 
Reader Comments and Reviews for Jack Dey's Books

"Mahina is a fantastic tale involving multiple storylines from both historical times and the present... beautiful and complex, like the threads of fine tapestry... a memorable and well told story, full of adventure and romance... Someone should turn this book into a motion picture. You should read the book." Kathy Olson

"Paradise Warrior is an amazing book. It makes you laugh, cry and reflect. It is a book that when you finish you wonder about life around you. God's plan in our life... amazing gift..." Fernando M.

"Aaahh, I love quiet Saturday mornings.....sitting here eating bacon n eggs drinking a fresh cup of coffee and reading a great book .....Paradise Warrior. A great start to the day :-)" Gary

"...I cry & I laugh & I don't want to put my book down... I loved reading "Mahina" on my iPad.... BUT.... I absolutely LOVE having it in BOOK FORM now.... to have & to hold.... forever mine!" Gwennie Simpson

"MAHiNA... engaging and informative. It is hard to put down a novel when the characters are intriguing and the storyline incorporates a variety of threads. Aunty Rosa was the one character that I was especially drawn to; her wisdom and sensitivity were authentic and endearing... And the ending was superbly done; tying in each of the real life issues in a clever and perceptive way." Susan

"I've finished THAT BOOK and will now have to do something constructive!!!... if book number three is as riveting as the other two, I will need pulse-reducing medication. I can't believe the depth of all that he was able to bring in to that story!!! (I'm thinking that I will have to stick to "Little Women" and "Heidi" in future.)" Maureen

"Paradise Warrior... You certainly know how to keep the reader hanging for more! Great work! I'm going to read it again!" Corinne

"...Paradise Warrior! The Author is able once again to describe how God works and change the lives of those who put their trust in Him... thrilling fiction. It's quite impossible to close the book before the end. And when I finished... I read it a second time to enjoy even more all its subtleties, this for the first time in my life..." Dominique

"...Mahina... Finished!!!!!! Loved it!!!!!" Marie

"Jack Dey... writes a rollicking good yarn, that man..." Shelley

[The Legend of Ataneq Nanuq] "...gripped me right to the end... fabulous job." Phil

[The Legend of Ataneq Nanuq] "...exciting... incredible. A NY times best selling author couldn't do it better. It is real. It is engaging. It is captivating... just comes off the page... and it will keep you guessing until the end when he skillfully ties all the lo[o]se ends into a satisfying knot. Don't miss this exciting adventure." Kathy

"...amazing, delightful, absolutely intriguing, WONDERFUL book... PARADISE WARRIOR!!! I can't put it down..." Gwennie Simpson

"I just read a couple of your books wow!!! What can I say! They are heart touching!!!... Paradise Warrior was a surprising story. I am searching for truth about what you say... My favorite was La Belle Suisse... This was a story I couldn't put down. The secret of Black Dean Lighthouse touched my heart... Your stories are full of adventure and mystery, with many Biblical truths..." Joy

"Mahina is a brilliant novel that I've read with great pleasure The Author is very smart to describe the human heart in his various characters. I enjoyed also how sincere faith and love for God are lived by some of them. My favorite, Aunty Rosa is especially appealing; it really makes you want to meet her!" Dominique

"...Mahina. The story draws you in chapter by chapter. Thoroughly enjoyed it..." Craig

"...Aunt Tabbie's Wings... once you start, you won't want to put it down." Elspeth

"...Aunt Tabbie's Wings and loved it so much... I could not put it down..." Trudy R.

"I was up reading half the night last night..." Kathy

*~*~*~*

# THE SECRETS OF

# BLACK DEAN LIGHTHOUSE

# by

# JACK DEY

*~*~*~*

SMASHWORDS UPDATED EDITION

PUBLISHED BY:

C.D. & A.R. Day at Smashwords

COPYRIGHT 2014 C.D. & A.R. Day

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means–electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or otherwise–except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the owner of the copyright.

Original Cover Design: C.D. & A.R. Day

Cover Photo of Girl: G.T. James

SMASHWORDS EDITION, LICENSE NOTES

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with others please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is also available in print.

ISBN: 9780992404031

(paperback)

For information please contact:

URL: http://www.jackdey.com

Email: jackdeyauthor@gmail.com

*~*~*~*

Dedicated to: Papa

For Your Honour and Your Glory

*~*~*~*

**Table of Contents**

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 10

Chapter 20

Chapter 30

Chapter 40

Chapter 50

Chapter 60

Chapter 70

BONUS / END NOTES

Author's Note

About the Author

Connect with Jack

Discover Other Books by Jack Dey

MAHiNA

Paradise Warrior

Aunt Tabbie's Wings

The Legend of Ataneq Nanuq

The Valley of Flowers

La Belle Suisse

Exclusive Preview of Jack Dey's New Novel – Zero

*~*~*~*

Note from Jack

_The Secrets of Black Dean Lighthouse_ is a mystery with a twist in its tail, a signature of my writing style. The characters are warm and endearing, while the storyline is nail-biting and riveting. If you enjoy fine Christian fiction, then you won't want to pass up this book. As usual, there are a myriad of Christian themes and Papa's character is reflected in them. Do yourself a favour. Grab a coffee, put the dog, the cat and the kids to bed, and settle back and enjoy the read. The journey will challenge your thinking and at the same time leave you refreshed and revitalised.

This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, incidences, places or events, past or present, is purely coincidental. Poetic licence has been taken in this fiction.

I hope you will enjoy reading it, as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

Jack Dey

*~*~*~*

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the following for their tireless support in bringing _The Secrets of Black Dean Lighthouse_ from a thought to a finished work.

Papa God, for allowing me to be a pencil in His hand.

My wife, the Editor, for turning my full stops into commas, encouraging me to keep going and using words like 'disturbing' to keep me on track. Constantly filling my cup with tea and love.

My Assistant Editor, the very charismatic Phil Hollett, for never letting me get away with anything.

The ever vigilant prayer team.

Finally, you, the reader. We pray for you as you take Papa's hand and sojourn through this story. May you never forget the journey you are about to take and judge everything against what Papa tells you.

Jack

*~*~*~*

# The Secrets of Black Dean Lighthouse

Adventure. Danger. Intrigue. Love. Courage. Redemption. Come on the journey but be warned, there is no turning back and the consequences will leave your head spinning. A haunting mystery with a sting in its tail.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 1

Katie stood transfixed on the beach. Her hands shook slightly and her stomach tightly knotted, while tendrils of jet black hair whipped around her face and stung her eyes, driven mercilessly by the approaching storm. This was the first time in years she'd returned to Contention Island, but as if time had frozen into a sneering pause, nothing had changed. Things were still as they were. Even so, she'd come a long way in her recovery just to be standing in this place, the place that had haunted her sleep and stolen so much of her youth. Over the years, the relentless nightmares and cowering fear had faded, giving her a reckless sense of strength, imagining she was strong enough and if she confronted her tormentor, things would change. Things would become normal.

Whatever normal was.

But standing here on Contention Island, it was all too clear she had overestimated her strength and wasn't ready to take such a drastic step. She still had a long way to go to reclaim her life. Katie pulled in a shuddery breath at the memory, overwhelmed by the tragedy and hung her head in her hands, collapsing to the beach sand while the tears began all too easily and the familiar ache returned as if it was just yesterday, let alone twenty years ago.

Maybe it hadn't been long enough.

Curled in the cold sand with her face buried in her hands, she thought the demons lurking in her past had been overcome, subdued by a stronger, wiser creed helping her to make sense of the circumstances that had so drastically altered her past. As the wailing cries reached fever pitch and carried on the storm, Katie began to sob, holding her hands over her ears and trying to block out the horrendous despair. Shuddering with their memory and the unrestrained agony, she castigated herself for being so stupid. This wasn't a good idea after all, and tonight she was living her past again, troubled and deceived by a deeper cry... _one too close to ignore._ Anarchy reigned then, and it still reigns now unchecked while the burgeoning cries and howling wind lay testament...

It was still here, waiting for her to return to trap her again.

Raising herself to her knees, Katie's tear-stained eyes searched the blackness of the sea behind the breakers, trying to ignore the wails but searching, always searching, just like in her nightmares. It had been a night exactly like this, dark and imposing, raging at the foot of an unnatural storm; and when the rain began with such tenacity, it chilled her to her core and she began to shiver, still searching the sky beyond the breakers, her arms crossed over her chest against the teeming rain and wind driven chill.

Then she saw it, not once but several times and with each manifestation, the terrified wails erupted, screaming in unison with the force of the howling wind. The walls of fear, undermined and partially dismantled by many years of absence from Contention Island, began to build its foreboding prison about her again. Katie grappled with the nightmare scene, clutching at her hair in desperation while her mind refused to believe what she'd just seen.

From a place outside of her line of sight and buried in the night, another pair of eyes watched with a cat-like stare, stalking through the sand and leaning into the wind and rain. An unexpected blinding flash lit up the cold, dark winter night for a fraction of a second, catching her nemesis unaware and scurrying to hide his prowling presence before she recognised his creeping pursuit. Pulling the stolen darkness around himself again and hoping to hide, a vicious rattling _cra-ack_ exploded around Katie, tearing open the sky and shaking the ground bellow her. Screaming with fright and almost blue from cold, Katie instantly covered her numbing ears with her hands and cringed under the attack, the intensity so loud it hit her in the chest like a blast, distorting her eardrums and distracting her sweeping gaze. Overwhelmed by its trickery and reeling from her loss, Katie's knees buckled under her and she collapsed to the sand, her mind shutting down under the immense shock.

Once again, the decision wasn't hers... yet the consequences were devastating.

Protected by the storm, the stalking fiend stooped over the place she'd fallen and deliberately searched the scene for prying eyes, then cautiously scooped the unconscious figure into his arms and like the secrecy of the wind, effortlessly vanished into the shadowy night, carrying his unsuspecting prey and leaving little evidence to expose his deadly game. Finely honed and subtle in its deception, the trap closed over Katie yet again, drowning her _in the hatred of love_ , where life seems cheap and no one could hear her frantic screams...

or cared whether she lived or died.

A jiggling, floating movement momentarily drew Katie back from a desperate nether world, granting consciousness for a fleeting second while focusing on the black, cat-like eyes of her captor, crushing the woman with escalating fear. She tried to scream, but the sound fell impotent to her feet. Seemingly, it was all happening again, as if history was repeating itself. She'd been a fool, lured back into her past by the same events that had trapped her in her childhood, seduced by the idea of gaining control over her nemesis and finally breaking free of his power. Her strength stolen and struggling in vain to stop the cycle of events, her body went limp and she blacked out...

Dangling unprotected in his insatiable grasp.

*~*~*~*

A sudden scream broke into a deep subliminal sleep and scrambled the pleasant dreams into another world where the protector mechanism stirred, ready to deal with any intruder; but it took only a moment to realise where he was and what was taking place. The dark room, illuminated by the clock radio's red digital numbers, offered light enough to see the pained face of his wife struggling in yet another nightmare.

"Becky, wake up, honey!"

Gentle hands shook her trembling body and dispatched the fiend lurking in her sleep. The bedside lamp erupted, dividing the formidable darkness, paining their eyes and driving the world of fear back into the shadows. The confused expression on Becky's face, her brow moist from the battle, was an all too familiar indicator to the depth of her enchantment. Shaking off the nightmare grasp and recognising the familiar room, she spoke, exhausted and in a low perplexed voice. "What happened?"

"It was Katie again, wasn't it?" the concerned voice of her husband, Brett questioned as he pulled her into his arms.

Becky trembled in her husband's embrace, trying to find the words as the worried frown deeply furrowed her stunning features. When she did speak, her voice was muffled in her husband's shoulder and her tone brought a shiver to his spine.

" _She was back on Contention Island."_

Becky hadn't dreamt of Katie for years, and now for some reason Katie was bothering her subconscious again. The nightmare character had been a regular visitor into the young couple's lives at first, but unknown to Brett, Becky had been plagued by nightmares of Katie throughout her life. Once they were married, Katie's invasion of Becky's subconscious lessened, but was regular enough for Brett to form a picture of Katie with her disturbing adventures through the nightmares Becky suffered. Becky had no idea how she came to dream of the strange apparition, having never met a girl named Katie in real life, let alone become friends with one. Nonetheless, Katie's arrival back on Contention Island was not a welcome revelation, with Brett understanding enough of the nightmares to surmise Katie's anguish was set to get deeper and Becky would suffer as a result.

He had to get to the bottom of these disturbing nightmares and find out who Katie was and why Katie affected Becky's dreams so profoundly.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 2

A highly agitated captain nervously paced on the bridge of the steam cutter, _Rebellious,_ seething that the boilers had once again dumped the valuable steam pressure, leaving them powerless and bobbing around at the mercy of the heavy ocean swells. Yet he knew his overworked engine room was doing the best they could with the antiquated equipment they were forced to work with. Along with countless others, the sea freight company had fallen on hard times due to the stock market crash resounding through the autumn of 1929 and folding up the fortunes of many well-to-do in a perilous fiscal house of cards. Those that could survive only did so by cutting corners and spending what was absolutely necessary, with the much needed repairs to _Rebellious'_ boilers secretly dropped from the maintenance schedule. Nonetheless, the company still expected the cargo to make its destination on time.

The steam pressure was vital to drive the steam engines, to keep the cutter from being smashed against the feared jagged rocks of Black Dean laying in wait just ahead. Any more delays would be a dire cost to the schedule and place the ship in mortal peril, having just enough time to traverse the passage safely as long as their boilers maintained pressure. An offshore solid rock barrier acted as an impasse to the international shipping route, submersed and invisible just below the surface at high tide and one hour's steaming time from the shore. Guarding the length of the coast and the entry to vital ports, it forced shipping to take a long detour around the southern end of the reef. A journey that added two days onto any trip. Entering the narrow Barrett Channel between Black Dean and Contention Island was difficult enough in daylight and low tide where the jagged walls of the channel could be easily seen, but was considered suicide attempting it blind at night.

Barrett Channel had been discovered in the early days of sail by William Barrett. A one-in-a-hundred-year's low tide allowed Barrett to observe the length of the rock barrier's saw-toothed walls, reaching many miles in both directions along the coast and preventing direct access to the mainland ports from the open ocean. With all its glory exposed by the unusual tide, Barrett subsequently discovered a narrow passage through the obstruction, which allowed an undeviating shortcut without the lengthy detour around the reef.

Cautiously picking his way along the narrow passage, he added the coordinates to enter the narrow channel onto his map, noting it was exactly three miles from the northern tip of Contention Island. Keeping the island focused, on a northerly aspect over the point of the bow, ensured the vessel remained safely within the narrow cutting. Contention Island itself seemed to straddle the lengthy rock barrier, with the west side facing the distant land and the east facing the open ocean, giving Barrett a clear picture why circumnavigating the formidable island was impossible to ships.

Traversing the passage at the bottom of the tide, Barrett catalogued and marked on his map the exact location of a gaping, deep black hole that lay across the channel's width. Intrigued by this strange phenomena, he lowered a long boat and ordered his second mate, Riley Dean, to row over to the deep hole for a closer look. As the tide began to run back in, a violent swirling motion gripped the tiny craft, spinning it in the vortex's mouth before overpowering the churning vessel and dragging it in ever increasing speed until it disappeared with Dean onboard, down the gullet of the raging whirlpool. Watching in absolute terror as Dean vanished without a trace and went to his death, Barrett named the chaotic ocean hole _Black Dean_ in Dean's memory and as a future warning of Dean's horrific demise.

Managing to escape the tyrannical whirlpool with only moments to spare, Barrett, however, on his second journey through the passage, approached the channel upon high tide and quickly became disorientated. As his vessel languished, blindly idling where the passage should be, the tide turned and Black Dean opened its massive mouth, appearing much larger and more violent than he remembered. In less than a heartbeat, the hapless sailing boat locked into a life-and-death battle with the eddying currents; but Black Dean was too strong and overpowered the vessel, smashing the wooden hull into splinters against the turbulent rock walls. Powerless against the aggressively swirling maelstrom, the doomed craft, along with Barrett and his crew, vanished, drawn down into Black Dean's gaping mouth and disappeared without a trace.

The discovery and the growing legends surrounding the Barrett Passage and moreover Black Dean's vile rage, purportedly swallowing many hapless ships, hadn't deterred vessels from using the shortcut. Captains and the companies they represented considered the economic advantages of the Barrett Passage a risk worth taking; but only a madman would attempt the treacherous channel and its bad moods at night or high tide.

Over the years, it was discovered that Black Dean calmed at the very top or bottom of the tidal flow, when the current stopped and the tide turned from running in to running out. On one such incidence, it was observed by a passing vessel that Black Dean was actually a massive underwater hole in Barrett Channel's rock shelf, but unable to see into the chasm's depths, legend grew out of the unknown and demanded it was bottomless. As the tide quickly turned and began its furious run, heavy currents emanating from the hole took the observers off guard and churned into a swirling vortex, requiring the unsuspecting vessel to use all the power at its disposal and only just able to throw off Black Dean's thrashing grasp.

Once news of Black Dean's embellished conduct made it back to port, a new round of myth grew out of the encounter, with sailors reporting seeing powerful whirlpools that could swallow anything that ventured too close to its gaping mouth. Legend and truth collided among the seafarers, but once they had experienced it personally, nothing about Black Dean was unbelievable.

At last, word from the boiler room came to _Rebellious'_ bridge carried by an enthusiastic young seaman. "Sir, the engineer is confident that the boiler will hold this time," the young seaman reported.

"It had better, otherwise we will all get to see Black Dean at its worst... from the bottom!" the captain agitated.

Dismissing the seaman with a bothered slight, the captain shifted the _engine order telegraph_ to _full ahead flank_ and with a bell sounding in the engine room, the engine operator responded with full power from the boiler. A bell sounded again in the bridge and an indicator moved to show the captain that the engine room had received the message and had understood. Removing a small telescope from the helm and aiming it across at the horizon, the captain scrutinised a position where he estimated the entrance to the Barrett Passage should be. But with the sun setting fast and less than thirty minutes to high tide, the treacherous channel walls were invisible.

Catching the nervous eye of his first mate, the captain read the unspoken question. "We have no choice, Mr Bramph. Let's just pray our boilers hold their steam and we make it through without tangling with Black Dean."

Shifting nervously on his feet, the mate knew the pressure the captain was under from the company to keep his schedule, with any delays for whatever reason met with stern consequences.

Contention Island lay dead ahead, but its shape faded in the failing light so the captain aimed his boat for where he presumed the northern tip of the small island to be, which would supposedly line him up for the centre of the channel. He only hoped he hadn't made the turn too early, which would change his approach trajectory and lead him onto the rocks.

In the growing twilight, the view of Contention Island faded ever faster, leaving the small telescope useless and all they could do was try to steer along a predetermined course. Avoiding the fear-filled eyes of his first mate, the captain reached for the engine order telegraph to cut speed, but as he did the vessel abruptly lurched sideways, groaning as Black Dean tore open _Rebellious'_ hull and threw the crew to the floor under the impact. In the following chaos, the sinking vessel _shrieked_ with pain, but there wasn't time to think let alone board the lifeboats, with _Rebellious_ listing immediately as the lower decks surged with water, filling the hull with a tidal wave through Black Dean's jagged bite marks. In less than a minute, _Rebellious_ pointed her bow into the gaping mouth of Black Dean and in a moment of surrender slipped, spiralling into the churning water, her boilers hissing violently as the cold water extinguished her flame, taking her crew down with her.

As darkness settled over Black Dean, all trace of a dying vessel disappeared into the swirling vortex, forever hidden in a perfect crime.

*~*~*~*

A small man in a dark business suit, clutching a clipboard, stood searching the dock for the familiar ship. _Rebellious_ was the company's flagship, capable of carrying more cargo than any other of their competitors, yet she was the only vessel in the diminishing fleet making money for the financially burdened sea freight company. The small man nervously withdrew his pocket watch and caught it by the chain securing it to his breeches, flipped open the cover and _huffed_. They were late and there would be strife to pay and it would be him who had to pay it. _Rebellious_ was due in early that morning and an agitated major customer was demanding his cargo, threatening to take his business elsewhere if he didn't get what he wanted... NOW!

As the morning progressed with still no sign of _Rebellious,_ the small man became intently nervous. After yet another sweep of the harbour just in case she had slipped in unnoticed, the man left the dock and approached the company office across from the water's edge. Reporting to the owner that _Rebellious_ was now many hours late, a situation her captain knew was unacceptable and was driven to avoid at all cost, the owner decided to send a steamer out to search just in case of a breakdown. It was a dubious call and the owner knew in the pit of his stomach that something was terribly wrong when she didn't answer any of their radio transmissions.

All company vessels were required to maintain radio integrity at all times.

The harbour abounded with talk of the missing cargo ship, with everybody plainly aware the freight company was pushing their captains to keep tight schedules and take big risks to do so; but no one dared to express the unthinkable.

Until a wiry seasoned sailor soon put to words his growing suspicion. "All this talk is foolishness. Last night was high tide just after sundown and with no other choice, they probably approached the passage on sunset, blind and behind schedule. The captain would've had to risk the crossing and if they've fallen foul of Black Dean, it will be pointless searching for survivors or wreckage. Black Dean never leaves any trace."

Many ears listened to the words of the sailor, but no one spoke. They only hoped he was wrong and that _Rebellious_ would somehow limp safely into port.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 3

Rebecca Redden walked with a new spring in her step and bubbling joy in her heart. She couldn't wait to reveal her news to her husband, Brett, and once he knew, they could announce their news to their parents together. As she pushed open the doors to the doctor's waiting room and floated out into the street, Becky knew something was different inside her and now the doctor had confirmed it... she was expecting their first child.

Becky offhandedly mentioned the nightmares to her doctor on the chance he may have some advice for her, but after a reassurance that her hormones may be causing some strange happenings, she dropped the subject, especially when he suggested making an appointment with a psychologist. She didn't feel like having some stranger tromping all over her mind with hobnail boots.

*~*~*~*

Deadlines were a usual occurrence in a busy newspaper office and an aspiring editor had to be concentrating at all times. Spelling mistakes and poor grammar just didn't cut it with the expectant readers of a major city paper, so every story had to be meticulously checked and rechecked. The weekend edition was Brett's opportunity to take the company reigns, showcase his ability and earn a much coveted promotion to editor and chief once his boss retired in a couple of months, with a significant pay rise accompanying the promotion. However, along with the benefit came a dramatic increase in workload, too. The extra pay was a welcome proposition, especially since Becky had been giving gentle hints about wanting a baby.

Brett let his mind wander from his work for a few moments at the thought of a family and then diverted to the plaguing nightmares Becky was experiencing. As if he suddenly remembered something, Brett reached for his executive diary, opened to the latest page and made a resolute entry: _Contention Island,_ then circled it with a red pen, closed his organizer and cleared his mind to concentrate on editing another reporter's work.

_This is a lot of garbage_ , he thought, then taking a look at the news story's author, he soon knew why. Grimacing and shaking his head, Brett could just see the editor and chief blowing a fuse, pulling the story and throwing it across the room in disgust.

When the desk phone broke into his thoughts and demanded he pay attention to the requirements of yet another struggling newspaper journalist, Brett was just a little edgy. "Brett Redden."

"Hey, Brett... editor and chief."

"Hello, Smiley. I'm not editor and chief just yet," Brett replied, hoping Smiley's call would be brief.

"You will, you will. How's my piece? Did the boss like it?"

"Your piece was a delight, as usual. Maybe you can give Mr Downey a few tips. I can predict with all certainty his work is going to be pulled again."

Smiley laughed his infectious laugh, drawing in even the most morbid people and soon, a very preoccupied Brett was laughing along with him.

"So, is this a social call or were you just enquiring after my health, Smiley?"

Realising Brett was busy, Smiley began to apologise. "Sorry, Boss. I just wanted to make sure I still had the number one spot and best story," Smiley began to chortle again.

"I could use a hundred like you, Smiley."

"So, I'm still numero uno?" Smiley bubbled, sounding pleased with himself.

A sudden thought crossed Brett's mind. "Have you ever heard of Contention Island, Smiley?"

"Contention-whoso?" Smiley rattled, in the hope Brett would fill in the gaps.

"Contention Island," Brett repeated, wondering whether this was going to be a mistake.

"Never heard of it. Is this some new national secret?" Smiley, the investigative journalist was in full snoop mode.

"See what you can find out for me and maybe you will remain numero uno _when_ I get the promotion."

"Leave it with me, Boss. If anyone's trying to hide _anything_ , I'll sniff it out."

"Thanks, Smiley."

Brett returned the phone to its cradle, satisfied if indeed there was anything to Contention Island, Smiley would track it down. Brett had just picked up the next news item and was checking each sentence diligently when the phone rang again. Feeling under pressure, he sighed and reached for the phone, his tone reflecting the stress.

"Brett Redden!"

"Oh, did I get you at a bad time, honey?"

"Becky! No, sweetheart, I am just getting a bit swamped at the moment. What's up?"

"I have a surprise for you tonight and I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to be late home."

"Surprise? What surprise?" Brett followed her playful game.

"Not till you get home," Becky teased. "I'd better let you get back to work."

"Okay, I'll see you tonight," Brett reluctantly put down the phone, closing off the conversation with his pride and joy. She was the only interruption he enjoyed, but after her cryptic call Brett was finding it hard to concentrate, yet almost certain he knew what her news entailed. It had to be something outstanding for her to call him at work.

*~*~*~*

Checking the dinner table setting for the thirtieth time and satisfied everything was just perfect, Becky glanced up at the kitchen clock and sighed nervously. Brett would be on his way home and his favourite meal—rack of lamb—was teasing the kitchen with its heavenly scent. Adjusting her polished appearance in the loungeroom mirror, she heard their car turn into the parking space under the apartment and after a quick glance at the clock, realised he'd left work early, more than likely anticipating her surprise. Striking a match against its flint, the small flame ignited rapidly and then with the practised hand of a dinner hostess, Becky lit the candles and dimmed the lights.

Fluttering with nerves and anticipating her man's arrival, she quickly took up her place of greeting at the apartment door and waited for their usual cuddle, imagining the expected reaction to her news.

*~*~*~*

Walking up the stairs to their apartment, Brett's mouth watered as he intercepted the scents of Becky's exquisite home cooking drifting welcomingly out onto the front stairwell. Before he could thread his key into the lock, the front door burst open and Becky launched herself into his arms, passionately kissing her man for long moments. When she finally wriggled from his embrace, she could see the flame of desire burning in his eyes.

"Wow, I hope the mailman doesn't get this type of treatment."

"Only if his name is Brett and he looks exactly like you." With Becky's face alight with joy she returned his playfulness and then took hold of his hand and led him inside the apartment.

"Okay, shoot! What's the surprise?"

"Not so fast, mister. I have your favourite dinner first and then I'll tell you."

"Should I guess?" Brett teased.

"It won't do any good. I won't confess until..."

Brett had a fair idea what was coming. He could see the warm glow around Becky and her excitement was infectious, but he wasn't going to spoil her moment. They played and teased their way through the dinner, Becky bursting for the meal to be done and as she finally cleared the dirty plates from the table, a sudden thought made her anxious.

What if he isn't excited about my news?

Brett saw Becky's childlike face cloud over and the beam diminish. "What's up, honey?"

With fear taking the place of joy, she glanced away from his probing eyes. "I..I just had a horrible thought that maybe you wouldn't be so happy with my surprise."

"Well, why don't you just tell me and then we can worry about it then," Brett's hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her onto his lap.

With her face buried in his shoulder, apprehension had taken the place of excitement and she pushed away, stammering as she tried to form the words. "I... I... that is, we... are going to be parents. I'm pregnant."

Becky searched Brett's eyes, anxiously probing for any sign of emotion, but his face remained expressionless as he returned her gaze. Then she saw it and almost burst, the telltale twinkle in his eyes, knowing he was trying to hide his excitement, too and keep her guessing. She squealed with relief as Brett beamed, obviously overjoyed with her news.

"Can we go and see Mum and Dad tonight and tell them... p-l-e-a-s-e?"

"Of course, I wouldn't expect anything less."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 4

The short journey from their rented apartment to Becky's childhood home would take only a few moments and as she sat in the passenger seat, she admired the contour of Brett's face. While the car travelled along the darkened suburban road, the street lights played a game of light and shadow, dancing across his features and accentuating his strong profile. Rebecca Redden loved her man with all her heart and having his baby was the greatest testament to the depth of her feelings for him. Becky was excited and fulfilled being his wife and wanting to convey that emotion, she reached over and touched his arm, but he flinched and the unexpected movement surprised her.

"Sorry, Beck. I was a million miles away," Brett's face broke into a smile, watching the rosy cheeks of the woman he loved.

Moments later, the lights of the late model grey Kia Forte turned into a modest middle class driveway and lit up the front of a neat brick and tile suburban house. The happy building was a familiar sight for Becky, with her parents living in the modest dwelling all her life and then some. She had so many fond memories of her contented childhood as Becky Forest, the only daughter of Jacob and Emma Forest, living in the small home where the echoes of love over time were ingrained and recorded in the perimeter of its walls. She knew they would be as excited as Brett had been at her news.

The porch light blinked on as Mister Spock barked avidly, announcing their arrival. Her dad had named Becky's dog and though the dog was old now, his ears still stood out like the famous Star Trek personality's. Becky had objected at first, but as Spock grew, his features and personality so mimicked the character it just seemed he grew into the name as well.

Emma stood at the door peering into the night, obviously trying to recognise the occupants of the visiting car over the blinding headlights. As the car lights extinguished, Emma's face lit up in the warm glow of recognition, grinning with exuberance and accompanied by a wildly waving hand. Soon after, Brett and Becky deserted the Kia and approached the porch light.

"Becky? Brett? What are you doing out at this time of night?" Emma quizzed, engulfing both in an affectionate hug.

Brett smiled and then nodded to Becky.

"Got some news, Mum," Becky said proudly, holding Brett's hand.

"Well, come inside and I'll attempt to wake your father. He's asleep in front of the television."

As Brett and Becky followed Emma into the lounge and took their seats, Becky glanced affectionately across to her snoring father and his performance competing with the television's nonsense. Pointing the remote at the TV monitor and silencing its prattle, Emma hoped to quieten the swirling vortex spiralling around her husband's drainage just as easily.

"Jake...! _JACOB!"_

Jacob swallowed a snort halfway down his throat and nearly choked on it, sputtering awake in a desperate attempt to re-enter the land of the conscious. Through sleep laden eyes he struggled to focus, pulling himself into an upright position before erupting into a delighted smile.

"Hello, Dad."

"Becky?! Brett?! What brings you out at this time of night?" Jacob staggered to his feet, meeting his daughter's hug halfway across the room and then intercepted the vice-like grasp of his favourite son-in-law.

"We have some news to tell you and Mum. I... that is, we... are going to have a baby. You are going to be grandparents!"

The atmosphere inside the Forest household took on a carnival attitude, everyone talking at once, congratulatory hugs and kisses flying in all directions. Once the excitement abated, Becky and Emma disappeared into the kitchen and prepared a celebratory supper while Brett and Jake sat and talked.

"How's the paper business going, son?"

"It's good; I am really enjoying it, Dad. I am hanging my hopes on getting the chief editor's job once he retires in a few weeks and then we should be able to apply for a housing loan to buy a four bedroom house just down the road."

"Four bedrooms?!" Jake raised his eyebrows.

"Beck has her heart set on at least four kids," Brett replied, running his hands through his locks and wondering what he had gotten into.

Mister Spock abruptly jumped to his feet as the two women brought in a tray full of cakes, chocolates and sweet smelling hot coffee. His big tongue slapped from one side of his mouth to the other, watching the treats with keen interest and thinking if he played his wanton eyes correctly, he would be rewarded with a tasty morsel from the tray. As the four adults talked and laughed, slowly devouring the goodies, Mister Spock turned on the charm, entreating each person individually, gaining the desired result and scoring on all four occasions.

The room fell silent for a few moments as coffee lubricated exhilarated tonsils and tastebuds. Glancing sideways at Becky, Brett's face took on a contemplative expression and filled the void with a question, directing the enquiry toward Emma first and then swept his eyes to include Jacob. "Becky's been having some nightmares again recently. She hasn't had them for years and now for some reason they're returning. What do you know of this girl, Katie, and the place called Contention Island?" Brett let the question hang and waited for Emma to reply and as he studied the older woman's expression, Emma's eyes clouded slightly and she glanced across at Jacob, leaving Brett watching the troubled interlude with the gaze of a newspaper man.

Finally, Emma sighed and then cautiously offered something of what she knew. "We aren't sure what the nightmares mean and yes, they have bothered Becky throughout her life. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to them and even after talking to a number of psychologists about Katie, the best they can come up with is it's like an imaginary friend, blaming it on Becky being an only child." Emma dropped her hands dejectedly into her lap and surprised Brett as a big tear rolled down her cheek.

Becky reached for her mother's hand. "I know that's bunkum, Mum. I've never needed for anyone, least of all an imaginary friend. I was so happy just being with you two and besides, I had many friends in the neighbourhood."

Troubled by Emma's distress, Brett was very much aware she'd dealt with the nightmares for many years, too and had come up with a disturbing blank as to their cause. Feeling a camaraderie with his in-laws and noticing Emma's crestfallen demeanour, Brett offered an apology, "I am sorry, Mum. I didn't mean to open up a nerve." Yet as Brett's confession tumbled into the conversation, he couldn't help feeling the intensity of emotion Emma was displaying seemed a little misplaced.

Emma acknowledged Brett with a nod and then sniffed back another tear, stroking her daughter's face as she kneeled by her side. "What was your latest dream, honey?" Emma poised herself for more bad news.

Becky closed her eyes, hoping to insulate herself against the scenes and trying to remember the sequence of events in her nightmare. With a sigh that set the depth of anguish for the conversation, Becky whispered, "Katie was back on Contention Island, Mum."

Emma whimpered and then tried to conceal her reaction, but the emotion had leaked out before she could stop it and it was noticed.

Becky continued, "It was a stormy night and it was raining and blowing hard. She was shivering and crying, searching the breakers."

Emma's eyes glazed over, staring at the wall, but when she whispered everyone had to strain to hear. "Did she see it?"

Becky took hold of her mother's trembling hand again and tried to brace herself to release the words. "Yes, Mum, she saw it."

Brett was just about to ask a question when Becky continued, "She fainted in the sand, Mum, and he carried her away."

Without warning, Becky's mother buried her face in her hands and dissolved into trembling sobs. "Please, I am not strong enough to hear anymore," Emma pleaded feebly, her shoulders convulsing with the weight of Becky's declaration.

Bothered by the intuitions of a newspaper man, something began to niggle Brett about Emma's depth of involvement in Becky's dreams, but he tried to stifle the suspicion and push down the nagging doubt that Emma knew something and wasn't coming clean.

Protected in her husband's embrace and whispering above the fear, Emma gasped in a breath. "It isn't good that Katie's been back to Contention Island."

The moments went by without conversation as everyone tried to come to terms with the situation, surrounding Emma, and while the upsetting images of Katie dissipated, Emma regained her composure and put Brett and Becky at ease.

"Thank you for sharing your beautiful news, my darlings," Emma hugged her daughter and son. "I am sorry for reacting to the nightmares like this. It was quite a shock."

Sensing it was time to leave and let Emma and Jacob recover from his probing questions, Brett led his wife to the door, but the intuitive niggling just wouldn't let up. He _would_ revisit this scene again as soon as an opportunity arose. There was something strange happening here and Emma was the key to it.

As Jacob and Emma waved from the porch and watched the grey Kia drive slowly away, Jacob's stomach knotted. "We have to tell them, Emma. We should have done it years ago."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 5

Acknowledgement

For my parents: Bolek and Alenka Protlenski.

Your struggles and courage are an inspiration to me.

In dedication to the memory of your lives.

The journey out of preoccupation Poland had been intensely risky for Bolek and Alenka Protlenski. They had been warned by the underground that the Nazi war machine was on the move and that Poland was their intended destination. 1938 was the year that rumours of war were on every tongue. Regardless of the propaganda that it was a peaceful mission, Majiv's constant urging unsettled young Bolek, and he and his pregnant Alenka joined the gathering throngs leaving Krakow and heading for the free west. It was a difficult decision leaving family and friends, but all agreed it was necessary.

Although their relatives weren't wealthy, they gave the couple as much money as they could spare to make the trip and start a new life. Majiv had been prophesying the Nazi conquest of peaceful Poland for the past year, and his connections with the underground probably saved the Protlenski line. Eventually arriving in the free west, Bolek had used up much of the money he had been given on bribes, to gain safe passage for himself and Alenka into the United States and now he had to find work. At that stage America was not involved in any war, but the financial crash of 1929 was still evident everywhere and work was hard to get, especially for migrants. Eventually, he found employment on a government civil project, digging out subway tunnels by hand and although it was difficult work under appalling conditions, it paid just enough to put a dingy roof over their heads and a meal a day on the table.

By early 1939, Majiv Bolek arrived, weighing in at 7 pounds 9 ounces. He had a shock of black hair and piercing baby blue eyes, with Alenka giving birth at home aided by a Jewish midwife neighbour.

News from relatives in Poland was sporadic and by 1940, all communication had stopped. It was later uncovered that all of Bolek's and Alenka's relatives had died in a Nazi concentration camp, while Majiv had perished working in the underground trying to save as many of his people as he could, helping them escape the Polish borders before being betrayed to the Gestapo by a supposed friend. In particular, the news of Majiv's death drove a stake into Bolek's heart. He detested the Nazis for destroying his family and his friend, becoming consumed with hatred, and in 1943 enlisted in the US armed forces, seeking a way to make retribution while dismissing Alenka's tearful pleas. He had to take revenge on Nazi blood for the blood of Poland and his friend.

By January 1944, Katarzyna Alenka arrived, 6 pounds 7 ounces. Alenka announced her arrival to Bolek in a letter and by this time, he had finished basic training and was waiting for deployment.

Then the fateful day in July 1944, Alenka was feeding Katarzyna when a knock came at the front door. She interrupted the baby's meal time and made her way to answer the enquirer, but then her heart stopped as she gazed up at an army official standing in the doorway. With a letter in his hand and a stern expression hiding a battle behind his eyes, the soldier stammered as he glanced at the young woman with a baby in her arms.

"M... Mrs Protlenski?"

"Yes, that's me," Alenka confirmed in broken English.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he replied, handing her the letter. "Your husband died bravely serving his country."

That was the day my mother curled up and died inside and life forever changed for me and Katie. I turned fifteen in 1954 and by the 12th July of that same year, Katie and I buried Alenka Protlenski, our mother. Giving up on life without Bolek, our father, she died of a broken heart. God rest her soul.

*~*~*~*

" _Majiv, are you ready to go back to work?!_ "

" _Yes, Mrs Lieberman, I will be right down,_ " Majiv responded, figuring he was needed back at the bakery, his voice carrying down the staircase to the waiting people below. The young dark haired Majiv closed his notebook and placed his pen back in a cup, then straightened his room and quickly descended the stairs to meet the voice of the old Jewish woman.

Since Alenka's death almost a year ago, Majiv and Katie had lived with Mr and Mrs Lieberman, a childless couple who'd stepped into the destitute children's lives and become mother and father, taking them in as their own. Mr Lieberman had apprenticed Majiv in his bakery business and was teaching him the trade. At sixteen, the early hours expected of a baker were a challenge to Majiv, but Mr Lieberman kept him on time with his firm and fair father's hand.

Majiv's tall, dark and athletic features turned the heads of women, even at sixteen. His coal black curly hair, lightly olive skin and deep blue eyes drew attention wherever he went, but innocently unaware of the stares, his attention was focused on his apprenticeship and doing what Mr Lieberman expected.

Katie, at eleven, was growing into the beauty she was destined to become, yet her skinny, girlish frame was far from that of a woman. She, like Majiv, was slightly dark and stunning and overflowed with charisma, charming people many years older than herself. Under the watchful eye of Mrs Lieberman, Katarzyna was a high achieving student attending a local Jewish-Christian school and following in her mother figure's footsteps, she was also learning to run an efficient household.

Unfortunately, in post-war America discrimination against migrants was like a game and a right to some local people in the mixed neighbourhoods. The Liebermans' apartment had been attacked with racist slogans painted across the front door, leaving Majiv angry at the senseless acts perpetrated against such loving people.

Sensing the growing hatred in Majiv, Mr Lieberman took him aside. "Majiv, hatred starts as a snowflake but ends in an avalanche and if you let hatred take root in your heart, it will destroy you from the inside. These people who do these things are doing us a favour, for they teach us to forgive where forgiveness is not due and to love God and each other. Our God tells us if someone slaps you on one cheek then offer them the other, also."

With Mr Lieberman's words permanently trapped in his mind and constantly echoing around in his thoughts, Majiv was returning home alone from the bakery one evening when he was taunted by a gang of youths around his own age. As they cornered him, eight to one, Majiv remembered the speech of Mr Lieberman. _Hatred starts as a snowflake and ends in an avalanche._ With the old man's example and his wisdom modelled for Majiv to follow, the youth held his ground, ready to stand up to whatever they intended to do. But at the sound of a booming voice, the courageous gang valiantly scattered.

" _Need some help, son?!_ "

A large, old African-American, built like a mountain, stepped up to Majiv's rescue. "These street kids have nothing better to do than harass goodly folk," the man spoke softly, watching the scattering gang members disappearing up the road. "Thomas Jefferson," the old man held out his hand.

Majiv stared at the big man with interest and the look in his eyes said, _You're not Thomas Jefferson._

"I ain't _the_ Thomas Jefferson; I was just named after him."

