When Dominic woke it was pitch dark, and he felt groggy. He had a pounding headache which made it agony to lift his head. It was an effort to try and recall where he was and why. His arm pained him, and when he tried to move it he discovered it had been roughly taped to his chest with sticking plaster and his shirt pulled on over it. Gradually he began to remember bits. There was a house, people sitting round a picnic table. Catherine was sitting on a sandy beach, and Millie gleefully building sand castles. Were they in Spain? How could Catherine be there? Then he realised his bed, wherever it was, was swaying and pitching, and he could smell the sea. He must be on a boat, but why? And which one? He remembered now, sailing from Funchal to Porto Santo, but this was not the Thorn yacht, of that he was certain. It didn't smell or feel the same, and he was sure he could hear the throbbing of an engine. He shook his head as though to clear it, and just then a gleam of light fell across him as he realised a door had opened and someone was talking. He could not see who it was, but he instantly recognised the voice though not the words. How on earth had he come to be on a boat with Livermore?
'You gave him too much,' he heard a new voice say. 'Will he be awake by the time we get there?'
Too much of what, Dominic wondered, and instinctively closed his eyes and pretended he was still asleep. Had he been drugged somehow? It seemed like it. That explained the light-headed feeling, the inability to remember what had happened.
'Don't fuss, man. He'll be fit enough by the time the sun's up to dump on the dock.'
'I hope so, for all our sakes.'
Livermore laughed. 'I'd like to be there when he realises. What a state he'll be in.'
'You can laugh, mate, but you've caused me a problem. I didn't want to stop off anywhere till we got back.'
They went out and the door closed, plunging Dominic back into solitude and darkness, which he felt was more comfortable than being helpless and in Livermore's company. Memories were coming back to him, in odd snippets, but he was beginning to piece together what had happened. The house he could remember was where he and Lidia had gone to see the man from the golf shop. Livermore and some other people had been there. Livermore had hit him with one of the heavy drivers, and Dominic felt sure it had been a deliberate attack. He remembered Lidia falling, and a pain-filled ride away from the house. The man in the old-fashioned yachting gear had helped him out of the car, and he and another man had carried him onto a boat. He'd struggled. Even in his dazed condition he knew he mustn't get onto a boat, but he was powerless to stop them. Then, he thought, he'd been given some sort of injection, and he knew no more until waking up in this cabin.
Where were they taking him? He tried to make sense of the few words he'd heard. At least they meant to put him ashore, and not throw him overboard, since they had mentioned a dock, but where? Why would he be surprised? He knew everywhere in Madeira, he would hardly be surprised to find himself at any of the docks there. What had they done with Lidia, and what would Catherine and the others do?
The effort to think was exhausting him, and he felt himself slipping back into either sleep or unconsciousness. Perhaps next time he woke up matters would be clearer. But Livermore was not going to get away with it. His last conscious thought was of how he might accomplish this.
*
'We must telephone Mr Thorn – Dominic's father,' Catherine said. 'He can meet them in Funchal and look after Dominic.'
Lidia nodded. 'How are we to get the yacht back to Funchal? Neither Bobby nor I are qualified to sail it, and even if we were I would not wish to be responsible.'
'After Mr Thorn has helped Dominic I'm sure he will come over and sail the boat home himself. It's his boat, after all. But he won't be able to do anything until tomorrow.'
'He can come on the ferry, or even by air.'
'I somehow don't trust that man, Livermore, I mean,' Catherine said.
'He won't want to hurt Dominic any more,' Lidia said. 'What he did might be regarded as an accident, but if he does more it will be obvious he means harm.'
'I hope you are right.' Catherine shivered. 'Oh, I'd like to hit him, several times, with every golf club in his wretched golf bag!'
Lidia nodded, and held Catherine's arm.
'Me too. What do we tell Millie? Shall we tell her her father's hurt?'
'We must. She's a sensible child. Let's just say he was hurt and has gone back to Funchal with friends, to the hospital there. We need not tell them, any of them, how it happened.'
'You won't tell Fiona?'
