But Charlie would possibly have cause to resent the fact he had not been Nikolas during their inter…actions.
As he was musing pleasantly on those days in the snowed-in cabin, lighting another cigarette, he emerged from the woods into weak winter early afternoon sunshine which barely made the sea sparkle. The dogs had now raced ahead to Revival Sands and were digging furiously, tails wagging enthusiastically.
And the plan which had been teasing him at the back of his mind since thinking about safe rooms came to him. He was well aware that he had become something of a joke in the family—or his paranoia had, anyway. Keeps, portcullises, and even a flagstaff (obviously an essential part of any security arrangements) were subtly ridiculed by being suggested before he’d aired his plans for them. But would not the headland make a superb defensive position? Especially if it were detached from the island main… He lit another cigarette, turning around, considering this idea. No Ben’s Bottom left…but he had another, better one of those, so that wasn’t an issue. Perhaps a drawbridge across the new sea channel—moat… And then…he cast his gaze up to the lighthouse on the cliff and saw it as a tower, part of a much bigger structure. Acastle. He became slightly dizzy, and for one moment had the oddest impression that far from being stuck in a mineshaft on Dartmoor, living a life only in his dying mind, he was instead still ten years old on a beach in Denmark, making castles out of sand.Dizzy dance, Papa, dizzy dance.Life’s illusions indeed. He took another long swig from the wine bottle and wished his other half was there to put some of these great epiphanies to. Especially his one about excavating Ben’s Bottom.
Continuing on to Revival Sands, he was amused to see the dogs had begun on his plan, digging furiously at a pile of seaweed washed up at the tide line. He was about to shout to them when, as one, they froze, whipped their heads around and then tore off through the lupins and marram grass towards the northern coastline. Even from where he was he heard a distinct human cry of alarm and immediately began to run in the same direction as the dogs. He shouted for them but suspected he was wasting his breath.
When he reached the spring, he skidded to a halt, panting, before a bizarre sight: the dogs barking at, jumping on, and vigorously attacking in a frenzy of delight a small upturned rigid inflatable. By seizing Radulf’s collar he also got PB under control by default and hauled them both away, as a voice from beneath the boat called out, ‘Thank fuck. Hello?’ Fingers appeared from underneath the rim, wriggling for grip, but at the sight the dogs went berserk once more, and even he struggled to restrain them. The fingers rapidly withdrew. ‘Can youpleaseget your fucking dogs under control!’
Infuriated that he was having to do just this, Aleksey replied in the same tone, ‘No, I fucking can’t. Can youpleasefuck off my island!’
There was a pause and the voice asked, ‘Is that you? Mr Going Extinct? The giant Russian with all the names?’
Exasperated, Aleksey strode over, still restraining Radulf with difficulty and lifted one edge of the boat. Eliam Colter peered out looking remarkably cheerful for a man who had been a few seconds away from having his throat ripped out. But Aleksey gave him the benefit of the doubt that the man couldn’t know this. He couldn’t know anything about Radulf either.
Together, they managed to right the boat, and the dogs, now realising the fun was over, apparently went back to searching for human remains.
Giving the zodiac a kick, Aleksey pointed out, still furious, his earlier fears about incursions foremost in his mind, ‘This island is private property. You can’t just land wherever you like. Why are you here?’
Eliam, brushing himself down and straightening his clothes, shrugged. ‘Nothing to say it’s private, is there? Just a fucking island, mate.’
‘My island, yes.’ He suddenly remembered this man’s connection with Emilia’s comment of the previous day and squinted out to sea. ‘Where’s your boat?’
Eliam was fishing in his pockets and when he couldn’t find what he was searching for asked, ‘You got a ciggie?’
‘No. Where isRogue Wave?’
‘She’s not here yet. On ‘er way over. I’m just staying local on St Mary’s, like, and doing a bit of exploring.’ He examined the inflatable’s outboard motor. ‘Probably flooded and fucked now, and it’s bloody hired. They don’t like being upside down.’
Aleksey nodded but pointed at some folding oars stowed with a bungee cord under the seats. ‘Just as well you’ve got those then, isn’t it?’
‘You’re kidding, right? Why the hostility? You’re the one paying for me to be here in the first place. I didn’t know you owned this island. Fuck, if I had, I’d have doubled my rates for the boat. I’m out scouting around—doing what I’m paid for. I saw cliffs with a lighthouse and came ashore to explore. It’s not a crime. How about a tour—seeing as I’m here.’
‘I’ll ask my dogs. See if they’re free.’
‘Has anyone ever told you you’ve got some serious issues?’
‘Yes.’
Eliam possibly hadn’t been expecting that reply, or Aleksey’s refusal to capitulate and do the English thing: be polite. But Aleksey wasn’t being monitored by his other half, had only just been pleasantly recalling some of his previous life before Ben Rider-Mikkelsen came so spectacularly onto the scene, and saw no reason to doubt Radulf’s judgement on this intruder. The other man gazed annoyed towards the tree line then glanced up at the lighthouse.
‘That still in use? Guess you get the best view of the island from there?’
Aleksey walked around the man, took hold of the rope which bound the small inflatable and began to drag it back towards the water. Colter stood and watched him. When the boat was floating, Aleksey stood with his arms folded and slowly raised one boot, resting it on the side. He pushed. Eliam got the message and jogged down to catch the little craft and climb aboard. Fortunately, after a few false starts, he got the motor to start.
‘I could rescind that invite to our little cruise, mate.’
‘I could withdraw my funding.’
‘For fuck’s sake; what is wrong with you? You are the most unfriendly bastard I’ve ever met, and I got boarded by fucking Somali pirates once!’
Aleksey pulled out his packet of cigarettes and enjoyed lighting one as he watched the furious man turning the tiny boat around to head back out to sea. The sound of the engine whine reminded him of a mosquito, and he scratched at his neck idly, watching the speck get smaller and smaller. There was nothing, as far as he was aware, to the north of Light Island and wondered where Colter was heading. There was nothing directly south or east either, and only Oasis Rock and Les Dents to the west. It seemed extremely unlikely to him, standing there listening to the buzz get fainter and fainter, that the man had just been scouting around and accidentally come across Light Island. For who would not, if they’d done just that, skirt around the entire coastline first to see what there was to see? And having done that, they would discover the dock and the boatshed, both observably well maintained on a, therefore,inhabitedandownedisland.
He felt something nudge his thigh and put his hand down to scratch Radulf’s topknot. He regretted restraining the old boy now.Hemight be under close monitoring from his better half, but Ben, both he and the old dog had noted with glee, had not madeRadulfpromise anything at all. Radulf was still operating entirely under Ben’s radar.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Five