Majiv took the big hand offered and shook it. "Majiv Protlenski. Thanks for helping me."

"Folk just call me Tom. You live with old Mr and Mrs Lieberman, don't ya?"

"Yes, sir, that's right," but Majiv became uneasy with the questioning.

"They helped me to find my feet after the war and settle back into civilian life when I returned from fighting the Nazis, so any friend of the Liebermans is like family to me."

After that chance meeting, Tom became a regular visitor into the Lieberman household, with his war stories keeping Majiv enthralled and their friendship blossomed.

After Tom intervened into the situation with the gang, a new spate of cowardly retribution was levelled against the Liebermans. Old Mr Lieberman was called out of bed at midnight by police when someone set fire to his bakery business. As Majiv and Mr Lieberman walked through the smouldering ruins, Majiv heard Mr Lieberman speak in a low, flat voice.

"Majiv, hatred starts as a snowflake and ends in an avalanche. This, too, we will recover from."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 6

Emit Krueger hadn't slept properly since the disappearance of _Rebellious_ almost three days ago. The flagship of his flailing company had just vanished, and with it so did his hopes of trading out of the mess that had been caused by the stock market crash and the subsequent collapse of the country's economy. With an aching, sleep deprived head and a squinting gaze from the two-storey mansion's second floor window, he followed the driveway contour down onto the sweeping lush front lawn and manicured gardens of his sprawling estate. In the harsh economic landscape, no one had money and if he tried to sell the property to keep the company alive, he wouldn't get anything for it. He rubbed his aching and tired temples, trying to think of a plan, a stroke of genius that would turn his misfortune around, but his dull and foggy business head refused to cooperate.

If the rumour mongers were right and the crew of _Rebellious_ had tried to traverse Black Dean at high tide and in the dark, then there certainly was no evidence of their claims and they may never know her fate. Krueger angrily pounded the stone wall beside the window frame. _What was Captain Michaels thinking?_ Then his mind drifted back two months to the scene in the boardroom when he had announced the schedules for _Rebellious;_ the stunned looks on the faces of his executives and the angry challenge from Wallis Pike, a junior board member and a talented up and coming hotshot. He remembered Pike's furious speech and his own swift rebuttal that had silenced Pike's anger like a snuffed out fuse.

" _You'll just have to find a way to meet the schedules and I don't care if they are impossible and people don't like the conditions. You will enforce company policy and follow my directives if you wish to remain employed as an executive in this company! Times are tough, gentlemen, which calls for tougher decisions and everyone has to suffer a little and give two hundred percent to keep this company floating... meeting over!"_

Although Krueger was the owner of _Rebellious_ , he'd never stepped foot onboard the cutter and had no idea how his decisions were affecting the lives and safety of the people trying to comply. All he saw was the fragile bottom line.

Krueger's thoughts were interrupted by a tenacious knock at the door.

"Come!" he demanded.

His valet entered with a sealed message carried on a silver plate and offered the contents to the aristocrat. Krueger took the message and dismissed his butler with an annoyed wave of his hand, then tore open the seal and began to read.

All dock and vessel crews are meeting at the town hall today at noon to discuss the vessel schedules and the danger of the Barrett Channel. Suggest the executive should be present to mitigate the meeting. Pike.

Just when Krueger thought things couldn't get any worse, now the experienced crews were refusing to work the schedules and were spooked by Black Dean. With an annoyed breath, the wealthy man exhaled before his countenance exploded in flames. _Well, I will just have to get new crews! There are a lot of people out of work and willing to do anything to earn a few dollars!_

*~*~*~*

The town hall shivered in a sea of working class faces, everyone lifting their voices just to talk to the person sitting next to them, above the noise of others lifting their voices to talk to the person sitting next to them. A hollow murmur rippled over the crowd like a wave running up onto a beach, with all eyes staring at the main entrance as two well dressed men stood searching the crowd.

Soon, a Scotsman took the initiative, climbed the stage and addressed the gathering in a heavy accent. "Falla warkas, we have cawled this meetin' to address the cancerns of our bruthers aboot these untenable wee vessel timetables and a course, the dangers o' Black Dean."

An angry explosion of voices erupted throughout the building, directed at the familiar executives standing in the entry door.

The Scotsman held up his hands for order and when silence descended he continued, "Arch laddies, I see we have the very wee presence o' the men responsible for our meetin'."

Another uproar exploded.

Again, the Scotsman held up his hands and the crowd once again trickled to silence. "I cawl Mester Krueger to the wee platform and ya canna address ya cancerns directly."

Krueger acknowledged the Scotsman with a wave of his cane as he and Pike pushed their way through the mob and climbed the stage. Krueger and Pike searched the dissident sea of faces, faces Krueger had never seen before but were well known to his assistant.

Krueger began, "Gentlemen, these are tough economic times for this company and these timetables are set in place to remain competitive in an extremely hostile market place. The one thing we can offer to our customers is a quick and efficient service. By you refusing to cooperate with these necessary policies, it puts all of our livelihoods in jeopardy and your families' ability to eat each week."

A loud chorus of contention roared through the hall, with one angry man shooting to his feet, shouting at Krueger, "What about the _necessary policies_ of _our lives_ at stake from _your_ policies, as well as the demise of the vessels that employ us?!"

Another rowdy agreement erupted from the mass, with Krueger glancing to Pike for support. But before Pike could react, Krueger added more fuel to the fire.

"If you are alluding to the unfortunate disappearance of _Rebellious_ , we have no proof that Black Dean or the schedules had any part to play in _Rebellious'_ disappearance..."

But Krueger was drowned out by an ensuing uproar.

A different man shot to his feet and waited for the dissention to calm. "All of us in this room had friends or family aboard the missing company cutter. My brother was an engineer aboard _Rebellious_ and he spoke of multiple equipment failures and maintenance issues on each trip. How can we be sure her own boilers didn't explode and send her to the bottom?!"

Glancing at Pike and unable to mount a plausible rebuttal, Krueger knew maintenance wasn't happening, at his own orders.

Sensing Krueger was losing the argument, Pike had a plan and stepped up, hoping his boss would see the sense in his speech. He waited for complete attention before he began. "Men! I also knew the crew of _Rebellious_. Some of them were my friends, too."

Krueger stared at Pike in amazement. _Did he... and were they?_

"I, like you, feel their loss, too. The schedules, in my opinion, are unreasonable but I also understand the need to keep the vessels running and earning so in turn we can live."

A subdued murmur rippled through the hall but Pike continued, holding up one hand for silence. Glancing sideways at his boss and hoping he wasn't about to announce his own expulsion from the company, he went on. "Therefore, I propose the following: First. We cannot afford downtime for repairs, so there will be two engineers per boat for each voyage instead of one, and a team of engineers that will come aboard and carry out _necessary,_ and I repeat, _necessary_ repairs while the boats are in dock being loaded and unloaded."

Pike quickly added before his momentum could be derailed, "Second. As Black Dean is a concern, not only for you and our company but for all maritime operations, I intend to put forward a proposition to the government and seafarers alike to build a lighthouse above Black Dean, to mark the channel at night and all weather, thus taking the fear out of the passage."

Krueger peered at Pike as if he had lost his mind, but soon conceded to his plan when the hall broke into loud applause. As long as the crews _thought_ that something was going to be done about Black Dean and the lighthouse was going to be built, they'd continue to work the tight schedules. Even if the plan got buried in red tape and it was never built, it didn't matter; the company fleet would still sail, so Krueger conceded he could live with a few extra engineers, even if the so called engineers didn't know anything about ship engine rooms.

Pike's cunning genius had just won the crowd and saved Krueger's neck.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 7

"Lady Katrina, welcome to the bridge. This is an honour, but I am not sure your father, the duke, would approve of your visit."

"I can go where I like and when I like, Captain Lewis, without my father's approval. I have been cooped up on this... _vessel_ for the past month! My hair has gone _frizzy_ in the sea air and I am _bored!_ " Katrina responded indignantly. "How much _longer_ until we make a port and I can go exploring?!"

"We should be in port tomorrow for a short stay while your father continues his trade mission, my lady."

Katrina sighed and peered indignantly through the bridge windows and out over the bow. "My father's trade mission... we have seen nothing but sea and out of the way places since leaving London, not even a single dinner party with people of my own social standing. If I don't have some fun _soon_ , I'll _simply_ _die!_ "

"Katie!" an agitated voice came from behind her.

Katrina spun around to face the owner. "Father, I..I was only stretching my legs."

"You are a lady of fine breeding. You do not mingle with common people!"

"I don't have any people of breeding to mingle with, since you forced me to accompany you on this tedious voyage and I have been bored out of my brain."

"That's enough, young lady! I didn't raise you in the finest schools and society to have you become an object of wanton admiration by every common man. Get back into your cabin where you belong. Where is Tess?! She shouldn't have allowed you into the company of commoners!"

"I am your daughter, Father, not a mule to order around at your convenience. Tess had a little too much wine at lunchtime so I could do a little exploring on my own volition," Katrina smirked a spoilt, mischievous beam but stood her ground, staring down her father with the impudent smile still adorning her fine features until she saw the fuse light in his cold eyes. Spinning on her heels she squeezed indignantly past her father and flounced out of the bridge. The time had come to concede defeat and return to her cabin before she had to contend with something more than her father's bad temper.

Once Lady Katrina had cleared the room, the duke spoke loudly so all the men were in no doubt to the intent of his message. "My daughter is not for your eyes, gentlemen, and if she finds her way into your company again, it would be prudent for you to show her back to her own class. Do you understand me?!"

The men on the bridge, including the captain, nodded in obedience to the duke's threat and continued on as if nothing abnormal had just taken place.

"Good day, gentlemen," aided by an ornate cane, the duke, satisfied with his castigation and that his point had been understood, turned and walked out.

*~*~*~*

A stressful argument erupted and continued for a full half hour as the duke and Katrina exchanged heated words. Tess stood unsteadily at attention against the far wall, listening to the ranting of the rich man and his mollycoddled daughter while her temples ached under the duress of a hangover. She had no idea that fresh orange juice could cause such strong side effects, yet as the tirade continued and she listened to the unfolding drama, she soon understood that she had been the victim of Lady Katrina's desire to be unencumbered by a chaperone and that exploration was on her self-indulgent mind.

The quarrel abruptly ceased when the duke's hand made contact with Katrina's face and a slap came down across her cheek, echoing in the quietened cabin. In reaction to the blow, Katrina's head snapped to the side and her long black hair tangled around her face. Gasping at the sudden pain and shocked that her father would resort to such a tactic, Katrina stood, holding the injury site with the palm of her hand, her dark eyes alight with fire and staring down the authority figure. In a moment heavy with disgust, she pushed past her father and threw open the door, _slamming_ it heavily against the cabin wall and made her exit.

" _Come back here, Katie; I'm not finished!_ " the duke called after his injured daughter. "Get after her, Tess, and don't let her out of your sight."

"Yes, my lord," Tess curtsied, then exited the crime scene close behind Katrina.

*~*~*~*

In the early morning light just after dawn, Captain Lewis searched the horizon with his telescope, sweeping in all directions until the exploring quest paused on a point nearly directly behind them. A steam cutter was following at about an hour to stern and judging by the steam clouds billowing from her boilers, she was in a hurry. The waters ahead for the captain were unknown, but the legends surrounding this morning's voyage were not, requiring Lewis to time his arrival at the Barrett Passage coinciding with low tide. Correlating the tide chart and then the distance to travel, Lewis ascertained that at his current speed he would arrive too early and the tide would still be on the turn from its highest point. If he cut his speed, the cutter following would overtake them, but that wasn't a concern as these parts were supposedly friendly and the risk of pirates was low.

Coming to a decision and reaching for the engine room telegraph lever, Lewis selected half speed. A bell announced the captain's requirements to the engine room and the vessel's pace dropped considerably, followed by a bell on the bridge and the corresponding lever movement indicating the engine room had understood the bridge's intentions. The captain once again checked his calculation and conceded at this new speed they would enter Barrett Passage at the bottom of the tide and still make port by early afternoon.

Taking the small telescope from the helm ledge and training it on the approaching vessel once more, Lewis noticed since reducing their speed, the cutter was now gaining on them and estimated they would soon be on a collision course. According to maritime law, he expected that any responsible captain would reduce speed also and try to contact the vessel in their direct path, enquiring of their intended action. Through the small telescope, Lewis observed the volume of steam pouring from the boiler funnels and noted there didn't appear to be any signs or intention to reduce speed. It was unthinkable, but just maybe they hadn't seen the _Riviera_ , so Lewis called to his radio operator and ordered him to try and raise the vessel and warn them of an inevitable collision.

The _SS Riviera_ was a medium sized luxury vessel that often took dignitaries and politicians abroad on trade mission trips. The captain and his crew were well versed on the tantrums put on by the rich and their spoilt families, while being called a second class citizen to his face went with the territory and he'd learnt to dismiss their childish behaviour. However, he had a problem at the moment that demanded his full professional attention and the desires of his passengers were low on his priority. If he couldn't raise the cutter bearing down on them, there was only a small window of time left for him to react and avoid a collision. Any ship takes a specified distance to turn or stop, with the water under a vessel hull in addition to its weight acting like a carpet of ball bearings. Even if the power is taken off the propeller, momentum and the ship's weight continues to drive the vessel along at the same speed and course, gradually reducing over a specified distance. Two vessels on the same course can take a long time to change their direction and even though avoidance has been activated, a collision can still occur if not activated soon enough.

Captain Lewis entered the radio room in time to hear his radio operator trying desperately to raise the approaching vessel.

"This is the _SS Riviera_ to unidentified cutter, please respond, over... _SS Riviera to unidentified cutter, please respond, over!"_

Worried by the lack of response, the radio operator turned to his captain. "They're not responding, sir."

"Keep trying, Mr Cook."

"Aye, sir."

Captain Lewis hurried back to the bridge and peered at the speeding vessel, watching the safe distance between them swiftly closing. Scanning the approaching cutter with the telescope, Lewis' countenance turned to alarm, noticing the vessel's bridge was completely deserted. Bawling out an immediate order, _"Engines full ahead, rudder hard to starboard,"_ Lewis barked, fully aware the time had come to take action, attempting to avoid a horrific collision.

Spinning the wheel as fast as he could, the first mate then reached for the engine order telegraph and demanded full engine speed. With nothing more they could do, Lewis and the crew watched intently as the vessel began its emergency turn and hoped they had acted in time to avoid a collision. Well aware of his wealthy pampered passengers and the fact Lewis could be fired for the sudden turn, surviving the current drama and the safety of his ship was his first priority and he would contend with the passengers' moans later. As the _Riviera_ completed the panicked turn and sidestepped a fatal crash, the cutter maintained its speed and direction, narrowly missing the luxury passenger ship and continued on unperturbed and oblivious to the averted catastrophe.

Captain Lewis breathed a sigh of relief as the rogue ship sprinted along the Barrett Passage, knowing full well at its present tack it would come unstuck and tangle with the crushing jaws of the legendary Black Dean. _"Did anyone get a look at the vessel name?!"_ Lewis bellowed from the bridge door, his wild eyes still following the fading outline and the steam torrents billowing from the cutter's funnels.

"It looked something like _Bellious,_ sir, but we can't be sure."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 8

The weeks since Becky and Brett had announced their impending parenthood had flown by in a maze of frenzied activity, with the board of directors adding to the stress and testing Brett's mettle in the newspaper business. Elevating the young executive to acting editor and chief, keeping him busy with business development meetings and run of the mill problems that face a person in the boss' position, they'd known the exact date of Brett's boss' retirement. Watching Brett carefully to see whether he had what it took to fill the editor and chief's role, they were soon convinced of their choice and without notice, officially offered Brett the chief editor's job. With a smile and handshake, Brett signed the contract and by the time the ink had dried on the document, his salary had nearly tripled, while his young shoulders bent under the weight of a metropolitan newspaper.

Consumed by the responsibility of running a news corporation, Brett laboured from early morning to late at night, throwing himself into the job to prove the board had the right man; but even at home, he couldn't get away from the phone and people wanting his attention. Becky knew this was the break they'd been waiting for, with Brett making no secret of the load he would be expected to carry and the sacrifices they'd have to endure as a couple, forewarning Becky well in advance of the event. Even though she thought she was prepared and had expected Brett's continued absence from home, when it did arrive, she floundered with it. When he did eventually come home, he was exhausted and often went to bed straight after a meal and fell asleep almost immediately, leaving Becky to talk to herself.

*~*~*~*

The bedroom was dark and Becky was still asleep when Brett eased himself out of bed. He slipped into the bathroom, shaved, showered and dressed, preparing for another hectic day at the newspaper. Ready to leave, Brett gently bent over the woman of his dreams contentedly sleeping and lightly kissed her, trying not to wake her, but Becky stirred, forcing back a black lock from her eyes.

"Are you going already? What time is it?"

"It's 4:30, honey, and I have a locked solid schedule. I need to get there and get organised." Gently brushing her cheek with a tender finger, Brett noticed a worried frown and tried to reassure her with a whisper, "It won't be so hectic once I get a handle on the job, honey, I promise."

Becky smiled, climbed out of bed and gave him a kiss to start his day. "I love you and I am proud of you. Now go, Mr Boss Man," Becky played, reassured by Brett's solemn promise. "What about breakfast?!" she called as an afterthought, her words following him out the door.

"I'll get something at work," Brett's voice drifted back.

Before Brett had a chance to breathe, it was nearly midday and his early start had been consumed by nightshift production staff vying for a piece of Brett's time. Meetings were scheduled all morning, with board members and new clients interspersed with phone calls and people wanting decisions made. As the last scheduled meeting for the morning closed and all stakeholders dispersed, Brett was feeling hungry, having never had time to indulge in the breakfast he'd assured Becky he'd find.

Brett strode past his secretary on his way back to his office and when she prepared to recite a new set of appointments, Brett announced he was going out for some lunch and to reschedule any further meetings for later in the afternoon; but as he entered his office, Smiley was waiting for him.

"Smiley! How you doing?"

"Told you they would make you boss," Smiley thrust out his hand and offered his congratulations.

"Yes, you're still my numero uno if that is what you're here for."

"That's wonderful to know, Boss," Smiley broke into a huge grin.

"Listen, Smiley, I'm really hungry and I need to get out of here for an hour or so before the phone starts ringing again. Come and I'll buy you lunch."

Smiley's grin widened. _"Now you're talking, Boss!"_

By the time Brett pushed open the door to the small diner, the lunchtime crowd had dispersed, making it easy for he and Smiley to find a booth by the window at the furthest end of the restaurant. Shimmying into the wooden bench seats around a polished table and sitting at opposite sides, it wasn't long before a bored waitress hovered around, urging the two men to make a meal choice with her unexcited body language.

Ordering then handing the menu books to the waitress, Smiley offered a question. "So, what's it like to be boss?"

Brett took a moment to think before he answered. "To be honest, Smiley, I wasn't expecting it to be so full-on. Old Roley made it look so easy and he never got flustered or lost his cool."

Smiley laughed. "You obviously didn't see him chewing out old Downey."

"Really...?! Roley lost it with Downey?" Brett huffed incredulously and tried to visualise the scene.

"He sure did... you going to keep Downey?" Smiley's chuckle disappeared and instead, an intense but expectant reporter's gaze took its place.

"I don't know yet. I'll have to weigh it up against the rest of the news team."

"So, you _are_ going to do a shake up of the news team?!" Smiley's reaction indicated he thought he was onto something.

"Fishing for info, is that what this is all about?" Brett teased, but he knew Smiley was working up to something.

Smiley's grin returned. "Could be, Boss, could be."

"Off the record, you can tell your fellow snoops that they can expect some form of shake up. Other than that, no comment and you can quote me!" Brett paused for a few more moments, staring at Smiley, watching him hedging around something. "You might as well just come out with it. You've been skirting around a question since I first saw you in my office this morning."

Smiley grinned again. "You would've made a great snoop, Boss. Okay, it's this Contention Island thing."

Brett's eyes widened, remembering the assignment he'd set Smiley weeks ago, bringing back to his mind the things he'd forgotten about and should have followed up but had got lost in the hectic pace of the new job.

Smiley appeared vulnerable, his reputation at stake with his new boss. "I told you if there was anything to it I'd sniff it out, right? But I guess I'll have to admit it's beaten me. There are a lot of islands in contention and a lot of contentious islands, but nothing named Contention Island. So I guess my leads have all led nowhere."

Brett eyed Smiley for a long time, wondering whether he should make the reporter suffer before answering, but watching a myriad of concerned gestures flashing across his top newsman's features and with Smiley in turn trying to read his boss' expression, Brett decided to play it straight. "That's interesting, Smiley. Maybe I need to give you the limited information I have, but this is confidential and personal, so I want you to respect that."

"Sure, you know me, Boss," Smiley's grin returned, figuring he had a chance to redeem himself.

"My wife, Becky, suffers from recurring nightmares and these nightmares contain a woman named Katie and somehow she drifts in and out of Becky's subconsciousness, scaring the life out of her. Neither Becky, nor her mum, have any idea who Katie is, but the nightmares have been happening all her life. I suspect her mother knows something of the intensity and the atmosphere to the dreams, but not the purpose; and the nightmares seem at their worst when Katie visits a place called Contention Island. Oh, and she sees something in the sky above the waves which causes her great trauma, and in turn that somehow scares the life out of Becky. I secretly tried to question Becky's mum, but it has some kind of grip on her, too."

Smiley's eyes widened in shock, turning over Brett's revelation. "I don't mean to be offensive, Boss, but this sounds like a job for shrink, not a snoop."

"Yeah, I know it doesn't make a lot of sense, but if I could just get a clue, something to go on, I might be able to get to the bottom of it without all the psychology mumbo jumbo."

"O... kay! I'll do my best now I have more idea of what is going on, but you don't make it easy for a man, Brett."

"Numero uno... are you giving up the title?" Brett teased with a massive grin.

Smiley shook his head determinedly and peered past Brett for a moment, then spoke his swirling thoughts, "You know, Brett, when these tangled mysteries are unravelled, they can have devastating effects for those they are unravelled on. Sometimes things are better left alone."

Brett considered Smiley's words and then the contorted face of Becky suffering in the nightmares drifted into his memory. "Maybe you're right, Smiley, but I think I need to take a chance on this one."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 9

Moving all the salvageable equipment from the old bakery to a building just down the road, it had been a busy time for Mr Lieberman and Majiv. Their new premises had been donated rent-free for a year by a local businessman, incensed at the destruction of the Liebermans' Fine Cakes and Bread. The callous act had defied the culprits' intentions, uniting the neighbourhood in favour of the Liebermans, instead of the desired cultural division and expected forced eviction from the area. With the help of the local people, some of which Majiv had never seen before, the bakery reopened its doors in record time and was supplying fresh produce within a week. Warmed by the public effort to help the bakery succeed, Mr Lieberman offered his first day's trading for free, a gesture that cemented their presence within the community for many years to come.

"See, Majiv, not all people seek to destroy a righteous man, with our God having His eye on the good and bad alike. The people who thought they destroyed our business sought to run us over with their avalanche of hatred, but yet God brought good out of a greater avalanche of love."

Majiv considered the old man's words in his heart and filed them away for future reference.

*~*~*~*

Majiv yawned and dragged his tired feet up the stairs to his room. The days were extremely busy since the fire had destroyed their bakery and an increase in customers kept him at the business premises for fourteen hours a day now. He pulled out his chair from the small desk in his room and flopped down, but it took his eyes many long moments to focus on the elegant cup containing his pens and pencils. With faltering determination, he opened the small notebook, turned to the inside back cover and stared down at the blank page.

Reaching for his favourite pen, the cup collided with a tired hand, sending the contents tumbling to the floor. Annoyed at his clumsy fingers, he dropped off the chair and onto his knees and chased the contents until he had retrieved his precious collection and replaced them into their correct place safe in the cup. Finding his seat at the desk again, he reached for his favourite pen, careful not to repeat his folly and with a tired scrawl he wrote, ' _Hatred starts as a snowflake and ends as an avalanche.'_ Smiling down at the words and revitalised by the sight of the sentence, he flipped the notebook over and finding a clean new page, Majiv stared at the lined piece of paper, willing his tired mind to think. Hoping to gain inspiration with a small rest, he laid his head down across the desk for a moment, trying to tease his thoughts, however, a fuzzy world of exhaustion pulled its dark curtain across the teen's creativeness and his eyes slowly closed.

Disturbed by a gnawing pain in his neck, Majiv shifted his head and stiffly rubbed a tender spot, searching the darkness beyond the desk lamp. The old clock ticking from its pride of place above his bed chimed once, but the rest of the busy house was quiet with all of the activity strangely still. Mr and Mrs Lieberman's schedule was as regular as the old clock ticking in his room, with the final sounds of the day dying out at eleven o'clock each night, giving old Mr Lieberman four hours sleep after which he would come and wake Majiv and their busy cycle of work would start again.

Fumbling in the dark, Majiv located his pen that had fallen from his grip and replaced it back in its home then felt for his notebook, tenderly rubbed the blank page and whispered, "I'm sorry, Mum and Dad. I will try again tomorrow night." Closing the notebook, Majiv quietly slipped the chair back from the desk, stretched out his frame and found his bed, yet it seemed only minutes had passed when Mr Lieberman shook him from his dreams.

"Come, Majiv, the day has begun."

Sleepily plodding the half hour trek along the dark sidewalk and in the company of Mr Lieberman, the two lonely figures walked toward the bakery. He noticed the seasons were changing and the warm balmy mornings were giving way to a brisk chilling bite, painting a rosy bloom into his cheeks. The first signs of chill were a reminder that his seventeenth birthday was only days away and that brought a sense of joy to the teen. Birthdays in the Lieberman household were a lavish affair and the birthday recipient was treated like royalty and the celebrations started early. Business was suspended for the day and joyous noise emanated from the Lieberman home with many invited guests, music and dancing.

Everyone looked forward to a birthday celebration, even if it wasn't their own.

Mr Lieberman paused in front of the building proudly announcing in big letters above the door, _Lieberman's Bakery_ — _Fine Cakes and Bread._ Reaching into his coat pocket and finding his key, the lock gave way under the old man's hand and as he twisted the handle, the door slowly creaked ajar. Pushed by the old man, the door swung open and for the first time Majiv noticed a sign written in Mr Lieberman's handwriting, advertising the need for a junior shop assistant, pasted to the glass. He hadn't seen the sign before and suspected Mr Lieberman had posted it as he was leaving the night before.

Once Majiv finished his baking duties, he spent the rest of his time in the busy shop front helping serve customers, receiving many generous tips from admiring females, but true to Majiv's nature, he simply thanked each woman and placed the extra money in the till. Unwilling to consider the tip to be his own, Majiv struggled to understand why he was singled out for the particular attention and didn't believe himself to be anything special; although Mr Lieberman theorised cakes and bread weren't the only reason many of his customers made frequent visits to his shop. Now that business had boomed, Mr Lieberman could afford to return some of his good fortune back into the community by hiring a junior shop assistant and take some of the load off Majiv. Mr Lieberman knew the boy was tired, but Majiv had a thankful spirit and didn't complain, simply shouldering the responsibility placed upon his young frame and kept going.

The dark building soon burst into life as Mr Lieberman switched on the lights and closed the circuit breaker, bringing to life the bakery ovens and mixers. With the front door firmly relocked to the early morning sidewalk, the bakers' day had officially begun and there was plenty to do.

After the last customer had left the premises, Mr Lieberman collected the unsold items and placed them in a bag to take home, shut the shop and placed the _closed_ sign into the front window. Glancing sideways to his young apprentice, the telltale signs of fatigue hung heavily across his handsome face and once again the day had been hectic, leaving Majiv exhausted. Waiting with Mr Lieberman on the sidewalk as he locked the front door, Majiv noticed the _shop assistant wanted_ sign had been removed and a question formed in the young man's eyes.

As if the older man had read a script attached to Majiv's countenance, Mr Lieberman replied to the unspoken question. "We have a new helper, Majiv, and she will start on Monday. She is a sixteen year old local girl, offering us a chance to give back to the community by offering her work."

Majiv nodded. He wasn't sure of Mr Lieberman's plan, but an extra pair of hands would certainly take some of the pressure off him.

*~*~*~*

Marguerite stood in front of her mirror and pulled back the curly blonde hair hiding parts of her usually pretty face and examined the new bruise around her eye. The news wasn't welcome. After a clandestine night out, she'd managed to escape the gaze of her father by applying a heavy shield of makeup, but patting down her skirt over her stomach, she conceded hiding this would take more than makeup and it would only be a matter of time before her father noticed. Exhaling a long, nervous sigh, Marguerite was thankful winter was on its way, making concealment a viable possibility for at least a few more months and giving her time to plan her next move. She felt almost claustrophobic under the pressure of her father's obsessiveness and racial hatred, dreading the year ahead, and if she was going to survive to see her seventeenth birthday, she had to provide an opportunity for herself and leave home before he found out. Marguerite knew her father would search relentlessly for her and when he found her... she shuddered. Now at least she had a plan of sorts and the rest she would make up as she went.

*~*~*~*

Monday morning was just another normal day at the bakery. It was 7:45 am and the shop would open in fifteen minutes, so Majiv hurried to stack a large tray of hot bread into display shelves and searched the cabinets, checking all was neat and tidy before an expected influx of customers arrived just after 8 am. As Majiv returned to the back of the shop to gather another tray of cakes, he heard the bell on the shop door and Mr Lieberman's voice talking to someone.

"Majiv, come here, please!" Mr Lieberman called out.

Majiv obediently entered the shop front, only to be greeted by a young girl standing next to Mr Lieberman.

"Majiv, this is Marguerite."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 10

Captain Lewis quickly lost sight of the strange cutter that had almost collided with the _Riviera._ He made notes on times and positions into his log, fully intending to give the proper authorities a rundown of the events and to seek a full restitution for such a dangerous act, expecting at the very least the offending cutter captain would be stripped of his master's certificate. Lewis had a good part of the offending vessel's name, hoping local knowledge could fill in any discrepancies, identify the scoundrel and give the outraged Lewis some compensation for taking unnecessary avoidance action and putting the pampered gentry at risk of spilling their tea.

Captain Lewis glanced up at the sound of the first mate's voice. "Barrett Passage dead ahead, Captain."

Lewis left his furious thoughts and reached for his telescope, scouring the jagged rocky walls of the looming passage and observed the channel was clearly defined and visible at low tide, allowing a safe sojourn through the narrow route. A quick check of the chart identified Contention Island and the Barrett Passage; everything was exactly where it should be. Navigation notes suggested keeping the northern tip of Contention Island over the point of the bow and in so doing, establish the vessel's safe course in the centre of the waterway. A warning in bold black letters cautioned smaller vessels to steer away from the strong eddies of Black Dean and hug the rocky wall opposite.

"All ahead one third, Mr Cook. Steer the point of the bow to the northern tip of Contention Island!"

"Aye, sir!"

The vessel slowed as the luxury steamer picked its way through the Barrett Passage. Lewis could easily see how so many vessels would have come to grief attempting the passage at night or at high tide with the dangerous reef and canal nearly invisible. From the bridge, a gaping dark hole appeared across the channel as Lewis caught his first impressions of Black Dean. With the _Riviera_ passing close to the passage wall, Captain Lewis felt a cold shiver run up and down his spine as he peered into the dark, swirling mass—life and death separated by only a few metres. The seething water seemed almost like a restrained monster bucking against its tether, daring the vessel to come close enough for it to sink its fangs into and drag the floundering machine deep into its lair far beneath the turbulent waters, like it had done so many times in the past. Momentarily drifting under the pull of Black Dean as it crossed the edge of the whirlpool, the _Riviera_ slipped closer to the monster's charm, causing the mate to anxiously correct their course, pulling hard on the wheel and then pulling hard in the opposite direction once they cleared the swirling mass.

Lewis had now witnessed the legend of Black Dean personally and it didn't take much imagination to see how this eerie place could swallow up an unsuspecting or unprepared captain and his vessel.

*~*~*~*

"Lady Katrina, please! It won't take long for your father to realise you've taken up residence in my cabin. Although the accommodation is fine for someone of my social standing, it certainly is not befitting for someone of yours and your father will hold _me_ responsible."

"You can take my cabin, Tess, and all the trappings of a lady. I have had enough," Katrina sulked.

"Beg pardon, my lady, if I could change places with you, I would do so in a moment. You have no understanding of your privileged life and what great good your wealth could afford the lesser privileged people of the world."

Katrina stared up at Tess from the bunk she'd settled onto, realising Tess had just berated her for being a spoilt brat. "Do you want to trade places with me, Tess?" Katrina's stubborn jaw set.

"If I could, my lady, but as such a preposterous imagining is impossible, it is only correct for you to rise up to the challenge of your station yourself and prove yourself worthy of the life that many covet."

"What if I told you I am planning to leave the vessel and my father at the next port?" Katrina rolled off the bunk and onto her feet to give greater emphasis to her statement.

Tess stood with her mouth hanging open in shock, flabbergasted at her charge's confession. She met the eyes of Katrina and stuttered, "W..what?"

"I intend to give my father the slip and go in search of adventure wherever it leads me," Katrina danced around the room.

"My lady, this is a very unwise plan. These ports are full of men of bad intention and it would quickly slurry your reputation forever, beyond retrieval. Your father would disown you and your life would be difficult beyond your wildest imagining. Not to mention my predicament. I would never find work again as a lady-in-waiting," Tess exclaimed, horrified at the naive plan.

"I don't care! I have had enough of being a wallflower at my father's beckoning. I want to taste adventure and the scents of a new life," Katrina's eyes sparkled in a faraway fire.

"What if those scents turn out to be a vile smell, my lady?" Tess quickly retorted, trying to talk Katrina out of her latest endeavour at contemptuousness.

Katrina paused her dancing in mid twirl and glared directly at Tess. "I will not get into too much trouble, Tess. You will be there to guide me."

Tess was speechless, caught in a no-win situation. If she refused to go, Katrina would decline her continuing employment and she would be dismissed; but if she did go, the duke would hold her responsible and she would be dismissed with no letter of recommendation and then she wouldn't be able to find work ever again. If she tried to explain Katrina's plan to the duke, Katrina would deny it and the duke would dismiss her for an improper allegation against a lady. If she did go and Katrina got into trouble and was injured in any way, the law would most likely hold her responsible and put her in jail. Tess was in a real quandary and the spoilt young woman she had accompanied for so many years was about to ruin her own life and Tess' too, but good.

Katrina stared at Tess, amused, watching a myriad of emotions scroll across her face.

Angry about being backed into a corner, Tess came to her decision and spoke, hoping not to be accused of speaking out of turn. "My lady, if you are intent on ruining your life—and mine—then I have no choice but to try and keep you alive and from injury. You will see that the world is not a playground and that your father has less influence than you expect; and even if he is still willing, he will not be able to save you from your adventures."

Katrina's face dropped at Tess' speech. "Come on, Tess, don't be such a prude and a wet blanket. Nothing is going to happen to us and even if we do get into a situation, your assessment is wrong. Just the mention of my father's name and the fact that I am his daughter will release us from trouble... you will see." And with that reassurance, Katrina began to plan her escape from the _Riviera_ in detail.

With full knowledge of Katrina's scheme, Tess was nervous every time she entered into the duke's presence, expecting to be found out at any stage and dismissed, being put ashore without passage back home.

If the duke could lift his hand against his own daughter, what would he do to her?

*~*~*~*

Lewis' time in port was sculptured to a fine edge. Every moment was planned so the next port would fit neatly into the duke's timetable and his trade mission would reach as many of the country's gentry as possible, scheduling meetings with prominent people the whole time they were at anchor. The captain needed to take on fresh supplies, tend to the needs of passengers and his vessel, as well as keeping track of excursions ashore engaged by the wandering privileged and making sure no one was left behind. He also had a meeting with maritime authorities and was keen to keep his appointment, still seething at the cutter captain's lack of seamanship and wanting the dubious captain's master's certificate revoked, a fitting punishment for such a reckless act.

As the _Riviera_ sailed gracefully into port, a loud _blast_ from her foghorn announced their arrival and many coveting eyes watched the fine vessel dock, but such a fine vessel seemed out of place in the crowded workaday harbour. The luxury vessel's captain skilfully orchestrated their berthing between two cargo ships, while crew members ran around in organised chaos until the vessel had been safely tethered to the dock. Moments later, gangways were attached to the _Riviera_ in three places along the vessel's length, allowing the ambling gentry convenient access to solid ground.

While eager passengers strolled down the forward gangways in an excited mass, two slight and peculiarly dressed men stole off the aft access, carrying a bag each and hurriedly disappeared, unnoticed into the dockside rabble.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 11

Finding an uncluttered place kneeling beside his desk, Smiley's skinny fingers danced over his computer keyboard, the keys _clacking_ in time with the speed of his practised hands. Pausing and waiting expectantly for the computer to catch up, respond to his demands and open his email account, eventually the page launched, displaying a sea of unopened mail. Skimming a list of 5,000 new emails, combined with a sundry list of 10,000 _pending responses_ , Smiley conceded it was possibly time to clean out his files and allow the struggling machine some much needed breathing space.

Pushing a large pile of dirty washing—filed on the least cluttered chair and marked pending—onto the floor, Smiley sidled his lanky physique into the seat and dragged the chair up to the desk, skipping the chair along the floor with his legs to make the final adjustments against the table's frame. With the washing tangled around the chair leg and trapping his foot, Smiley conceded his apartment looked like a Chinese laundry after a bomb had gone off, making _another_ mental note: _clean up apartment... someday soon!_

Skimming a list of the latest emails, Smiley's interest lay with one particular epistle and it took some anxious searching to eventually find what he was looking for. Finally, the cursor settled over the coveted title: _World Survey of Lands and Titles_ with a portion of the message plainly visible in the subject line. _Hello, Smiley. In response to your enquiry..._ With a click of the mouse, the message struggled open and displayed in plain view.

Hello, Smiley.

In response to your enquiry, we have searched our extensive database and have come up with no cross matches to the name Contention Island. These types of names were popular in the sixteenth and seventeenth century with explorers who appeared to name land masses after a dilemma or a person of less than agreeable association. We have also checked fifteen languages in case the island had been named in another language.

As mentioned, the accuracy of our search is directly proportional to the donation you leave. If, however, you require any greater expansion to the depth of search, I direct your attention to the link of our website and in particular, to the donate button at the bottom of the page.

Thank you for using World Survey of Lands and Titles. I hope we can be of further assistance to you in the future.

Grumbling to himself and stabbing the _delete_ button with furious candour, Smiley had received exactly what he was expecting and wasted hard earned money into the bargain. Now he would have to do things the hard way if he was going to crack this riddle for Brett and start at grass roots, right back at the beginning. _So much for a quick answer!_

Scratching his head and fumbling for a place to start, Smiley pushed back the chair, almost losing his footing on a tangle of laundry, then stepping over items of dubious origin piled up in any available space, he meandered until he found a window and gazed out across the apartment complex's parking lot.

"So, what do I have so far?" Smiley whispered, following the ancient steps of the gardener wheeling an equally ancient wheelbarrow. "The name, Contention Island, which just didn't seem to exist. The woman in the dream named Katie... that narrows it down to about 50 million people...! Rebecca Redden, Brett's wife and Brett's mother-in-law, Emma Forest. And that about wraps up all the info I have," Smiley rubbed his hands over his head in frustration. "I _knew_ I should have listened to my mother and become a shrink instead of a snoop."

Finding the least bridled path back to his computer, Smiley absentmindedly typed _Emma Forest_ into a search engine, not expecting to find any relevant results to come up. A list of Emma Forests appeared, but checking down the list revealed nothing of significance. Then he typed in _Rebecca Redden_ and was led directly to Becky's Facebook page and her account was asking for a _friend's request_ before allowing him access. Feeling awkward and like he was trespassing, Smiley pushed the _escape_ key and backed out of the search engine altogether.

"This is going to be harder than I thought," Smiley mumbled to himself. "I need to get inside the courthouse and rat through the records on Emma Forest and Rebecca Redden. Maybe, just maybe, there's a clue in there somewhere to the history of these two ladies. Who do I know in the courthouse who owes me...? _Charlie Timms...! Come to papa!"_

Held against his ear, Smiley's smartphone rang insistently until a bored sounding woman answered, "Courthouse, how may I direct your call?"

"Yes, hello, I would like to speak to Charlie Timms, please."

"I am sorry, Mr Timms is unavailable at present. Please try again later," ...click.

Smiley eyes crossed in rage as he stared at the phone and the abruptly disconnected line, knowing the woman hadn't even tried to locate Charlie and had just brushed him off to get rid of him. _Well, if the guard dog won't put me through to Charlie, then I'm just going to have to bypass the guard dog and find Charlie myself!_

*~*~*~*

Rounding a corner into the courthouse, Smiley skipped the entry steps leading into the foyer, two at a time. As he entered reception, he peered across to a woman with a bored voice sitting behind a desk and answering the phone.

"I am sorry, Mr Morris isn't in. Please try again later," ...click.

Devising a tricky scheme to outfox the guard dog, Smiley suddenly recognised the person of interest escaping the building and walking directly toward him. Before Charlie Timms had time to recognise trouble in its keenest form and take evasive action, Smiley had him surrounded.

"Charlie, old friend."

Charlie panicked and looked for an escape route.

"Come on, Charlie, that's not nice, trying to run away from an old friend."

"That, I hope, is a loose description of our relationship, Smiley. Last time I heard you using that term directed at me, I nearly lost my job."