'I don't think so. Not yet, anyway. I don't want her to worry. Let's get back to Funchal first.'
'I'll go up and take some aspirin while you telephone.'
'Oh, you poor thing! Of course. Are you feeling bad?'
'Just my head, and I grazed my knee when I fell. They put a plaster on it. I'll be OK by dinnertime.'
Catherine went to the room she was to share with Fiona, and hoped her daughter would not come in from the beach while she was telephoning. She got through to the Thorn house, but there was no reply, so she rang John's mobile. When he answered she could hear loud noises and some kind of announcement as though he were in a busy public place. He sounded distracted.
'Hello?'
'Mr Thorn, it's Catherine.'
'Sorry, can't hear you. Wait a moment, I'll go outside.' There was a pause, and then the background noise was suddenly cut off. 'Who did you say?'
'Catherine O'Brien.'
'Catherine? Sorry about that, the airport is noisier than usual.'
'Airport? You're not going away, are you?' Catherine felt a sudden panic. How would they manage if John Thorn were not there?
'Not me, Jenny is off to England. Or rather Lisbon, no seats on direct flights, but she'll manage from there. Her sister,' he added.
'Her sister?' Catherine shook her head in bewilderment. 'Is she ill?'
'No, but she had a fire at her house, and the silly woman can't cope without Jenny to hold her hand and deal with everything. But why did you want to speak to me? Dominic hasn't piled up the boat, has he?' He laughed.
Catherine explained. 'So can you meet Dominic? I've no idea what time they'll reach Funchal, I'm sorry.'
'Now don't you worry, lass. I'll see to this end, and be with you as soon as possible tomorrow.'
*
As soon as he was back in Funchal John Thorn called the Major and some other friends. They met at his house where he explained the situation.
'It's too late for me to go over to Porto Santo today, but I can go by air first thing, and sail the boat back tomorrow. Will you keep watch on the marina and see that Dominic has proper medical attention when he gets back? Lidia thought his arm had been broken. From what Catherine said they won't get here till long after dark, they may even lay up somewhere overnight and come in tomorrow morning.'
'We'll fix a rota,' the Major said. He was glad of something to do which kept him out of Margaret's way. She had asked too many difficult questions about Peter, and he was afraid he might be incautious and let something slip.
It was like old times. Organising a rota, and getting together all they might need during their watches, including food and drink and warm clothing, took up the rest of the day. He felt something was missing when he could not detail weapons, but they would have no need of them, he decided reluctantly, even if he could have obtained any. They decided to watch in pairs, starting at ten, for four hours. He and a neighbour would take the first watch, then Thorn's other friends, and he would be back at the marina at six, so that all four of them could be there at the likeliest time for the yacht's arrival. He did not, he told himself, expect trouble from Livermore or his friends, but it was well to be prepared.
Commandeering a bench on the main road overlooking the marina had been the easy part. They only had to seat themselves either side of an amorously entwined couple, who soon, with no doubt rude comments the Major was unable to translate, departed for greater privacy elsewhere. It was as well he had insisted on pairs, the Major thought, jolting from a descent into sleepiness. They could talk, but they had little to say after the first few comments. A few boats arrived, but after midnight there was no activity, not even parties or late night revels on board those boats that were inhabited. They gratefully handed over to the second pair of watchers and went home for a few hours' sleep.
By six the Major was back with his friend. By ten he was worried. Where was the wretched boat? John Thorn would by now be on his way to Porto Santo, and he didn't have any telephone numbers there, only Catherine's and Thorn's mobiles. He'd already spoken to Catherine, but she knew nothing, and had been curt. He finally understood Fiona was with her, and assumed Catherine didn't want to frighten her daughter. And what could Thorn do in any case? If there were new developments he would phone the Major, but it was perhaps too early to expect news. He was wondering what to do when Bernie and Peter arrived, drawing their car to a halt in the road behind their bench, and coming across to meet them.
'Margaret phoned Selina,' Bernie said. 'I said I'd see if there was anything I could do. You look shattered,' he added.
