn yelled, seeing her chance to sow the seeds of mistrust between George and Domi. “If money was missing, it wasn’t Saemira who had it.”
Mason swung around and tried to hit her, but she managed to duck, and he was forced to clamp his hand back on the wheel as the choppy waters made the boat lurch.
“Why did you let this man kill her? Or did she find out something that you couldn’t afford to have known? Oh my God! It was you, wasn’t it, Uncle George? She found out you were the one skimming. You made sure she couldn’t talk and didn’t even have to do it yourself!”
“Shut up!” he yelled. “Just shut up, Tammy! Jowita, I mean Saemira, she said she’d had enough of skivvying in a hotel for minimum wage. She wanted to start enjoying the money.”
“Like you, you mean?” Tamsyn shot back. “You enjoyed the money, didn’t you, George? You bought Mari-morgans ten years ago and we all wondered how you did it, but you said you’d cashed in Aunty Marie’s life insurance policy after the divorce, but that was a lie too, wasn’t it?” She turned to Domi. “Saemira couldn’t tell you where the money is because she didn’t know! She had no idea what you were talking about. We kept asking ourselves why Jowita had been killed. Who had she been talking to? We didn’t know – the police didn’t know. You were played! You know how much a new ring-netter like this costs? One million pounds. One million! Is that what you paid him nine years ago? Is that what my dad’s life was worth?”
Domi’s head swivelled between her and George.
“She’s lying!” George bellowed. “She’ll say anything to save herself! I bought this second-hand…”
“It’s still worth at least half a million,” Tamsyn yelled. “I asked Grandad. He was pleased for you, George. Pleased! He said he was glad you were doing so well. He loved you like a son and … and … you killed him! You shot him!”
All the rage that had been burning inside her ignited, and she threw herself at George, knocking him forward over the wheel, his hands slipping, making the boat list to one side.
Domi leaned across and slapped her hard, making her gasp.
And then all hell broke loose.
Mo came charging out from where she’d been hiding, sinking her sharp teeth into Domi’s leg.
He screamed and tried to shake her off, but she hung on as he swung her from side to side. Finally, he kicked toward the door of the wheelhouse and her skull hit the frame with a loud crack. Dazed, the little dog slid to the deck, then tried to stand, shaking her head, her movements unsteady.
Domi swore in his own language as he clapped his hand to his calf, and when he pulled it away, his palm was covered in blood. He swore again, then pulled out a gun and pointed it at Mo.
With a scream of fear and fury, Tamsyn charged at Domi, knocking his arm so his shot went wide. She scooped Mo from the deck, jumping overboard with the little dog in her arms, plunging into the silky black sea.
The shock of cold water made her lungs contract and she lost hold of Mo. Her arms beat a frantic tattoo as she tried to find her.
Bullets peppered the water, and Tamsyn dived beneath the surface, expecting a bullet to slam into her at any moment. She used long, even strokes to pull her deeper into the darkness, forcing herself to stay under as long as she could, all those of years of surfing making her part of the ocean, at ease in her element.
She swam underwater, further and further away from the boat.
When she had to surface for air, Domi was watching for her and she heard his shout of anger, and then more shots were raining down into the sea.
She duck-dived again, swimming deeper and deeper into the inky darkness.
Even under the water, she could hear the ring-netter’s engines, but at last it sounded as if the boat was moving away from her.
When her lungs were burning and screaming for oxygen, when she couldn’t hold her breath any longer, she surfaced, gasping for air and coughing out seawater from her raw throat. The Mari-morgans was fading into the night as George and Domi headed out to sea.
They’d won and she’d lost, but at least she was still alive.
“Mo!” she screamed, hoping to hear the dog out there, somewhere nearby. “Morwenna!”
She listened intently, ignoring her chattering teeth, hearing the sound of the waves, but no bark, no small dog.
“Morwenna!”
But the silence was profound and little Mo didn’t answer her desperate cries. All she could hear was the restless ocean slapping against her icy skin.
Chilled to her soul, with her body becoming numb, Tamsyn turned, orienting herself in the intense darkness, only just able to glimpse the lights of Newlyn Harbour more than a mile away.
Tamsyn felt small and exposed with pitch black seas churning around her. She made herself push away the fear, sealing it deep inside and forced herself to think, to calculate, to survive.
Cold air extracts heat from the surface of the human body twenty-five times faster than that carried away by air of the same temperature. The core body temperature will continue to fall until the person is removed from the cold water. At 10oC, the survival time is 1-2 hours.
It was too cold, too far, too hard, and Tamsyn had already lost too much.
I’m sorry, Grandad. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.
But then she remembered how he’d thrown himself in front of the bullet that was meant for her; she remembered how he’d glared at George, the anger and fury and betrayal.
One mile from the harbour, the swim would be fairly easy. Two miles out, and the current became a problem, the distance to shore meant that it was at the limit of what was possible, what was survivable.
Tamsyn knew that her chances were slim to none. She knew she would probably die.
She began to swim.