"Yeah, but I did take the rap for it and painted you as the hero."

"What do you want, Smiley? I have to be somewhere," Charlie complained impatiently.

"I need access to some files," Smiley replied expecting a _no_ answer.

"You know I'm not allowed to give you access to personal files with all the privacy laws."

"Come on, Charlie, you know those laws are a load of garbage, or do I have to call in a favour?"

Charlie appeared worried. Smiley's favours were even more costly than his friendship. "Look, I can get you into the library and after that, you are on your own. If you get caught, I don't know you, okay?"

"I won't get caught, Charlie."

"Yeah, that's what you said last time and it cost me three hundred bucks to bail you out... which reminds me... you haven't paid me back!"

Smiley reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "I've got five bucks and... three bucks in change."

Charlie knew money liked Smiley less than he did and tried everything possible to keep away from him. Taking the opportunity to regain even the smallest amount of money Smiley owed him, Charlie snatched the five dollar note out of Smiley's hand. "You can keep the coins!"

"That was my last fiver until payday, Charlie. I was going to buy my mother some flowers."

"You couldn't have a mother, Smiley!"

"Okay, take the money. How do I get into the library?" Smiley glanced around to see who was watching.

"Meet me back here in fifteen minutes and I will walk you in."

"Just like that, past the guard dog and all!"

"Just like that. But don't wait around here. Someone will get suspicious," Charlie warned.

The two men then separated and walked out of the courthouse as if they were going in different directions.

Smiley watched the courthouse from the coffee shop across the road and managed to talk the waitress into giving him a five dollar coffee for the three dollars in change he had left. Draining the remains of the liquid and placing the cup back on the table, Smiley soon recognised Charlie's stride returning along the sidewalk and made a move to join him. Eyeing the reporter suspiciously and disappointed he hadn't shaken Smiley off, Charlie walked up to the front of the courthouse with Smiley close on his heels.

"Most of the librarians are on a rostered day off today, therefore you'll be undisturbed if you stay inside the library and keep out of sight. The library is locked at 5pm, so you'll need to be finished by then. There's an emergency exit door at the back of the library that's self-locking from the inside and will offer you a perfect means of escape. It's alarmed when the library closes, so you can't use that door after five, understand?"

Smiley nodded. He was unsure whether all the instructions had sunk in but it was too late for a recap as Charlie began walking into the building and straight past the receptionist guard dog. Acting suspiciously by trying not to act suspiciously, the receptionist eyed Smiley, making him feel uncomfortable and certain she would call his bluff at any moment, pouncing on him, but she appeared to be too comfortable and seemed to be content to follow him with her eyes instead.

"Thanks, Charlie. I will strike off all the remaining favours you owe me for this."

"What remaining favours?!" Charlie huffed and pointed to the library door, then kept walking to another part of the building.

Smiley pushed the green opaque glass door open, clandestinely searching the rows of cabinets lined up in the large room for anyone who looked official. Convinced he was alone, he found a working computer sitting on a desk and quickly began searching the database. Figuring Emma Forest would be his best bet, Smiley's fingers flashed across the keyboard and the computer responded immediately, quickly identifying Emma Eileen Forest and gave a location for her file. He found a pen in his coat pocket and wrote the location on the back of his hand, but it took Smiley a while to work out the numbering system and after a frenzied search he located her cabinet. Probing through the myriad of F's, he eventually found what he was looking for. Withdrawing the file and quickly reading: _date of birth, date of marriage_ and then... he stopped, rereading the sentence again.

"Oh, man! This is not good. I bet Brett has no idea of this."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 12

Marguerite's first day had been quite enjoyable, interacting well with the customers after a shaky beginning when she had handed back too much change. Mr Lieberman noticed immediately the heavy makeup and the blackened eye she was trying to hide, just barely visible behind the painted mask. Feeling disturbed at the beginning, the old man watched Marguerite like a hawk, but by the end of the day, everyone had settled into their new routine.

Marguerite couldn't understand why some of the women customers were a little flippant with her and kept looking past the counter and out the back, but her understanding soon matured when she saw Majiv walk past and witnessed the unabashed flirting coming from women old enough to know better. At first, Marguerite hadn't noticed the shy and attractive Majiv, because she had enough to contend with at the moment and besides, she doubted he would be interested in soiled goods. A cold shiver ran up and down her back as she contemplated the meaning of her own thoughts.

Marguerite had been in love for the first time and Robbie had promised her the world, full of undying devotion. Feeling secure in his love, she had been seduced into giving him more than her heart and once he'd found out she was pregnant with his child, he had beaten her and told her to leave. Now she was in a great quandary, but she was certain of how her father would react to her pregnancy and the fact she was unmarried. She decided her only chance at survival for her and her baby was to simply vanish out of harm's way, with this bakery job her ticket to survival, doing whatever she needed to keep it.

*~*~*~*

The late afternoon air was heavy with winter's charm as the days grew shorter and when Mr Lieberman pulled the bakery door shut and locked it, the sun was already retiring to bed. With Marguerite, Majiv and Mr Lieberman standing on the sidewalk, Mr Lieberman asked Marguerite if she had a long way to travel to get home.

She stuttered at the question and it took her off guard. "U..uh, home... um, no, I just live d..down the block."

But she seemed uncertain about which way to go.

Stashing her suitcase in the alley beside the bakery before starting work, Marguerite was just waiting for the two men to leave before retrieving it, having no idea where she was going to stay the night and the prospect of living on the street frightened her. She was already cold and looked away, hoping the old man couldn't read the fear in her eyes.

Mr Lieberman spoke softly, suspecting what was taking place. "Why don't you go and fetch your suitcase, Marguerite, and follow us home. We have a spare bed in Katarzyna's room and I am sure she will not mind a roommate."

Marguerite stood openmouthed, staring at the old man. "H..how did you know?"

"You are trying to hide a black eye and you don't seem to know where your home is. I was suspicious and I had a look around and saw your suitcase in the alley and that confirmed it. I see the fear in your eyes, the fear I have seen many times when people are being brutalised by their authority figures and forced from their homes. Majiv, go and get Marguerite's suitcase from the alley so we can go home, please."

Majiv was at a loss to know what had just taken place, but he unquestioningly obeyed Mr Lieberman. The Liebermans were generous people and if it wasn't for them, he and Katarzyna would be destitute, struggling and living among the poor somewhere on the streets.

Marguerite ambled along, following the two men, Majiv carrying her suitcase. The paradox of the situation struck her silent, remembering how her father hated Jews and did whatever he could to destroy them. She'd been raised on a diet of racism and hatred, but when she was in trouble, the only one who took the time to even notice and offer her kindness was a Jew.

"I..I don't know how to thank you, Mr Lieberman. I was so frightened of sleeping on the streets and being alone," Marguerite stammered, offering the old man complete honesty.

Mr Lieberman paused and turned toward Marguerite. "Two thousand years ago, an innocent man was nailed to a cross, Marguerite. He was the only innocent man who ever lived and He died because of us. He was God's very own Son and took the punishment for my sin that I should have taken and in return, He asks me to be like Him and He tells me to love as He loved. If you must thank someone, then thank Him. His name is Jesus Christ."

Mr Lieberman turned back to his journey and continued walking, leaving Marguerite shocked and stunned into silence at the old man's frank faith confession.

The welcoming doorway to the Liebermans' apartment faced directly onto the sidewalk. It was a big solid door that bore the faded scars of the racist slogans etched deeply into its grainy surface many months before; and to one side, screwed solidly to the wall was a plaque that read, _Shalom._ Mr Lieberman placed the key in the door and unlocked it.

"Ima, we are home and we have a new guest," he announced.

Soon the little group of tired, cold and hungry people huddled inside the warm apartment, with Mrs Lieberman and Katarzyna quickly finding their way into the entry and excitedly welcoming Marguerite.

"How was your first day at the bakery, Marguerite? I hope my husband was not too tough on you."

Marguerite was immediately drawn to the warmth of the old lady and her motherly welcome. The two old people obviously had talked at length about their new member of staff and she knew all about Marguerite and treated her like she was family, not an employee.

"He was very patient with me, thank you," she returned shyly.

"Marguerite will be staying with us and she will have the spare bed in your room, Katarzyna," Mr Lieberman explained.

Katie's eyes lit up in excitement. The thought of an older sister figure was a welcome gesture. "Come upstairs and see your room," Katie took hold of Marguerite's hand. "My name is Katarzyna, but everyone calls me Katie."

Mrs Lieberman called after the two girls, "Dinner is nearly ready, Katarzyna. Marguerite will be tired and ready to eat. Don't take too long."

"Yes, Ima _,"_ Katie replied respectfully.

Mrs Lieberman hugged Majiv. "Go and wash for dinner, Majiv. I can see Marguerite has taken some of your workload. You don't look so tired."

Majiv nodded. He was keen to eat and spend some time with his notebook, adding to the pages he had already written for his parents.

By the time the five people gathered around the table, Mr and Mrs Lieberman had spent time together discussing Marguerite's plight and her need for a home.

The scents of real home cooking were making Marguerite's stomach growl, realising it had been a long time since she'd had a meal cooked by someone resembling a mother figure. Mr Lieberman bowed his head and the other members followed his lead, leaving Marguerite unsure what was happening but she followed the example set, having never seen this before. Speaking in a foreign tongue, Marguerite couldn't understand the old man's words, but then he interpreted the thanksgiving prayer for her benefit. Once the meal began in earnest and food receptors zigzagged across the table with hungry family members taking a share, the conversation and hilarity increased as stomachs were warmed and filled by Ima's hard work.

The talk at the table abruptly quieted when Marguerite's puzzled expression turned to Katie and asked a question. "Katie, you called Mrs Lieberman _Ima_. What does that mean?"

Katie's expression immediately broke into a delighted smile. "It means mother."

Mrs Lieberman beamed from across the table, offering her own suggestion. "You can call me Ima, too, if you like, Marguerite."

Marguerite attempted an embarrassed smile that spoke of a distant heartache, staring at her plate for comfort and not intending for her actions to be interpreted for its true meaning. Although Katie and Majiv had missed Marguerite's pain-filled expression, the Lieberman's intercepted its intent and figured Marguerite's family life had been anything but pleasant.

"Thank you," Marguerite mumbled, but it had been many years since her mother had died and she hadn't used that special term of anyone since.

*~*~*~*

Marguerite quickly settled into her warm, comfortable bed while Katie chattered away in the darkened room until she fell silent. Her slow, rhythmic breathing told Marguerite that Katie was asleep and in the quiet, she heard her own troubled heartbeat until outside, the wind picked up and it made an eerie shrill as it rattled the second-floor bedroom window. Marguerite shivered and pulled the comforter over her face, realising if it wasn't for the kindness of the Liebermans, she would be out in the winter gale, tired and hungry, trying to shelter against the cold and vulnerable to every passing threat. But now she was safe, fed, warm and secure in a bed of her own, all at the kindness of people her father had taught her to hate. Her eyes became heavy and her body began to succumb to the need for rest. As sleep twisted itself around her consciousness and drew her in, she wondered how the old man had seen to the heart of her need and responded in an act of pure unselfish kindness.

A small renegade tear slipped from her eye and ran down the side of her face.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 13

Magellan Desapo tiredly stretched his heavy frame across the compartment's bench seat, staring discontentedly at the countryside slowly ambling by his window. The constant rocking and _clickety clack_ of train wheels had almost driven him from his senses but thankfully, the three day trip to the coastal port town of Lightning Harbour, a journey that'd taken him clear across the continent, was nearly through. Desapo much preferred to journey by sea, but the town's gentry required his attention and his services urgently, leaving the train his only viable choice and the quickest means to respond.

Stonemason by trade and bad boy by default, Desapo took on only the most difficult jobs, building impossible structures in the cusp of inaccessible places and charging a fee to match. His team had an unchallenged reputation for speed and accuracy in stone structures and it was claimed that Desapo could cut stone so flat that a cigarette paper could not be inserted between the joint in two blocks.

Normally, his services were in great demand, but the sudden stock market crash of '29 left him with a book of cancelled jobs and his current four year bridge project was coming to a rapid conclusion. Needing to chase projects to keep his core of specialist stonemasons in work and together, Desapo tried to stay ahead of his competition and if that meant three teeth-gritting days on a _train,_ he was prepared to make the sacrifice, otherwise his expert team would fracture, searching for employment elsewhere. At this point in history, he was desperate for any job that would keep him going through the predicted tough years ahead.

A conductor walking through the carriage distracted Desapo's sternly unamused and staring features, bringing the anticipated and much coveted news of the journey's end with a shouting announcement.

" _Lightning Harbour, end of the line, prepare to disembark!"_

As if confirming the conductor's bawl, the engine driver pulled on a cord, directing a sudden burst of steam into the throat of the train's whistle, giving voice to a deep, lonesome drawl and announcing their arrival into Lightning Harbour. Slowly the train began to shed speed, hissing violently as pent up steam pressure inside the boiler harmlessly found release onto the greasy track boards below while squealing locomotive brakes completed the long calculated crawl into the station.

A playful breeze blew the steam clouds over the covered station as the engine passed through, blanketing the platform and a crowd of waiting bystanders in a swirling mass of hot water vapour. Squinting eyes and screwed up facial features were an expected hazard in the region of steam trains, while ladies could be seen all around holding onto their hats and turning their backs against the impetuous clouds in a fruitless attempt to shelter one's finery.

The locomotive eventually drew to a comprehensive stop with a cascading _judder_ , jolting noisily through each carriage's connection to the next as the engine's intention to discontinue registered through the train like a rippling wave into a millpond. With the long snaking vehicle brought to an exacting halt, passengers were assured of covered access to the waiting town of Lightning Harbour.

Desapo immediately grabbed for the compartment exit handle and alighted onto the station platform, a welcome relief after such a long irksome journey. Scanning the busy area for someone who might represent the gentlemen who had summoned him, Desapo scoured the likely contenders for a period of time, then decided to collect his luggage and return afterward to locate the tardy host. Standing by his baggage, the platform was nearly deserted when Desapo was approached by a small man in a business suit, obviously running very late.

"Mr Desapo, I presume. Apologies for my tardiness. I am Wallis Pike and behalf of the town's business fraternity, welcome to Lightning Harbour," glancing up to the towering man, Pike felt a little intimidated.

"The last man who made me wait like this ended up in a cement kibble and became part of a bridge footing," Desapo's baritone threat boomed over the deserted platform.

Desapo's unflinching and expressionless face made Pike nervous, but he continued to hold out his hand in greeting, unsure whether Desapo was serious or just trying to make him squirm. However, Pike nearly doubled over when Desapo's big hand squeezed his offering into a vice, now certain of his intention to punish his lateness. Red faced and suffering under the grasp, Pike whispered, trying not to show his pain, "Mr Krueger is waiting for us at your accommodation."

"Lead on, Mr Pike," Desapo commanded.

The only thing that slightly impressed Desapo about Pike was the new _Cadillac Sixteen_ Pike was driving. The white-walled tyres and spoke rims all added to the prestige of the shining vehicle with two large chrome frog-eye headlights completing the look. All it would take for Desapo to be totally at home was Al Capone and his Tommy gun toting gangsters to ride in the back.

Rolling to a stop at the front of the Lightning Strike Hotel, Pike grimaced and hoped the disgruntled Desapo hadn't taken exception to the company's chosen accommodation. It was a rough looking place in a rough looking neighbourhood, but he figured the towering Desapo could take care of himself.

Pike struggled under the weight of Desapo's luggage, almost dragging the case into the small foyer and then on to Desapo's room. Already signed in before Desapo arrived, Krueger and a contingent of gentlemen were waiting in a small conference room to the side for Desapo's appearance. Under the glare of his boss, Pike tried to steer Desapo directly to the waiting luminaries, but Desapo wanted to freshen up before meeting the men and overrode Pike with a contentious bawl.

"They've waited three days, Mr Pike. Another half hour won't kill them," Desapo chided.

Pike could see he wasn't getting anywhere with the big man, so he waited patiently for Desapo to gather himself and bowed to his time schedule, considering the waiting gentry were also suffering Desapo's convenience and that he'd been accustomed to keeping _important people_ waiting.

Finally, Desapo conceded he'd wasted enough of their time and availed himself to a meeting... Pike would never keep Desapo waiting again. Turning to Pike and waving him on with a careless gesture, Desapo quipped, "If they have issue with me being late, _you_ can explain it!"

Pike swung open the tired door to a struggling conference room and as if announcing royalty, Desapo strode into the presence of the waiting gentlemen. Magellan Desapo was introduced to a dozen businessmen, however, Desapo's mind had no space for names in his practical head and he promptly forgot them, not bothering with names or titles. Present were representatives from local government, the merchant traders' association and many other businesses that had an interest in the maritime industry, hanging on every word Desapo spoke.

After a quick calculating scan of the room, Desapo's eyes rested on a wiry gentleman dressed in a grey suit, with black, curly hair and a face severely pockmarked. The man was trying to keep to the back of the group and blend in, but Desapo's calculating gaze had been alerted, searching the annals of his memory. Somewhere, this unusual face had made a statement in a forgotten part of Desapo's history, but his memory wasn't cooperating.

Pike saw the interplay between the two men and stepped in to make an introduction. "Mr Desapo, this is Mr Fabian Van den Guys."

Desapo glared at Van den Guys, his mind puzzling at the stubborn piece of jigsaw breathing and fidgeting before him.

" _Captain_ ," Van den Guys insisted.

" _Pardon me?_ " Desapo retorted, his demeanour still struggling with the puzzle.

" _Captain_ Fabian Van den Guys. I own several ships that work the local trade route."

Van den Guys and Desapo turned from their interplay as Pike called the meeting to order, and it was obvious from Desapo's demeanour he hadn't recognised the pocked-faced character, yet Van den Guys was on edge. Desapo would remember soon enough and he intended to be long gone before that occurred.

"Gentlemen, as you know, all those represented here have a vested interest in this meeting. It has taken me many months of work to gather this group together and hopefully we can, with the help of Mr Desapo, open up Lightning Harbour for shipping traffic at all times of the day and night. All those present know that the Barrett Channel cuts a significant amount of time off our voyages, and costs related to doing business in Lightning Harbour. However, darkness, high tide and of course, Black Dean constitutes considerable risk to our vessels and inhibits traffic in and out of Lightning Harbour. A situation we hope to reverse. It is therefore our combined desire to construct a lighthouse over Black Dean and open up a navigable route at all hours of the day and night, allowing us greater trade into our important port and conquer Black Dean once and for all."

A constricted murmur struggled through the small group at Pike's open confession, but Desapo couldn't take his eyes off Van den Guys. The jigsaw piece was irritating him noticeably and even more so as a stricken expression crossed Van den Guys' features at Pike's speech. He was trying to hold an expressionless face to the world, but something wasn't sitting right.

Pike's squeaky voice continued on after he'd given the gentry time to ask questions, but as all conversation ceased, he moved to end the consultation. "We will take Mr Desapo out to Black Dean tomorrow for his expert appraisal and to give us a cost estimate. Then we can form an association to share the burden of the expense and the rewards."

With that, Pike closed the official meeting and Desapo was immediately swamped with enquiries. He tried to keep an eye on Van den Guys, but he slipped out before Desapo could block his escape and get to the bottom of the nagging mystery.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 14

After pausing several times to ask for directions, Captain Lewis strode with a determined gait up a tidy path and into the _Lightning Harbour Office of_ _the National Shipping Board_. He had but a short window of opportunity before he would be needed back aboard the _Riviera_ and with his hurried and nervous attitude, the sweat began to bead on his brow. Red faced and short of breath, Lewis stood over a harassed receptionist, adding an impudent cough to beckon her attention, giving the impression he was an important man in a hurry.

"Yes, how may I help you?" the receptionist asked, noticing the uniform and hoping his enquiry wouldn't consume much more of her precious time.

Lewis took a moment to organise his thoughts before announcing his business. "I have an appointment with the legislative commander," Lewis peered down his nose at the woman.

"Your name, please?"

"Captain Jonathon Lewis, _SS Riviera_. The commander is expecting me."

Swivelling in her chair, the dainty receptionist unravelled her small frame and walked toward a closed door. Listening, with her ear inclined to the door for a few seconds before she attempted to disturb the busy commander and once satisfied he was unencumbered with an important issue, she then rapped several times before entering, making sure she closed the door behind her. Moments later, the door reopened and the same woman reappeared, beckoning Lewis to enter the commander's office.

"The commander will see you now, Captain Lewis," the curt voice demanded.

"Thank you," Lewis replied, squeezing past the small woman and into the room behind, while the keeper of the commander's door returned the barrier to its closed position and found her train of thought before Lewis had interrupted.

"Captain Lewis, Provincial Legislative Commander Robert Draper," Draper held out his hand in greeting. "How can I be of assistance, sir?" he asked, pointing to a chair for Lewis to sit in.

Lewis spent the next half hour outlining the story surrounding his ordeal, pausing frequently to add gravity to his annoyance. The commander's face contorted in all the right places, establishing an official air of piety to this scandalous act while Lewis explained in great detail, as if he was making a statement to a traffic cop, all the steps he had taken to obey maritime law and avert a potential tragedy. He emphasised the scope of dignitaries assigned to his care as the _Riviera's_ captain and the blatant disregard the cutter captain had for the lives of all aboard the _Riviera._

The commander leaned back in his chair as if he was coming to a decision. "This constitutes a gross violation of basic maritime practices. The captain, if known, would be liable to prosecution in a maritime court of law and have his master's certificate removed!"

Lewis' eyes sparkled, for retribution would be sweet and this cutter captain would never tangle with Jonathon Lewis again. However, his daydreaming was soon interrupted by the commander's voice, breaking into his vengeful thoughts.

"Do you have a name, sir?!" the commander repeated.

"I have not been able to identify the culprit, but my crew captured part of the cutter's designation as it came close. It was something like _Bellious._ "

The commander abruptly and violently slid his chair back, making a hollow scraping noise on the wooden floor and shocking Lewis by the move. With his mouth hanging open and glaring down at Lewis, the commander's incredulous demand added a new dimension of surprise to the Riviera's captain.

"Are you aiming to tell me the cutter's name is _Rebellious_?" Draper's jowls fluttered like a snoring bull dog.

Lewis' face showed all the signs of contempt as he returned the commander's glare towering from a position standing over him. "My crew saw only part of the name, sir, and that was considered to be by the majority of observers, _Bellious._ I cannot tell you the complete name, but perhaps _Rebellious_ would suit the cutter captain's actions."

Bewildered, but not convinced by the captain's account, the commander flopped back into his chair, his well padded face alight with indignation and intrigue as he tried coming to terms with the captain's statement and his possible reasoning for making it.

Then in a low, flat monotone, Draper attempted to convey the seriousness of Lewis' charge and peered across his desk with accusing eyes. "Captain Lewis, _Rebellious_ has been missing now for three months. She was overdue in port and when she didn't show altogether, everyone believed she had fallen afoul of Black Dean."

Watching for Lewis' reaction, Draper studied the _Riviera's_ captain, searching for signs of treachery, but Lewis' confused expression shot holes in the credence to his claim, conceding the commander was now considering him a prankster or a lunatic. Abruptly the table had turned and now the suspicion fell on Lewis, leaving the cutter captain as a shadowy phantom in Draper's mind and Lewis' reputation called into question among the very authority figure's good opinion he sort to gain.

"Do you still mean to tell me, Captain Lewis, you have sighted this cutter and in fact, have nearly had a collision with her?" Draper glared, giving Lewis a chance to change his story and trap himself.

Lewis' moment of grandeur had quickly evaporated and turned into pandemonium. Instead of being the injured party, the commander appeared to be making him out to be the villain. "My crew observed everything and they were the ones who saw the cutter's name. Ask them," Lewis replied defensively, trying to deflect the suspicion on to his crew.

*~*~*~*

Lewis' head ached as he stood on the bridge of the _Riviera_ considering the morning's business with the commander. The interview had gone horribly wrong and now the whole affair would be documented, leaving a black mark of suspicion over his squeaky clean record. Lewis chided himself for letting things get out of hand and tried to prevent a stain against his impeccable record by withdrawing the charge. But the commander, understanding the vessel was about to leave port, immediately set about to interview the crew and get to the bottom of the incredulous claim. With the ship's company validating their captain's testimony, Draper was drawn deeper into the official mystery and he warned Lewis at a future date both he and his team would be required to testify before a maritime court. With a tense knot biting aggressively at his stomach walls, Lewis found it difficult to concentrate on the ship's routine.

After the day's fiasco, Lewis tried to shake off the bizarre encounter and re-engage on the vessel's tight schedule to leave Lightning Harbour, having been confined to port for nearly eighteen hours. To make things worse, the unimpressed duke ranted and raved about being behind time, threatening Lewis with dismissal and adding to the captain's burgeoning workload. He hadn't had time to check the passenger list or confirm whether the necessary supplies had come aboard, and relied entirely on his first mate to accomplish these tasks efficiently. With the mooring lines still attached to the dock and glancing at the bridge clock, Lewis' stress was reaching dangerous levels, realising the time had already registered 1700, with an hour's steaming time still ahead and Barrett Passage and Black Dean laying in wait.

Lewis exploded. _"Why haven't we left yet?!"_

The ship's company hustled under their captain's temper, with the gangways quickly pushed clear and the rear securing lines hurriedly thrown off. As the last tether dropped clear of the bow bollard, the _Riviera_ floated free, sounding its horn and turning her bow for the open sea while cautiously heading out of Lightning Harbour.

Once the harbour heads had been breached and the open swells aggressively rocked the vessel, Lewis ordered _all ahead full,_ with the _Riviera_ shuddering until her hull adjusted to full power and then settled into a brisk pace. About to boil over again, Lewis flounced toward the chart table, scanning the maps laid out and only now did he have time to study the dilemma he had been forced into. High tide would reach its peak at 1900 and it would be a nine foot surge, unusually high water for these parts. That meant the run in had already turned from its lowest point and was fast heading toward its top. Sunset was determined for 1750, adding another dimension of worry while at the current rate, the Barrett Passage would quickly become dark, invisible and impassable; but delaying their journey another twelve hours was out of the question, while they waited for daylight and low tide to come around again. Lewis worried, with such a big tide it may already be too late and with no local knowledge to guide him, he had no way of knowing. Tussling with turning back, Lewis could feel the hot, seething ire of the duke breathing down his neck, singeing his hair with a burning tirade and prompting a decision.

Black Dean was the lesser of the two evils.

*~*~*~*

The duke had been busy in a constant round of business meetings with the gentry of Lightning Harbour, but he'd declined their dinner invitations. Even though these people claimed to be cut from the same genteel fabric, the duke did not consider them of the same standing. Accepting an invitation to dine with this type was akin to eating with barnyard animals and he was glad to be underway, after giving Captain Lewis a piece of his mind and mildly explaining Lewis' tardiness.

The duke's relaxed thoughts turned to Katrina, realising he hadn't seen her since she'd forced him to slap some ladylike sense back into her young foolish head and true to form, she would be sulking somewhere in her cabin. The duke, bored with the company gathering in the VIP lounge, decided to visit the lodgings of his daughter and put an end to her childish behaviour. Outside an elegant passageway window, the late afternoon sun painted the ocean a winsome red-blue, and with the duke pleased by the results of his dealings in Lightning Harbour, a jovial mood played with his mind and he almost smiled.

Arriving at Katrina's cabin, he attempted to enter but it was locked. _"Katrina, stop this childishness and let me in!"_

No answer.

" _If you intend to disobey me further, I will have the purser open this door and there will be more than a slap to contend with!"_

The duke's jovial mood quickly evaporated and turned to rage. _"Have it your way, young lady!"_ Gruffly, he spun on his heels and flounced down the passage, intent on seeking out the purser's key and restoring order... his way.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 15

"K-atie...! K-atie...! It's almost time. You know who this is, don't you?" a familiar whispered timbre echoed into her imagining, drawing a contented giggle as she danced up and down the stairs of her protected home.

Until another muffled tone tickled her ears, singing a song of joy over her and playing a delighted tune on her heartstrings. "K-atie...! I love y-o-u."

The whisper twisted around contentment's spiralling staircase and disappeared into the safe reaching space above her head, mingling with the constant whir of machinery and protected from the storm's roaring gale. But then... another sound interrupts. A sound she doesn't recognise and it's calling from the door... the only door... an impenetrable door.

The falter of a footstep echoes on the hard concrete surface, crushing the sand under his creeping advance... _C-L-I-C-K..._ The echo reverberates in the quiet, even above the machinery hum, forcing the assailant to pause and wait for a response before taking another calculated step.

The interruption elongates and hammers the walls of the structure, chilling Katie's skin and making her heart race. Katie's breath catches in her throat... _No one else is supposed to be in here!_

"Who's there? **PLEASE ANSWER ME! I AM FRIGHTENED!**... _frightened_... frightened..."

The echo of her own voice mocks her, bouncing off the cavernous space above her head, competing with the wind's squalling howl and the incessant mechanical drone... but does nothing to displace her fear. The unexpected scent of saltwater and dank air fills the dark, protected chamber, but there is someone else here invading her solitude, someone who is _not_ familiar. She can feel it, but who are they and where are the happy voices?

" **HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?!"** her voice demands, verging on hysteria and echoes helplessly in the quiet.

Whoever it is can smell her fear... but they don't care.

Crashing and wrenching, her dark chamber _explodes_ into blinding light, filling the doorway with hideous cat-like eyes boring into her very soul.

Fear.

Pain.

Terrible pain.

Her throat unleashes a chilling... **S-C-R-E-A-M!**

*~*~*~*

"Becky...! Becky...! Wake up!"

Becky's confused mind and crazed eyes crashed open, pained by the bedroom light and cowering before an unseen fiend about to engulf her sanity. Watching the parade of horror dancing across Becky's eyes, Brett pulled her close to his chest, soothing away the trauma and fighting the claws of the nightmare, struggling to remove each grasping talon. Beside herself in fright and with her heart hammering wildly, Becky's feverish body trembled from the exertion, but no words would come and all Becky could do was whimper in Brett's safe arms.

The dream, more intense than usual, had exploded Brett out of a deep sleep when Becky's scream filled the dark room, leaving Brett frantically searching for the culprit, however, this foe was a unseen enemy, a coward lurking in the fear of an innocent woman. If he'd been real, Brett would have dispatched him cleanly, but this enemy didn't play fairly or by the rules. It had been almost three months since Becky's last venture into Katie's world, and after accepting the doctor's advice, Brett had supposed that the pregnancy hormones had been the culprit for the latest attack. Rocking Becky gently, the presence of his strong arms brought immediate comfort, slowly chasing away the fear and drawing her back into a safe world.

Protected in her husband's arms, Becky lay still and mentally checked around each dark corner of her memory. "It was horrible!" Becky's raspy whisper croaked into the silence, with her face pressed against Brett's chest.

Lifting her face and gazing into her eyes, Brett probed, "Can you tell me about it, honey?"

Becky's eyes filled with tears and she buried her face in her husband's night shirt, shaking her head. "I can't go there again just now," her bewildered, muffled voice appeared strangely vulnerable, like a frightened child.

*~*~*~*

Set on silent and gagged, but still switched on, Brett's cell phone flashed and vibrated on the bedside table, using all of its allowable character traits to draw muted attention to an incoming call. After Becky's nightmare, Brett dozed on and off throughout the remainder of the night, but something had disturbed the uneasy calm and he searched the room, tired and disorientated. The bedside lamp glowed with its protective yellow light, reflected by the lampshade onto the wall and ceiling against the intruding sunlight. Panicking and thinking he was running late for work, Brett grabbed at his watch but then realised it was the weekend, allowing himself a rare break from the busyness of his newspaper world. Settling back with a relieved sigh, he reached for the indignant phone, thinking the weekend edition was experiencing difficulties and at the same time, gently clicked off the bedside lamp. Expecting to deal with newspaper business and not wanting to wake Becky, Brett tiredly strolled out of the sunlit bedroom and into the kitchen, trying to clear his mind.

"Hello. Brett Redden."

"G'day, Boss," a happy and familiar voice greeted Brett's ear.

"Smiley, don't you ever sleep?" Brett teased, clearing an exhausted croak from his throat.

"A great snoop never sleeps, Boss," Smiley's exuberance at this time of the morning seemed almost unnatural.

"What've you got for me?" Brett probed, thinking Smiley may have stumbled on a breaking news story and from the perky sounds, he'd been up for some time.

"Arr... you may not like what I have found, Brett. I've checked the source through a number of avenues and the report is reliable, but this piece of information is likely to bring more strife into your life. I can just forget it and destroy the record if you would prefer, and life can go on as normal."

Brett's imagination was running wild. _What had Smiley found?_ "I'm afraid life isn't normal at the moment, Smiley. If the report you're referring to has something to do with Becky's dreams, she had another nightmare last night and they seem to be getting worse."

Smiley was quiet for a moment. "I don't know how much of a clue this will be to the nightmares, but it may be a discussion starter to shake down other clues."

"You're talking around in circles, Smiley. Just tell me what you have!"

"Tell you what, Boss, you take me for lunch on Monday, giving you a couple of days to think, work out whether you can afford a major disruption to your lives at the moment and _I'll get a free meal._ "

Brett sighed with frustration at Smiley's procrastination and Smiley could sense it.

"Trust me, Boss. You might thank me later."

Brett sighed again, figuring Smiley wasn't going to move on his conditions. "Okay, Smiley, you win. Lunch on Monday."

Brett ended the call and was about to make himself a cup of coffee to ponder Smiley's strange riddle, when Becky's voice startled him from behind.

"Was that Smiley?"

Brett spun on his heels to meet her voice. "Arr... yes, he was just updating me on some information I asked for. How are you feeling, honey?"

"Exhausted!"

"I was just about to make a coffee. Want one?"

"Mmm, that would be great, honey," Becky whispered, reaching up to kiss her husband before flopping down tiredly into a kitchen chair. Attempting to lower her head to the table and rest on her arms, her dressing gown tangled around the chair's legs and stifled the action. Pulling the fabric free with a tug, she lowered her head for a brief rest until the sweet smell of hot coffee enticed her back into a sitting position.

Brett dragged another kitchen chair up beside his wife and rubbed her back while Becky took a sip from her coffee. Feeling slightly revitalised as the hot liquid warmed her stomach and the muscles in her back began to relax at Brett's tender touch, she knew he was patiently waiting for an account of her latest dream. With her head resting on her palms and her elbows supported by the table's wooden strength, she drew in a breath and then exhaled heavily.

"I have no idea where Katie was this time," Becky began.

Brett listened, hesitant at making her relive the fear, but waited for her to gather her thoughts.

"I think she was in some type of empty structure and it was dark. Katie was alone, but someone was lurking in the... in the... background somehow. I could smell a dank, salty smell, like sea air shut up in a room. Then the structure broke open somehow and flooded with light and those... those... _eyes_ ," Becky shuddered.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I'm here and you're safe," Brett rubbed her back reassuringly.

Becky's expression glazed over in fright as she stared through the kitchen window, remembering Katie's haunting scream and the terror of her tormentor's unnatural eyes.

Becky seemed to reconnect with reality and then turned to smile at her man. "Katie screamed and then that's when you woke me. I'd be lost without you, Brett," she pulled in close to her husband, thankful for his wise and gentle ways and the escape he offered from the harrowing nightmares.

*~*~*~*

While Becky napped and tried to catch up on her sleep, Brett took a seat in their tiny lounge room, tussling with Smiley's riddle and Becky's intensifying dreams. The new episode to Katie's nightmare adventures was either a step up in potency, or Katie was taking Becky in another direction; but whatever was happening to the strange woman in the dream, somehow Becky was living it as well and it was concerning Brett.

Was Katie trying to destroy Becky's mind?

Helpless to intervene and strongly desiring to put an end to Katie's visits, Brett found a new determination flooding his veins. Whatever Smiley had found might be a key, but he couldn't take Smiley's warning lightly, weighing up the cost against Becky's sanity and the awful enduring nightmares. He decided to explore Smiley's findings alone at first, and if need be he would shelter Becky from any destructive revelation, and when he was sure there was a firm positive lead to rid themselves of Katie, then he would bring Becky into the situation.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 16

Draper's Chrysler drifted to a stop in the courtyard car park of Krueger's sprawling mansion and as he gazed at the opulent building, a valet met him at his door and opened it with the intention of parking his vehicle in the space allocated to visitors and complying with the staunch rules of Krueger's estate. Escorted to the luxurious main entrance, a bell sounded in the foyer alerting the butler to the presence of a visitor. Met by a toffy nosed attendant in suit and tails, Draper scornfully glanced up and down the man and then announced with as much pomp as his gaudy background could offer.

"Provincial Legislative Commander Robert Draper of the National Shipping Board to see Mr Krueger."

"Yes, sir; this way, sir," the butler led Draper into a cavernous foyer and then into an impressive library. "Please wait here, sir, and I will announce your arrival."

Draper traced the library's grandeur with a coveting eye and wondered what it would be like to have this kind of wealth, until moments later, Krueger strode into the library.

"Commander, what do I owe for this unannounced and hopefully welcome visit?"

The two men shook hands and Krueger motioned for Draper to sit in a very royal looking lounge chair. Opposite and facing Draper, Krueger lowered himself into another lavish armchair with Draper staring at Krueger, deliberately extending the silence and hoping to study the man's demeanour, searching for signs of duplicity.

"I had a Captain Jonathan Lewis in my office yesterday."

Krueger shifted in his seat, unimpressed and waited through another extended pause for Draper's punch line, becoming annoyed at the obvious game. "I don't follow your line of thought, Mr Draper. Is Captain Lewis supposed to mean something to me?"

Draper scrutinised Krueger carefully for his reaction and withheld his next piece of information just long enough to build an observable suspense. "Captain Lewis _claimed_ that he had had a near collision with a cutter entering the Barrett Passage two days ago. Allegedly, the cutter almost rammed his vessel, forcing the man to take evasive action and avoid a collision."

Krueger huffed, becoming tired of Draper's game. "Surely this is your business, Commander. I don't see how I am connected..."

"The vessel's name wasn't completely visible, but Lewis is determined, and his crew back him, that the name of the cutter he had to avoid was none other than _Rebellious._ "

Krueger jumped to his feet, his mouth hanging open. _"I don't think this is amusing, sir! Rebellious has been missing for three months and if you have information on how I can recover my property, you had better be forthcoming!"_

"I've given you all the information I have, sir. I was interested to ascertain whether you could furnish _me_ with any further detail," Draper's accusing jowls slapped in a frenzied flutter.

" _What are you implying, sir? Do you believe I am a felon complicit in the disappearance of my own vessel?!"_

"Lewis' report was convincing, Mr Krueger, backed up by official log entries and crew testimonies. Put yourself in my position, sir. The crash of '29 put a lot of businesses into jeopardy and _Rebellious_ was insured for a goodly sum, was it not, and a disappearance blamed on Black Dean and tight schedules fits into a plausible perfect crime. What else can I deduce, Mr Krueger? _Lewis' story is the work of a ghost ship?!_ "

" _I don't know what you are to deduce, sir, but coming here and accusing me of a serious crime may cost you your job!"_

"Steady on, Mr Krueger. I am supposed to ask these types of questions in an official investigation. My superiors will back me up when I explain the circumstances."

"I have nothing else to add to your... investigation, Commander. Reeves will show you out," Krueger started for the library door.

"You'd expect that if a ship was purportedly missing, the captain wouldn't risk being identified by sailing into the very area he was supposed to have disappeared from," Draper rebuked, lifting his flabby frame from the lounge chair.

With his back disrespectfully turned to Draper, Krueger paused at the library door, listening with disdain to Draper's closing remark, then flicked his head in a final act of defiance and continued walking.

*~*~*~*

Unimpressed with the accommodation, Desapo had had an uncomfortable sleep in the flea infested hotel room and to top it off, the food was even worse. _If these rich men want me to risk my life and my crew in an impossible construction job out over some barbaric hole in the ocean, then they haven't put their best foot forward... the price just went up another couple of thousand!_ Desapo moaned.

Wandering the streets of Lightning Harbour in a search for decent accommodation, Desapo scoured the landscape, trying to determine the extent of available supplies offered locally. His not-so-longsuffering crew were even more particular when it came to living arrangements and food, especially if the job was going to take any length of time.

He'd considered long into the night what the group of local businessmen were asking him to do, but Desapo hadn't built a lighthouse before and needed to do some research. Neddy, his brother, on the other hand, had built one out of stone in another part of the world based on the shape of an oak tree. Wide at the bottom and tall and skinny toward the peak, with a 360 degree light window right on top. Off the coast of France and constantly subjected to storm force winds and monster waves that threatened to swallow it, Desapo admiringly smiled... _just like Neddy, it defiantly stood in the face of storms, year after year._

Wandering along the dusty sidewalk overlooking the harbour, Desapo happened upon a tidy building and when he peered up at the sign gracing its exterior, he read... _Lightning Harbour Hotel. Welcome and come right on Inn._ Desapo strolled up to the doors and glanced inside, surprised to see how clean and tidy it appeared. Stepping into the welcoming foyer, he sensed an immediate feeling of homeliness, something his men would be looking for.

"Good morning, sir, and welcome to the Lightning Harbour Inn. My name is Gustav."

"Is that a name or a disease?" Desapo's lip curled up in a mock smile.

Without missing a beat, Gustav replied, "I have pondered your question with all sincerity and have a physician's testimonial to corroborate my musings."

"Huh?" Desapo stared back, confused.

"I do believe it is a name, sir," Gustav mimicked, his lip also curling up in a mock smile. "Do you seek accommodation, sir?"