'I'm perfectly all right,' the Major said. 'I'm wondering, though, whether they put in at another marina, Machico or Calheta perhaps. They should have been here long since if they set off at six yesterday evening, even if they anchored during darkness.'
'Shall I go and look? At the other marinas,' Bernie said.
'Can't you telephone these other places?' Peter asked.
'Best to go there. If they came only for a short while to drop off Dominic they may not have been noticed.'
'He'd have telephoned someone,' the Major said.
'I'll at least check, and phone you from each place,' Bernie said, and without further ado went to retrieve his car from the illegal parking spot he'd chosen, from under the nose of an interested policeman.
'Should we tell the police?' Peter asked the Major.
The Major was feeling helpless and frustrated.
'What can they do? So far as we know there's been no crime committed, just a boat that hasn't arrived.'
'The man deliberately hit Dominic, from what Catherine told John.'
'Which could be passed off as an accident.'
'They might be able to discover if there's a boat out there in trouble.'
'Let's wait to hear from Porto Santo before we start something that isn't necessary.'
*
When Dominic next woke the bed he was lying on was hard and cold. Someone was kicking him on his legs, and talking. His brain still felt muzzy, probably worse than when he had last been awake, and for a while he couldn't understand a word of what was being said to him. Then he realised whoever it was was speaking Portuguese. He forced his eyes open. It was daylight, and he winced. The sun was shining too brightly, but he could distinguish a man's shape looming over him.
At last he began to understand. The man was telling him, in far from friendly terms, that he couldn't sleep here, they didn't tolerate beggars. There were other, probably ruder words Dominic didn't understand. He felt a spurt of irritation. He didn't want to sleep wherever it was, but he couldn't find the words to say so. His Portuguese was adequate in normal situations, but somehow, not knowing where the hell he was or why, how he had come to be there, it was too difficult to explain. At last he managed to ask where he was.
'Seixal harbour,' the man said, 'but you can't sleep here.'
Seixal, on the north coast of Madeira. At least he wasn't still on Livermore's yacht. The thought encouraged him, and memories began to surface. He tried to sit up, and the pain in his arm made him wince. He must get this wretched arm dealt with as soon as possible.
'Is there somewhere nearby, a doctor?' he asked, indicating the broken arm.
'There's someone in Porto Moniz.'
'Can you call me a taxi, please?'
The man sounded more friendly now Dominic was talking Portuguese.
'How did you get here?'
'I don't know. I was on a boat. They must have put me here.'
It was too difficult to try and explain he had been abducted, and the man would probably not have believed him.
'Come and rest in my house. It's just along here, up the hill. I'll telephone for a taxi.'
'Thanks.'
The man, a fisherman by name of Manuel, he told Dominic, helped him to his feet. He was feeling so rough he could hardly stand, and Manuel called to another man who was doing something in one of the boats moored in the small harbour to come and help. Between them they guided Dominic's wavering steps up a steep hill to a nearby house and deposited him on a bench outside. Dominic, able to see what a disreputable condition he and his clothes were in, insisted he was too filthy to go inside.
He was feeling more alert, began to search his pockets, and was not entirely surprised to find his wallet and mobile phone had gone. His only cash consisted of a few euro coins in his trouser pocket. His credit cards were gone, and he sighed. He would have all the bother of cancelling them.
His fisherman friend went inside the house and his wife brought out a glass of water. She looked apprehensive, but smiled at him.
'Would you like some coffee?'
If today was Sunday, he had not drunk or eaten anything for almost four and twenty hours, and he realised how thirsty and hungry he was.
'That would be wonderful.'
'Then you eat and drink while the taxi comes.'
It was coarse local bread, but the best Dominic had ever tasted. The coffee was strong, and after a while he began to feel more normal and his brain began to work properly. When the taxi came he was able to stand by himself, though he needed help, one-handed as he was, to climb in beside the driver.
Fortunately the man was friendly and sympathetic, and waved aside Dominic's apologies that he did not have enough money to offer a tip. By now Dominic was beginning to think clearly. Livermore or his friends had, he suspected, given him a further dose of whatever they had first used to sedate him, which explained his renewed feelings of vagueness. As he waited for the doctor to see him he began to wonder what he had left behind him on Porto Santo.