"I may be bringing my crew here for a job that will take a year or two and I am looking for somewhere decent for them to live and eat. I've been staying at the Lightning Strike and it's a _flea bag_."

Gustav gasped in horror. "Who would do such a thing to a visitor to Lightning Harbour?!"

"I believe his name is Pike," Desapo quipped, feeling another couple of thousand about to be added to the estimate.

" _Wallis Pike...!_ N-o-o, you must be mistaken, sir!" Gustav reflected. "He's quite the genial man and I'd be more inclined to attest his parsimonious behaviour to his unparagoned superior, Mr Krueger. Deary me, listen to my sesquipedalian tongue. If I should excogitate, I would certainly attribute Mr Krueger to be saxicolous."

Desapo had no idea what Gustav was talking about and to distract his ravings, Desapo asked to see a room.

"This way, Mr...?"

"Desapo."

"This way, Mr Desapo."

Gustav waltzed proudly through the establishment, pointing out this and that, confident his prospective client would find everything to his approval and to Desapo's surprise, Gustav's inn was pleasantly clean and inviting.

"I'll be coming back here, Gustav, tonight, so save me a room."

Gustav's face lit up with pride. "Of course you will, sir, and of course I will."

"Where can I find a work boat to lease, Gustav?"

Desapo's question broadsided the hotelier for a few moments, but when he came up with a blank, another convincing huddle of tangled spelling tripped over his tonsils. "There are many enervating companies along the waterfront that would consider any work offered fortuitous."

" _Can't you speak normally, Gustav?!"_ Desapo bellowed.

"I am sure you will find what you are looking for, Mr Desapo."

Desapo peered up at the clock above Gustav's head. It was close to midday and Pike had assured Desapo he would be outside the Lightning Strike at 1300 to take him to a boat which would deliver him to view the jobsite, but he had one more stop to make before he met with Pike.

Desapo ambled up and down the nearby waterfront, looking for a suitable work vessel to lease. Finding exactly what he was looking for tied up to a mooring, he asked around until he was directed to the owner. When Desapo told the owner he intended to build a lighthouse over Black Dean, the man and his companions gasped and then broke into serious belly laughter.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 17

Searching the dark horizon, Captain Lewis' expression remained grim as he stood in the _Riviera's_ swaying bridge, pondering a less than satisfactory situation. Glancing to the clock mounted above the helm, it appeared the time-keeper could sense the trouble also, with its arms appearing to tremble back a warning... 1800. With a powerful searchlight probing the rolling darkness, Lewis conceded the distinct walls of the Barrett Passage should have been sighted by now.

"Barrett Passage dead ahead, sir," his first mate cried out, interrupting his thoughts.

Lewis' features relaxed at the announcement, following the mate's pointing arm. Although the vessel's searchlight followed a small amount of antagonised water churning over the passage walls and giving an indication of the hidden danger, Lewis considered if they had been another ten minutes later the passage would not have been visible at all. Agreed among maritime travellers, Barrett Passage was more dangerous traversing the channel _from_ Lightning Harbour, rather than going _into_ Lightning Harbour. A vessel could use the tip of Contention Island, aligned with the point of the bow to maintain the centre of the dangerous crossing and avoid the rocky walls. But nothing availed or aided a captain to line up with on the seaward side, except keeping a close look out.

" _Slow to half,"_ Lewis commanded.

The _Riviera_ slowed her pace as she entered the passage, with the bridge becoming a nervous hub. Many extra crew were called from other duties to maintain watch, hoping to pick their way through the unfolding drama. In a feverish round of searching, one tense moment followed another until a cry came from a lookout located on the bow deck. The lookout pointed furiously at a swirling mass and turned to face the windows of the bridge to make sure they had seen his warnings.

"Black Dean dead ahead, Captain," the first mate tore open the tension slowly building to a crescendo in the vessel's bridge, and as the searchlight focused on an impossibly violent maelstrom, Black Dean's mood seemed aggressive and angry.

Black Dean's turbulent water's covered the full breadth of the channel, much larger and more intense than anyone could believe, with its terrifying pull already affecting the _Riviera's_ hull, gaining speed and racing toward the hungry mouth of the juggernaut.

" _Hard to starboard!"_ Lewis bellowed, hoping to break the pull of Black Dean and skirt along the rocky passage wall.

Lewis watched the first mate swinging the wheel to the right in a feverish attempt at breaking the hold of the current pulling them straight into Black Dean's death grip. The _Riviera_ shuddered as it struggled against Black Dean, becoming a war of wills... man against beast.

" _All ahead full,"_ Lewis bawled again, with obvious beads of sweat forming on his brow.

_Riviera's_ power increased noticeably and inch by inch, she was turning toward the passage wall and away from the turbulent mouth, but it was a fine balancing act. If Black Dean unexpectedly let go of the _Riviera_ , the vessel, under full power and hard to starboard, would careen into the rocky wall, tearing open her steel hull and feeding Black Dean's hungry mouth.

Lewis abruptly ordered _hard to port_ and his mate glanced across at his captain as if he had lost his mind. Turning hard to port would put them directly back into the current again.

" _I said, hard to port, Mr Cook._ _Now!"_ Lewis' determined voice echoed across the bridge.

Just as the first mate began steering hard to port, the mouth of Black Dean viciously grabbed the stern of the _Riviera_ , but Lewis had anticipated the tactic, foiling an attempt to drive the vessel under full power onto the rocky walls and smashing it to pieces. As the _Riviera_ shuddered across the turbulent mouth, it appeared the battle with Black Dean had been won. With a huge relieved sigh, the captain once again ordered a decrease in power, steering out of danger and into the dark open ocean.

With the searchlight focused over the stern and glancing back at Black Dean, Lewis wasn't keen to attempt the raging hazard ever again. He gave a final glance at the violent whirlpool and then extinguished the powerful beam, noticing the walls of Barrett Passage were completely invisible now. The turbulent vortex that had challenged the vessel and had almost taken them, settled back into the darkness and seemed like an innocent part of the endless ocean, waiting to pounce on another victim in another moment of time. Lewis saluted the enemy with three fingers to his hat, acknowledging the worthy opponent with respect. This time they had been lucky, but Lewis would never allow anyone—duke or not—to force him into attempting such a perilous and foolhardy action again.

Silent relief settled onto the bridge until...

" **FIRE...! FIRE...!** **Radio room,"** a frantic voice yelled into the bridge.

Plumes of thick black smoke quickly trailed over the fixtures mounted on the bridge ceiling, threatening to overcome the vessel's control room. Intense red-orange flames licked across the radio room's roof while crew members coughed and gagged on the toxic fumes, trying to escape the relentless inferno. The suddenness of the onslaught took the crew by surprise, closing passage doors in a bid to contain the fire, but the intensity had quickly burgeoned beyond containment and threatened to engulf the bridge.

Recognising the futility of fighting such a massive outbreak, Lewis ordered a distress call to be sent before they lost radio transmission capability, but it was already too late. The radio was in its death throes, with the smoke and flames now making it impossible to enter the radio room.

Clear of the smoke, a pistol-toting man entered the bridge from outside, standing in the doorway with obvious nefarious intent.

Lewis had never seen this man before. _"Who are you?!"_ Lewis demanded, coughing and trying to see through stinging tears as the acrid smoke built up in the bridge and tore at the back of his throat. Looking into the severely pockmarked face, Lewis saw the man smile.

"My name is Fabian Van den Guys... _Captain,_ Fabian Van den Guys," and then pointed to a ship approaching. "Ahh... right on time. You will please, Captain, shut down your engine. I wouldn't want any of my crew to get hurt."

A shot ricocheted off the ceiling as Lewis hesitated. _"Next time, I will aim!"_

" _All stop,"_ Lewis commanded, realising the man meant business.

The fire began to distress Lewis, thinking of his passengers and crew, hoping he may be able to negotiate with the criminal. "I have to get my crew and passengers to lifeboats or else we will perish," Lewis choked on smoke, making it difficult to complete his plea.

"I wouldn't bother yourself, Captain; there's no escape for you or your vessel. My men are already searching your passengers and will take anything of value, and soon you will be able to enjoy Black Dean once again... from the bottom!"

*~*~*~*

Aided by a powerful light, Van den Guys watched from the bridge of his ship as the swirling waters of Black Dean swallowed up the remains of _Riviera's_ hissing hull and all trace of life. It had taken full power in reverse from his own engine to break the grip of Black Dean, after he had pushed the burning _Riviera_ into its hungry mouth.

Moments later, a cold darkness settled over Black Dean.

And another perfect crime.

"Until next time, old friend," Van den Guys saluted his partner in crime and then turned back to his shipmates taking stock of their haul. One of his men had taken a bullet wound to the shoulder as some fancy ranting duke had ordered them off his boat and backed up his demand with a clattering retort from a fancy pistol. However, Van den Guys' cutthroats had overcome him, bound him to a barrel, laughing heartily as they watched the impudent gentleman float back down the Barrett Passage and disappear into the dark mouth of Black Dean. Van den Guys evil eyes sparkled in the starlight. His informant had paid off well and as he had expected, the passengers were of high standing and the bootie was well worth the trouble of an injured man.

*~*~*~*

When the _Riviera_ hadn't made the next port and was officially listed as missing, Provincial Legislative Commander Robert Draper was called to investigate. The Barrett Passage and Black Dean were immediately suspected, and being part of Draper's jurisdiction, the emphasis fell on his shoulders. As Draper checked the _Riviera's_ sailing plan and departure time he conceded Lewis had been cutting it extremely fine. The tide was an exceptionally unusual event and Black Dean would have been even more violent than usual. If Lewis had come afoul of Black Dean, there wouldn't be anything to investigate, with time being the only tool Draper had, hoping someone would eventually identify wreckage in someone else's jurisdiction and take the heat off him.

However, Draper's flapping jowls had been at work and by day's end the news of another Black Dean conquest was all over the working dock of Lightning Harbour.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 18

Tess thumbed through a tight roll of currency notes that Justin, the duke's valet, had given her for this month's upkeep of Lady Katrina. It was a strange notion indeed that rich people didn't like to be bothered with handling money for menial things. Instead, a trusted servant or in Lady Katrina's case, her lady-in-waiting, handled all the vulgar details of paying bills on behalf of their plutocrat. Tess threw a worried glance across the hotel room at the sleeping Katrina. Their disguises had successfully hidden their escape from the _Riviera_ , but the hotel clerk had eyed the two women dressed as men with suspicion until Tess had handed over another couple of notes and the misgiving had immediately evaporated. True to form, Lady Katrina had insisted on the best room and at this rate, their money would be gone in days, not weeks, but Tess didn't share Katrina's confident faith in her father's good heartedness and willingness to hand out more money on his daughter's behalf. Replacing the roll of money back in her shoulder bag, Tess pondered what the immature Katrina's plans may be now they had taken the plunge into Katrina's adventures. Without money, any thought of fancy hotels along a trail of certain misadventure would soon be checked and reality would raise its ugly head.

Regardless of what her father's name was.

By now, the duke would have noticed their absence and Tess could hear his rage-filled ranting in her imagination. It would be certain his trade mission was of more consequence than a bored, spoilt brat and it was doubtful he would sacrifice his precious schedule to find his daughter. Tess could practically recite his words. _'If she chooses to be among the commoners and soil her reputation, then let her live like a commoner.'_

Katrina's lady-in-waiting glanced once more at her young employer, almost feeling sorry for her naive charge. Her education would be swift and brutal, yet she wasn't sure why her concern for Katrina was so strong now that she had little more standing than her maid, but even so Tess' loyalty remained keen. Tess considered, if she was wise, she should just walk away and leave Katrina to her ill-fated lessons, but if she stayed, she would most certainly share in the consequences of Katrina's folly. However, if she did walk away, Katrina would be thrust into a vicious world and her chances of survival, for someone so pampered, would be slim indeed. She sighed heavily, caught between good sense and duty.

Katrina's voice unexpectedly broke into Tess' thoughts. "Good morning, Tess. I will be ready for breakfast as soon as you have washed and dressed me. You can advise the servants to bring in the food at any time."

"Good morning, Lady Katrina. I am afraid there are no servants and if we require breakfast then we will have to join the rest of the patrons in the dining hall."

Katrina's face took on a puzzled expression, with Tess almost able to hear the conversation going on in Katrina's mind. _No servants? Surely we cannot be expected to rub shoulders with the common people!_ But then a stubborn look chased away Katrina's puzzlement, taking Tess off guard by Katrina's reply.

"Very well, if our adventure requires us to enter the common world, then we must follow our adventure."

Staring incredulously at her charge's determined and extremely attractive features, Tess admired Lady Katrina's resolve, but living in the common world and working in the aristocratic world, Tess wondered how long Lady Katrina could take being trapped in Tess' realm before she broke down.

Lady Katrina's finery seemed out of place as she walked into the hotel dining room. Tess recognised the lustful leer of businessmen eating breakfast on their own, seated at tables close by and following the elegant walk. However Katrina's innocence and noble birth had blinded her to their improper attention and hadn't noticed the stares, while she waited by her table for Tess to pull out her chair. After Lady Katrina settled awkwardly into a seat, Tess took the chair directly across from her and picked up a menu, placed deliberately within her reach. The breakfast table had a circle of condiments neatly placed in the centre and stains were visible on the tablecloth from a previous occupant. Tess could see a battle raging in Lady Katrina's mind and was certain she was about to faint at the thought of eating on a filthy tablecloth. Katrina swallowed hard and redoubled her resolve, flinching when a waiter startled her, wanting to take their order.

"What'll it be, ladies?" the waiter pressed.

Tess eyed Katrina over the top of the menu and giggled as she watched the astonished lady move away slightly from the man and then swallow hard.

"Can you give us a few more minutes, please?" Tess requested.

"Suit yourself, lady, but the kitchen will be closing in fifteen minutes."

With the waiter suitably delayed, he turned and proceeded to collect dirty dishes from a nearby table that had just been abandoned.

"Would you like to see the menu, Lady Katrina?" Tess offered brightly.

Katrina's eyes were big and round at Tess' suggestion; this was proving to be a greater ordeal than she was expecting. "Uh... no, Tess, can you order for me this time? I don't think I'm that hungry after all," her voice was shaky and low, while her eyes cautiously followed the waiter, mentally preparing herself for his inevitable return.

Katrina scrutinised Tess as she caught the waiter's eye and then nodded. The waiter returned and started scratching on a notepad as Tess read from the menu.

"I don't think I could do what you just did," Katrina trembled.

"Catch the eye of the waiter?" Tess puzzled. "That's the way you place an order in the common world, my lady. You aren't asking him for a marriage proposal," Tess chided.

Katrina was shocked at Tess' vulgar turn of phrase. " _I should certainly hope not, Tess!_ I see I have a lot to learn if I am to survive my adventure."

When the waiter returned and placed the meals on the table, Katrina leaned back as if the man was carrying some kind of plague, with her peculiar actions making Tess giggle softly.

Gawking at the fresh knife and fork supplied with the meal, Katrina noticed immediately the implements were of poor quality stainless steel with imitation bone china handles. Shuddering, Katrina baulked at the thought of common people eating from the same implements she was about to use and the image contorted her pretty features into a grimace. Grasping a suspect napkin precariously between elegant fingers, Katrina rubbed the cutlery vigorously with the intention of polishing away her disgust, but the circus was attracting attention from other parts of the diner.

Then as if Katrina had committed to a task of great repulsion, she picked at the food with a disdainful sigh, loading a suspect fork with a genteel portion and tried to force herself to aim the common cuisine to her dainty tastebuds. Glancing at Tess and obviously distressed by the humiliating situation, Katrina closed her eyes and brought the fork to her lips. Teasing the food from the filthy implement with brilliant white and shapely teeth, Katrina held the fare between her delicate incisors, hoping that somehow this would insulate her from being contaminated by the vileness of an indecent experience and protect her fragile taste buds and stomach from common food.

Watching her lady-in-waiting enjoying the meal, Tess hadn't displayed any distasteful side effects, but then again she was raised on this type of dining. Feeling hungry and encouraged by Tess' enjoyment, Katrina forced herself to swallow a bite, but then waited for an unpleasant reaction. When none immediately came, she waited even longer, listening for signs that her body was suffering under the effects of common cuisine. Glancing across at Tess again, she could see the meal had flushed her cheeks with a healthy glow, tempting Katrina to consider another bite. This time, she purposefully tasted the food and allowed her taste buds to enjoy the flavour, then swallowed deliberately. After dabbing her lips with her handkerchief, Katrina astounded herself with a surprising confession.

"This is actually quite good, Tess."

Tess smiled at Katrina's childlike analysis and the fact her charge had conquered a particularly stressful situation. "Maybe you will survive after all, Lady Katrina," Tess encouraged.

"Oh, I do hope so, Tess," but a sudden cloud passed across Katrina's face. "I wonder what my father would say about all this?"

"We're on an adventure remember, Lady Katrina. So you'll have to put him out of your mind and deal with that consequence later," Tess encouraged firmly, but worried about the ramifications for herself when she had to confront the duke, too.

A new confidence lifted Katrina's spirit. "You're right, Tess, and I dare say if I am to continue with my education, we will have to forget about Lady Katrina, also. From now on, you are to call me Katie."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 19

Balancing a hot cup of black coffee, Jacqueline Morris arrived at her desk fifteen minutes early, a routine she had adopted and maintained since she had started at the Mainline Times fifteen years ago. Her shoulder bag in one hand, she carefully placed the coffee on her work station then slipped her bag next to her chair and removed the cover from her computer. Pushing the _start_ button, the familiar sounds of her work machine whirred into to life after a weekend sitting idle. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed the boss' door was already closed, guessing he had already done three hours work and would probably appreciate a hot coffee, too. Tapping on the wooden barrier, Jacqui heard Brett's voice muffled through the door.

"Come in."

At the invitation, she pushed the door open and smiled, "You look like you could use a coffee, Brett."

Brett glanced up from his desk. "Good morning, Jacqui. Yes, that would be fantastic."

"Be right back," Jacqui responded and turned to leave.

"Oh, Jacqui, while you're here..." Brett called after her.

"Yes?" she responded, returning to the door.

"I have a lunch appointment today at noon. Can you rearrange my schedule to accommodate it, please?"

"Consider it done. Is that it?"

Brett nodded. "Thanks."

Jacqui turned and headed for the coffee machine and then to rearrange Brett's schedule.

*~*~*~*

Jacqui had seen a constant stream of people coming and going from Brett's office since she'd arrived this morning at 9am. Brett's final appointment for the morning had just left, right on schedule and it was now ten minutes to midday, leaving Brett clear for his lunchtime appointment. Jacqui was preparing to take a break herself when she saw Smiley Williams walking up to her desk.

"The boss is unavailable," she cut him off before he could speak.

Smiley approached Jacqui's desk, looking as if he'd slept in his clothes and smelt like he'd spilt a cologne bottle over himself. "Are you still upset about me standing you up, Jacqui? I told you, I had an iron clad alibi doing some research for Brett and the time got away from me."

"Mmm, I heard your _research_ laughing in the background when you called," Jacqui's hurt eyes avoided his.

"How many times do I have to tell you? That was the librarian!" Smiley pleaded.

"Anyway, you can't see the boss. He has a lunch appointment," Jacqui's eyes flashed as she attempted to punish Smiley for his behaviour.

"Yeah, I know. I'm it," Smiley grinned. "Won't you at least consider thinking about... thinking about giving me another chance, Jack? You can take me out for dinner."

"Don't call me Jack. You know I hate that!" Jacqui replied, miffed that Smiley had spoilt her attempt at punishing him.

"Sorry... Jacqui," Smiley turned on his Labrador dumb dog look, the look that worked so well with all the ladies.

"Are you in pain, Smiley?" Brett chuckled, suddenly appearing from behind Jacqui.

Jacqui laughed. "No, he was trying his pleading look on me, wanting _me_ to take _him_ out for dinner. Do you think I should, Brett?"

"It's up to you, Jacqui, but I think I would make _him_ pay though."

Jacqui eyed Smiley expectantly, tapping her foot and with her arms folded across her chest her expression said... _'Well?!'_

"All right! I'll pay. Pick you up at eight okay, Jack?!"

" _Don't call me that_ , Smiley!"

As Brett and Smiley walked out of the office together, Smiley had the expression of victory glued to his face.

"You certainly give poor Jacqui occasion to be annoyed, Smiley. She really loves you, you know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know, Boss, and I'm nuts about her, too. I guess I'm just a bit scared of intimacy and I'm not sure what sort of a catch I would be."

"Well, I'm no expert, but I would say that girl would take a lot of upsetting. Don't leave it too long, Smiley. You might turn around one day and she may have married someone else."

Smiley drew in a breath and exhaled noisily, staring down at the sidewalk as they approached the diner. Brett's encouragement had stirred up a mass of insecurities inside Smiley and he desperately wanted to capture Jacqui's heart permanently, but he just couldn't work up the courage to ask, fearing a refusal.

When they arrived, the lunchtime rush was in full swing and people were starting to crowd the small restaurant. It was unusually busy for a Monday and as Brett and Smiley scanned the tables, they found one that had just been vacated. Taking their seats, the waitress cleared the dirty plates and wiped the table over with her cloth.

"I'll be right back to take your order," she assured as the two men completed a coordinated squeeze into the bench seats.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Smiley's curiosity got the better of him. "Well, Boss, what did you decide? Do I destroy the photocopy I have or are you going to plunge in?" Smiley eyed Brett, unsure how his revelation would be taken.

Brett sighed. "As I said on the phone on Saturday, Smiley, Becky's nightmares are getting worse and these dreams are wearing her out. Poor love nearly screamed the house down on Friday night and I get the impression this Katie—who or whatever she is—may be trying to destroy her mind."

Smiley was silent, pausing and measuring his thoughts before committing his ruminations to the public arena. "Like I said, this information may not have anything to do with the nightmares, but I am sure it will impact your family life," Smiley warned. A rogue image struck Smiley and he absentmindedly placed it on the table before he could think it through. "You don't suppose this could be a demon, do you?"

" _What?!_ " Brett nearly burst.

"I... It may not be as weird as it sounds," Smiley tried to cover his line of thinking.

"Smiley, you have been reading too much Charles Kraft and _no_ , I don't think it is a demon."

The waitress returned to take their order, obviously overhearing parts of the strange conversation and gazing at the two men with suspicion. Quickly scribbling down the order, the woman strode for the safety of the serving counter where she would be secure in a desperate need to gossip.

"Okay, Smiley, I've had time to think about your terms and I need something other than demon possession to go on. I have to get to the bottom of this for Becky's sake."

"So... you want the information?"

" _Yes, Smiley. Isn't that what I just said?!_ "

"O..kay!" From a pocket, Smiley pulled out a photocopied piece of A4 paper and unfolded it. "I got this, at somewhat of a risk to myself, from the courthouse records," he handed it across to Brett and watched his face as he read.

Brett's expression contorted in shock and his mouth hung open. "Are you sure of this, Smiley? There's no mistake?"

Smiley shook his head. "No mistake."

Brett stared at the document and then swallowed hard in disbelief, suspecting Smiley was right and that this small piece of paper would change the dynamic of his stable family life.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 20

Desapo removed his watch from his breeches pocket, untangling the delicate chain as he flipped open the hinged cover. The dial showed 11:45 and as expected when he held the watch to his ear, the tiny heart had stopped beating. Aggressively winding the small thumbscrew mechanism with his big fingers until the spring was tight and the mechanism refused any further manipulation, the steady heartbeat returned, bursting back into life. To Desapo's great displeasure, he had no idea whether Pike was late and paced momentarily, pounding the pavement in front of the Lightning Strike Hotel. With Desapo's luggage resting compliantly parked on the sidewalk next to him, Desapo fumed as the minutes scurried by, finally deciding Pike was late... again. Added to the fact that he had been accommodated in this known flea bag hotel, the combination of evidence was making his stonemason blood boil and another thousand had inadvertently been added to the estimate.

Soon, the sound of an automobile engine drifted into Desapo's hearing and then Pike's Cadillac Sixteen came into view. As the vehicle pulled up alongside Desapo, Pike threw a questioning look at his bags.

"You're late!" Desapo's husky voice condemned.

Pike's expression seemed slightly miffed and he reached into his jacket, withdrawing his pocket watch. "In fact, I am right on time, Mr Desapo. It is bang on 1 pm."

Desapo reached for his pocket watch and manipulated the dial, resetting the mechanism to 1 pm and then threw Pike a threatening look. "Your timepiece had better be right, sir. Tardiness is not a coveted act of a sound businessman."

"I can assure you, Mr Desapo, my timepiece is accurate. A sound businessman does not allow his chronometer to run down." Before Desapo could engage Pike in yet another attack, Pike asked with some concern, "Are you intending leaving Lightning Harbour, sir?" nodding toward his baggage.

"No, I'm leaving this flea bag that you so irreverently installed me into. I can tell you, this stunt has not bid well with me and has cast a negative shadow on my dealings with your... association."

Pike sighed heavily. "I can only apologise for your discomfort, Mr Desapo. In my defence, I did make overtures to the powers-that-be, stating the accommodation was substandard for a man of your calibre. I was, however, overruled and told to deposit you in this location. I will take you to see my good friend, Gustav at the Lightning Harbour Inn and requisition him to take care of you properly." Pike thought for a second and then added, "I cannot lead you in your business dealings, Mr Desapo, but I would think your estimate should reflect the imposition you have suffered."

Desapo's harsh outlook softened toward Pike and convinced the furious Desapo another thousand wouldn't be necessary. "I've already met and arranged with your _good friend_ , Gustav, to take up residence with his business until my dealings are complete in Lightning Harbour."

"In that case, Mr Desapo, let us load your luggage into my automobile and make for the small vessel that awaits our arrival dockside. The tide should be low enough to enter the Barrett Passage safely and observe the hazards you and your team will face, should you decide to tackle our villainous monster."

Desapo wasn't about to become spooked at Pike's off-handed job description. He and his team had tackled impossible jobs before... AND won. "Lead on, Mr Pike," Desapo commanded.

The Cadillac Sixteen turned sharply into a small parking space beside a tin building. A few feet away, lapping sounds sleepily resonated from the waters of Lightning Harbour as the playful liquid gently toyed with the hulls of moored vessels. Pike pointed toward an old diesel powered, wooden fishing boat.

Desapo glowered back at Pike. "Another one of your boss' cost saving ventures, Mr Pike?"

"Not this time, Mr Desapo. Mario was the only one we could find to accept the challenge to take you out to the passage."

Desapo eyed Pike for a long moment. "Take _me_ out to the passage? Do you intend to abandon me to my fate, Pike?"

"I am afraid I don't cope too well with sea motion and become quite ill onboard vessels, Mr Desapo."

"You are an executive of a sea freight company and you mean to tell me you get _seasick?!_ " Desapo shot Pike an accusatory expression.

"I take journeys aboard our vessels if and when the need arises, and yes, I do suffer for my commitment to my company, Mr Desapo," Pike's strange confession made him appear vulnerable. "If, however, my assistance is mandatory, then I _will_ accompany you out to the job site."

Desapo smiled at the discomfort he was inflicting on Pike, but it was also Desapo's practice to have an executive representative to point out exactly what their expectation was before he could accurately work out the cost estimate for the job. "I do require an association representative to be present to give me an accurate picture of their expectations."

Pike eyed Desapo, trying to work out whether this was yet another attempt to humble him. "If that is what you require, Mr Desapo, then let us get on with it."

Pike carefully and unsteadily stepped off the dock and onto the small fishing boat, closely followed by Desapo, then with a perfunctory wave up at the vessel cabin, Pike resigned himself to his fate. "If you please, Mario!"

By the time Mario cleared the harbour heads, the early afternoon sea breeze had lifted the swells high enough to make the small fishing boat buck like a horse. The wind-driven water crashed into the craft, cascading over the deck as Mario's trawler hit the swells head-on, turning Pike an unusual shade of green with the action. Desapo signalled to Pike that he was going to join Mario in the cabin, leaving Pike nodding and holding his stomach before heading for the vessel's stern to be alone with his misery.

As the cabin door opened, Mario acknowledge Desapo's presence.

"Hello, Mario, my name is Magellan Desapo," Desapo volunteered, steadying himself by holding onto the chart table.

The old man's brown leathery face turned to face Desapo as he shook his hand and smiled a toothless smile.

"Have you been out to Black Dean before, Mario?" Desapo tried to engage the old man.

"Many times. I've been a fisherman in these waters for nearly sixty years," Mario's gushing English washed over his tonsils and escaped through the space where his teeth should have been, but the heavy accent gave away his ethnicity.

"How come you are the only one who would take us out to Black Dean? Is the hole in the ocean as bad as everyone is telling me?"

Mario's face brightened. "You have to respect the sea, Mr Desapo, just like a tiger. Black Dean sleeps and just like a tiger, if you want to approach and take hold of his tail, you must approach when he sleeps."

"When does Black Dean sleep, then?" Desapo's scepticism became harder to hide.

"Legend passed down from my father and his father before, warns us that Black Dean is endless. The water is a dark blue-black colour, a fearsome sign that Black Dean, if not bottomless, is very deep and very unpredictable. The time to approach is at the very bottom of the tide when the water stops moving for about fifteen to twenty minutes... _and then_ Black Dean is asleep. I have approached this sleeping monster many times and peered into its inky eyes, but be warned if you are close by when he wakes and the tide turns. The whirlpool will start again with such ferocity that anything in his grasp gets drawn down to the black depths."

Bewildered with Mario's description, Desapo begun to wonder what he had gotten into. Staring over the bow while the tiny fishing boat plied the waves, Desapo watched the water crashing against the boat, deep in thought. _Could this hole in the ocean be as powerful as everyone thinks?_

Mario stole a quick sideways glance at the cynical but towering muscular presence of Desapo. "I see, Mr Desapo, you don't understand our beast and that you are dubious about his power. I show you how to grab the tail of a sleeping tiger and what happens when he wakes up."

The hour long journey out to Black Dean had been an absolute nightmare for Pike. He had surrendered his breakfast to the fishes more than once and was relieved when Mario entered the calm Barrett Passage. Desapo joined Pike on the deck and watched incredulously as Mario stopped his boat over an eerie and black section of water. The passage walls stood like a mountain against the height of the boat, with the roof invisible to the ocean side, hidden by the calm channel walls. Desapo peered down into a massive but calm, black hole that stretched the width of the channel, directly over the point of the bow and used the sheer walls to gauge Black Dean's depth, but shuddered when the rocky barrier disappeared into blackness, leaving Desapo to wonder how far this sleeping tiger's reach descended.

After a while, Mario started his engine again and spun the tiny boat around, heading just outside the passage and leaving Pike to suffer as the tiny boat pitched up and down on the mounting swells. "Now, Mr Desapo, you will see what happens when our tiger wakes."

Mario walked past Desapo and Pike to the stern of the boat, staggering like a drunkard on the heaving deck. Reaching an empty barrel tied down to the inside of the boat, Mario untied the barrel and heaved it overboard. The barrel drifted aimlessly on the swells while Pike and Desapo stood on the bow deck, watching the barrel bob up and down.

Feeling a desperate wave of nausea overcome him, Pike leaned over the side, but as he did the boat lurched violently, throwing him off balance. As if in slow motion, Desapo watched Pike disappear overboard, but before his body completely vanished under the swells, Desapo grabbed his foot and unceremoniously hauled him back in, banging his head on the deck as he landed.

At the same time, the barrel that Mario had dropped over the side raced into the passage at great speed, up the channel and into the turbulent waters where they had just been not ten minutes earlier. A tumultuous whirlpool churned the waters of the channel, trying to pull the small fishing boat into its snare. Desapo's mouth hung open as he watched the tiger come back to life and the unfortunate barrel swallowed in Black Dean's tenacious appetite.

Staring in disbelief at the raging phenomena, Desapo's attention was diverted by a hysterical gibbering emanating from directly behind him. Turning to untangle Pike's manic fear, Desapo slapped his face hard, bringing the senseless executive back to his normal mind.

A harried, traumatic giggle erupted as Pike slowly found his senses. "I..I owe you my life, Mr Desapo, and I am eternally grateful," Pike stammered, trembling pathetically and watching the whirlpool from his position on the deck. "Can we get out of here please, Mario?" Pike's shaky voice pleaded.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 21

A commotion drifted up the stairs and into her sleepy dreams, waking Marguerite abruptly as the intensity of the voices filled with passionate volume and then drifted back to earth, whispered and unintelligible. _What was the commotion about and who did the voices belong to?_ Quickly she turned over to face Katarzyna, trying to gauge the threat level by her reaction to the noise, but she had already abandoned her bed, leaving it neatly ordered as if she hadn't slept in it at all. Holding her breath, Marguerite tried to identify the sounds, attempting to distinguish specific male voices, but when she recognised Mr Lieberman's laugh, she let the breath go, relieved there was no evil intent and that she was still safe.

Satisfied the darkness held no fear, she switched on her bedside lamp and glanced at the clock above Katarzyna's bed, realising it was still early and she wasn't due up for another thirty minutes. Relaxing her head back to the pillow, Marguerite counted down the days, realising today was her fourth day grafted into the Lieberman family fabric and their kindness and warmth made her feel like she belonged... a feeling she hadn't experienced for such a long time.

As she lay pondering the situation, she heard Mr Lieberman's infectious laugh among the voices and gradually realised it was Thursday and at this time of morning, he and Majiv should be down at the bakery, raising another bout of puzzling questions. Her curiosity exploded and Marguerite threw off the comforter and quickly dressed, deliberately wearing long baggy dresses that disguised her figure, saving the embarrassing enquiries she knew one day soon would demand an answer. Catching her image in the mirror, she ran her hands over her stomach, and like she'd done since she discovered her pregnancy, she began to talk to her baby.

"Hello, little one. Are you okay? We are safe for now, but I am sure the time will come when we will have to leave, so Mummy is working hard to build a life for us and you can be assured no one is going to take you away from me," Marguerite whispered, all too aware what happens to underaged unwed mothers and their illegitimate progeny in this state.

Running her hands through her blonde curly locks, she checked the bruise around her eye and discovered it was fading, unlike the resentment she still harboured for the boy who had inflicted it upon her. She would only need a slight brush up to keep it hidden and as soon as she could, she would discard the makeup altogether. She was done with men, their selfish lust at her expense and their lies. Her baby was now her focus and she intended to live the rest of her days raising a healthy child in an environment that _she_ controlled... whatever it cost her to get there.

The sound of frivolities erupted as Marguerite opened the bedroom door, greeted by a large crowd of people bustling around the apartment and a table full of wonderful smelling food. She recognised Majiv and Mr Lieberman among the jubilant party, with Katarzyna holding her own crowd among the younger members.

Expecting Marguerite to wake at any moment, Katarzyna scanned the room and then the staircase, immediately recognising Marguerite's figure standing uncertainly on the landing. Beaming with delight, Katarzyna ran up the stairs. "Marguerite, you're awake! Come, there is no work today. It is Majiv's birthday!" Almost dragging Marguerite down into the crowd with her overflowing exuberance, Katarzyna came to a jolting pause and stood directly in front of Majiv. "Custom is for all young women to greet the birthday boy with a kiss," Katarzyna danced around, excitedly watching Marguerite and waiting for her to respond; but both Majiv and Marguerite blushed like two red flashing lights.

"I'm sure Majiv wouldn't appreciate that from me, Katie," Marguerite tried to diffuse an embarrassing situation.

However, the crowd had quieted at Katarzyna's announcement and became involved in the interlude. "Aww, go on!" rippled through the room.

Feeling like there was nowhere to run, Marguerite steeled herself and moved closer, leaning into Majiv. As she closed her eyes, her lips touched the soft skin of his face and a zap of electricity struck her, stunning her silent while the cheers of the crowd muffled and time seemed to stop. Marguerite made the mistake of opening her eyes, staring straight into his innocent blue eyes and heightening her embarrassment. Burning with awkwardness and searching for a safe place, Marguerite disappeared into the crowd to hide.

*~*~*~*

The eyes that steered the flabby six-foot frame shuddered open, the first time they had been any place close to clear for a week, while the darkened room where the intoxicated carcass had fallen smelled of putrid body odour and dirty clothes. A heavy scent of a severely anesthetised mind hung impertinently on his breath, and given a source of combustion, the alcohol-soaked sponge would ignite, vomiting forth a catastrophic rancorous explosion. Somehow he had made it back onto the bed that she had shared with him before she decided to die and leave him to deal with life on his own. The reminders were everywhere, with the room appearing much like it had _that_ day, that _awful_ day nearly twelve years ago. He couldn't even look at his child, the spitting image of his beloved wife, but instead his hate-filled ravings had driven a wedge in between father and daughter.

Marguerite despised him and he could feel it.

Unable to deal with life, he hid himself in a bottle and with a quickly deteriorating mind, imagined all sorts of evils about his dead wife and her involvement in refugee and migrant rights. Marguerite had taken the brunt of his manic racist ravings, as he tried to get back at his wife at his daughter's expense. On the rare occasions he was sober, people reminisced with him about his wife's kind heart and her drive for justice, but the act only served to make him more angry, driving away his closest friends while the rant expanded, hating everyone and everything.

Especially migrants.

Unsteadily, he staggered out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, noticing dirty dishes and empty bottles lying where he'd discarded them.

" _Marguelerite...! MARGUERITE!"_ he bellowed unsteadily, upset she hadn't cleaned up after him and the place was a mess. _"Where is that lazy baby cow?_ _If you think I am going to let you sponge off me, girl, you've got another thing coming!"_

He started to climb the stairs to her room, stumbling and breathing heavily at the exertion until he stood outside the closed door. Without warning and fuelled with hatred, he kicked the door in a violent move, thrusting it open and smashing the heavy door as it crashed forcefully against the wall.

" _Why haven't you clea...?!"_

He paused in mid rant and noticed the bed hadn't been slept in and then anxiously checked her wardrobe and drawers. They were empty and all traces of Marguerite were gone, realising he'd ultimately driven her out of his life, too. The finality of her rejection was evident with the stuffed toy dog she'd loved as a child lying crumpled on the floor of her dresser. It appeared she'd deliberately closed the book on their relationship by leaving the dog behind where she knew he would find it. In happier times, when he was still a father and Marguerite's mother was alive, he'd given his little girl the dog. Still able to remember the delighted smiles and exuberant hugs from his tiny daughter, she adored her father for giving her the toy, refusing to sleep or be seen without it.

Feeling paranoia swiftly rising, he aggressively kicked the dog into the back of the cupboard, ripping the side out of the flimsy wooden structure with a poorly aimed blow and making connection with his foot to the wall behind. With damaged pain sensors firing off and connecting a scrambled pathway to his brain, trauma eventually registered, but the alcohol in his system stifled a response. When the toy dog defied his rage and tumbled out onto the floor unharmed and in full view, he erupted, turning Marguerite's room into a pile of rubble.

Panting and sweating after his tirade, he vowed to find Marguerite and bring her back to settle the score. After all, she was a minor and someone had to pay for the destruction he had been forced to make of her room.

*~*~*~*

Dressed in his best clothes, the steps leading up into the police station made him sweat, and when he stood shaking at the entrance to the police building, the crumpled suit stank of dankness exuding every thread and was strong enough for even him to notice. He hadn't worn these clothes since the day of the funeral and remembered throwing the suit into the bottom of the wardrobe afterward, hoping to discard the hurtful memory just as easily. Combing his hair had been a mission too, almost forgetting how it was done, yet the finished product had improved his look but the unshaped bush growing on his cheeks made him look like a bum in unwashed clothes. Breathing in a nervous breath, he contemplated going for a couple of beers just to calm his nerves before attempting to report Marguerite's disappearance.

The thought of her abandoning him—just like her mother—threw him into another rage and fuelled his desire to find Marguerite. A new found energy flowed through his veins and he stumbled to enter the police station and swaggered for the front desk. A sadistic smile crossed his face when after many questions and raised eyebrows, Marguerite was officially listed as missing.

Swaying on the sidewalk and desperately needing a drink, he determined the next time he and Marguerite met, she would never defy him ever again.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 22

Attempting to navigate the social classes' expansive boundaries at breakfast to see how the other side lives had left Katrina exhausted. "I think I need a rest before we attempt any further adventures," Katrina insisted. "Let us return to our room."

Tess acknowledged Katrina's exhausted need for solace and was only just beginning to understand the degree of Lady Katrina's resolve at _adventure._ Her idea of scandalous behaviour was to eat in a diner where the common people ate, and now the cracks in her motivation were becoming wider, making it plainly obvious Katrina wasn't cut out for the common world. For someone like Katrina to be cast into common society would mean certain death, having been raised to be pampered and to have everything at her beck and call without having to do anything for it.

Her family name was indeed a currency in itself... in the right circles. However, unwittingly thrust into a society that has scant regard for gentry without money, was a burden seemingly no human being could tolerate or recover from. Tess resolved to try and talk sense into Katrina before it was too late and slip back aboard the _Riviera_ before they gave up searching for her and left port, sentencing Katrina to an unfamiliar, unfriendly world and a life of certain misery.

Lying on her bed and facing the window, Katrina fell deep in thought. It had only been a day and a half since they had absconded from the _Riviera_ , and the world of the commoner had dragged her spirit down. She had no idea people had to live like this and now she pined for her rightful life of nobility and privilege.

The door quietly opened to the hotel room and Tess entered, tiptoeing over to the corner of the bed, she spoke softly, "Lady Katrina, I wish you would reconsider your attempt at adventure. The life in common society is not for you. If we hurry, we may be able to catch the _Riviera_ before they stop searching for us and she leaves port. The discipline of your father is a small price to pay for the life that is rightfully your future."

Her lady-in-waiting's ardent speech was exactly what Katrina had been thinking. She rolled over on the bed to face Tess, her face displaying her emotions and her fear. "Maybe you are right, Tess. This has been a shock to me to see how people are forced to live. I am fully convinced that I could not cast off my life and adopt the life of adventure as a common woman."

Tess moved swiftly to pack up the small case of belongings the two women had brought along, before her young charge's sense clouded and she reverted back to a notion of nonsense. "Quickly, my lady, let us get ready to walk briskly down to the dock. I will pay the hotelier on the way out and then we can board the _Riviera_ and face whatever punishment that awaits us," Tess urged, preparing herself and Katrina for the beating that was sure to follow at the duke's hand.

Katrina's face lit up and an urgency to escape the world she had so carelessly fallen upon crossed her features. "You are right, Tess," she confided. "I don't belong here and my father will be searching feverishly to find me." Katrina smiled at the thought of her father's relief when she returned. She convinced herself that it would be a joyous reunion and his arms would be open to greet her.

*~*~*~*

Gustav politely made conversation with the lady on the opposite side of the counter as he calculated her and her companion's account. She seemed to be in some kind of nervous hurry, answering his small talk with sharp, but courteous replies and kept glancing over her shoulder toward the door as if she was expecting to see someone.

"Have a good day, madam," Gustav bid and handed her a receipt.

She nodded politely, scooped up the docket and hurried out the door to join her companion.

The two women walked anxiously down the road toward the dock, but it was hard to see exactly what ships were in port due to the amount of ships present. They entered the long dock area and walked down the crowded pier, searching each vessel in turn, with inappropriate stares and comments from the dock workers following the ladies as they walked. Unable to see their familiar vessel, Katrina began to panic as she became aware of their attention and hurried along to the next ship, but by the time they'd reached the far end of the dock, it had become evident that the _Riviera_ was not there and had sailed without them.

The sudden realisation that her father had left her to her fate tore into Katrina's heart and she felt faint. Just as Katrina's emotions crumpled at the shock of his desertion and she was about to collapse on the dock, a large man broke her fall and gathered her effortlessly, like a rag doll, into his arms.

Tess panicked, staring and mouth agape at the close by scene with Katrina enfolded in a large man's arms. Obviously she had fainted at the knowledge of her father's decision to abandon her, but the expression on the man's face suggested he was not completely comfortable with the situation either, and his gallant attempt at chivalry had left him with an armful of feminine vulnerability.

"What am I to do now, Mr Pike?" Desapo begged, obviously out of his depth.

Pike managed a small chuckle. "It seems the audacious and tenacious Mr Desapo can wrestle tigers and rescue hapless sailors, but when faced with a little feminine susceptibility, his courage turns a shade dubious."

Tess found her tongue and approached the big man. "I..I am thankful for your intervention in rescuing my... friend, sir," she offered, hoping Katrina would come around so they could make their escape.

"I suggest you take her up to my car, Mr Desapo, and allow her to regain her composure out of the scorching sun," Pike urged.

Tess reluctantly agreed as she followed Pike and Desapo carrying the unconscious Katrina.

With one dilemma concluded and thrust involuntarily into another, Pike waved a grateful farewell to Mario as he finished washing down his boat after their misguided adventure out into the realms of Black Dean.

Arriving at Pike's vehicle, Desapo deposited Katrina into the substantial back seat of the Cadillac and removed himself out of the way so Tess could apply her abilities in bringing Katrina around.

Pike and Desapo watched Tess fanning Katrina's chalky face and soon the blood began to return to her features as Tess coaxed her out of her shock.

"What caused her to faint?" Desapo's question struck at Tess harder than he anticipated.

Tess thought for a few seconds and having no idea who these men were and although they seemed gentlemanly, her natural inkling was one of distrust. "Um... we missed our ship and we appear to be stranded here," Tess' answer was as tactfully honest as she dared, without deliberately lying.

Desapo and Pike glanced at each other. These women didn't look like the type to be taking idle journeys on their own.

Pike entered the conversation, "Where do you intend staying then, madam, until you can rejoin your ship?"

Tess began, as Katrina started to regain her composure, "We were staying at the Lightning Harbour Inn, sir. In fact, we had just left and were intent on rejoining our ship, but she'd sailed before we could gather ourselves."

Pike glanced at the two ladies and from their appearance they were obviously of fine breeding, needing to be rescued from the rigours of the dock workers. "Mr Desapo is about to take a room at the same hotel. May I oblige and drive you all there, considering your friend's plight?"

Tess appeared concerned at Pike's offer, but then glanced at the struggling Katrina. "We would be very grateful for your kindness, sir."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 23

Brett's afternoon had been completely distracted, with his mind drifting between a myriad of planning meetings and interviews, constant people traffic in and out of his office, vexing phone calls and the copied document he had folded in his pocket. He wasn't certain what had been said in any of those meetings or what people had asked him, with his mind constantly diverting back to the folded piece of paper and the implications of its contents. Smiley had offered to bury the evidence, allowing life to go on as usual. Although Brett had seriously considered Smiley's option, he wanted no part conspiring against his wife in a crime she knew nothing about, deciding instead to opt for the risky course to expose the plot, yet he couldn't help pondering the cost of such a decision. The results of Smiley's detective work were hard enough for _him_ to swallow, let alone how Becky would take it. The sweet image of his cherished wife kept sidling into his mind, intensifying the need for answers and he decided he needed answers... now!

Grabbing his suit jacket from behind his office chair, Brett threaded his arms through the armholes then harshly pulled open the office door. Jacqui glanced up at the sudden move, startled by Brett's abrupt and determined emergence, pausing just long enough to give her instructions.

"I've got to go out for the rest of the afternoon, Jacqui. Please reschedule all of my appointments."

Jacqui's jaw dropped. "Have you forgotten your appointment at 3 pm with Les Cargill, _the_ _managing director?_ "

A panicked memory toyed with Brett's mind, weighing up the consequences of postponing a meeting with the big boss, but he conceded he had to go. "This is important, Jacqui, a matter of life and death," Brett called as he headed for the lifts and out of the busy building.

Jacqui stared after Brett, dismayed and concerned, beginning to panic. People always acted weird after having lunch with Smiley, but that wouldn't cut it with the managing director and it was up to her to smooth over the raging ripples for Brett with the most important man in the entire newspaper. Biting her fingernails, Jacqui fidgeted, _What am I going to say to Les Cargill?_ _I am sorry, Mr Cargill, but Brett had lunch with Smiley and now he has gone nuts and he can't_ _take your appointment..._ _oh boy!"_ Running her fingers nervously through her long black hair, Jacqui apprehensively stared at the telephone and timidly began to dial Les Cargill's number.

Brett's heart was hammering as he drove his grey Kia into the driveway of the neat, brick and tile suburban house, noticing the front door was wide open, with the garden hose disappearing around the side of the building. Parking the Kia in the driveway and switching off the engine, Brett untangled himself from the driver seat. Just then, Mr Spock began a halfhearted bark from a pampered basket gracing the house's porch, lazily announcing Brett's arrival and alerting the occupants that someone had driven in.

Emma peered around the side of the building, her features erupting into a gentle smile as she recognised Brett and with a shout, called Mr Spock to cease his staccato barking. Turning off the hose, she made her way out to greet Brett with a welcome hug. "Brett, what are you doing here? Is Becky all right?"

"Arr... yes, she's fine. Do you have a moment?" he pointed to the inside of the house.

Emma caught his troubled expression. "What is it, Brett? You look so grim. Can Jake join us?"

"I'll explain in a moment and yes, Dad should join us, please. That would be appropriate."

As Emma and Jacob sat opposite Brett on their lounge, they wondered at his troubled expression. "Please, Brett, this is awful. Tell us what's happened!" Emma's face had turned ashen with the stress.

Brett reached into his suit pocket, his hand trembling as he retrieved the folded document copy. Staring at the paper in a bid to grasp what he was about to do, he unfurled the record, hesitating before handing the certificate across. Thinking for a moment, Smiley's words kept haunting him. _This could do a lot of good or this could destroy a close family._

Emma and Jake followed every move Brett made with concerned eyes, their heart rates responding with the tension developing in the room.

"I..I need you to take a look at this document copy and confirm it for me," Brett stammered. This was harder than he expected and handed the document over to the older couple and waited for their response.

Emma read through the document, her eyes following each incriminating word, turning her face scarlet with the revelation. Peering over the paper and staring back at Brett, Emma placed her hand over her mouth in shock and whimpered brokenly.

Reading alongside his wife, Jake swallowed hard, knowing that as the man of the house he probably should say something, especially when Emma jumped up from her seat and turned away from the two men, obviously distraught.

The ruse of a happy family had just fallen apart.

"This is true. Becky is our adopted daughter," Jacob confessed weakly.

Emma burst out sobbing, with the moment she had feared all of Becky's life arriving like an angel of death.

"Why didn't you tell her she was adopted?" Brett coerced. "Don't you understand how this could affect her, thinking she has her happy life sorted out and knows exactly who she is and now, after twenty-eight years, she finds out that her life is a counterfeit. This may spark an identity crisis."

Emma broke, like a dam bursting and tried to speak through raw emotion, but after a while she calmed, confessing all. "It was so difficult, Brett. After we were married, we got pregnant, only to lose five children one after the other. We buried _five children_ after going full term! I couldn't face burying another child, so we were advised to adopt. After three years of government prying into our finances, personal lives and police records, case workers finally matched us with a child after many false starts. That's when beautiful Becky swept into our lives and I can still remember the day we brought her home. We both fell in love with little Becky and I _tried_ to bring myself to tell Becky she was adopted, but each time I did, I could see in my mind someone coming to claim her and take her away. That would have killed me and torn out my heart, so I decided to keep it from her. I just wanted to be a mum. I've always only wanted to be a mum."

Emma's eyes were swimming and her nose was running, sobbing into her hands as she tried to explain, but it was obvious Smiley's warning had claimed its first victim. Brett's emotions were everywhere, his compassion alive for Emma and Jacob, but he knew there was an even bigger disturbance about to blow the roof off his stable home life.

Brett leaned back in the lounge and stared through the window, carefully considering his words before he eventually spoke. "I don't think it is right for me to broach this subject with Becky. You need to tell her and you need to tell her soon. I'm not sure how she will react, but if it hit me hard, then I can imagine it will hit her harder."

Jacob folded the paper in his hand, acknowledging Brett with a nod. "Can we keep this?"

Brett studied the document for a second then nodded. The fallout had already begun from the first explosion and the next one would be even bigger.

"We'll call her tonight and ask her to come over tomorrow. I agree we should have told her years ago," Jacob whispered to the floor, blaming himself for the looming storm.

Brett could hear Emma's wailing as he drove out of the driveway and headed for home, but he hadn't gone too far when his mobile phone started ringing. He considered letting the irksome device ring out, but reconsidered and pulled the vehicle off the road and onto the verge. "Hello, Brett Redden."

"G'day, Boss. How did it go?"

"Smiley, how did you know where I was and what I was doing?"

"Good snoops, Boss, always stay ahead of the news," Smiley boasted.

Brett sighed heavily. "They took it pretty bad and maybe you were right, Smiley. Maybe I should have just played along."

"Then you would have been an accomplice to the crime against Becky," Smiley retorted, and he was making good sense.

"Yeah, you're right again."

"When are they going to tell Becky?" Smiley's voice was low, feeling somewhat responsible for the crumbling walls of Brett's family.

"Tomorrow, and if I am right, it will be first thing in the morning after a sleepless night for Emma and Jacob."

*~*~*~*

The phone rang in the Redden household. With the evening meal over and the dishes done, Brett and Becky were just about to settle down and discuss their day's activities. Becky grimaced but then smiled at Brett, still enjoying the memory of a long hug and kiss they'd enjoyed when he'd arrived home early and surprised her.

"I'll get it," she huffed.

Brett listened to Becky's voice, expecting to hear her affirm a meeting with her parents.

"Daddy...! Tomorrow morning...? No, I'm available... okay, I will see you then... love you too! Bye."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 24

Squealing brakes indicated Pike's Cadillac had reached its destination, rolling to a stop directly in front of the Lightning Harbour Inn. Katrina's conscious, but empty gaze recognised the surrounds and with the shock of her father's betrayal leaving her weak, she leaned against Tess' shoulder for support, yet the thought of walking back into the scene of her folly just made her feel weaker.

What was to become of her now?

She didn't recognise the two gentlemen riding in the front seat, or the vehicle, but it was certain something had transpired when she'd fainted, trusting Tess understood more of the situation than she. Tess seemed to have a degree of confidence directed toward the strangers but Katrina was too distraught to even care and when Pike disappeared into the inn and a great ruckus ensued, the three waiting passengers glanced to the hotel doors.

"Wallis, it is an unparagoned auspicious conviviality to excogitate on your magnanimous personality gracing our presence!" Gustav's excitement bubbled over at the appearance of his friend Pike and continued bubbling out onto the footpath, holding the attention of Pike's passengers.

"Exuberant greetings to you, too, my wonderful friend. Can I ask a favour of you?" Pike ventured, shaking the hand extended toward him.

Gustav's face was a glow of joviality. "Ask, my friend, and it shall be yours!"

"I believe you have met Mr Desapo," Pike ventured.

Gustav nodded enthusiastically and as Pike explained the situation, his face took on an admiring look. Pike described his near-death encounter with Black Dean and Desapo's hand in his survival; the fact Desapo was a businessman and that Krueger had deliberately set him up in the _flea bag_ ; then the mishap on the dock with the lady missing her ship and fainting, closely followed by Desapo's diligent catch. "So, as a personal kindness to me, would you take great care of my guests, please?!" Pike concluded.

"Of course, my friend! They will be treated like royalty," Gustav assured.

Pike returned to the three people waiting in his car. "It is all taken care of and your rooms are ready. Would you follow me, please?"

Desapo pushed opened the vehicle's front access, then stepped toward the back and opened the barrier for the two ladies. Pike, occupied with armfuls of baggage, walked inside the inn while Tess stepped out and then helped Katrina to her feet. However, Katrina went white and her knees buckled under her, once again ready to deposit her ladyship onto the sidewalk. Reading the situation accurately, Desapo intercepted her fall and took hold of Katrina to support her.

"Please, sir, unhand my person. I am quite capable of entering the premises on my own volition."

Tess' mouth dropped open at Katrina's rude outburst. "Lad... Katie! The gentleman was just trying to help you."

Desapo was unfazed. "If I don't carry you in, madam, your pride will be further injured if you have to crawl into the building."

Katrina's chalky face and piercing blue eyes stared directly into Desapo's but neither would relent, not wanting to be the first to flinch or blink while the sidewalk standoff continued. Eventually, Katrina tired of the game and huffed, turning unsteadily from the car that she was using to support herself and started to walk toward the inn, but her knees buckled again. Swooping the determined and attractive brat into his arms, Desapo walked resolutely toward the hotel entrance, Katrina resisting his efforts all the way.

" _Which way?!"_ Desapo bellowed, entering the foyer.

"Up the stairs and to the right... number 12."

Tess ran ahead of Desapo and opened the door for him and the protesting Katrina wriggling indignantly in his arms.

"Things would work a lot easier, madam, if you cooperated," Desapo complained, dropping Katrina unceremoniously onto the bed and then walked out.

" _Roguish brute!"_ Katrina yelled after him. "I have _never_ been so _humiliated_ in my life and how _dare_ he take hold of a lady in _such_ a fashion," she protested indignantly.

"Lady Katrina, our circumstances have now changed. We cannot afford to berate those innocent kindnesses bestowed upon us by willing gentlemen, regardless of their social standing. In fact, we will be out of money and destitute very soon," Tess bent down, her stern face and fiery eyes searched Katrina's, hoping to make contact with the sense she was sure existed somewhere inside her head.

Katrina sighed deeply. "You're right, Tess. I am sorry. I was overcome by my father's betrayal and that _gentleman_ stepped in front of my ire."

Tess stood up from the position Desapo had deposited Katrina, and paced the room. "We need to get our stories straight if we are to survive. You will not draw so much attention if we go on our original suggestion of being simply Katie, and maybe I can assume the role of your sister, Tess. That will still allow me to carry out my duties to you without causing undue suspicion."

Katrina's eyes sparkled at Tess' plan. She liked the idea of a sister. "But how will I fit into being a commoner?" Katrina's face appeared downcast.

"You'll have to follow my lead. I've had a lifetime of training in the art, my lady," Tess teased. "We'll have to find a job also, to support ourselves after our money runs out."

Katrina's eyes were wide. " _A job?!_ I could never... could I?!" Then she thought about the idea. Maybe she could earn her own support and make her own fortune.

"Okay, so from now on we are Katie and Tess Belinger," Tess announced.

" _Belinger?_ " Katrina quizzed.

"It was the first name that came to mind," Tess confessed.

"Belinger it is, then." Katrina echoed, feeling the most positive since she'd devised her ignoble plan to run away from the _Riviera_.

*~*~*~*

Desapo showered and then dressed, attempting to put together anything of value from the day's comedy. He still didn't have enough information to make a detailed plan or an accurate scope of the work to give a precise estimate to Pike's association. He'd have to study the Barrett Passage and moreover, Black Dean with greater care, taking several journeys out to the swirling monster, but this time he would leave Pike ashore.

A plan unexpectedly unfolded in Desapo's scheming mind with his thoughts turning to his brother, Neddy, knowing his experience in building stone lighthouses would be invaluable on this job. With an urgency to contact Neddy, Desapo needed to convince his easygoing brother to abandon his stonemasonry projects and come to work for him. They hadn't worked together for many years and since each one wanted to be the boss, they'd decided to create separate companies, but both brothers had done well in their separate enterprises and often used each other as a sounding board for particularly difficult jobs. His older brother was the ever-present charismatic, full of fun and teasing and that was why Desapo loved having Neddy around. Desapo's personality was more serious and abrasive and Neddy drew him out of his severe attitude. The job was fun, as well as sincere when Neddy came on board.

Desapo's appearance at the front counter brought a beaming smile to Gustav. "Mr Desapo, all is acceptable I trust, sir?"

"Huh...? Oh, yes. I need to make a person-to-person call to Edward Desapo at this number," Desapo handed Gustav a piece of paper with Neddy's number on it.

"Right away, sir," Gustav busied himself making the connection and a few minutes later handed Desapo the phone.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 25

The day had been long and tiring for Marguerite, with Majiv's birthday celebration unlike any she had seen before. She spent most of the day hiding in the kitchen alongside Ima, keeping the crowd content with an endless supply of food and washing dishes, while music and dancing echoed into the room. Ima tried to chase her out to enjoy the celebration, but the memory of her lips touching the soft skin of Majiv's handsome face and the electric zap she'd felt on contact frightened her.

The guilt of her wayward pregnancy and its concealment was weighing heavily on her mind, too, making it increasingly difficult to look the Liebermans in the eye. However, Marguerite felt content living with the Liebermans, and if it wasn't for Majiv's presence, it would have been an ideal arrangement; but for now he was the only complication and she would just keep her distance from him. Marguerite daydreamed as she washed another set of dirty dishes and jumped when she realised that someone was speaking to her.

" _Marguerite!_ "

"I am sorry, Ima. Did you say something?" Marguerite apologised.

"Does your own family celebrate birthdays?" Ima repeated.

Marguerite's face fell at the question and Ima saw the response. She looked away from the old woman as if she was coming to a decision and then softly spoke.

"My mother died when I was three. My birthday was a month before she died and that was the last happy family celebration I can remember."

Ima's eyes began to mist over at Marguerite's confession. "Oh, I am sorry, Marguerite!"

The little round woman instinctively moved in and folded Marguerite in a hug. Marguerite was stiff and resistant at first and after a long moment, melted into the tenderness of Ima. She hadn't been the recipient of a mother's arms for many years, but it was impossible to resist her warm magnetism and before long, Marguerite had cautiously told her about her father and his manic ravings that had driven her out of his home. She explained her unhappy childhood, her father's consolation in a bottle at her mother's death and the countless beatings for seemingly minor misdemeanours.

She stopped short of telling her about Robbie and what he had done to her.

It was nearly midnight when the household quieted. Marguerite listened to Katarzyna excitedly recapping her day and her exhortation for Marguerite to join in. She tried to resist the sleep invading her mind and concentrate on Katarzyna's excitement, but her exhaustion won and she floated off into a deep contented sleep.

A metallic buzzer stabbed viciously at Marguerite's sleep and announced the beginning of a new day. With a sleepy sigh, she reached across to the lampstand and silenced the alarm. The chill of the approaching winter was evident even in the second-floor bedroom and as Marguerite left the warmth of her bed and pulled her dressing gown around her, she shivered uncomfortably. Katarzyna stirred, mumbled something and rolled over and went back to sleep, but her pretty face tangled in a shock of jet black locks veiling the girl's face. Her comforter had been dislodged as well and hung precariously off the side of the bed. Marguerite smiled at Katarzyna, realising this is what having a little sister would be like and then with a tender hand, she pulled the comforter back over her and tucked it under her chin, then cleared the misbehaving locks from her eyes.

As Marguerite dressed for her day, she ran her hands over her stomach and quietly greeted the growing baby bump. The house was quiet except for the occasional clatter of dishes, signifying Ima was up and probably had been since Majiv and Mr Lieberman had left for the bakery around 3 am. Ima would have Marguerite's breakfast ready, as she always did when she descended the stairs into the kitchen, taking note of Ima and what she so selflessly did for her family. Soon she would have to do the same for her own family and Ima's example was invaluable to Marguerite since her own mother wasn't around to show her the ropes.

"Good morning, Ima," Marguerite greeted as she walked into the kitchen.

Ima turned toward the voice and her face lit up in a smile. "And good morning to you, Marguerite. Did you sleep well? Sit and I will bring your breakfast."

"Thank you. Yes, I did sleep well."

Ima filled a bowl with hot food and then sat next to Marguerite. "Today is the Sabbath for the family, Marguerite," Ima explained.

Marguerite looked up from her food with questioning eyes.

"It is our belief that our Father God requires us to rest on the seventh day from all work, as He did when He created the world. Our week ends at sundown tonight and the Sabbath goes till sundown on Saturday, where we do not work. We go to church tonight as a family and worship our Lord Jesus, our Messiah, and then afterward we spend time as a family, enjoying each other."

A look of fear crossed Marguerite's face as she stared into the eyes of the gentle old woman. Marguerite remembered her father ranting about _God-botherers_ and the venom he spewed concerning Jesus, Jews and church people.

"I just wanted to tell you so you have time to prepare yourself, Marguerite," Ima gently proposed.

"I have never been to church, Ima," Marguerite replied worriedly. "In fact, my father spoke very ardently against religion."

"It's a normal response for people who do not know our Saviour Jesus," Ima gently assured. "Fear always causes people to jump to conclusions and then speak out with violence against things they do not understand."

"How do you know that what you believe is the truth, Ima?" Marguerite played with her fork, but gazed directly at Ima.

"Because the Bible tells us so," Ima responded quietly. "Everything in the Bible can be proven by history, archaeology and proven prophecy. In fact, some archaeologists use the Bible as a roadmap to find ancient ruins. In the ancient times, prophecies were written sometimes hundreds of years before they happened and later proven to be correct. There are also many prophecies written about today, that have predicted future catastrophic events," Ima continued.

"But a lot of people say that the Bible is just a bunch of confusing children's stories," Marguerite replied.

"That's because they read with the mind of a man and not the mind of the Spirit. God is Spirit and the Word is Spirit and it has to be read with the mind of the Spirit."

Marguerite appeared confused.

Ima got up from the table and disappeared into the kitchen and soon came back with a colourful map. She placed the map on the table in front of Marguerite. "This is a map of Israel. Now I will give you some names in Hebrew and using the map, I want you to find them and direct me how to get there."

Ima rattled off some Hebrew names in her native tongue that Marguerite had never heard before, then she looked at the map in front of her and saw it was written in Hebrew, too.

"I can't understand any of this, Ima," Marguerite complained.

"Then you understand the dilemma of people trying to read and understand the Bible. If you do not know Jesus, then His word will not make any sense to you, either," Ima concluded.

Marguerite understood Ima's point. "Can you teach me how to understand then, Ima? My father's ravings have been wrong on so many occasions and I want to understand from your—and Mr Lieberman's—perspective."

Ima smiled. "You are a smart girl, Marguerite. Maybe tonight at church you will gain some insight into who Jesus Christ really is."

It was time for Marguerite to walk the thirty minutes down to the bakery and prepare for opening time. Marguerite stood at the apartment door and put on her coat. Ima followed her to the door and helped her dress, then pulled up her collar against the wind.

"Have a nice day, Marguerite."

Ima hugged her and as she stepped out into the snowy landscape, the door closed softly behind her.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 26

Desapo's business with Neddy took longer than he expected and the long distance phone call was costing him a small fortune. Neddy's charismatic character had one small flaw: he couldn't seem to make a quick decision and Desapo was getting annoyed. Neddy knew his character traits ate at Desapo, who seemed to be able to decide in a fraction of a second, so Neddy played on it, straining Desapo's patience to the breaking point. He was just about to give up on Neddy and end the phone call when he noticed the appearance of the two women that he and Pike had helped, be it all too reluctantly on the part of the spoilt, dark haired beauty. Neddy's rambling voice distracted him from acknowledging the two women, with the more sensible of the two standing at the counter and whispering intensely to Gustav, only a few feet away from where Desapo was trying to end the call. The spoilt one stood nearby and seemed to be disinterested in the conversation, gazing distractedly all around the foyer.

"All right, cranky, but you'd better understand this is going to cost you, little brother," Neddy finally consented.

Desapo was trying desperately to eavesdrop on the intensity of the whispered conversation and Neddy's ramblings at the same time, and in the end he gave up and told Neddy just to get on a train and get here. Desapo hung up the phone and handed it back to Gustav, who by this time had finished his whispered conversation with the lady and the two women had moved on into the diner.

"I couldn't help overhearing your whispered conversation, Gustav. The lady looked quite intimidated," Desapo's intense gaze told Gustav he was expecting to be enlightened.

"Their situation is indeed unenviable, Mr Desapo. Unfortunately, my employer does not allow me to extend charitable anomalies."

"Are you trying to tell me that they are about to be evicted from this hotel?!" Desapo's expression seemed flabbergasted.

"I am at length not to be considered perfidious, Mr Desapo, but it would seem that the ladies are bereft of a financial supporter and quite soon I would be incumbent upon, should I say ever so circumlocutory, to expedite their departure. The lady was enquiring of any suitable employment they may be fortuitous enough to undertake in this establishment, but as the financial crisis inhibits amicable collaboration, I had no choice but to excogitate and answer in the negative."

Desapo stared at Gustav with a questioning gaze. "So, you mean to tell me the ladies are looking for work?"

"Indeed, that is what I have just explained, sir."

Desapo was about to leave the counter when a sudden thought stopped him and he returned to where Gustav was standing. "I have an idea, Gustav, that may be satisfactory to all parties, but I will need your assistance."

Gustav smiled with anticipation at Desapo's plan. He nodded as he listened and then broke out into an even bigger grin. " _Bravo_ , sir! You can count on my collaboration."

Desapo entered the dining room and walked slowly past the table Tess and Katrina occupied. "Good evening, ladies," he gestured as he installed himself in a table close by.

Tess' face brightened as she recognised Desapo. "Good evening, sir."

Katrina turned away from Desapo with a look of disdain, giving him the impression of a cold shoulder.

"I do hope you have recovered from your turn, madam?" Desapo's gaze turned to Katrina.

"I am recovered well enough, sir. However, I consider myself fortunate to have escaped a substantial injury at the rough treatment I received from your hand," Katrina sulked, deciding she did not like this brute of a man, even if he had been so kind to her.

"Katie...! Please forgive my... sister, sir. Being unfortunately left behind by our ship has caused her a great shock. I am sure when she has had time to recover fully she will be more congenial," Tess' expression begged Katrina to comply.

Katrina turned toward Desapo and looked him straight in the eye. "I hardly think so... _sister!_ " she stressed, before turning her gaze away from Desapo and Tess.

Desapo's amused features were getting bored with the interplay and Katrina's childish response. The arrival of the waiter to deliver food to the two women allowed an uneasy truce, and Desapo began to spread out plans and documents on the table in front of him. Soon, his attention was completely absorbed in his work, broken only by the waiter bringing him his food.

Katrina picked up her knife and fork with her gloved hands and removed her handkerchief from a small leather bag, polishing the knife and fork with such tenacity that Tess was becoming uneasy at the attention and stares from amused diners close by. Katrina was still adjusting to her new surrounds and even though she was hungry, the thought of eating common food from common utensils and plates still didn't sit well with her. She placed a small amount of food between her white teeth, hoping once again that somehow this would neutralise any possibility of catching a common disease from common food. The taste of the food was making her mouth water and eventually, she gave in and hungrily devoured the rest.

Katrina's antics made Tess nervous for their immediate future. Katrina's only known ability was to grace high society parties with her elegant appearance and Tess knew if they were to survive, it would be up to her to earn an income. Tess planned to walk the streets of Lightning Harbour and beg for work, if need be. She worried that the allowance for Katrina's upkeep was running out rapidly, and after tomorrow they would be literally thrown out on the street. Katrina was dropping social classes very fast and her riches-to-rags story would be inevitable if Tess didn't do something. Katrina's survival was dependent on Tess' ability to provide for the clueless prima donna.

Once they'd finished in the diner, Tess and Katrina made their way back to their room, with Katrina appearing to have recovered some of her good spirits after the meal and seemed quite jovial. Tess, however, felt a gnawing in her stomach and it was making her feel ill with the stress and after the two women retired to bed for the night, Tess remained awake into the early hours, tossing and turning while Katrina enjoyed a deep sleep punctuated by her slow, deliberate breaths.

Colliding with the morning after a sleep-deprived night, Tess was feeling numb, packing Katrina's belongings into her case and then attended to her own.

"Aren't we having breakfast before we move out, Tess? Where, by the way, will we be going?" Katrina brightly chattered.

"We only have enough money to pay our hotel expenses and not enough money for breakfast. Where we go from here, Lady Katrina... _I have no idea!"_ Tess sounded a little teary and defeated; and at her downcast features, the gravity of their circumstances struck Katrina, who was only now starting to understand her folly.

"I'm so sorry, Tess. If I hadn't been so immature, we wouldn't be in this predicament."

Tess smiled a defeated smile. If nothing else, Katrina had learned a hard lesson.

Carrying their belongings down to the foyer and preparing to pay Gustav the account, Tess engaged the hotelier with a defeated frown.

"Are you going somewhere, madam?" Gustav enquired.

"Yes, Gustav, we can no longer afford to stay in your comfortable hotel and I must now try and find work and a place for me and my sister to stay."

Gustav pretended to glance at his books and then peered at the young woman. "It does appear, madam, that your account has, in fact, already been paid and I do believe that it is to be taken care of into the future," Gustav's grin gave away his foreknowledge of their new situation.

Tess couldn't believe what she was hearing. "I'm sorry, Gustav, did you say the account has already been paid and will be paid into the future?"

Gustav nodded and grinned at the same time, looking like a sideshow clown. Tess, however, wobbled on her feet, feeling giddy and faint before heading for the security of a nearby chair and then slumped down, holding her head in her hands in shock.

" _Deary me, are you all right, madam?!_ " Gustav's concerned voice drifted over Tess.

When Tess glanced up at Gustav, her eyes were flowing over with relieved but thankful tears. " _How is this possible?!_ " Blowing her nose on her handkerchief and wiping away the streams of emotion, Tess tried to compose herself .

"Well, I have spoken with a gentleman on your behalf regarding employment. He has a large project to be undertaken in the township of Lightning Harbour and wishes to engage _both_ you ladies in his employ."

Tess pulled in a breath as if she'd been winded. "Which gentleman, Gustav? And what employment are we to undertake?" Tess sounded even more incredulous.

"The gentleman will be in town in a couple of days and will meet with you then. He has offered to take care of your room and board costs while you are in his employ as well as wages, starting from today."

Tess awkwardly raised herself from her chair and placed a watery kiss on Gustav's cheek. "Thank you, Gustav," she again wiped at her tears with her handkerchief.

Gustav's grin widened till his face almost split in two. "Think nothing of it, madam," he replied, taking the credit.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 27

Smiley collected a stack of dirty dishes from the table of his second floor apartment and while balancing the handful, he searched for a place on the sink to amass the aging pile. Finding nothing but more dirty dishes, he stooped to the floor and placed the collection carefully on the vinyl. He then returned to the table and pushed several empty takeaway pizza boxes over the edge and as they clattered to the floor, small uneaten morsels spilled around the legs of the chairs. Stepping over the boxes and heading for a short, overloaded bookshelf positioned against the wall, he searched for a particular book. Locating the book by the colourful spine, he pulled hard to release it from the confined environment from which it lived and as the tome dislodged from its fellow literary works, a substantial avalanche occurred, leaving a mess of bound papery confusion in a random pile on the congested carpet. Smiley sighed and gazed at the unruly literature taking up residence on his floor, shrugged and mouthed to himself, " _Mañana!_ "

Turning from his new paperback mountain, he stepped back over the pizza boxes, wiped the table with a swipe of his hand and placed the book down. Pulling out a chair and confronted with a pile of unopened letters, a look of surprise ambled lazily across Smiley's features. " _I wondered what happened to them!_ "

Throwing the letters onto a space next to the pizza boxes, he lowered his skinny frame into the chair and skipped it along the floor, shifting his weight with each skip until the chair was pulled comfortably up to the table. Opening the book, he concentrated on the first page, a large map, and then carefully traced the freeways and highways across two states until he found what he was looking for... the township of Landon. Mentally calculating the distance and then the intended time of departure, a plan began to form. With a finger following the map as he schemed, the plan took shape.

_If I leave the city limits at... say, 10:00 am and travel east at sixty miles an hour, by sundown I would be in some pretty remote country,_ he mused, studying the topography of the map _. The seaside town of Tripoli Waters is about halfway to Landon and there isn't much in between. I'd have to refuel in Tripoli Waters, anyway._ Smiley's brow furrowed in concentration. _Hmm... I'll have to keep a close eye on the fuel station, too. If I miss my opportunity, all this will be for nothing,_ he thought, rubbing the tension from the back of his head.

Checking the index, Smiley turned the road atlas to Tripoli Waters and studied the small seaside town. It had one motel right on the water's edge and as he searched the page for the motel's phone number, he hoped it hadn't changed over the years. Holding his finger against the suspected number, Smiley dragged his mobile phone from his pocket and punched the digits in with the thumb of his free hand. After an extended time, Smiley sighed and was just about to hang up when a young female voice abruptly answered.

" _Tripoli Waters Motel."_

"Oh... hi, my name is Smiley Williams. I was wondering if you had two rooms available for tomorrow night?"

" _MUM! SOMEONE WANTS TWO ROOMS FOR TOMORROW NIGHT!"_

Smiley sharply pulled the phone away from his ear, fearing a burst eardrum.

"Give that to me...!" an antagonised woman hissed. "Hello, Tripoli Waters Motel, how may I help you?"

"Yeah, as I said, I want to know if you have two rooms for tomorrow night?"

"What name, please?"

"Arr, Williams... Smiley Williams."

"And how many people?"

"Two... please."

"Yes, Mr Williams, that will be two hundred dollars, thank you."

After Smiley settled the account with his credit card, he pushed the _quit_ button and his phone went blank. _Okay, that's settled. Now to get into position._ Smiley grabbed his coat, felt in his pocket for his wallet and did a final glance around his apartment. _Whoa,_ _I'd better clean up before Jacqui comes over again._

But then his own thoughts convicted him.

Jacqui!

He would have a hard time trying to explain this latest harebrained scheme to her. If she knew he was staying in a motel halfway across the country with another woman... he could see his own premature death come up before him, no matter how innocent it was. He sighed, feeling trapped, but he'd just have to try and explain when he saw her next.

A new idea scrambled across his mind, but when he checked his watch, he noted it was well past office hours and too late to ring the administrative department of Landon County Hospital now. He would do that tomorrow.

Smiley switched off the lights and pulled the front door closed to his apartment and locked the deadlock. He ran down the dimly lit stairs to his small car parked in a dark undercover parking space, nervously unlocked the door and climbed in. Locking the driver door again, he cranked the engine and after a few tense seconds in the cold night air, it eventually spluttered to life. The car lights lit up the parking space, taking the fear out the unknown darkness and as Smiley let the small engine warm up, he again checked his watch. _Peak hour traffic should have died down by now,_ he calculated, and it would be about 4:00 to 4:30 am when he arrived in Tripoli Waters. As he pulled the car up onto the side street, he pondered gravely.

This could be my greatest single act or my biggest ever blunder.

*~*~*~*

Brett lay next to Becky, watching her sleep, but then a stab of fear entered his heart wanting to protect her from today's inevitable pain. Cuddling up to her peaceful form, he hadn't slept much all night and had watched the numbers of the digital clock change hour after hour. He wanted to be there with her today for support, but Emma and Jacob had asked to see Becky alone. He was about to object, but then conceded maybe this way was right. The alarm clock suddenly burst into his thoughts and it was time to get up and face the day.

Becky stirred from her sleep. "Ermm, is it that time already?" she moaned.

"Yep, come on sleepyhead, time to greet the day," Brett wrapped his arms around her, drew her over and held her, then kissed her for a long moment. "I want you to know that I am crazy about you, Rebecca Redden. Do you know how much you mean to me?"

She used her forefinger and thumb to make a one inch gauge. He covered her gesture with his hand, shook his head and spread his arms wide apart.

"That much, Mr Redden?"

"That much, Mrs Redden."

She wriggled contentedly back into his embrace and stayed there a long time. "I feel safe and warm in your love, Brett," Becky confessed.

"It will always be there for you, Becky."

Brett's sincerity caught Becky off guard, as if he was making out his will. She peered deeply into his eyes and saw a troubled storm brewing behind his loving gaze.

"I know, Brett, and my love is only for you, too," she offered sincerely, as if she was trying to reassure him.

*~*~*~*

By the time Brett opened his office door, Jacqui was already at her desk with her usual black coffee, steaming hot next to her computer keyboard.

"Morning, Brett," she welcomed.

"Huh...? Oh, good morning, Jacqui," Brett returned her greeting without stopping to talk and closed the office door behind him. He peered up at the clock on his wall and his nerves made his stomach feel like it was on a rollercoaster ride. Becky would be meeting with Emma and Jacob in just a few moments. Brett's first appointment arrived and before he knew it, it was well after 10:00 am. Glancing at the clock as the appointment left, Brett was just about to reach for the phone when Jacqui buzzed him.

"Yes, Jacqui."

"I have your father-in-law on line four."

Brett's heart raced. "Thanks, Jacqui. Hold all my calls for now, please." Brett heard Jacqui hang up her receiver and then he stabbed the number four on his phone pad. "Brett Redden."

There was a gasp as he heard Jacob's voice stretched with emotion. Brett could tell things hadn't gone well.

"Brett, it's Jacob. Becky took it really badly and I don't think she heard anything we said after she took the document you handed to us. She had an awful expression on her face and wouldn't let us come near her. _She was hysterical, Brett!_ I've never seen our loving Becky act this way toward us before and her eyes were so angry and accusing as if we had betrayed her... Emma's a mess."

"Is Becky still there?"

"No. She took the document you gave us and sped away in your car. I..I feel sick with worry, Brett," Jacob revealed.

Brett's stomach churned as he hung up the phone. He immediately dialled Becky's mobile but she had turned it off, so then turned his attention to their home phone but it just rang off. Throwing the phone back in its cradle and bent over in his chair, Brett's elbows rested on his knees while his face rested in his hands and stared at the floor.

" _Dear God, please keep her safe._ "

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 28

The Earl of Kempsy was unaccustomed to waiting for servants to answer his knock and when the duke's butler drew the large wooden door ajar, he was met with the earl's foul temper.

"What kept you, Carsons? Just because the duke's ship has gone missing, doesn't mean you can have a paid holiday!"

"No, my lord," the stone-faced Carsons answered politely, used to the earl and his bad temper. From a young boy, the earl had been raised as a carbon copy of his father and both he and Lady Katrina were gentry at its rudest and spoilt beyond belief.

"I have come to make sure my father's estate is still intact and that you and your fellow subordinates have not taken to stealing the silver."

"It would be difficult, sir, as the constabulary are here most days looking for evidence," Carsons remarked with a plum-in-cheek response.

"Evidence? What evidence are they likely to find here at the estate?" the earl's face took on a concerned demeanour.

"I am unaware, sir, of what the constabulary search for. It is enough to say they are thorough in their searching and I am to report anyone who comes to the estate and enquires after the duke's affairs," Carsons warned, taking the perfect official opportunity to give the young brat a disguised and figurative kick in the pants.

" _You are to keep your mouth shut, Carsons, about my appearance here!_ Once the will is read and I am the rightful owner of everything that belongs to the duke, you, sir, will be dismissed."

"Very good, sir," Carsons replied dryly.

The earl took a cursive glance around the large foyer and then turned to leave, astutely aware and completely certain Carsons would inform the constabulary of his visit.

*~*~*~*

Standing by a large window overlooking his sprawling gardens, the earl anxiously watched a lone figure walking up his meandering drive and as the figure approached the front porch, the earl called for his servant. "Show Mr Bellaruse into the library and call me when he is seated," the earl instructed.

"Yes, my lord."

The servant disappeared out into the foyer to greet the approaching man and just barely five minutes later he returned. "Mr Bellaruse is waiting for you in the library, sir."