He decided Catherine or Lidia would have contacted his father when they discovered what had happened to him. He deduced that Marco would have told his employer, and Lidia who would still have been at the house, how he had been forced aboard the yacht. They would never attempt to sail his own yacht back to Funchal, so the obvious plan was for his father to go across and collect it. That would be happening right now. He hoped he might prevail upon the doctor to let him use a phone. He had no money and did not fancy taking a ride back to Funchal by taxi. Someone, he was sure, would drive across the island to fetch him.
He had to explain to the doctor why he was there, injured and penniless, and was heartily relieved when the man seemed to believe him. He agreed to treat him without payment, though Dominic assured him that whoever came to collect him would bring money. The relief of having his bones set and his arm immobilised in a lightweight cast was immense. He hadn't truly understood how much the pain was affecting him.
'Now, here's my mobile. Go into the waiting room and ring whoever you need to contact.'
*
Long before they expected him John Thorn arrived at the hotel. He drew Catherine and Lidia aside.
'I want to go and talk to the people at the house where Dominic was effectively abducted,' he said. 'Lidia, will you come with me to show me the way and introduce me? I have a tape recorder, and want them and the man who drove him down to the harbour here to give me their accounts.'
Lidia, who had shared her room with Millie, told him the child was aware only that her father had been taken back to Funchal, and had slept. She was anxious to spend more time on the beach, loving playing in the sand.
'Good. Ask the hotel to fix a picnic, then pack up and check out. Ask Bobby to pack Dominic's things. Then go to the beach with the others for an hour or two, Catherine, until we come back.'
They were on their way home well before lunchtime. John said he had obtained all the information he could from Marco and his employers, and Marco had also taken him to see one of the harbour employees who had been present when Dominic was taken on board the yacht.
'So I now have confirmation of the yacht's identity. We'll make sure Dominic lays charges of false imprisonment against Livermore and the owner, who appears to be some minor pop star.'
He phoned the Major before they left, and learned there was no news in Funchal. The yacht had not returned there, and Bernie reported no news of it at either Calheta or Machico harbours.
'Don't worry,' he told Catherine. 'There are other places they could have dropped him. It doesn't mean they've thrown him overboard.'
She tried to smile, but saw that John made every effort to get to Funchal as fast as he could. Their mobiles did not work on the sea, so they had no more news, and she was almost hopping with impatience by the time he started the engine and eased into Funchal marina to his normal berth. She looked up at the path beside the main road overlooking the marina, and saw her father hurrying down towards them.
*
There was no reply from his parents' home, and no response from either his mother's or his father's mobiles. Next he tried the Major's house, again with no reply. He pondered who to try next. If the Major and his wife were out, as they often were on Sunday mornings when they went to the service at the English Church, they might have their mobiles turned off. They might not even know that Catherine and Fiona were effectively stranded on Porto Santo. He tried Selina, and at last got a response.
'Dominic! Oh, thank heavens! Everyone's been so worried. Where are you? What happened?'
'Never mind that now. I'm at Porto Moniz. Is there anyone who can drive over and collect me? I've no money, and I'm using someone else's phone.'
To his relief she didn't argue.
'I'll get Bernie to come. Do you know that car park near the aquarium? Wait there. There's bound to be a bench you can sit on. Oh, I'm so glad to hear from you!'
'Ask Bernie to bring some cash. I need to pay the doctor, and the taxi fellow who brought me here, if I can find him.'
Dominic handed the phone back to the friendly doctor, and promised to settle the bill as soon as he had some cash.
'Don't worry about that. I won't charge a stranded mariner. I would like to hear the end of the story, though. I hope you find some way of punishing those kidnappers.'
'Thanks. I'll let you know, but whether we will ever find them again, or be able to charge them, I don't know. It's my word against theirs, and they will no doubt claim they were helping me, and I asked to be put ashore in Seixal.'