The earl nodded and dismissed his servant. "See that we are not disturbed," he added as the servant left.

As the earl entered the library, the pocked-faced Bellaruse stood to greet him. "Ah, the good son of the recently departed duke. I hope you are not too overcome with grief at the demise of your father."

The hideous marks on the face of Bellaruse reminded the earl of a mouldy cheese and he shuddered, trying to force himself to look away, concentrating instead on the business he'd planned to discuss. "Your attention to detail, Bellaruse, has caused suspicion to fall too close to home... _my home!_ "

"I am at a loss to understand your meaning, my lord," Bellaruse teased.

"You made the _Riviera_ disappear all too cleverly. There is an investigation now centred on my father's estate looking for clues of any sort," the earl complained. "Maybe you can make some of my sister's possessions that you... _acquired_ wash up on a beach where the authorities can find them, thus shifting the suspicion and the search somewhere else."

" _Your sister's possessions?!_ I have no recollection of anyone claiming to be the duke's daughter when we... _obtained_ his property."

The earl swung around to catch the eye of Bellaruse. "You didn't identify my sister?! The long black hair and attractive features should have been a dead giveaway." This was a new worry the earl hadn't planned on and as he described Katrina and her beauty, Bellaruse's cold eyes turned to slits.

"If she was that extremely handsome, my lord, my men would have... _remembered her_. I assure you she was not there."

The earl heaved a deep sigh. Bellaruse's scheme was quickly becoming a nightmare and if Katrina was still alive, he was in deep trouble and his claim to the family fortune was in jeopardy. "You had better get back to wherever this happened and search for her. If she is still alive, you can forget your cut."

*~*~*~*

With her gaze fixed and staring out the window to the street below, Katrina had been loitering in the room waiting for Tess to pay the bill and then return upstairs to collect her. Soon she would be on the other side of that glass, homeless and destitute, so Katrina stayed confined within the luxury for as long as she could, holding onto the last remaining moments of her former privileged life before they came to evict her and cast her into the unknown.

The sounds of someone dropping something on the floor at the door startled her. "Your bags, madam," the hotel porter explained.

"Oh... no, they should be taken downstairs," Katrina explained, thinking a mistake had been made.

Tess appeared at the door, her face aglow. "There is no mistake, Lady Katrina! A strange and wonderful thing has happened and we are no longer to be cast out into the street," Tess danced excitedly around the room.

"What thing, Tess?!" Katrina couldn't believe her ears as she watched Tess twirl around the room.

"It seems that Gustav has spoken to a gentleman on our behalf and he has agreed to employ us both AND pay our expenses."

Katrina didn't know what to do. "Employ us? But what work are we expected to perform? You know I have no knowledge of menial labour."

Tess shrugged. "He will be in town in a couple of days to meet with us. I am sure you can ask about his plan then. Apparently he has a big project starting up in Lightning Harbour and we are to be part of it. Our board and accommodation are already paid and will be into the future and we will earn a wage, too," Tess responded excitedly.

"What would my father say?" Katrina slumped onto the bed and held her head in her hands.

"Lady Katrina, your father has made his intention known. You... we... need to take this opportunity with both hands! This is our big chance and the alternative is sleeping in an alleyway somewhere," Tess was afraid that Katrina would revert back to her stubborn, pampered roots and end up getting them both fired before they even started.

"Indeed, you are right, Tess... sister. Since we have a new life now, I am now Katie and Katrina no longer exists. _You will stay close by me, Tess, won't you?!"_ Katrina worried.

"Just like a sister... Katie," Tess assured the nervous Katrina.

"Do you think we can have some breakfast now, Tess? I am quite hungry," Katie confessed.

"Sure, why not? Our new employer is paying. Let's go... sister."

*~*~*~*

Desapo glanced up from his papers scattered all over his table as the two ladies entered the diner. A fresh, hot cup of coffee sat steaming by his arm. "Good morning, ladies," he politely rose to his feet.

"Good morning, sir," Tess replied and Katrina nodded slightly as the excited ladies took a seat at a table close by, allowing Desapo to return to his paperwork.

Katrina frowned and directed an unwise provocation towards Desapo. "Did you sleep at that table, sir?"

Desapo raised his head from his work in an attempt to reply to the black haired woman. "I am curious to ascertain and to understand why, madam, you would make such an observation?"

"When we left the diner last night, your demeanour was as it is now. One can only deduce that you slept at the table," Katrina smirked.

"It is a logical assumption, madam, but I can assure you my work requires more than just a passing glance to satisfy its fulfilment."

Katrina felt like she was being drawn into the battle again with this brutish man, but decided the happiness of finding a generous employer and most likely a gentleman, would not be downplayed. "Your attempts to dampen my happy mood are in vain today, sir. We have had the good fortune recently to come upon a gentleman who knows how to encourage and lighten a lady's burden, unlike your own attempts at brutish handling of a lady's delicate person," Katrina retorted, rising to Desapo's bait.

"I'm pleased that you have made the acquaintance of such a man. Have you known the gentleman long?"

"In fact, we have not met the gentleman as of yet, but we are sure he is a man of fine character," Katrina boasted.

"I'm sure he is, but if you will excuse me, I have to refocus my attention on my work. Good day, ladies," Desapo returned to his work and smiled to himself.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 29

As another meeting concluded and the party left his office, Brett reached for the phone and with trembling fingers, dialled Becky's mobile number once again. His heart leaped when a woman's voice answered, but soon realised the message and the tone wasn't Becky's.

" _I am sorry, the person you are trying to reach has their phone switched off. Please try again later."_

Deflated and with desperation's grasp pulling him into despair, he dialled his home phone number but for the twentieth time, it rang off. The last resort was Emma and Jacob, but he doubted she would return to their company after such a violent bombshell. After one rolling tone emitted from the earpiece, Jacob's panicky voice interrupted, hoping to hear from Becky.

" _Hello, Becky!_ "

"Jacob, it's me, Brett. Obviously you haven't heard from her."

Jacob deflated like a ruptured balloon. "No, Brett. I assume you haven't heard, either."

After a brief discourse and words of encouragement to keep hanging on, Brett hung up the phone and glanced up at the clock... 3 pm. If he didn't have a meeting with Les Cargill, the managing director, in minutes, he would have left the office and started searching the streets for Becky. Brett had already postponed Cargill once and thanks to Jacqui's quick thinking, she'd managed to reschedule and save his neck. Becky had their only car, so if Brett wanted to leave the office he would have to catch a cab and had no idea where to start looking for her, anyway. Travelling around for hours in a cab would be reckless and his last hope was that Becky would arrive at 5 pm to pick him up from work as planned.

Trying desperately to concentrate on Cargill's conversation, Brett's mind kept wandering, glancing up at the clock and he found himself agreeing with something he shouldn't have and Cargill picked him up on it. By the time Cargill breezed from his office, Brett was sweating and it was nearly 5 pm. Nervously, he pulled back the office venetians and searched the street below for the familiar grey Kia and Becky's pregnant outline waiting for him to arrive.

But she was nowhere in sight.

*~*~*~*

Jacqui shut down her computer and when the power light blinked off, she covered the tower and keyboard with a plastic jacket for the night. She pushed her chair in and reached for her belongings but as she lifted her bag, her mobile phone started ringing. Fidgeting with the phone before the person hung up, she stabbed the _receive_ button and placed it to her ear, having no time to check the number.

"Hello, this is Jacqui."

"Jack, it's me, Smiley."

"If you insist on calling me Jack, Smiley, I'll hang up!"

"Sorry... Jacqui! And please don't hang up. This is very important."

"Where have you been today, Smiley? I've asked the news team and nobody has seen you!"

"Jacqui... I'm on a special assignment, but that doesn't matter for now. Is Brett still there?"

"Yes, but I think Becky is due to pick him up at any moment."

"Hmm... can you have a look outside your window and see if she has arrived?"

"Smiley! _What's going on?!_ "

"Jacqui, please, just do it."

Jacqui huffed and walked over to the window and peered out around the street. "No, it doesn't seem like she is here yet."

"All right, I need you to listen carefully and just do what I am about to ask you, no questions, okay?"

"You haven't even asked me to _marry_ you and you are already ordering me about. What if I say no?"

Smiley was flabbergasted at her comment, stammering for a moment and had to concentrate hard to refocus. "Um..I..arr... the reason is... look, Jack..Jacqui, you don't know it yet but two people are relying on you."

" _Me?!_ What two people?"

"Jack..Jacqui! I'm running out of time. This is what I want you to do."

By the time Smiley had explained his plan, Jacqui's mouth hung open in shock. He'd stopped short of explaining his full hunch and where he was hiding out and when Jacqui hung up and checked the clock on the wall above her desk, it was now 5:30 pm. Cautiously, she walked to the window and checked outside for Becky and the Kia, but just like Smiley guessed, she hadn't arrived. Brett's door suddenly burst open and she quickly let go of the corner of the shade and tried to look inconspicuous.

"Jacqui, why are you still here?" Brett's face was an obvious mass of tension.

"Oh, just catching up on a few filing jobs... _Brett, are you all right?_ " Jacqui's concern matched the strain on Brett's face.

Brett sighed heavily, with his shoulders slumped under a massive emotional burden and when he answered Jacqui, his voice was flat and low and his eyes were swimming, trying to remain in control. "Becky's gone missing," his bottom lip trembled, giving away the strain.

Jacqui didn't know what to say or do, but one thing was for sure... Smiley was right on the money. "Did you have a fight?" Jacqui offered and tried to cover her knowledge of Smiley's assumption.

"Um... not in so many words, at least not with me. The shock of a discovery today may have sent her into a tailspin," Brett whispered.

Jacqui's tender heart was overflowing. "I'm sure she will turn up once she has sorted herself out. Can I give you a ride home, or maybe I can drive you around places she may have gone and try and look for her?"

"Would you mind, Jacqui? I would be awfully grateful," Brett managed.

*~*~*~*

The ache in her heart had appeared to erase the emotion of love, leaving betrayal and trust colliding with that awful word... _ADOPTED..._ singling her out and painting a picture of the deepest blackness. The piece of paper that had changed her life and turned her world upside down was still sitting on the seat next to her and the underlined words screamed at her... _Landon County Hospital._ Tears blinded her eyes, but the arrogance of the familiar had blinded her mind. She had to know the origins of the blood running in her veins and therefore... who she was. Things were normal only hours ago, but now the shock had sent her spiralling, searching, wanting to know where she belonged and why she had been abandoned.

Was she a product of rape?

Maybe she was too ugly as a baby for her mother to keep?

Who is my mother and what sort of a woman gives up her child for another to raise?

Why didn't she want me?!

Her tears flowed again.

As the hollow questions chased each other around in her mind, frustration skyrocketed and she bellowed at the roof of the car, _"What have I done to deserve this?!"_ she angrily shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at God. _"Am I not worthy of the truth, of a family and a mother?!"_

Emma's face crept deceptively into her mind and the anger exploded. _"What else have you lied about?!"_

A new round of tears ran down her face and her nose added to the river of despair.

" _Whose child am I?!"_

Without warning, an orange cautionary light blinked on in the dash's instrument panel and diverted the painful ranting, demanding action be taken before the illuminated symbol unleashed its dire prediction. She glanced to the point of the speedometer needle indicating her speed at 65 MPH and studied the fuel-bowser-shaped glow.

Concentrating on the ominous warning light, the car lurched violently from the guidance of her hand and veered viciously across to the wrong side of the road, tearing sideways and cannoning down the deserted highway, half in the gravel and half on the bitumen. Ripping tyres complained bitterly, anguished by the sideways trajectory and vehemently holding the road surface in a bid to prevent the speeding vehicle from barrel rolling. Among the tragic chorus, a desperate _scream_ added to the melee until the slow motion nightmare jostled to an exhausted end.

By the time the numbing cacophony—rubber on asphalt—had come to a bone-chilling finale, dust and smoke gathered around the car, blanketing the scene and accentuating the dash lights after the engine had quit. Trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, the lone woman quaked as she listened for signs of danger, knowing full well she'd just cheated death; but the prolonged silence assured her she was safe. Shaking violently, she released the seat belt and opened the car door to see what damage had taken place. Unsure whether she could stand or if her knees would agree to support her weight, she cautiously lowered her feet to the road and coaxed her unsteady legs to perform.

Picking her way precariously around the insulted vehicle and using the car's body to support her, she glanced back at the road surface and the thick black marks that lay testament to the dire event. Somehow the car had stopped, leaving the vehicle's front end pointing spastically across the country highway. With the wind making a _swishing_ noise in the tall roadside grass and the car exhaust _tink, tink, tinking_ as it cooled in the extreme quiet, she listened intently, struggling to hear any sounds.

After the near tragedy, the ominous and lonely country surrounds had fallen deathly silent, shocked by the chilling event; but the friendly afternoon sun had warmed her shaking frame slightly and given her the presence of mind to examine the fallout. Satisfied the damage was only to the depth of the tyre tread, the lone woman entered the car again and decided to attempt a start. Reaching for a bunch of keys hanging lazily from the ignition, she managed to twist the bundle, throwing in the starter. The engine hesitated and then after a few more groans fired, but the troublesome light that had caused the latest fiasco was still illuminated and she was desperately low on fuel.

Pointing the car onto the correct side of the road and pushing the accelerator down, the car picked up speed quickly, changing smoothly up the automatic transmission. The last road sign had warned Larsson Flats was 90 miles away, but she couldn't remember how long ago that was. Constantly studying the fuel gauge and wondering how much fuel she still had left, every bump and noise made her tense, hoping the car wouldn't leave her stranded miles from anywhere.

Just up ahead, a shape appeared on the side of the road, forcing her to squint trying to recognise the outline, but as it grew nearer a sign materialized, flooding relief across her anxious mind. Glimpsing the distance sign as it came into view and then disappeared behind her just as quickly, it declared _Larsson Flat 20 miles._ Counting each mile, watching the odometer and listening for signs of changes in the vehicle's performance, she coaxed the vehicle on by sheer will, hoping it wouldn't run out of fuel. By the time the lonely outpost of Larsson Flat appeared on a rise, she was tense with nerves and her neck ached from stress, urging the car to keep going.

After the first section of a nerve-racking drive, the grey Kia pulled back out onto the main highway, completing a comfort stop, much needed refuelling and a quick bite to eat. The attendant warned her there wasn't much between Larsson Flat and Tripoli Waters and it would be well after sundown by the time she made the halfway mark to Landon.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 30

Parked on the roadside and just before the fuel station, Smiley's little car had a bird's eye view of the traffic entering and leaving. But after a sleep-deprived forty hours, Smiley's eyes were growing heavy in the warm afternoon sun. A country traffic cop pulled up behind him, asking to see his licence and enquiring about his business there and when Smiley offered, "I'm travelling through and waiting to catch up with a friend, Officer," the cop ran his licence through the police computer and after he'd satisfied himself Smiley had no felonious intent, he left him be. After the anxious interlude with the officer, Smiley's eyes grew even heavier and eventually, they closed.

By the time he jolted awake again, the sun had disappeared, turning the horizon into a canvas of flaming black-red. Smiley chided himself for falling asleep and hoped he hadn't missed his subject, possibly slipping through without him noticing. Rubbing the sleep from his bloodshot eyes, he tried to think what to do and in a moment of decision, resolved to wait and if she didn't show after a few more hours and had already passed through, he would forget about Tripoli Waters and catch up with her further up the deserted country highway. The dusk light made identifying traffic difficult, but thankfully, the town seemed to close up after the sun went down and now traffic was negligible. With the fuel station attendant's voice vehemently ringing in his ears advising they closed at 8 pm sharp, Smiley flicked on the ignition and peered over at the radio clock... 6:30 pm.

Smiley had just settled his head back against the door arch and was staring up at the sky when a set of car lights reflected in his rear view mirror. The lights were still a long way off and a white haze of high beam lit up the country road behind him, silhouetting the shapes of the bush at night. As the vehicle eventually approached and indicated their intention to turn into the fuel station, he settled back down into his seat as the car drove past him, hoping not to be recognised. The orange flashing indicator light hurt Smiley's tired eyes but he continued to study the car and as they slowed down to make the turn and finally drove under the floodlit fuel station canopy, a slightly built woman, but obviously pregnant, exited the grey Kia.

" _Bingo!_ " Smiley sung and then reached down, cranking the small car into life and deliberately pulled up behind the Kia. The woman had just paid for her fuel and was walking back to the car when Smiley stepped out.

" _Becky?!_ "

The small woman stopped dead in her tracks and stared in disbelief at the figure, frightened for a moment until she recognised the man. " _Smiley!_ _How... did you find me?!_ " Becky expression had crumpled with another shock and her eyes testified to what Smiley had been expecting.

"Let's just say I understand and in fact, I did the same thing when I eventually found out."

*~*~*~*

The sounds of gentle waves running up on the pebbly beach made a _swishing_ noise, adding a calming peace into Becky's deeply troubled heart. Becky and Smiley sat silently on a large wooden table in a gazebo on the grounds of the Tripoli Motel, facing the dark water of Tripoli Inlet. Flying insects buzzed around the small light above their heads, their wings fluttering and bumping against the light tube while the balmy night offered a gentle warm breeze to tease Rebecca's anxious face. The day had started out like any other, but had finished like no other, scarring her perfectly ordered world into a spiralling gasp of despair. It had been horrible, as her life and security tumbled like a line of dominoes and now, she was unsure of everything.

Smiley broke the silence. "It was that name of the hospital on the adoption certificate that gave me the clue of where to find you."

Amazed, Becky turned to face Smiley, realising he'd obviously had some connection with the announcement. "So, you were adopted, too. Did you ever find your birth mum?"

Smiley shook his head. "I spent years barking up the wrong trees and expending so much emotional energy. I tracked down the hospital where I was born and broke into the records department and stole my own file, only to be confronted with the term, _mother's information confidential._ That means she didn't want to be found. I started the quest to find out where I belonged when I was twenty-five and gave up at forty. I'm now forty-two."

"So you never found your birth mum?" Becky peered across at Smiley, repeating her question to make sure she understood.

Smiley shook his head slowly, "There are many reasons why mothers give up their children, Becky. Underaged pregnancies, rape, incest, health, parental pressure, child's gender, colour of the eyes... at least I wasn't aborted."

Becky swallowed hard and glanced down, trying to figure out her own emotions. "So, how have you coped not knowing?"

"Well, I could've saved a large chunk of my life if the authorities had cooperated. They just make things difficult for the child to find their _blood_ , so to speak and it is worse if the mother doesn't want to be found. In the end, I had to forgive my adoptive mother for hiding the truth from me and to be honest, I wasted so many years being angry with her and all she wanted was to love me and protect me. I _should've_ just revelled in the love that she had in buckets for me. She's a beautiful woman and I am afraid I hurt her badly," Smiley sighed regrettably.

"Anyway, once I calmed down and saw things from her perspective, I understood the reasons behind her choice, albeit a poor one. She wanted a child so badly and couldn't get pregnant. You've gotta understand, Becky, the authorities put prospective adoptive parents through the ringer, invading every part of their privacy. They have to jump through a myriad of bureaucratic hoops just to get approval to go on a waiting list and my adoptive parents were fast approaching forty so she was worried the authorities wouldn't give her a child after that, thinking she would be too old. Anyway, after another three years of wondering and lost hope, she got a phone call telling her a baby had become available and did she want it. She was forty-one when the call came so you can imagine... she refused."

Becky was stunned, not expecting Smiley's remark. " _What?!_ "

"Sorry, just checking to see if you are still awake. My mum was so excited the day she brought me home and I grew up loved and content, believing my name had always been Smiley Williams. Until that awful day when it came out and my world crumbled."

"Yeah, I know; tell me about it," Becky's voice cracked with emotion.

Smiley continued, "Mum was so afraid that someone would knock on her door and demand she give back her child and I guess that was a fear she lived with all my life." Smiley paused, recalling the past and ordering his words. "Then someone opened my eyes to the fact my adoptive mum didn't have to love me and wake up every couple of hours to prepare a bottle and feed me or change my dirty diapers every hour. She didn't have to send me to school and encourage me to be her bright little Smiley or worry herself senseless when I had a fever or I was sick. She didn't have to lie awake half the night until I came home and fell safely into bed, or sacrifice to send me to college when she could have bought another more fashionable home and had a comfortable retirement. When I finally came to terms with the love and selflessness of my adoptive mother and the fact that she wanted me so much, that she would hide me to keep me... and that my birth mother didn't want me at all, my perspective changed dramatically."

Becky searched the ground in front of her feet for a long moment, grateful for Smiley's guidance and insight. She'd only seen things from her point of view and feelings, and hadn't even considered her mother's perspective. Becky sighed heavily, hoping Smiley could cast more light on her pain from his experiences. "I guess there is a reason why my birth mother gave me up."

Smiley glanced sideways at the young woman, noticing her pregnant outline. "You may be one of the lucky ones who learns the truth or gets to meet your birth mother, but you have to be prepared for anything, Becky. Most of all, don't do what I did and burn the bridge out from under the people who have loved you as their own and are worried sick about you right now."

Becky pulled the piece of paper out of her jeans pocket and peered down at the document, with the name of the hospital standing out under the heavily underlined text. "It doesn't seem so threatening, now I have listened to you and your journey, Smiley."

Smiley grinned and offered his advice. "Well, we're about halfway to Landon County Hospital here and you may find your answer there or you may just find a ghost. It may be something worth looking for or it may just drive a stake into your heart, but I advise you finish this part of the journey and if you want, I'll go with you. I suspect you'll come to a dead end at the hospital and if so, I suggest to postpone your search and go back to the people who _are_ your life. Over time, you may find out more about your blood, but don't sacrifice the ones who truly love you, in the meantime."

Smiley reached into his pocket and drew out his phone, noticing it was close to midnight. Punching in a number, he pushed the _call_ button and waited. In the quiet late hour, Becky could hear it ringing and when it connected, a frantic male voice answered.

"G'day, Brett, it's Smiley."

Immediately, Smiley could hear the deflated tone. "Just hang on a minute, I've got someone here who wants to talk to you."

Smiley handed the phone to Becky and as she gratefully accepted Smiley's offering, she spoke softly to the distraught man she loved.

As Smiley walked away, he could hear Brett crying loudly, sobbing in relief.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 31

By the time Becky had finished talking to Brett, it was well after 3 am and she was feeling buoyed, positive and deeper in love with her wonderful man. Walking over to her room against the silent late night backdrop, she found Smiley asleep in a chair on the motel's verandah outside his room, next door to hers. The surrounding night was so quiet her whisper sounded like a shout.

"Smiley."

Smiley stirred, grinned and sat up in the chair as Becky handed his phone back.

"Brett okay?"

"Yes, things are back on track, thanks to you. We owe you a lot, Smiley. Thank you."

Smiley beamed. "I hope you put in a good word for me with the boss about going AWOL."

"Brett said he will cover all your expenses and time. He just wants us to get back as soon as we've been to the records department in Landon."

"Okay, we'd better get some sleep then. Tomorrow will be a big day," Smiley stood unsteadily, but then a concerned expression crossed his face and Becky noticed. "Jacqui doesn't know where I am and if she finds out I am here with you, I could be in a lot of trouble."

Becky giggled quietly. "Brett has already thought of that one and will tell her the _truth_ in the morning."

Smiley relaxed at the news, knowing Brett was good at explaining things to suspicious women without making it worse, "Night, Mrs Boss," and then closed the door to his room.

"Night, Smiley, and thanks again," Becky's voice was full of hope as she pulled the door to her room closed.

*~*~*~*

Too tired to sleep between the sheets, Smiley had dropped like a bag of spuds onto the bed and there he'd fallen asleep, but it seemed no sooner had he closed his eyes, the morning sun had streamed past the curtains and turned his room into a furnace. As he glanced around the scene trying to reorient the situation, he heard the sound of a woman's muffled voice and he guessed Becky was talking on her phone in the room next door. The walls were paper thin and he hoped he hadn't kept Becky awake with his snoring; and just as he placed his feet onto the floor, he heard her say, "I will... I love you too, very much and have a nice day at work, honey."

Just as Smiley overheard the fond sounds of two people deeply in love, he remembered Jacqui's words from yesterday and how they'd almost derailed his whole plan, knocking the wind from his sails. _You haven't even asked me to marry you yet and you are already ordering me around._ Reaching for his phone and needing to hear her voice, Smiley plucked up the courage to call Jacqui and desperately wanted to ask her if she'd meant what she'd said; but he knew she would ask where he was and then the familiar nerves got in the way and he thought better of it.

Checking his watch and calling through the wall, Smiley urged Becky to make a start and before long they had gathered at her car, stowing their gear and ready for the journey to Landon. Taking the room keys back to reception, Smiley made arrangements with the motel owners to leave his car in the car park for a couple of days until they'd finished their business in Landon, while Becky waited on the reception driveway with the engine running.

Arriving at the car window with his hands full of hot coffee in two plastic cups, plastic wrapped sweet buns clasped between straining fingers and a couple of rounds of sandwiches protruding untidily from a shirt pocket, Smiley balanced the load as Becky leaned over and pushed the passenger door open. Once Smiley had wriggled into his seat and buckled up, still balancing the coffee, Becky gently pushed her foot down on the accelerator, coaxing the grey Kia to negotiate the town limits before swiftly gaining speed on the open highway.

Once they'd reached a comfortable highway speed and Trinity Waters languished in the rear view mirror, Becky broke the silence with a mind full of questions. "What do you think your greatest setback was in your experiences looking for your birth mother, Smiley?" Becky waited eagerly, wringing the steering wheel nervously with her hands as she asked. She had an expectation of his reply, anticipating him to say something about being wounded by rejection, however his answer surprised her.

Concentrating on the bitumen blurring past his window, Smiley took a sip of his coffee, weighing his thoughts carefully. "I would have to say... fear of intimacy," Smiley appeared vulnerable.

" _Fear of intimacy?!_ " Becky quizzed.

"Yep, not getting close to someone for fear of losing them. I love Jacqui with all my heart and want to marry her, and I know that longsuffering girl loves me, too. Silly woman. Every time I work up the nerve to ask her, my fear gets in the way and the moment passes." Smiley's quandary seemed impossible.

"You attribute that to looking for your birth mother?" Becky sounded suspicious.

Smiley sighed. "It sounds weird, I know, but I wasn't like that before... as far as I know."

Becky's eyes sparkled hearing Smiley's confession. Jacqui's feelings for Smiley were well known among the newspaper people and if he would only pluck up the courage, she would marry him on the spot. "Well, Smiley, you made me see reason last night and showed me how to face the truth. So when we get back, I am going to stand right beside you until you make that confession to Jacqui."

Smiley shifted uncomfortably in his seat listening to Becky's determination, deep in thought. _What if she says no...? What if she says yes?!_ Smiley remembered the state of his apartment, thinking about the mess and wondered whether any woman, no matter how noble they were, could put up with his laid back attitude.

*~*~*~*

Jacqui waved at Brett as he skipped down the apartment steps, immediately noticing his light and cheery attitude as he walked up to her small car and opened the door.

" _You found her!_ " Jacqui sang.

Brett's beaming smile gave away his joy. "Is it that noticeable, Jacqui?" his relieved demeanour totally contrasted the pain she'd seen him suffering the previous afternoon.

"Oh, Brett! I am so happy for you," Jacqui gestured happily. "So what happened... if you are at liberty to say?"

"Okay. Promise me you won't interrupt until I have finished talking."

Jacqui seemed confused but reluctantly agreed, shifting the car into gear and starting for the newspaper office.

"Well, Smiley found her."

Jacqui's mouth dropped open and she stared at her boss in shock, about to ask a thousand questions but she refrained, remembering her promise. By the time Brett had finished explaining the connection, Jacqui had parked her little car underneath the newspaper building and they were walking into the newspaper office.

Jacqui's clear expression revealed she'd put together the dots and now a lot of things were making sense, but the fact that Smiley was gallivanting around the country with the _boss' wife_ of all people was concern enough. That fact alone would have been enough to put Smiley in the dog house for a few thousand years, but when she heard news of Smiley's adoption, it pulled at her heart strings. Then her heart melted completely when she realised what Smiley had done for Becky and Brett. The man she loved was kind and compassionate, putting his job and his own well-being in jeopardy just to lend a hand and minimise someone else's pain. Wiping away a small tear with the back of her hand, Jacqui pleaded, "When will they be back?"

Brett sighed at the extended separation. "End of the week."

*~*~*~*

Taking it in turns at driving, Smiley and Becky had travelled all day, stopping only to get fuel. They'd made good time, setting a cracking pace and when the small city limits of Landon appeared over the next hill, it was approaching 3 pm.

As Becky took her turn at driving, joining with the small city traffic flow, Smiley pointed to a sign as it quickly passed by. "There, Becky, Landon County Hospital. Turn around!"

Becky's stomach tightened as she found a small intersection to do a U-turn and soon the driveway to the hospital car park came back into view. Indicating her intention to drive in from the street with the turn signal flashing, Becky eyed the old structure as she parked the car, noticing the hospital looked tired and dilapidated from the outside. Stiffly unwinding themselves from the grey Kia's interior, they studied the signs and swiftly found the hospital entry.

Once inside, a maze of clinical corridors met their stares and after asking a patient in a wheelchair for directions, they stood impatiently in front of the help desk. Standing and waiting for an elderly lady to finish a call, Smiley wasted no time firing his question once the telephone left her ear.

"Where can we find the hospital administration records of births and deaths?" Smiley enquired through a glass window.

"First floor, top of the stairs and turn right."

"Thanks," Smiley threw his answer over his shoulder as they ran up the stairs.

When Becky and Smiley followed the instructions and eventually arrived at the office counter, the room was unattended. Searching furiously for someone to help, a nearby door—exposing rows of filing cabinets—opened and a tall, slender woman about sixty drifted in.

"Yes, how may I help you?" the woman called, pushing up a pair of highly magnified glasses onto the bridge of her nose.

Smiley motioned for Becky to speak.

"I was born in this hospital twenty-eight years ago and I would like to see my birth records, please," Becky nervously pleaded.

"What name?"

"My name is Rebecca Redden, but I don't know what my birth mother's name is."

The woman eyed the couple. " _I can't let you sight the records unless you give me a name!_ "

Becky sighed heavily until Smiley placed his hand on her shoulder, calming her growing frustration. Glancing to Smiley and nodding she'd understood, she steadied her voice. "I was born on the 12th of June 1986," Becky countered, "if that will help?"

"I am sorry, I can't let you have access to records... _unless you give me a name_."

Smiley broke in, holding the determined woman's gaze, "Can you at least tell us if there were any baby girls born on that day then?"

She conceded to have a look, while Smiley watched her enter the back area and search down the rows, finally extracting a file. Studying the information and taking a mental note, the woman replaced the file and then returned to the counter. "There were five girls born that day," the matter-of-fact voice declared, but refused to offer anything more.

"Dalia?!" a voice called from a side door. "Can you give me a hand for a couple of minutes, please?"

The old woman called out, "Be right there," then turned to Becky and Smiley. "I am sorry. I will be back in a moment."

Smiley watched the old woman leave, then jumped the counter.

" _Smiley, what are you doing?!_ " Becky whispered nervously, watching the door for the woman's approach.

"Don't worry, Becky. I have done this before and trust me, they won't help you otherwise."

Becky nervously watched the door, trembling, her heart pounding as Smiley searched for the document where he'd seen her fossicking just moments before and then placed the file onto the photocopier and began copying the document.

" _She's coming, Smiley!_ "

Smiley ran around the back of the rows and tossed the file back into its opening and jumped the counter, just in time for the door to open and the woman to step back in.

"As I said, I cannot help you any further unless you give me a name or apply for a court order."

"Okay, thank you for the help you did give us," Smiley answered, holding his stomach as he turned to leave.

Becky kept looking behind her, waiting for the police to come and take them away.

"Don't worry, Becky. I'll take the rap if the police come looking for us."

Moments later sitting safely in the car, Smiley pulled the document from under his t-shirt, confirming the date at the top of the folder and began searching the information. With Becky peering anxiously over Smiley's arm, he began to recite the information for her. "There were indeed five girls born that day as the old lady said. The first one is a Jillian Ryde; the second, Evelyn Brown and she has _identity confidential_ next to her; then Stacey Charles; Madeline Graham and lastly, Lisa Cummings and she too has _identity confidential_ next to hers."

With Becky watching closely and her cheeks glowing red, Smiley pulled out his phone and connected to the internet. A search engine icon appeared and he punched the names and location of each woman into the search. Jillian Ryde and Stacey Charles were black ladies. So that narrowed it to three. After a frustrating hour drawing dead ends, they were left with three possibilities: Evelyn Brown, Madeline Graham and Lisa Cummings.

"Well, Becky, it would appear that one of these women is your birth mother and I would guess it's either Evelyn Brown or Lisa Cummings," Smiley handed the paper to Becky and watched the crumpled expression mingle with frustrated tears. "Don't give up, Becky. You never know when a lead will come. It may be from the weirdest place and when you least expect it."

Becky ran her eyes over the three remaining names, realising they'd captured all the information they could and suddenly felt the need to be with Brett. "I think I've had enough for one lifetime, Smiley," she admitted, deflated. "I am really missing Brett. I think I want to go home."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 32

Desapo pulled on the chain of his pocket watch, released it from his jacket pocket and flipped the open the cover, checking the time. The same torturous train he had arrived on a little over a week ago, would deliver Neddy into his presence in less than an hour. However, Desapo knew Neddy's dislike of trains was equal to his and although he was usually a happy charismatic redhead full of playfulness, his bad temper could show its ugly head given the right circumstances. Desapo grinned mischievously and figured a three-day train ride across the continent was exactly the right circumstances. The thought had crossed his mind to put Neddy up in the Lightning Strike Hotel, but he decided his playful brother would be unappreciative of his dark humour after such an arduous journey, with Neddy on a permanent payback and because it was Desapo's project and not Neddy's, Desapo would suffer.

Desapo grinned widely, imagining his brother's proposed joy at playing a part, but he still had to prime Neddy on his intended deception and convince him to be Mr Edward Parduck, owner and boss of Parduck Stone Masonry. Otherwise, Desapo would lose the joy of interplay with the black haired beauty and the ladies' benefactor would be unscrupulously exposed, changing the game and perhaps losing contact with the childish but extremely attractive Katie. However, while they were not in the company of the two ladies, Desapo would again assume the role of boss of his own business. With the ruse growing bigger, Desapo had conscripted every one of his employees and suppliers in his elaborate hoax, and had insisted that when they heard from Mr Edward Parduck or anyone representing him, they were to respond as if the company was a working enterprise and Neddy was the boss. Until Desapo himself called an end to the deception.

Gustav had already been enlisted into the charade and was conducting his part like a well versed thespian. Pike had volunteered to join the deception after Gustav had explained the hoax in a good natured conversation with his friend and it seemed everyone was keen for the ladies to retain some social standing and not be cast out into an unknown fate.

Especially if Desapo was seen as the villain.

A steam whistle broke into the hotel's quiet surrounds, prompting Desapo to quickly descend the stairs from his room, nodding to Gustav on the way out and joining Pike in his Cadillac already waiting at the front of the hotel. The short journey to the train station took only a minute or two.

Neddy's tall solid frame could be seen walking among the steam covered platform like some type of gothic apocalyptic nightmare, eager to be rid of his mobile prison. Desapo waved to gain his attention and as expected... _Neddy wasn't happy!_

When Desapo enfolded his older brother in a good natured hug, Neddy grunted. "This is gonna cost you big time, cranky," Neddy warned, returning his brother's bear-like hug.

"Mr Pike, I have the pleasure in introducing Mr Edward Parduck, esquire."

Pike held out his hand in greeting and Neddy obliged him with a perplexed response. Neddy's tired gaze told Desapo that he wasn't connecting with Desapo's line of thought and his humour was nowhere to be found. "Have you succumbed to too much stone dust, Desapo?" Neddy barked. "And who is this?" Neddy pointed to Pike.

By the time Desapo explained Pike, the job, his elaborate hoax and Neddy's role, they had arrived at the hotel with Neddy's luggage.

"Good morning, Mr Parduck," Gustav was in character.

Neddy stared at Gustav. _"My name is not Parduck!"_

Neddy's luggage was taken straight to a comfortable suite befitting a man of high importance. But Neddy wasn't buying into Desapo's deception.

"Come on, Neddy. What about if I increase your cut of the job?" Desapo pleaded.

"I'll think about it," Neddy was enjoying a rare moment of having Desapo on the back foot. "But for now, I need to have a sleep. Three days on that confounded train is enough to turn anyone sour," Neddy groaned.

"Well, have a good sleep, brother. You are to meet your two newest employees at dinner," Desapo called after him, now unsure whether Neddy would come onboard with his hoax. He was usually up for a round of good natured skulduggery, especially one with such a good cause.

*~*~*~*

Desapo took a seat at his usual dinner table and waited to see what would happen and whether Neddy would play his part. Soon the ladies arrived and took a seat at a table next to Desapo.

"Good evening, ladies," Desapo greeted.

"Good evening, sir," Tess responded nervously and Katie nodded. The two ladies scanned the diner anxiously, but their new boss hadn't arrived yet.

Desapo saw the tense searching and asked, "Are you looking for someone?"

Katie's expression was flat. "We are waiting for the arrival of the gentleman who is to be our new employer, sir."

"Oh, I see," Desapo smiled, unsure whether the hoax was about to be derailed.

Minutes later, Gustav entered the diner as if he was guiding the King of England. "This way, sir," Gustav repeated his lines flawlessly.

Neddy followed, somewhat expressionless. He caught Desapo's eye and then the beauty of a lady's countenance stopped him smitten in his tracks. Neddy reached for the lady's hand and kissed it, obviously besotted.

Gustav began, "Ladies, may I introduce..."

Neddy jumped in and interrupted Gustav. "My name is Edward Parduck, owner of Parduck Stone Masonry," Neddy played it beautifully, bowing to the women while still holding Tess' hand.

Desapo quietly blew out his breath, relieved Neddy had fallen for the bait and was now on board.

The three people chattered like long lost friends and as Desapo observed Tess keenly watching Neddy and hanging on his every word, the black haired beauty appeared somewhat aloof.

"So, Mr Parduck, what will be our duties, sir?" Katrina asked.

"Duties?" Neddy glanced across at Desapo.

"Yes, sir. What is it you wish us to do in your substantial project?" Katrina asked again.

"Well... I thought you and Tess could be our procurement officers," Neddy peered over at his brother with a questioning gaze. Desapo hadn't explained this.

Desapo choked and began coughing loudly until a waiter gently patted his back, but Katrina's attention to the disturbance was one of disinterest at Desapo's plight, willing him to make less of a scene. Once Desapo settled from his shock, he glanced across at Neddy and made a knife and fork motion with his hands.

"Oh, of course, we will need cooks to take care of the lunchtime meal for the workers onboard the work platform."

Desapo gave Neddy a smile and a nod.

"Cooks...?!" Katrina started.

"We can do that, Mr Parduck, and in fact, we can do both," Tess shot Katrina a pleading glance, hoping to impress Mr Parduck and convince him of their competence.

"O..of..course... we can do both," Katrina responded, giving Tess a worried look.

Neddy wanted to cement his growing admiration for Tess and assured, "We will raise your wages to reflect the two jobs you have undertaken."

Desapo ran his hands through his hair and sighed loudly from his position at his table. Katrina shot him an annoyed glance at his lack of manners, but Neddy had that look he gets when he is on a payback and Desapo knew he would pay heavily for Neddy's part in Desapo's deception.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 33

Torn and heavily stained drapes made an effort to keep the winter sun and prying eyes out of the small suburban house, allowing access only where broken bottles had ripped the fabric or an explosive temper tantrum had dislodged the track, tearing the screws from the wall. The windows had seized shut under the winter chill, rarely opened and if they were, the glass was forced back against a frozen track, only to deliver a disdainful message to unfortunate passersby whose only crime was to resemble a foreign immigrant. Dirty dishes filled the sink and empty beer bottles lay where they were thrown, striking the wall or smashed against furniture and turned to piles of broken glass scattered across the dirty carpet. An intensely unhealthy odour permeated and hung on every surface while the figure of a man lay prostrate on the floor, unconscious from yet another drinking frenzy trying to drown out the memories that buzzed around his head and maliciously tormented his conscious mind.

The job he'd held for so many years was gone. After repeated warnings, the boss had dismissed him for lack of attendance which happened to coincide with the death of his wife. Now he relied on welfare, with every spare cent he possessed spent on anesthetising his mind against the memories when he was awake and the nightmares when he slept. Stirring from the latest drunken stupor and coming around, the figure unwittingly entered into the world of the conscious, but his mind wouldn't have a chance to progress into a hangover, topping up from a constant supply and resuming an inebriated state.

In the semi-darkened room, a small flashing red light caught his attention, drawing him to his staggering feet and after a few confused seconds, he recognised the phone answering machine had a saved message to explore. Leaning heavily on the table, he fumbled with the buttons trying to get the machine to play and after a frustrating struggle, a voice filled the quiet.

"Mr Dillon, this is Police Constable John Roy. Just a courtesy call, sir, regarding your missing daughter. After three months of investigation, there's still no information on her whereabouts. I was just wondering, perhaps she may have come back home and you have forgotten to let us know. If you would return my call so we can touch base, it would be appreciated. I am available until 5 pm."

It took a few moments for the man to comprehend the message, but rage seemed to have an undisturbed direct connection to his brain and the pieces fell together unhindered. "That'ss right. Marguerlite has run away," he stammered and then turned unsteadily to face the staircase. "Marguerite! You glet your l..lazy bones down here now, girl! Don't make ame..me come up there or therel..l be trouble."

However, the house remained quiet, dark and unresponsive.

Stumbling up the stairs, tripping and wheezing, he eventually made it to the door of his daughter's room, but the door had been reefed from its hinges and the inside looked like a bomb had gone off. Confusion gripped his mind and he stared at the destruction in disbelief, wondering who'd broken into his house and turned his daughter's bedroom into a pile of rubble. Turning to leave and determined to call the police to report the crime, he tripped, falling heavily onto the floor and tumbled down the stairs until the wildly spinning darkness consumed his mind... enchained... somewhere at the bottom of a black pit.

*~*~*~*

After a busy day serving customers at the bakery, the frantic activity had worn her out, with Marguerite making her intentions known to prepare for bed early tonight. Katarzyna was still doing her homework downstairs, while Marguerite stood by the bedroom mirror and ran her hands over her abdomen with the loose fitting nightgown taking the shape of her expanding stomach.

A sudden voice at the door startled her and she jumped, fearing she'd been discovered, immediately releasing the nightgown's fabric.

"How far are you along?"

Shocked into silence, Marguerite could only stare at Ima's figure, fearing the ramifications of her secret, now in plain view. Stammering, she tried to explain. "Uh..u..three months."

"I suspected something when I hugged you the other day," Ima spoke gently.

Marguerite dropped to her bed, buried her head in her hands and began to weep. "Are you going to throw me out now?" she mumbled through her tears.

"Do you think that's what we should do, Marguerite?" Ima prodded.

Marguerite nodded vehemently, preparing herself and expecting Ima to order her out of her home, but Ima walked over to where Marguerite was sitting and gently sat down next to her.

"Do you think the Jesus you've heard about from us, would throw a precious child out on the street? I could no sooner do that, Marguerite, than cut off my own hand."

Marguerite met Ima's kind gaze with a watery expression while Ima folded Marguerite in her motherly arms. "You are like one of my own children, Marguerite."

Marguerite leaned affectionately into Ima's embrace and sobbed, prepared to expose the whole sordid tragedy. "I was tricked into it, Ima. I thought the boy loved me and would marry me. Instead, he took my innocence and when I became pregnant, he beat me and told me to get rid of it. I was so afraid of my father also and what he would do, so I ran away from home. I couldn't kill my baby, Ima!" Marguerite broke, crying bitterly in Ima's arms.

"Sssh, little one," Ima quieted Marguerite's troubled heart and stroked her hair with the palm of her hand. "I figured something like this had happened when I saw the black eye," Ima explained quietly.

"You saw that, Ima?!" Marguerite was surprised, and then she remembered Mr Lieberman had also seen it.

"Rest assured, sweet girl, you and your baby are safe and welcome here. Do you not feel better having shared your burden with Ima?"

Marguerite nodded enthusiastically, relieved Ima knew her dark secret and had accepted her in spite of it. "I don't know how to thank you for your kindness, Ima. You _are_ the mother I never had," she pressed into the warmth of Ima and Ima kissed her head gently.

"Now, Marguerite, we have to start preparing you for your baby. The first step is to announce the expected arrival to the rest of the family, so they can prepare, too."

Marguerite swallowed heavily, staring into the old woman's kind and compassionate eyes. "I'm afraid, Ima. What will they say?"

"Come, Marguerite. Let us find out."

The short journey down the stairs and into the kitchen seemed like a world marathon for Marguerite, but Ima stood by her side and when they entered the family room, everyone stopped to look up. Majiv was upstairs, still in his room, so Ima called for him to come down. After the family had gathered and were curiously watching the scene, with Marguerite obviously upset and cowering in Ima's embrace, Ima gently spoke.

"Now that we are all here, Marguerite has something she wants to tell us."

While Marguerite stumbled to speak, Ima held her hand and by the time Marguerite had finished telling of her ordeal, there wasn't a dry eye in the kitchen. The family gathered affectionately around Marguerite and stood firmly behind her, offering her the love and acceptance that Jesus Himself had modelled.

Katarzyna hurried through the remainder of her homework and couldn't wait to get upstairs to talk to Marguerite, and when Katarzyna burst through the bedroom door, the room was darkened and she could hear Marguerite gently sobbing.

"What's wrong, Marguerite?!" Katarzyna worried; leaving the door open and using the landing light to see, she dropped to the floor at Marguerite's bedside and reached for her hand.

"Don't worry, Katarzyna, they're tears of joy, not sadness. I'm overwhelmed at the support of my family," Marguerite explained, squeezing Katarzyna's hand.

"Can I feel the baby, Marguerite?"

"Of course you can," Marguerite guided Katarzyna's hand over the baby bump. "Little one, this is your Aunty Katarzyna," Marguerite announced proudly.

Katarzyna lifted her hand and kissed it and placed it back on the baby's outline. "Welcome to our family, little one."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 34

Checking the rear vision mirror, Smiley's little car was getting further behind her and for the hundredth time, Becky reluctantly lifted her foot and slowed down so Smiley could catch up. She wanted to get home after four days away, longing to feel Brett's arms around her, with each moment spent talking on the phone igniting their desire further and aching to be back together. The final sixty miles were the hardest to cope with, knowing Brett would be home waiting for her, yet Smiley seemed to be purposely dawdling. She glanced up at her rear vision mirror and was surprised to see Smiley had caught up, so she pushed the accelerator back down and quickly reached the speed limit again. Smiley seemed to have interpreted her intention and this time he stayed with her.

As they reached the outer limits of the city, the traffic started to thicken and the sun was setting quickly, with the last few days being a tortured roller coaster ride, leaving Becky exhausted, both physically and emotionally. She'd lost sight of Smiley again and again, obstructed by a solid wall of traffic, only to have him reappear directly beside her, grinning profusely as if he was escorting her home. Waving and returning Smiley's greeting, his words kept persisting and salving her heart, having had two full days to come to terms with Emma and Jacob Forest and if it hadn't been for Smiley's insane journey and his intervention, she was sure things would have ended very differently. Even so, Becky was dubious whether the relationship with Emma and Jacob could ever be repaired or whether she could ever attempt to see them again.

Running her hand around the seat belt and over her baby bump, Becky began to recall the happy times she'd had with the two people she thought were her parents, but each time she contemplated Emma and Jacob and the lie they'd so callously propagated, she became more and more confused. Her own mother, for whatever reason, had given her up and Emma had lied to her. Talking to her stomach and gently rubbing her abdomen, Becky made a promise.

"Mummy will never give you up or intentionally lie to you, sweetheart."

But then Becky glanced across to the photocopy lying on the seat next to her and for the thousandth time since Smiley had jumped the counter and illegally copied the document, she pondered, one of the names on that sheet was her real mother and she was still hiding her identity in a deliberate cloak of deception.

_What tragedy would cause a mother to give up her child into the care of a complete stranger, to be raised contrary to her blood? Didn't she know or care someone would eventually come looking for her? Didn't she know someone would be aching to reconnect with her and find her love and a reason to belong?_ Maybe she did know, hoping her child would one day find her and set her free from her anguish. Becky tried to stifle the torturous thoughts and concentrate on the wonderful man she'd married, realising Brett and his love was the only stability in her life at the moment, and at least she could trust what he said.

As the grey Kia slowed its hasty approach and negotiated the apartment driveway, Becky's car lights picked up Jacqui's little car parked on the verge, suddenly realising why Smiley was dawdling. She laughed to herself at Smiley's procrastination and remembered her speech about making him propose to Jacqui. But for the moment, she had one thing on her mind and it had nothing to do with Smiley or Jacqui.

In a rush of mounting eagerness, Becky drove swiftly into the usual parking spot under the apartment, intending to hastily abandon the car and run for the stairs and her man's comforting embrace, yet before she could remove the key from the ignition, she felt herself encased in strong, familiar arms.

Fumbling almost frantically, Brett wrestled to loosen her seat belt in an agonised frenzy of fingers and thumbs. Finally winning against the restraining device, he swept her into his arms and with Becky's feet dangling clear off the ground and pressed hard against his body, the couple exchanged a volatile kiss.

Tasting her husband's cologne and eager for his love, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, returning his fiery passion with equal fervour and fanning the coals of pent up desire for the man she loved into an unstoppable inferno. Burning like an out of control wildfire, the couple's love erupted, threatening to engulf the surrounds in a wall of intense flaming desire.

Watching the two people deeply in love and expressing their emotions openly, Jacqui stood in the shadows, smiling and wiping away a small tear at the scene she could only dream of.

However, Smiley's, "U..hum," from nearby drew Brett and Becky back into the world, becoming aware of their surroundings once more and with Brett reluctantly placing Becky back down and walking over to Smiley, Brett encased him in a hug.

"I don't know how to thank you, Smiley."

"I told you I was a good snoop, Boss," Smiley boasted, glancing nervously back up the driveway at Jacqui's car. Shifting uneasily from foot to foot and fidgeting, Smiley's distracted features spoke of extreme discomfort, seemingly vulnerable like a little boy wishing to be somewhere else.

Becky, however, saw the glance and with a pesky little sister tease, she remembered her promise to Smiley. "Is Jacqui here, Brett?"

Smiley's head snapped around to face Becky, and his vulnerability intensified beyond recovery.

"Yep, I think she's upstairs waiting for you both to get home, and _boy, is she eager to see you, Smiley."_

Smiley swallowed hard and squirmed, feeling utterly out of his depth. " _Why!_ " Smiley asked, as if he was completely clueless.

Becky placed her hand on her hip defiantly, intent on blocking Smiley's escape route. "Yes and I seem to remember a promise I made to you, Smiley, a couple of days ago."

"P..promise? What promise?" Smiley stammered.

"You told me of your feelings for a certain lady in the office and how you wanted to ask her to marry you but you were scared she would say no."

"D... did I?" In his mind, Smiley was running, but in reality his feet were two large concrete blocks and just wouldn't move.

"Oh no you don't, mister! I promised I wouldn't let you pass up another opportunity to make this certain woman very happy. You spoke good sense to me and saved me from making a mess of my life and I am about to return the favour."

Brett grinned at the interplay, knowing Smiley was trapped and Jacqui may be in hearing distance, but just to confirm what he thought, "We are, of course, talking about Jacqui?"

"Of course. Who else has been waiting for Smiley to come out and confess his feelings for her?" Becky grinned mischievously.

"B... Becky, I told you, I have issues with intimacy. I'm afraid she'll say no."

Suddenly, a woman stepped from the shadows, teasing and expecting a confession. "I happen know this woman really well and I can assure you, she _won't_ say no," Jacqui's face was alight with anticipation.

" _J... Jacqui! Did you hear all that?!_ " Smiley stammered and off the scale in his comfort zone.

Jacqui nodded and with her head tilted to one side, she peered back at Smiley... waiting.

Smiley glanced across at Becky, his eyes pleading, but finding no comfort there, he turned to face Jacqui again. Knees weak and heart pounding, Smiley was trapped, teetering between the love of the woman he'd dreamed about and a deep, debilitating fear of intimacy. With all eyes trained on Smiley, not a word was spoken, but he could feel the air of expectation and it was crushing him. Then from somewhere in the depths of a secret, hidden place, a voice struggled to be heard and bubbled up uncontrollably, escaping between his constricted throat and rolled out onto the ground by his feet.

"J... J... Jacqui...arr...I...that is...would...you don't have to, of course...but?"

"Get down on one knee, Smiley," Becky demanded.

Smiley glanced at Becky, grateful for the interruption but noticed she was obviously enjoying his predicament and followed her demand, dropping to his knee and finally reaching for Jacqui's hand and stumbling through. "Jacqui, I... um... I love you and I guess I always have. You won't be getting a very good deal... but."

"Smiley, you're proposing, not buying a washing machine!" Becky huffed.

Everyone laughed and the tension melted.

"Jacqui, I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me?" Smiley managed to spit out the words, but as the silence extended, Jacqui began to cry.

She'd been waiting patiently to hear those words for years and now they were in plain sight and with witnesses. Reaching for Smiley and through her sobs, she managed to squeak out a whimpered, "Yes."

" _You will?!_ " Smiley didn't know what to do.

"Kiss her, Smiley," Becky instructed.

" _Yes, ma'am!_ "

The sounds of cheers and congratulations filled the night and eventually, hand in hand, the two couples headed upstairs. By the time Smiley and Becky had recapped their adventure, it was getting late and Smiley's nerves had vanished. With Jacqui sitting close to Smiley on the Redden's sofa and tenderly holding his hand, she was amazed at the story being narrated. Becky finally placed the photocopied document on the coffee table so all could see and briefly explained their theories. As she outlined her thoughts, Brett pointed to the three names circled in red pen.

"So you think one of these is your birth mother, Becky?"

"Yep. I don't know which one and if I can gather from Smiley's experience, I might not ever know. Two names have an _identity confidential_ block next to their names, which means they don't want to be found."

Smiley began to speak, "All I was trying to say, Becky, was don't waste your life searching for someone who might not want to be found. I put my life on hold trying to find my mother. What I should have done was married this beautiful woman a lot earlier and used my spare time to hunt for the ghost."

Jacqui squeezed Smiley's hand delightedly. "O... h! Thank you, Smiley! That was so sweet and I'm so happy... I might even get used to being called Jack," Jacqui grinned.

"Nah, I love Jacqui," Smiley teased and stole a kiss.

Brett suddenly interrupted, verbalising a thought. "To think this all started over those nightmares you were having, Becky. Did you find anything more about them, Smiley?"

"No. Not a thing, Brett. Do you want me to keep searching or should I sit on it?"

"I really need you to concentrate on other things for the moment, however, if you get a lead or some spare time, by all means continue your search."

Smiley nodded. "It's time I took Jacqui home and I know you guys have some catching up to do, too."

As Smiley and Jacqui stood to leave, Becky reached up to Smiley and hugged him. "Thank you again, Smiley. You're just like a big brother."

Brett shook his hand. "Ditto for me."

The couple turned to leave, when Smiley swivelled back to face Becky. "You need to sit down with your parents as soon as possible and sort out this mess. Maybe even tomorrow," Smiley warned.

Becky's head lowered and she searched the floor, pondering Smiley's request. "I don't know if I can at the moment," she whispered.

"Take it from me, nothing will get resolved by trying to punish them. They've suffered all their lives by trying to hide this, Becky, and remember what I was told. Your adoptive mum didn't have to love you and wake up every couple of hours to prepare a bottle and feed you or change your dirty diapers every hour. She didn't have to send you to school and encourage you to be her bright little Becky or worry herself senseless when you had a fever or you were sick. She didn't have to lie awake half the night until you came home and fell safely into bed or sacrifice to send you to college when she could have bought another more fashionable home and had a comfortable retirement... but she did."

A tear slipped from Becky's eyes to the carpet, but she quickly wiped her face before another one could escape and tell everyone how she was feeling. "You're right again, Smiley, and how did you know I was trying to punish them?"

"Been there, done that and bought the t-shirt."

Soon the door closed to Brett and Becky's apartment, with Smiley and Jacqui heading for their cars, however, Jacqui abruptly stopped Smiley at the bottom of the staircase and kissed him passionately.

"Wow!" he said, coming up for a breath. "I ain't a spring chicken anymore and if you keep that up, I'll have a heart attack!"

"I think you're a wonderful man, Smiley Williams, doing what you just did for that young couple and I'm going to be extremely proud to be Mrs Jacqueline Williams."

Smiley blushed. "I just don't want Becky to go through what I did... can we practice that kiss again, Jacqui? That was pretty nice."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 35

It was fast approaching 3 am when Smiley floated up the stairs to his apartment, dancing with a sense of disbelief, knowing he was now engaged to the most beautiful girl he had ever met and wondered why it had taken so long to pluck up the courage to ask her to marry him. They'd talked into the small hours about buying the ring, wedding plans and where they would live, but he'd baulked at Jacqui's desire for children, leaving Smiley to worry how far his fear of intimacy extended. Jacqui's sweet personality made him come alive and she was easy to talk to, feeling completely at ease around her, but he was glad they'd decided to talk in her apartment. Smiley chuckled to himself as he quietly searched his pocket for the keys to his apartment, very sure the state of _his_ would stretch her commitment to him and maybe create the shortest engagement on record.

Becky had forced him to face his fear and now he'd overcome his intimacy issues to the point of being able to express his longtime love for Jacqui and his desire to take her as his bride, with the rewards of that action realised immediately. Jacqui was a warm and loving girl and the sweet taste of her kiss lingered in his mind. In the past, Becky and Brett had both tried to force the issue with Smiley, but his fear was bigger than any threat, even knowing many men had tried to capture Jacqui's affections. Smiley grinned again, pleased with himself when Jacqui confessed she'd set her sights on him and wasn't about to give up on catching him.

As he grasped at his keys and threaded the lock, Smiley began to think of all the shortcomings and hang-ups he'd developed in the pointless search for his birth mother and wasn't sure what sort of husband he would be to Jacqui and whether Jacqui could cope with his idiosyncrasies. Overcoming a profound fear of intimacy, to the point of kissing his bride and enjoying it, was one thing. Personal intimacy was quite another thing altogether, leaving Smiley worrying Jacqui may be getting a raw deal.

With a twist of his hand, Smiley unlocked the apartment door and was immediately assaulted with a choking smell of stale pizza and rotting takeaway Chinese. "Ph-hew!" Smiley choked, waving his hand in front of his nose. It had been five days since a door or a window had been opened to the forgiving outside air and something inside smelt like it had died. He flicked on the light and made a mental comparison between Jacqui's orderly and tidy apartment and then searched around at the train wreck confronting him. Holding his nose and pulling back the blinds, Smiley opened every window in the small apartment, tripping over junk that had laid for weeks where it had fallen and in the heat of the moment, committed to cleaning up before Jacqui found the mess. But just now, after nearly a week of emotional intensity, he was tired out and was expected at work in five hours. All thoughts of cleaning disappeared as he fell exhausted on top of his bed and slept a contented, Jacqui-filled sleep.

*~*~*~*

The events of the past week had tested and stretched her marriage and left Becky exhausted, but being reunited with Brett had re-cemented and enriched her feelings for him. She contentedly slept through the morning, feeling fulfilled, and when she awoke she reached across to where Brett had been and found a single red rose laying on his pillow. Stretching and yawning and holding the red rose to her chest, she couldn't wait for him to come home from work and once again experience his passion for her.

Becky threw on her dressing gown and wandered out into the kitchen, intent on starting her day with a rousing cup of coffee, but as she approached the table, Smiley's stolen photocopy with the names of her possible birth mother lay in full view. Picking up the nefarious document, Becky searched the three names circled with a red pen and then Smiley's words echoed into her mind.

You need to sit down with your parents as soon as possible and sort out this mess. Maybe even tomorrow. Take it from me, nothing will get resolved by trying to punish them. They've suffered all your life by trying to hide this, Becky, and remember what I was told. Your adoptive mum didn't have to love you and wake up every couple of hours to prepare a bottle and feed you or change your dirty diapers every hour. She didn't have to send you to school and encourage you to be her bright little Becky or worry herself senseless when you had a fever or you were sick. She didn't have to lie awake half the night until you came home and fell safely into bed or sacrifice to send you to college when she could have bought another more fashionable home and had a comfortable retirement... but she did.

Becky pulled in a breath and sighed at the thought of confronting her parents. Walking sleepily over to the cupboard and finding a clean mug, she set the kettle to boil then reached for the coffee jar and added a spoon of granules to her cup aided by a spoon of sweetener. When the steam billowed from the spout, the kettle automatically cut off the power, prompting her to lift the steaming apparatus and pour the hot water over the crushed coffee beans. The boiling water saturated the granules and forced it to give up its secretive, rich aroma and flavour held tightly in the secluded confines of the crushed tiny bean, turning the clear hot water instantly to an aromatic black. Becky breathed in the rich fragrance and took a sip of the hot, sweet liquid and stared through the apartment window to the bushland behind. But Smiley's words wouldn't leave her mind... _Nothing will get resolved by trying to punish them._

Watching the antics of two wood sparrows playing hide-and-seek in the treetops, Becky laughed, but then caught a glimpse of the photocopy again and it seemed to be beckoning her and coaxing her to act. Placing her coffee back down and picking up the photocopy, Becky argued with herself and chided herself for procrastinating, then hearing Smiley's words again... _Nothing will get resolved by trying to punish them,_ Becky came to a nervous decision.

"Okay, Smiley, you win!"

Reaching for the phone, Becky dialled a number and then heard Jacqui's contented voice. "Good morning, Brett Redden's office."

"Hello, Mrs Williams," Becky teased.

"Becky! Hi...! Yes, I can hardly believe it," Jacqui gushed.

"You deserve to be loved, Jacqui, and congratulations. If Smiley misbehaves, just give me a call and we will sort him out together."

Jacqui laughed and Becky could feel her excitement.

"Can I speak to Brett, please?"

Within moments, Brett answered the phone, making her feel like a schoolgirl swooning at her favourite rock star.

"Can you pick me up at Em... Mum's place after work, honey? I've decided to catch a cab over and as Smiley said, _sort this mess out_... Huh? No, I think I need to at least confront them alone to start with and if you come over after work, we can take it from there... _No! I won't!_ _Especially after last night..._ I love you too, honey... see you at Mum's."

*~*~*~*

Jacob peered through the lounge room window and intently scrutinised a yellow cab as it came to a stop at the front of their house. Watching a young woman step out of the cab, he wasn't sure if what he was seeing was an illusion or maybe just wishful thinking and as the taxi drove away, he studied the lone figure staring at the front of the house. Straining to see the face through the window without his glasses, recognition abruptly dawned with Jacob's dark and depressed mood changing to euphoria and then flashed immediately to intense fear. Feeling sick and with his stomach tightly knotted, he watched Becky walking slowly to the front door, wondering whether she intended to erase them from her life forever and this would be the final time they saw their beloved daughter.

Emma hadn't been out of bed since that awful day nearly a week ago, and had all but imploded when the thing she feared the most and had tried so hard to avoid finally caught them up and now threatened to destroy them both. Racing down into the bedroom to try and shake Emma out of her deadened state, Jacob decided he would need her strength as well, to cope with losing Becky forever.

"Quick, Emma, get up! Becky's here!"

Punctuated by dark black rings surrounding her eyes, Emma glared at Jacob's excited notion, her confused and haggard appearance echoing the war going on inside her heart. She raised her head in a defeated look of confusion, trying to understand what her husband was trying to say. "Becky's here?"

"Yes, she's at the door! Quickly, get up and get dressed!"

A loud _knock_ alerted them to Becky's presence and a shudder of fear ran down Jacob's back. Last time they had seen Becky, she hadn't wanted anything to do with them and they weren't sure what this meeting would bring. Leaving Emma to dress and vacate their bed, Jacob hurried down the passage from the bedroom to answer the door. Feeling uneasy, Jacob tried to smile and act normal, but the tension in his eyes made Becky uncomfortable, too.

"Hi... um, can I come in?" Becky hesitated, exposed and extremely ill at ease.

"Of course you can, Becky."

Jacob swung open the door and as Becky stepped in, she glanced around the familiar house, noticing the dishevelled appearance and the rooms being messier than she had ever seen it before. Taking a stolen glimpse down the passage, Becky searched for Emma. "Is arr..."

"She's getting dressed, Becky, she won't be long. Take a seat," Jacob offered, pointing to a lounge chair, with Becky sitting nervously on the very edge.

"Can I get you a drink or something?" Jacob asked, trying to break the uneasy silence.

"No... thanks," Becky responded.

Noticing the absence of her usual endearments, Jacob worried this wasn't a good sign.

The sound of someone shuffling up the passageway toward the lounge room made the two people look up. Emma's slow and spaced-out trundle shocked Becky and when she saw the familiar face, so haggard and devoid of emotion, with the look of suffering etched so deeply in Emma's lifeless eyes instead of brimming with joy, she was shocked again. In her possession, Emma carried a photograph album and dropped it with a _thump_ onto the coffee table.

"You will find a full record of my sins in there," Emma offered flatly and then flopped into a lounge chair at the opposite end of the room.

Becky glanced at Emma and then at the book, but having never seen this album before, she reached for it and opened the first leaf. As she flicked through the pages, it was full of photographs of her: the day they brought her home as a tiny baby; gappy-toothed smiles as her baby teeth gave way to a new and stronger set; scrapes and bruises and the offending new pushbike that had inflicted them; her first day at school and the tears as she had tried to hang on to Emma instead of facing her new environment. Birthdays, Christmases and every event that had happened to Becky was recorded in this book, always full of happy laughter and the joyous faces of her parents. Becky eventually turned to the last page and a faded yellow envelope dropped to the floor, prompting Becky to bend down and retrieve it, replacing it carefully back into the back page.

"Open it," Emma's emotionless voice drifted across the room.

Becky glanced across at Emma and then withdrew a piece of paper from the envelope, unfolded its contents and began to read, leaving her gasping when she saw the words written across the top of the official document.

Birth Certificate: Rebecca Ellen Brown.

Born: 12th June 1986. Landon County Hospital.

Mother's name: Evelyn Brown. Confidential.

Fathers name: Not specified

Becky stared at the document, wide eyed. She now had a new piece of the jigsaw.

"There, now you know all we know about your birth mother," Emma's emotionless voice began to break.

Becky dared to venture, "And what about Katie and Contention Island? Where does that fit?" she whispered.

Emma's hollow eyes peered out the window. "I don't know. I just had a hunch that in some way the nightmares were connected to my deceit and if you found the answer to Katie, you would also find out about your adoption."

"So that's why the nightmares haunted you, too. You were afraid I would find out I was adopted."

Emma nodded, her face appearing vulnerable with her emotions strung out and flat. "I expect you will despise me forever now, spending your time searching for Evelyn and when you find her, I will not even register." Hearing the accusation in her own words, Emma's emotions burst and she sobbed; deep, broken sobs with her back and shoulders violently shaking and giving a true indication to the depth of her grief.

Watching Emma suffer, Becky felt callously dead to Emma's pain and stared across at her adoptive mother, the woman who had raised her. Smiley's face came back into her mind. _Take it from me, nothing will get resolved by trying to punish them. They have suffered all your life by trying to hide this._ Those words were living right in front of her. Emma _had_ suffered exactly as Smiley had said, and now the woman who had loved her— _her real mother_ —was still suffering.

In a moment of decision, Becky's hardness crumbled and her eyes moistened, rushing to the side of the only mother she'd ever known. "I am so confused just right now, Mum. I know you love me and I know I love you."

Emma's tears flooded her face again and she pulled her daughter into her embrace. "I'm so sorry, Becky. I was stupid to keep it from you, but I was just so afraid of losing you. No one can understand the pain an adoptive mother feels when she knows someone can step into her child's life and take them away, ripping the heart out of her chest with a simple offering of blood ties and a name on a document, the very things I couldn't offer you. Why _wouldn't_ you leave me?" Emma sobbed loudly.

Becky's arms tightly held Emma's shuddering frame. "I love you, Mum, and no one is going to replace you. Everything has just been a big shock to me and please understand that I have to know where I came from and why I was given up."

Emma's bloodshot eyes held Becky's confused gaze for a long moment. She conceded that Becky was on the hunt she had feared for so long, and now was the moment of decision. She kissed Becky's face and nodded. "If you have any questions that may lead to finding Evelyn and if I can help, I will do so," Emma determined.

Becky cuddled into her mum. This was the woman she had grown to love and respect.

Jacob stood by the door, a handkerchief pressed to his eyes. "Daddy!" Becky motioned with her hand for Jacob to join them in their hug.

Jacob's face lit up in relief... his little girl was back.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 36

The panoramic view from Neddy's third-floor suite took a sweeping tour of the town and the busy port of Lightning Harbour. The twin, rocky arms of the breakwater, protecting the port from the open sea, were in plain view and so was the busy entrance where ships were coming and going through the narrow heads. Their voyage out into the open waters could be tracked quite easily from Neddy's window, determining the exact moment when the motion of the ships changed dramatically from the calm waters of the protected harbour, once they breached the breakwater through the narrow heads and broke out into the ocean swells. Absentmindedly, Neddy glanced over the small town and then like a magnet, his search was drawn back to the sea, noticing the swells were starting to break, rolling over into whitecaps, increasingly driven by the offshore wind. The struggles of one vessel caught his eye as it breached the heads, with spray breaking over the deck while it pushed into the fresh sea breeze, crashing the waves via the point of its bow and trying to gain some headway against the rising swells.

Intently watching the struggles of the bobbing vessel, Neddy's mind drifted back to the pretty face that had captivated his attentions. Neddy was a bachelor and although he had a deep appreciation for fine looking women, he had never met one who wasn't shallow or conceited. Tess had disarmed him with her kind, sensible manner; but her sister was every bit the conceited and shallow woman he was used to meeting. After his blunder, making the two women procurement officers, he was determined to teach them the job and show Desapo they were capable of carrying out this crucial component of his operation. Besides, that would give him an excuse to see Tess again on a more intimate level. Desapo had made Neddy the boss, even if it was only on a fanciful level, then he was going to exercise his part in this charade to his best advantage.

A _knock_ at his door drew him from his hapless gazing, turning to open it and castigate the source of the intruder, but Desapo pushed past him and barked an order as he entered his room.

"Close the door, Neddy. I don't want to be discovered here."

Neddy complied to his brother's request and the door shut off to the passageway outside with a _plunk._

"I have organised a small boat to take us out to the job site in about half an hour, Neddy," Desapo ordered.

But Neddy had taken up his position back at the window again, gazing at the town's activity.

"Did you hear me?" Desapo repeated.

"I heard you. What do you know about that woman I had dinner with last night?" Neddy changed the subject with a curve ball and his back to Desapo.

"What, the black haired one?"

Neddy spun around and faced Desapo, his expression incredulous. "No, not the surly one. The beauty I was talking to; Tess, I believe her name is."

Desapo met the gaze of his brother. "Well... what do you know! My big brother, the eternal optimist and bachelor extraordinaire has fallen head over heels in love," Desapo teased.

"Shuddup, Desapo, and just answer the question. Anyway, you should talk! Concocting a circus and thrusting me into the middle of it just to impress that snooty, black haired Katie," Neddy frowned, embarrassed, shoving his finger into Desapo's chest.

"I was just trying to help them out!" Desapo defended.

"That ain't what your friends Pike and Gustav told me!" Neddy grinned annoyingly.

"What?! What did they tell you?!" Desapo was on the back foot again.

Neddy had that maddening look on his face that brothers get just before a scrap. "Seems the illustrious Mr Desapo has taken a bit of a tumble down the same street he accused me of. I bet she felt good cradled in your arms while she swooned."

"She didn't swoon, Neddy! She took a shock. What was I supposed to do? Leave a lady lying on the dockside surrounded by drooling dock workers?"

Neddy laughed. "So she got a drooling Desapo instead! I hear she wasn't too impressed by your romantic advances."

"She is a bit of a challenge, yes. I like a woman who is spirited. I always have," Desapo admitted.

"Spirited?! I would say she is just downright spoilt!" Neddy spat.

Desapo wrenched his pocket watch out and flipped the lid open. "Can we discuss this later, Neddy? The boat is waiting and we have to catch the tide. I want you to meet the monster that keeps Lightning Harbour on her knees."

"What are you going on about now, Desapo?" Neddy's gruff mood was getting more intolerant. He turned to face the window again and peered at the heaving swells. "I hope you have your sea legs, Desapo. That swell is really rolling in now."

"Huh! _You_ get seasick, Neddy?!" Desapo challenged.

"Listen, Desapo, you haven't seen swell until you've been off the coast of France in one of her moods," Neddy's speech bounced off the window glass, his back to Desapo and his hands cupped behind him, staring at the town below his gaze.

"Well, can we get going then? I'll leave first and meet you down at the dock in five minutes. It's an easy stroll from here."

" _What...?! What on earth is he doing here?!"_ Neddy complained.

Desapo sprung to his feet and joined Neddy at the window. "Who?!"

Neddy pointed to the street in front of him, but the figure had disappeared into a building before Desapo could catch sight of who he was talking about.

"Our old friend, Bellaruse!"

" _Bellaruse! That's who it was!_ " A light suddenly came on in Desapo's mind with the pieces falling together and completing the puzzle.

*~*~*~*

By the time Neddy sauntered down to the dock ten minutes late, Desapo was getting edgy. " _I thought you were never going to get here!_ "

"What's the hurry, Desapo?" Neddy teased.

"I told you. We have to catch the tide..."

"Yeah, yeah, the monster of Lightning Harbour," Neddy teased, jumping down from the dock and onto the small fishing boat.

"Neddy, this is Mario, the skipper. He knows our monster very well."

Neddy greeted the older fisherman. "So, Mario, are you as paranoid about the monster of Lightning Harbour as my beloved sister here?" Neddy dug the boots into Desapo and drew a laugh from Mario..

"Paranoid? No, Mr Neddy, but after many generations of fishing these waters, I have a big respect for what Black Dean can do and her bad mood."

Intrigued now, Neddy eyed the old man. Mario didn't seem like the sort to exaggerate a story, especially a fishy one.

Turning from the brothers, Mario entered the cabin and prepared to get underway, leaving Desapo and Neddy deep in conversation. By the time the little fishing boat cleared the heads and pushed headlong into the wind driven swell, it was tossing its head like a wild horse. After being sprayed by a large bow wave, Desapo motioned for Neddy to join him in the wheelhouse. Moments later and holding onto the forward consol, Neddy pulled the wheelhouse door closed and set about to interrogate Mario about Black Dean.

"So, Mario, what can you tell me about Black Dean?" Neddy stared past the wiry fisherman and into the turbulent sea, bracing himself against each swell and watching the seawater smash headlong over the boat, obscuring the windscreen with the vibrant green wash before the windscreen wipers cleared the blurry view.

Neddy's demeanour changed from disinterested to one of awe, swallowing hard as the old fisherman described Black Dean, but rather than talk, Mario was keen to demonstrate Black Dean's unpredictability and power in the same style of demonstration that Desapo had gained his insights.

*~*~*~*

Katrina and Tess ambled down to the hotel counter from their room, intercepting Gustav's smile.

"Good day, ladies," he greeted happily.

"Good afternoon, Gustav," Tess returned. "Gustav, we need your help," Tess moved in close and whispered.

"What can be such a problem, madam, that it seems to beguile you? If I can be of assistance then my services are at your disposal."

"We are to be the lunchtime cooks for the work platform and we have not had much experience in this role. In fact, none."

Gustav massaged his chin, deep in thought. "Please wait here and I will be right back." Gustav disappeared behind a heavy hinged door. Soon the door opened again and Gustav returned, beckoning Tess and Katie into the room behind. Inside, they were met by a large man in a grey chequered outfit, surrounded by stoves, ovens and benches. "Ladies, this is Pierre. He is our chef and I have instructed him to show you the finer arts."

"Thank you, Gustav!" Tess bubbled.

But Katie's nose turned upwards; she'd never been in a kitchen before.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 37

The legends, rumours and fanciful talk surrounding the disappearance of the _Riviera_ were still fresh in the minds of the town folk of Lightning harbour, more so for those intimately connected with the dock and the maritime industry. The authorities were looking for any leads at all and Black Dean was suspect number one. Bellaruse had to be careful he didn't attract attention to himself asking questions of the ill-fated passengers and more specifically, the fabled black haired beauty, supposedly the duke's daughter and the earl's sister. Bellaruse was suspicious that a woman could posses such magnificence without attracting notice, but a lady fitting her description had been seen around the dock area a couple of days ago. The information was encouraging and the tales seemed to support the earl's description, so Bellaruse knew he was close and that she'd been here recently. He just had to keep a low profile and listen in on every hotel bar conversation. With her credentials, she shouldn't be too hard to track down if she was indeed as handsome as the earl had painted her out to be.

However, Bellaruse had other plans once he located her, capturing the beauty and then selling her to a rich Argentinean plantation owner. They would pay handsomely for a beautiful toy and especially if she was a cultured brat, just the way his client liked them. Bellaruse considered, if he kept the earl's sister alive, even if she was reduced to a rich man's slave, he could use the threat of her existence to blackmail him and extract a further cut of his inheritance. A smile escaped from the pocked face at his own ingenious plan. Like a bloodhound, Bellaruse had a nose for finding opportunities, with the game becoming more interesting once the earl had taken control of his father's wealth. If he played his cards right, he could retire from petty piracy and rubbing shoulders with criminals and cutthroats, and set himself up in a comfortable life as a gentleman.

The cards were about to be dealt and all he had to do was find his ace.

*~*~*~*

Katrina squirmed and fumbled her way in Pierre's kitchen. Orders were crisply barked and it took awhile to understand the Frenchman's impassioned directions and what each cooking implement's purpose portrayed. Even though Katrina was fluent in French herself, when Pierre's passion boiled over he would cross between tangled English and fiery French in a difficult to understand accent. If Katrina misunderstood the meaning of his hysterical words and inadvertently messed up the instructions, burning the task or turning it lumpy, she was screamed at... peste _noire!_

Unaccustomed to commoners or their disrespectful ire, Katrina had never had one of her attempts at creating referred to as the _black death_. Pierre was obviously a highly strung perfectionist and had scolded Katrina to the point of tears. Tess was sure Katrina was going to crack and have a tantrum at any stage, but given her dues, she stayed with it and decided to stand her ground and submit.

By the end of the day, a great mess scattered itself through Pierre's kitchen, but under his watchful eye the two women had created a masterpiece. Pierre unexpectedly announced with great gusto, _chef-d'oeuvre_ and their efforts would be offered to the guests as part of the evening menu. Tess and Katrina stared at each other, dumbfounded after their teacher had reprimanded their efforts to the point of giving up and now he was praising them passionately. For the first time in her life, Katrina had actually achieved something worthwhile and it felt good to have Pierre's congratulations, with his praise just as impassioned as his discipline.

Placing his arms across the shoulders of his protégés, Pierre smiled big and then pointed to the sink and all the dirty dishes. He was a tough master, but he encouraged them to strive to better themselves. Tess and Katrina were exhausted when they eventually headed for their room to freshen up for the evening meal, however, Pierre's kitchen sparkled like a new pin when they'd finished.

*~*~*~*

Neddy was quiet, deep in contemplation, standing at the stern of the little fishing boat and staring back to the eerie place they'd just visited. The propellers were churning a white track across the green ocean and the sea breeze had dropped right off in the late afternoon hour. Mario's little demonstration had shocked him, leaving his experiences and the rigours of France's violent and unpredictable coast to languish as nothing compared to what he had just witnessed.

The small fishing boat, sitting on top of the dark waters of Black Dean and the exposed rocky sides of Barrett Passage towering above the wheelhouse, made him exceedingly nervous. He could feel the presence of... _something..._ maybe like a chained demon being held back by a greater power. Almost as if a voracious tiger held in check by the owner and his lead, then being released at a set time, attacking and devouring anything in its path. Although Mario was well out of the passage when the tide began to run in, when Black Dean came to life, Neddy could feel the pull on the hull of the boat as the enraged whirlpool swirled, baring its roaring fangs, straining to draw the boat into its lair and tear it to pieces.

"You okay, Ned?" Desapo's unexpected voice made him jump.

"That thing is... is evil," Neddy grumbled.

"Nooo...! It's a natural occurring phenomena, a deep hole in the ocean floor that is affected by the tidal influence. You've been listening to too many dock workers and their legends."

"I've _seen_ big whirlpools before, Desapo, after the tsunami that hit Sumatra a couple of years ago, but _that thing_ has a mind of its own!"

"What are you telling me, Neddy? Has Black Dean spooked my big brother to the point of backing out of the project?" Desapo teased.

" _I never said that, Desapo!_ This baby has the potential to do some really serious damage if you don't plan it properly. You can't just park a work boat over the top of _that thing_ and expect it to behave. If it's affected by the tidal influence like you think, the bigger the tide the more power Black Dean will have."

Desapo thought for a while, studying his older brother. "Yeah, I agree. Can you see why I called for you? You have more experience building lighthouses in crazy places than I do and I needed your wisdom," Desapo's vulnerability and admiration for Neddy was exposed and open to his brother's ridicule.

Neddy searched Desapo's eyes, almost as if he was coming to a decision. "I hope your ill-placed confidence in me isn't going to be shredded." However, Neddy was quietly pleased at Desapo's frank confidence in his ability.

"You'll need to get _Goliath_ up from down south, Desapo. It's the only working barge large enough, with a flat bottom that has a triple hull and four large legs that can be extended to stabilize the platform. We simply tow the barge in at high tide, with two powerful tugs operating from the landward side of the passage and push it into place, sitting on top of the wall. Then once it's held in the correct position above Black Dean and out of its reach, we deploy the legs, lifting the work platform clear above the waterline. Using the wall as a solid footing, it should stabilize the barge and offset any weather or tidal influences and hopefully whatever Black Dean attempts to throw at us. It's kinda like sitting on a backyard fence above a snarling dog. Just remember, everyone is safe sitting on the fence, out of the way of the dog, but if anything should go wrong and someone falls... there won't be anything left. Understand me?"

The finality of Neddy's words punctuated the serious risk Desapo was just about to embark on. Desapo stared in the same direction of Neddy's gaze and nodded. "I understand you, brother," Desapo whispered.

The moments went by until Desapo broke the silence. "I'm gonna need to cost your plan to submit to Pike's little association, so _you're_ gonna to have to teach your lady love and her friend the ropes... rapidly! It's imperative they get an accurate quote from suppliers, otherwise I'll go broke trying to tame Black Dean!"