He went to sit in the sunshine, waiting for Bernie to arrive. He was restless, and would normally have been strolling round the village, looking at the volcanic rocks and the churning waves that crashed over them, but he was so weak he could barely walk the short distance from the doctor's surgery to the aquarium, where he found a place to sit and sank gratefully down. Just what had been happening back in Funchal? Had his father gone to Porto Santo? Was he even now on the way back to Funchal? Why had those devils dumped him in such an unlikely place as Seixal? Was it because it was about the furthest place from Funchal, and had a quiet harbour they could use during the night? Would he ever be able to find that yacht, and how could he deal with Livermore? He was determined the man was not going to beat him, either in business matters or on a more personal level. Well, he would find some of the answers when Bernie arrived, and the rest when his father was back in Funchal.
*
It was a council of war at Bernie's house on the following morning. Fiona and Millie still did not know the truth, and Catherine felt it would be better not to tell them. As far as they knew Dominic had been brought back to Madeira as planned and his broken arm dealt with. He had been back at his parents' house before they and the Thorn yacht had returned to Funchal.
Bernie was all for suing Livermore and his friends.
'It was a deliberate attack, then false imprisonment. And they stole Dominic's money and phone. We surely can't permit that sort of criminal behaviour without challenging them.'
'Unfortunately we don't know who the people on the yacht are or where the yacht is at the moment,' John said. 'From the few enquiries I've been able to make I've found out it's hired, but who to I couldn't discover. I have the testimonies of the people on Porto Santo, but Livermore will claim it was an accidental blow that injured Dominic, and caused Lidia to fall, and they did, after all, bring him back to Madeira. As for the money, they'll say he lost his wallet. We'd have difficulty in proving any of it when no doubt Livermore's friends would support his version.'
'We need direct action,' the Major said.
'First we need to find out where they are,' Dominic said. 'Because they dumped me on the north coast in a quiet harbour it looks as though they needed to avoid the busier marinas. They could have been on their way to the Canaries. I'll go there and hire a boat and look around. If they've been there someone will remember that flashy yacht.'
'You can't sail a boat yourself!' Catherine said.
'I don't intend to, I'll hire someone with a boat.'
'And then what?' John asked. 'Apart from the problems of proving anything it happened in Portuguese territory, and they would be in a Spanish island. And what could you do against them if you did find them?'
'I'll come with you,' Bernie said.
'Thanks, but you can't leave your father here when you've been away ever since he arrived.'
'Hell, I don't mind. I'm tempted to come with you too.'
'It would be much better to concentrate on beating Livermore commercially,' Catherine said. 'Anything else, a legal challenge or direct action, tempting though they are, is too complicated.'
Dominic sighed. 'I guess you're right, but I need to do something!'
'Then why not send someone they won't know to the Canaries to ask questions, find out if the yacht's been there, and who owns it?'
'Catherine, so sensible!' Dominic shrugged, then grinned at her.
'And meanwhile get your people on the mainland to let you know when Livermore turns up there,' John said. 'I assume the shop at Porto Santo will not be buying from him now. Have you heard from them?'
'Yes. Someone will come over to Funchal to see what I have to offer. I think they feel guilty about my being injured there.'
Bernie laughed. 'Then make the most of it while the guilt lasts.'
John was thoughtful, then he turned to Dominic.
'I know just the man to send. He's an ex-policeman, married to a woman from Tenerife, so he speaks Spanish well. And he will have friends and relatives in the Canaries. He'll be able to find out if they've been there, and who they are.'
This was agreed, to Catherine's relief. She dreaded either Dominic or her father dashing off to confront men who were so ruthless as to drug Dominic and leave him on an open dockside, where he might not have found help for hours.
As they walked back to the Major's villa, where Margaret was preparing lunch, the Major fretted at the impossibility of taking the sort of action he craved. Catherine laughed at him. Now Dominic was safe she felt light hearted, and didn't want to take any action that might cause further injury.
'You'd like to find the yacht and storm it with a bunch of SAS people, then keel haul them. A pity that's not possible.'
*