"Yeah, I figured that already. I'll get onto it tomorrow," Neddy agreed, with a secretive smile crossing his lips as Tess' features delighted and teased his mind.

"So, big brother, are you in?"

Neddy slapped Desapo on his back. "I'm in, little brother... just a thought though," Neddy added.

Desapo snapped around to face his older brother, wondering what other intriguing ideas he had. "I'm all ears, Ned."

"When you're ready to submit your price, double the final estimate. This is going to be a tricky job and one for the history books."

Neddy's warning sent a shiver down Desapo's back. They were now on a direct war footing with Black Dean and there could only ever be one victor.

*~*~*~*

By the time Neddy walked into the diner, Desapo was already at his table. Tess and Katrina were seated and they appeared to be waiting for someone.

As Tess recognised Neddy, she smiled broadly, "Will you join us, sir?"

Neddy bowed his head. "It would be a pleasure, my lady."

Tess couldn't remember ever being referred to as _my lady_ in her life and she blushed. Katrina noticed the blush and smiled. Something charming was blooming right in front of her and she was pleased for Tess. Mr Parduck was a gentleman of means and Tess would do well to encourage his admiration.

Gustav buzzed around his dining patrons like a bee to a flower and paused in front of Desapo, who was hungrily devouring his meal. "Is the meal to your liking, Mr Desapo?"

Desapo wiped his mouth with his napkin. "This chicken chasseur is exceptional, Gustav. My compliments to your chef."

Katrina listened nonchalantly to the interlude between Gustav and Desapo, and blushed when Gustav directed the compliment to her and Tess.

"Your chefs, Mr Desapo," Gustav's sweeping arm drifted over Tess and Katrina.

Desapo stood and bowed to Katrina. "Madam, I am in awe of the work of your hands."

Katrina smiled pleasantly and her cheeks flushed. "Why, thank you, sir," she returned politely, greatly pleased by Desapo's acknowledgement.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 38

The size of Marguerite's outline was increasing and the baby had put a distinct waddle into her step at five months. She was the focus of the meal time conversation and all the family treated her like royalty. Marguerite's expectation of Majiv's disinterest in her proved to be unfounded, treating her with the respect of a cherished sister and not like a cheap tramp, as she'd imagined he would. Even though Ima had never borne a child, she had delivered hundreds in her life. In fact, she'd delivered both Majiv and Katarzyna and had been there all the way through their lives, standing by and supporting the children, suffering under the emotional decline and eventual death of their own mother and stepping in to take up the parent roles. At every stage, Ima was teaching Marguerite what to expect with her pregnancy and Katarzyna couldn't walk past her without lovingly greeting her and the baby. Katarzyna, too, was interested in every groan and every new development and would kiss the baby before going to sleep each night.

The evening meal was over and Majiv was in his room as he was most evenings. As Marguerite climbed the stairs ready to prepare for bed, she stopped at the top and held onto the banister, panting and regaining her breath, but when she saw Majiv's door open, she decided to bid him goodnight. Waddling the steps to his door, she stood at the open room watching him sitting at his desk, busily writing in a notebook. Katarzyna had explained that Majiv was writing a memorial to their parents, his way of honouring their memory, but she had no idea what it was about and only shrugged when Marguerite asked. "Why don't you ask him?" she'd replied innocently, the way only Katarzyna could.

"Majiv?" she panted.

Majiv jumped at the sudden voice, almost appearing to be lost in another world within his notebook.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Marguerite apologised.

Majiv sprang from his chair and stepped over to her. "It's okay. I was just finishing for the night, anyway." His eyes dropped to her expanding stomach and he greeted the baby, "Hello, little one."

Marguerite smiled pleasantly at his greeting. "Katarzyna said you were writing a memorial to your parents," she pointed to his desk.

"Yeah, it's my way of remembering them," Majiv seemed pensive. "Sometimes I can't recall their faces and it worries me. I hope to get it published one day, so their names will be in print and immortalised for the generations to come. I even have a photograph to go in the finished work."

Marguerite tilted her head to one side and studied the fine strong features of his face. "Would you read it to me? I would love to meet your parents."

Majiv pondered her request for a moment, and the extended silence told Marguerite she was trespassing on a deep wound in Majiv's heart. "You don't have to, Majiv. It was insensitive of me to ask."

"No, it isn't that. I am not sure it is good enough to give breath to yet," Majiv apologised, searching Marguerite's pretty eyes.

"Maybe when you're ready you will read it to me," she suggested, giving him an escape route.

"No... why _not_ now?" he came to a decision. "You can be my censor. On one condition," Majiv required.

"What's that?" Marguerite panted.

"If it sounds stupid, you must tell me so... promise?"

"I promise, Majiv."

Majiv pulled out his chair from the desk and offered it to Marguerite. She lowered herself, exhaling at the exertion, and when he could see she was comfortable, Majiv grabbed up his notebook and flipped the pages over, back to the beginning and found his voice.

"Acknowledgement. For my parents: Bolek and Alenka Protlenski. Your struggles and courage are an inspiration to me. In dedication to the memory of your lives. The journey out of preoccupation Poland had been intensely risky for Bolek and Alenka Protlenski. They had been warned by the underground that the Nazi war machine was on the move and that Poland was their intended destination..."

*~*~*~*

The walk to the bakery was taking Marguerite longer and longer and instead of a brisk thirty minutes, it was taking her nearly an hour. Ima advised her not to worry about working until she'd delivered the child, but Marguerite was determined to do her bit. She needed time to recover once she arrived, but then she was good to go for the rest of the day and the men would always appreciate her efforts, taking the serving counter burden from them. On the return leg, Majiv and Mr Lieberman would dawdle along with her, pausing frequently for her to catch her breath, but today Mr Lieberman would deliberately enforce Ima's wishes.

"Marguerite?" Mr Lieberman spoke.

"Yes, Mr Lieberman?" she panted.

"I don't think it will be a good idea for you to continue walking and working at the shop until the little one is born."

"But I want to do my bit!" Marguerite protested.

"There will be time after the child is with us to consider this," Mr Lieberman seemed stern and it appeared the conversation was closed.

Marguerite ventured, "Tomorrow is Shabbat. Let me finish the week and then I will do as you wish."

Mr Lieberman stopped and turned to face Marguerite with a worried frown etched on his elderly features. " _One more day and no more!_ "

Marguerite threaded her arm through Mr Lieberman's and pulled up close to him, knowing he had her and her baby's welfare at heart. She tenderly rested her head on his arm. "Thank you."

Walking slowly along with Marguerite, a gentle smile formed on his face.

*~*~*~*

Adam Willis had just moved into the ethnic neighbourhood and had found a cheap rental to match his paltry training salary. He was only twenty-two but he counted himself fortunate to have been accepted into a new career ahead of some pretty tough competition. Keeping fit was part of his intensive training, with any failure attracting an immediate ejection from the programme and even at the end of the rigorous course, there were no guarantees of a place. Jobs were hard to get and harder to keep, but Willis was determined and had his sights firmly set on the goal.

Setting himself an ambitious task, Willis had reached a level where he could run for ten miles without a break, and after neighbours had recommended _Lieberman's Bakery and Fine Cakes_ in the many conversations he'd entered into, he would allow himself a treat and sample their fine delights, pampering himself in a much fancied pastry. Pushing open the door and entering the crowded bakery, Willis joined a line and peered around people to investigate the display cabinets. The heavenly scents of fresh bread filled the room and made his mouth water, while the delights encased in the glass display cases teased his eyes and his stomach growled in anticipation. In the back room, Willis could see a young, dark haired boy in his late teens carrying around trays of dough and laughed to himself as he watched the middle aged women shamelessly following him around with their eyes, obviously drooling over more than bread.

A pretty young woman served the queue of people and as the line shortened and he came closer, he noticed she was heavily pregnant. Willis' training immediately kicked in, with questions forming in his mind and convincing himself the young woman was in fact a girl and didn't look old enough to be this pregnant... or pregnant at all. He studied the girl's face for many moments and pondered he'd seen her somewhere... but where? After a while, it was his turn to face the young sever.

"Yes, please, what can I get you?"

He explained his choice and when he handed his money over, he decided to test her reaction. "You're very young to be pregnant, aren't you?"

Marguerite's eyes flashed at the stranger, taking a panicked interest in his face and searching for some kind of recognition. Finding none, she casually answered with an expression that said, _its none of your business_ , but her words were far more polite. "Looks are deceptive."

He nodded. It was a good reply and he didn't think it was appropriate to continue probing his suspicions in a bakery queue. Maybe he would come back again and try to establish a customer relationship and then probe the girl some more.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 39

With the time fast approaching 8 pm, Becky had her hands in the dishwater, finishing the rest of the dishes before their guests arrived for a dinner date. Staring absentmindedly into the darkness of the vacant bushland next door, Becky was deep in thought. Brett crept up behind her and ran his hands around the sides of her stomach and over the baby bump. She let her head rest back against his chest, enjoying the closeness of her husband's gentle touch, then turned to face him and leaned into his embrace, tasting his warm, passionate kiss and leaving two wet hand prints on his clean shirt.

"Erm! You had better stop right there, mister," she pleaded, wriggling out of his embrace. "Our guests will be on the doorstep at any minute."

He trapped her escape and pulled her back into his embrace and passionately kissed her, with Becky's resolve faltering seriously, drawn into her man's determined fire. Red cheeks glowed with the promise of something more, but a sudden knock at the door put paid to any further escalation and among a series of deflated sighs and denied play, Becky huffed and crashed back to earth, her breath still hot with unfulfilled passion and expectation. Wriggling out of Brett's arms and checking her appearance in the lounge mirror, his flirting had set an embarrassing rosy bloom in her cheeks.

" _You'd_ better answer the door, Brett, while I try to regain my normal colour! I am a respectable married woman and I don't want our guests to think any differently," Becky chastised, but then offered him a cheeky smile and look that teased him. "I love you," she grinned, tempting Brett to pull her back into his embrace. But when he did, she protested, " _Brett! The door!_ "

While Becky powdered her nose, Brett did a final check around the apartment before opening the door. The table was set superbly and the smell of the meal, cooked to Becky's usual perfection, made his stomach rumble and with a swift movement Brett pulled the door open to welcome Smiley and Jacqui, thrusting out his hand to Smiley and then hugged Jacqui.

"Come in. Becky's just fixing her makeup."

When Becky finally appeared, she met Smiley and Jacqui with a hug, but snoop Smiley could still see the flames of a distant fire in Becky's cheeks.

"I just hate these modern day kitchens. The ovens are _so-o-o_ hot!"

Becky intercepted Smiley's grin with a flush of red, understanding full well she'd been caught out, but Jacqui missed Smiley's meaning altogether, leaving her staring at her man with a puzzled expression.

The laughter at the table was infectious as Jacqui and Smiley recapped their week since Smiley had worked up the nerve to propose to Jacqui. The hilarity continued as Smiley tried to explain how Jacqui had turned up at his apartment unexpectedly, suspicious that there was another woman in his apartment when he wouldn't let her in. She pushed past Smiley, intending to do battle with a rival and nearly collapsed from the stench and mess. They laugh about it now, but Jacqui determinedly set about with Smiley's help and scrubbed his apartment top to bottom.

"You should've known I only have eyes for one girl, Jacqui," Smiley reached over and kissed her cheek.

"Just make sure it _stays_ that way, Mr Williams!" Jacqui teased and then reached for his hand.

Smiley's demeanour changed and he spoke seriously, directly to Becky, "So, now you know how our week went. Did you sort anything out with your parents?"

Becky sighed. "In fact, I did. Let's retire to the lounge chairs and get more comfortable and I will tell you all about it."

"What about the dishes, Becky? I'll give you a hand and we can clean up the mess. It'll only take a moment," Jacqui offered.

Becky placed her hand on Jacqui's arm. "No, sweet lady. Brett will give me a hand in the morning. Won't you, honey?" she glanced across at Brett and after their earlier game, he grinned mischievously back.

Becky brought in a pot of brewed coffee and cups, chased with a large bowl of individual chocolates and placed them in easy reach of the lounge chairs while the four adults sat comfortably in the apartment lounge room, facing each other.

Smiley took a sip of steaming coffee from his cup and peered over the rim at Becky as she settled in. "Well?" Smiley urged.

"Well," Becky repeated, taking her seat next to Brett and folding her legs onto the lounge. "I decided to take your advice, going to see my parents and confronting them the next morning. I was really angry toward Mum for lying to me and to tell you the truth, I was thinking about cutting all contact with them for good."

"So what changed your mind?" Smiley enquired, speaking over the rim of his cup while blowing on the hot liquid.

"It was when I saw Mum. _She was a mess!_ You were right, Smiley, she'd all but shrivelled up under the suffering of that week and when I arrived, Mum was in bed and Dad was buzzing around me like I was about to explode. Eventually, she shuffled down the passageway holding a photograph album I'd never seen before and with a voice full of pain, she told me to have a look at the contents. There were pictures of me in every part of my childhood, but when I got to the last page and an envelope dropped to the floor, I picked it up with the intention of placing it back into the cover, however, Mum told me to open it."

Becky paused for a moment, remembering the dreadful scene and pressed the back of her hand against her eyes, sniffing back the tears until she regained her composure. She smiled affectionately when Brett's arm engulfed her shoulders, offering his support. "I'm sorry," she trembled, heaving out a massive breath. "I removed the paper from the envelope, only to discover it was my original birth certificate. It had my birth date, my name as Rebecca Ellen Brown and my birth mother's name as Evelyn Brown... I felt like I had been punched," Becky sniffed again, pausing for composure.

"Mum started to cry and assumed that now I knew about Evelyn, I would spend all my time looking for her and never give Mum another thought. I know it sounds awful, but I was still feeling pretty angry at her and I just didn't care if she was hurting. I asked her again what she knew about Contention Island and this girl called Katie, but the only thing she knew about my nightmares and the girl seemed to be coincidental with some kind of revelation or news of Evelyn Brown. It's no wonder she freaked out, thinking Katie was an apparition of warning and that Evelyn would soon appear to claim me back, and that's why my nightmares frightened her so much."

The lounge room drifted into silence, trying to piece together the peculiar saga, but Smiley was elated for Becky, realising she'd already obtained more information over a short space of time than he'd managed throughout his own manic searching in the quest for his mother's identity.

"So, how did it all end?" Smiley urged, his hope alive for Becky to find out more.

Becky searched the floor for a moment. "Well, the room was a mess of female emotions, then your little pep talk came back into my head."

Smiley tilted his head, his eyes questioning.

"You know, the one about _how they had suffered all my life_. When I remembered your words, I saw Mum's sufferings exactly how you had described it and the raw love she felt for me. My whole outlook changed in those seconds when I put the two together. I forgave them and now Mum even wants to help me find Evelyn."

Jacqui's eyes were moist as she tried to come to terms with Becky and her mum's reunion. She held Smiley's hand tight and her love for him soared. He was a mass of contradictions that continued to surprise her.

"So, Smiley, you were right again," Becky wiped the tears from her face with her hand.

"Are you going to search out Evelyn, Becky?" Smiley probed.

The room dropped into silence as all eyes focused on Becky, but it was a question Becky hadn't given much thought too. "I... I guess, but I don't have much to go on, Smiley, except maybe searching the phone book or the internet."

Smiley's face took on a pensive expression as _super snoop_ went into newspaper mode. "Let's see if we can tease this a bit and see what drops out. The first thing we can assume with Evelyn's request for privacy... she doesn't want to be found. That's obvious by the note next to her name: _mother's identity confidential_ and if she's gone to the trouble of shutting off any possibility of information, then we can surmise fairly confidently that Evelyn Brown isn't her real name, thus making it nearly impossible to find a clue or a trace. As for searching the phone book or the internet, that will just have every nutter and fruit cake claiming to be Evelyn Brown and frustrating your quest, so short of a miracle, I wouldn't even go there."

Becky's shoulders slumped at Smiley's disclosure and she mumbled, "The chances of finding my birth mother are really slim, aren't they?"

"You've got one thing in your favour, Becky, that I never had. You've got a name and a start, and one day, something may turn up out of the blue when you're least expecting it. Take a page from my crazy book. You know I spent a good chunk of my life chasing a ghost, so if you can put Evelyn out of your mind, for the moment at least, and get on with the people who really love you, it will save you a lot of heartache. Trust me. By all means, check out Evelyn Brown, but I can almost guarantee it will lead to a dead end. When—and if—a lead turns up, _then_ put your life on hold!"

Becky weakly nodded. "You're preparing me for the inevitable, aren't you, Smiley? What you're really saying is I may never find my birth mother."

Smiley sighed loudly. "I wish I could help you more, Becky, but until Evelyn Brown decides to give us a clue, we don't have anything more to go on."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 40

Neddy's sharp whispered commands were taken in like a secret of great magnitude, with Gustav nodding in all the correct places.

"I have a singular stratagem, sir. I will extricate all personages from the soon-to-be abandoned banquet hall. They, of course, will abdicate their claim upon any portion of investment into the said—and quote— _temporary office_."

Neddy stared back at Gustav, flabbergasted. " _What?!_ "

"Of course, the only distraction to the stratagem would be meteorological. Whence a multitude of intendant personages may congregate inappropriately in the vestibule, spilling boorishly into the quote, unquote, _temporary office_."

"Look, Gustav, all I want is a telephone placed in the diner while no one is using it. I can then train the two ladies in the ways of shopping for supplies which we need to do our job on Black Dean."

" _Precisely, sir. Isn't that what I have just extrapolated?_ "

Neddy stared at Gustav and shook his head in disbelief as the hotelier set about to organise the quote unquote... _temporary office_.

*~*~*~*

Tess and Katie were summoned from their room to attend their first training course, crudely conducted by the infamous Mr Parduck in the diner. Yet being so close to Tess, Neddy found it difficult to concentrate, and Tess blushed on occasion when Neddy met her eyes while explaining the intricacies of dealing with ardent suppliers. A list of merchants Neddy had put together lay upon the desk, with the phone numbers written underneath each one. Soon, the blank spaces beside traders' names filled with costing figures and the description of the goods offered, as the women took it in turns to make contact and explain their needs. So far, Neddy was overjoyed with their success and how the women were coping with the pedantic suppliers and finding the correct information needed to estimate costs for the building of Black Dean Lighthouse. But as they approached the final name on the list, Neddy shuddered.... _Hockeye Machinery._

Reuben Leichardt was a tough, no nonsense businessman who didn't mince his words, being the greatest challenge for Tess and Katrina. Although Leichardt knew his stuff, he could be a mule of a man who didn't suffer fools, discourteously abrupt in some cases, downright rude in others. Neddy himself had had run-ins with Leichardt, ending with Neddy throwing the phone into the cradle in disgust. Mr Parduck deliberately refrained from warning the women about Leichardt's temperament, testing their ability to manage a difficult situation and Tess was the first to tackle him.

Feeling confident from a steady line of good natured conversations with previous merchants, she dialled the number. "Good morning, sir. My name is Tess and I am representing Parduck Stone Masonry... No! Parduck Stone Masonry!... Mr Edward Parduck! Well, he is..." Tess turned her head to meet Neddy's gaze, her eyes round with shocked indignity, holding the phone six inches from her head. " _He hung up on me and just before he did, he said he'd never heard of Parduck Stone Masonry._ "

Neddy gritted his teeth, seething that the bigoted Leichardt was about to derail his whole plan, especially since Desapo had expressly contacted him and explained his good natured scheme. Neddy's resolve was to ring the fool back and give him a piece of his mind, but then Neddy himself would give the game away.

"May I have a chance to connect with Mr Leichardt?" Katie asked nonchalantly.

Neddy smiled an unbelieving smile and glanced at the dark haired beauty's determined stance, handing Katrina the phone, but then wondered whether he would have two injured ladies to contend with.

"Good morning, sir. My name is Katr..Katie. I represent Parduck Stone Masonry... _I am not interested in whom you have just spoken to and I can assure you there will be consequences if you disconnect my conversation._ I require certain items costed for our substantial undertaking here in Lightning Harbour. _You will please be quiet and if you understand how to use a pen, copy down the following. If you require, I can spell the words for you."_

Katrina's phone call ended once she'd finished, and Neddy stood with his mouth hanging open at her straightforward dealings. This girl was a natural and could rival anyone he'd seen in the past, including himself. Moments later, the phone rang, with Neddy staring at the jangling appliance in shock.

"Should I answer that, Mr Parduck?" Tess glanced at Neddy uncertainly.

He motioned with a nod and Tess compliantly reached for the receiver. "Good morning, Tess speaking. Yes, I am the one you hung up on, Mr Leichardt... Accepted, sir... Yes, she is close by... One moment..." Tess handed the phone to Katie.

After Leichardt's unabashed attempt at flattery and a long, unimpressed pause from Katie, she began to scribble on the piece of paper next to Leichardt's name. "Thank you, Mr Leichardt... I will, sir... _yes, yes, if I require further information._ Good day." Katrina placed the phone back down on the cradle and shot Neddy a glance. "What's our next assignment, Mr Parduck?" Katrina enquired with a confident smile.

*~*~*~*

After the long day Neddy was exhausted, although being so close to Tess was a reward he coveted and was keen for any opportunity to repeat the situation. When she was close, he found it difficult to think and had to concentrate hard teaching her and Katie the ropes of the stonemason's industry. That evening as he entered the diner, Tess eagerly invited him to join them for dinner, but Neddy had to reluctantly excuse himself early when Desapo required a private meeting in his room, finalising the estimate for building Black Dean's unscrupulous lighthouse. This would be a long night.

Neddy lay on his bed with the curtains pulled open, allowing him to gaze through the window and into the star-laden night sky while he waited for Desapo. A gentle breeze teased the curtain through the open window as several meteorites streaked across the darkness, putting on a grand display as they burnt up in the thickening atmosphere. Neddy's mind kept replaying Tess' every move and her ladylike laughter, but Katie's conversation with Leichardt competed for attention, surprising him how the slender beauty could intimidate the gruffest villain. Katie was an attractive woman, there was no doubt about it, but he liked his women sweet and not spirited like Desapo did. She seemed to be used to dealing with difficult people and took control of the situation very easily, yet it was a quandary how two sisters could be so different, both in temperament and in looks.

The dilemma followed Neddy into a developing dream when his eyes became heavy and began to close. Fighting hard not to succumb, Neddy succumbed even faster and had just managed to emit the first delicious snore when he was shaken from his slumber by a loud _knock_ at the door. Jolting awake and stumbling for the door, Neddy threw open the barrier and let his little brother in.

" _Took your time, didn't you?_ " Desapo complained.

Neddy sighed loudly as Desapo pushed past him, trying to fully regain his composure.

"Close the door, Neddy," Desapo ordered.

"You know, little brother, that Katie would be a great match for you. She's every bit as bossy as you are," Neddy quipped, running his tired hands through a thick red mop of hair.

"What are you on about, Neddy? We haven't got time to talk about fancies. I've called a meeting with Pike and his associates tomorrow morning to go through the costs. Did you get the information?"

Neddy pointed to the list on his writing desk while Desapo eagerly grabbed it up and perused it.

"Leichardt is always dearer than anybody else," Desapo grumbled, "but his product is always more reliable."

Neddy began to laugh.

"What is it with you tonight?" Desapo protested.

"Your lady love put Leichardt in his place this afternoon."

"What? How?"

"Tess rang Leichardt to get some quotes and the idiot hung up on her. I was so mad I was going to ring him back and give him a piece of my mind, but I couldn't, otherwise I would have blown my cover. Anyway, Katie asked if she could have a go at dealing with Leichardt. I shrugged and offered her the phone, expecting another injured lady, but she had him eating out of her hand. She insulted him so badly I thought he would never deal with us again, however, ten minutes later, he phones back and apologises to Tess and then licks Katie's shoes, giving her all the information we required. I think your little lady is no stranger to getting what she wants, so be careful, little brother."

Desapo stared at Neddy for a moment, imagining Katie giving Leichardt what for. "Yeah, anyway, can we get on with this? I would like to get to bed sometime tonight."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 41

Pierre was a hard taskmaster and would not accept tardiness in his kitchen, so the day started early for Tess and Katrina, with reveille drawing the women from their beds long before the sun rose. Each day, however, they learnt new recipes and trade secrets, with Katrina appearing to excel under the Frenchman's impassioned personality, developing a deep respect for his ability to overcome her powerful selfish streak with just a look and redirecting her energies into improving herself. If she tried to disagree with him, he would launch into a cocktail of French and English and wave his hands around, accentuating his disdain, yet the expert French chef would always be proven right and Katrina learned to trust his judgement.

Gustav was pleased that he had two competent and enthusiastic extra chefs he didn't have to pay and when he pushed the door open to the kitchen, he was always confronted with two very busy ladies. This morning was no different, but today he had a message from their boss. "U..hum! Ladies, I have a message from Mr Parduck for you. He expects to know the outcome of the project's acceptance within a day or two, and once they have all the official approvals, a small office is to be opened in town of which you two ladies will be responsible for. He also expects that once the _nod,_ so to speak, is procured, the supplies required, ships and workers will need to be organised with great haste. He added, be prepared for a very busy time. May I offer my humble congratulations to you both on a job well done."

Stunned, Katrina and Tess stared at each other, then hugged and danced around the kitchen until Pierre's exasperation called them swiftly to order.

*~*~*~*

"Gentlemen, I call this meeting to order and if you will please take your seats, we can begin," Pike's voice cut across the assembled din created by Lightning Harbour's wealthy businessmen.

Krueger deliberately perched himself in the front row, his brow heavily lined and his face set hard from an uneasy business career. Turning to face the gathered luminaries, he searched the identities represented in the small room and rested his eyes on Draper's jowly features. The troublesome National Shipping Board's commander was also present at the meeting, with Krueger's lip curling at the recognition and the memory of their last stinging meeting still fresh in his mind. At the word of some inferior ship's captain who'd claimed a near collision experience with Krueger's missing cutter, _Rebellious,_ Draper had practically accused Krueger of destroying his own ship in a villainous attempt at collecting insurance monies _._

With Pike's squeaking tone interrupting Krueger's assassination of Draper's character, Krueger turned his attention to the front of the room as two large men were introduced by Pike.

"Gentlemen, you know Mr Magellan Desapo from our initial meeting and may I have the pleasure of introducing his associate, Mr Edward Desapo. They are brothers and their experiences with stone buildings come highly recommended," nodding toward the Desapo brothers, Pike handed the meeting over to Magellan Desapo.

Desapo and Neddy stood at a small table neatly covered in paper, with each paper containing a detailed account of estimated costs for each stage of the building process.

"Gentlemen!" Desapo began. "With the size and complexity of the project and with a worthy opponent in the presence of Black Dean, I have procured further expertise in the person of my brother, Edward Desapo. After a combined detailed analysis of your... _monster_ , I believe it was referred to, I called in Edward to give me a second opinion. He is responsible for building the now famous _Ar-Men-Beau-Frère Lighthouse_ off the coast of the _Île de Sein_ on a rock outcrop not much bigger than this room, where the vicious North Atlantic Ocean often pounds the lighthouse with monster waves and I can proudly say, the lighthouse stands unabashed against the elements."

A ripple of approval murmured through the meeting.

"With the help of Mr Pike, we have conducted a cost benefit analysis and it appears that the lighthouse will pay for itself in less than five years in increased trade," Desapo handed around a paper containing his figures, watching nodded approval as the figures passed by each man. "The lighthouse will warn shipping of the location of the Barrett Passage and of course, Black Dean, but a further navigation beacon will have to be constructed on the northern tip of Contention Island to allow ships to navigate the channel at night and high tide. This has been accounted for in the details and if you will peruse these cost estimates, then we can be about building your lighthouse."

"How long will it take to build this lighthouse, Mr Desapo?" a voice called from the doorway to the room.

Desapo turned to face its owner and had to fight to retain his composure. "The estimated time till completion is two years, Mr Bellaruse."

The small gathering murmured at the apparent mistaken identity.

"I feel you have me confused with another gentleman, Mr Desapo. My name is Fabian Van den Guys... Captain!"

"Your similarities to a gentleman of ill repute, Mr Van den Guys, is remarkably striking," Desapo retorted, holding Van den Guys' stare with equal intensity.

"Needless to say, you are indeed mistaken, sir," Van den Guys peered around the room, trying to gauge the reaction to Desapo's accusation. "I must state my objections to the building of your lighthouse, Mr Desapo, on grounds of safety to your workforce and the fact that Black Dean will not surrender to being tamed so easily."

A disgruntled murmur of agreement echoed through the room.

"I can assure the gentlemen gathered here that all safety issues have been addressed and indeed, my brother has proposed an ingenious plan to deal with Black Dean's powerful moods."

"And how do you propose to build such a structure when the tidal movements halt for less than thirty minutes a day?"

"I am not at liberty to discuss our plan as it is a company secret. I can only say that it is ingenious and my brother's success with the lighthouse in France is testament to our combined abilities."

Pike could see that Van den Guys was about to continue arguing and knew his influence could seriously affect the decision made by the rest of the businessmen. "Gentlemen," Pike took control. "You have the figures in front of you in the form of the cost benefit, and it is safe to assume each one has done their own homework already on costs and what you were expecting. I am convinced that the Desapos have done an excellent job on the estimate, and their integrity with this type of dangerous work cannot be disputed. I propose to take the decision to a vote, therefore quelling any need for further argument."

Pike turned his attention to the door to where Van den Guys stood, with both of the Desapo brothers following Pike's gaze, but the antagonist had vanished. Then searching the room, Pike confirmed Van den Guys had definitely disappeared, leaving Neddy staring at Desapo with a disturbing expression.

Bellaruse was up to something.

With Van den Guys' departure, the mood swung toward the positive. The vote overwhelmingly endorsed the building of Black Dean Lighthouse and congratulatory overtures echoed around the room. A contract, circulated by Pike for the association to sign and accepting the Desapos' terms, was soon completed with all signatories endorsing the plan, all excepting the mysterious Van den Guys.

Effervescing with excitement, Pike immediately contacted Gustav. There would be a celebration tonight and he would pay, with the news quickly spreading through the hotel and to the two ladies finishing their daily duties with Pierre. It wasn't long before the whole town was abuzz with expectation and excitement, but even if most mariners doubted the sense in trying to tame their nemesis, the plan would generate work in the harbour and on the dock.

With the hotel in full party mode and celebrations abounding, Neddy was busting to see Tess and share his excitement. When he finally set eyes on her and recognised her attractive outline, Neddy forgot himself in the vibrant atmosphere and when Tess politely questioned Neddy about the project, he picked her up and swirled her around.

"Oh... I do beg your pardon," Neddy immediately put Tess back down, embarrassed.

Straightening her attire with a flush in her cheeks, she moved quickly to quell the embarrassed expression on Neddy's face. "I am not injured, Mr Parduck, so do not trouble yourself. Indeed, I share your enthusiasm and excitement."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 42

Majiv's writing had created some interest at the dinner table. The Liebermans knew he was working on something dedicated to his parents but had left him to his privacy, yet Marguerite's exuberant praise of the unfolding work, shared with excitement at the dinner table had embarrassed Majiv. She was his critic, helping him with grammar and guiding the placement of the many events contained within.

"It really is very interesting, Ima," Marguerite effervesced.

"Can you read it to us?" Katarzyna bubbled, matching Marguerite's enthusiasm.

"I..It really isn't that good. Marguerite was just being kind and trying to encourage me," his eyes implored Marguerite to get him out of this present situation.

"It is good, Majiv, and I think you _should_ read it to everyone," Marguerite defended.

Majiv stared at the floor, feeling like he was trapped, but after another pleading gesture from Marguerite, he conceded. This was his family and if anyone would listen and encourage him with the truth, they would. "Okay, but you must tell me the truth about my ideas."

Marguerite beamed. "They are good ideas, Majiv, and your parents would be proud."

It was early evening when the four people gathered around Majiv's desk. Chairs had been brought in from the kitchen and with Ima's help, Marguerite lowered herself down, seated next to Majiv.

"Start from the beginning again," she advised, panting heavily.

Majiv nodded and nervously flicked the pages back to the start, cleared his throat and almost began.

"Ow...!" Marguerite exclaimed, holding her stomach.

Ima laughed. "The little one is getting comfortable, too."

*~*~*~*

Adam Willis, dressed in full ceremonial uniform along with the rest of his troop, marched forward with great pomp in military-like precision. It was his turn, and coming to attention in front of his superior officer, Willis saluted and then relaxed into the _at ease_ position as his commander addressed the cadet. The auditorium was packed with family members of the other cadets, but no one was cheering for Willis.

The commander handed Willis his graduation certificate and announced stiffly to the crowd, " _Police Constable Adam Willis._ "

Willis saluted his superior, took the envelope containing his certificate and shook his hand, followed by a polite patter of disinterest trickling from the audience as he marched back to join the ranks of other graduating cadets.

He'd also heard from a prospective commanding officer attached to the department Willis had applied for—pending his graduation and graduation results—he would be accepted as a rookie detective in an area of criminal justice he'd dreamed of working in since joining the cadets six months ago. In time, Willis would be assigned to a senior officer and he was keen to learn and earn the commander's recognition, but other cadets had been told horror stories of rookies attached to this unit of the police force and had tried to talk him out of it, but Willis wouldn't have any their tales. Willis had no misgivings and he knew his experiences within the Criminal Investigation Bureau would be tough and he would most definitely start at the very bottom.

*~*~*~*

After being inducted into the CIB facility, Willis was assigned to Senior Police Constable John Roy of Missing Persons. Roy showed Willis to an empty desk in a disused interview room and thumped a huge pile of manila files down and then beside it, a thick official looking _Police Missing Persons_ file.

"Okay, grab a manila file," Roy demanded. "Open it, check the name and the photograph and then check the name and the photograph on the corresponding page of the MP file. I'll show you how to do one and then you can do the rest. First, you match the photograph in the manila file to the one on the MP file page. Once you have confirmed they are the same person, then you have to read through the information and add any new data to the MP copy. You'd better make sure your writing is neat. The commissioner often calls for this file. _Got it_?"

Willis nodded and watched Roy's handwriting speed across the MP file, adding the information from the manila folder into the burgeoning Missing Person's transcript.

"Wow, you're fast!" Willis gushed.

"Thirty years as a cop, Willis, and I spent twenty-five of those assigned to Missing Persons but only five as a detective. You learn to write quick, otherwise you spend all day and night in here chained to a desk. Just so you get the idea, rookie, only the cream get to be detectives and the competition is extremely tough, with some coppers still working exactly where you are—behind a desk after twenty years because they couldn't cut it in the CIB selection process. _Get my drift_?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Let me know if you have any problems. I'm in the office over there," Roy pointed to a small room sandwiched in between other small offices.

After many hours, Willis' eyes and hands were tired from comparing faces and copying data all day. The first shift with the CIB had dragged and he'd only managed to input a quarter of the files he was working on into the Missing Persons' file. Checking the clock on the wall, he sighed with relief; it was 4 pm and time to go home, but he hadn't seen Roy all afternoon to ask whether he wanted him to stay and finish his task. Deciding to check Roy's office before he left for the night, Willis poked his head around the door and found him deep in a phone conversation.

Roy held up his finger to the rookie, then interrupted his conversation, "Just a moment, Sarg. _Yeah, what is it, Willis?"_

"I haven't finished the files. Do you want me to stay? It's the end of my shift."

"No, that won't be necessary. Just close up the MP file and bring the manila files back in here. You can resume your project tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," Willis' demeanour fell, but he tried to hide the deflated sigh and wasn't excited with the idea of another day writing on a glorified photograph album.

Willis had just enough time to exchange his police uniform for his civvies in the officers' change rooms and then rush to catch the 4:15 bus from town back home. As he chased the bus and flagged the driver down, Willis jumped aboard and after paying his fare, found a vacant seat and then absentmindedly stared through the window, watching the old housing and apartments in the low socioeconomic neighbourhoods slowly crawling by.

An old woman got on at a stop and took the seat next to him and tried to strike up a conversation, but he was too tired for small talk, disinterestedly nodding as she spoke. Eventually, she realised Willis was just playing with her and gave up the one-sided conversation, taking a more friendly pastime, staring through the windows on the bus' opposite view.

Willis' stop finally came into range and as he reached for the bell strip above his head and pushed it, an exuberant _ding!_ echoed through the bus and alerted the driver to stop at the next bus shelter. As the bus came to a complete stop, Willis excused himself as he pushed past the old woman and when the door opened, he acknowledged the driver with a nod and then alighted onto the sidewalk right outside Lieberman's Bakery. As the bus pulled away in a cloud of diesel smoke, Willis could see a queue inside the bakery and the shop was extremely busy. Remembering the pregnant girl, Willis decided to invest in a pastry and try to engage her in conversation, still convinced she was far too young to be pregnant. It was an offence to be engaged in carnal knowledge in this state before eighteen.

The little bell rattled as Willis pushed open the bakery door. In front, a long line of middle aged women stood gawking and giggling at the person serving, taking their turn in flirting with the young man, but he didn't seem to engage, instead appearing flustered. Yet there was no signs of the pregnant girl.

When it was Willis' turn, the young man tiredly asked, "What can I get for you, sir?"

He was impressed with the young man's manners and chose a pastry and then handed his money over. "Does the young pregnant girl still work here?"

The young man stammered and then replied, "S... she has stopped working until her child is born." Majiv eyed the man nervously.

"Does she live around here?" Willis ventured.

"Why do you want to know?" Majiv was suspicious.

Willis shrugged. "She isn't eighteen, is she?"

"I don't mean to be rude, sir, but I don't think that's any of your business," Majiv replied decisively.

"Is there a problem, Majiv?" Mr Lieberman asked from behind him.

Willis tried to smooth over his clumsy questioning, "No, sir, not at all. I was just curious, that's all." Willis turned to leave and the doorbell rattled again as he left the shop.

"That man is trouble, Majiv. I've seen his type in the camps during the Nazi occupation."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 43

Gripping at the mattress with stiff, straining fingers, Becky stifled a moan as a sudden stabbing pain tore at her stomach and violently shook her awake. Holding her breath with the pain, she tried to move, repositioning her body to ease the agony and hoping it would go away. But her rigid, breathless movements woke Brett, transferring her rippling distress through the shared mattress.

"Becky, are you okay, honey?" Brett whispered, realising something was wrong.

Becky tried to answer, but her speech came in short and breathless stutters. "M... m... my tummy, I can't breathe..." Then as quickly as it came, the pain disappeared, leaving Becky panting with relief. " _Oh...! That was horrible,_ " she groaned.

Pulling her into his arms, Brett could feel her temperature falling from a fever pitch and slowly cooling to normal. "Maybe we should get you checked out," Brett urged.

Becky nodded in agreement, worried what the pain could mean to the health of her baby. "I'll make an appointment with Doctor Munroe in the morning," she replied, trying to sound calm.

"Let me know when you have an appointment and I'll come with you."

"He'll only send me for an ultrasound, Brett. There isn't any need for you to interrupt your busy schedule," Becky tried to be brave, but she was hoping her husband would read the uncertainty and be her support.

"I _want_ to be there with you. We're a team, Mrs Redden, remember."

Becky cuddled into Brett. "Thanks. I was hoping you would say that."

*~*~*~*

Brett and Becky anxiously awaited their turn in the busy doctor's surgery, with Becky holding Brett's hand nervously, willing the whole ordeal with the doctor to be over. Becky warily surveyed a patient, watching as she exited the doctor's room and then Doctor Munroe followed, handing a piece of paper to the receptionist and offering a whispered instruction before turning to a list of papers on the end of the reception counter, taking the top one and calling, " _Rebecca Redden!_ "

Becky and Brett greeted Munroe and followed him into his office.

"Okay, Rebecca, what can I help you with?"

Becky explained the sudden sharp pain and while she did, Munroe prodded and poked her and then typed his thoughts onto the computer facing him on his desk. Seconds later, his printer coughed and blipped, sounding like a typewriter on steroids, before spitting out a document which Munroe handed to Becky.

"I need you to go for an ultrasound, however, it is my opinion that it will be just a formality. There are a number of reasons this may have happened and I want you to consider very carefully the probability of a serious problem with your pregnancy and the very real prospect this foetus will be a continuing drain on your finances and the country's insurance system. Therefore, you should consider an abortion and try again for a healthy baby."

Munroe raised his hands in defence as both Becky and Brett echoed incredulously in unison, _"Abortion?!"_

Munroe explained that the baby may have this syndrome or that disease. Callously hoping to convince the young couple, he argued, "Think of the financial burden on the health system and yourselves if you proceed with this pregnancy."

Becky stood indignantly and almost shouted at Munroe, _"You haven't even seen the results of a single test and you are advocating killing my baby! I think I need a proper doctor. Excuse us... Mister Munroe!"_

Brett and Becky flounced out of the surgery and outside, Becky broke down and wept bitter tears. Brett pulled her into his arms, trying to consol his furiously trembling wife and attempting to remember the address of a clinic he'd read about in one of his news teams' reports. The clinic had been painted as discriminatory and ideological, but as Brett remembered, they were furiously in support of the unborn and the unborn rights as miniature human beings.

Then as if a light had come on in his recall, Brett encouraged Becky to follow him. "Come on, Becky. It is a long shot, but it might just work."

"Where are we going, Brett? All this emotional stress is making me feel weak," Becky complained.

"It's just around the corner," Brett encouraged.

Becky paused in the front of a clinic and froze, reading the name emboldened across the entry: _Lamb of Life Baby Clinic._ " _A pro-life clinic?! I don't want to get involved with a bunch of kooks, Brett. It is stressful enough._ "

"I'm just thinking that they may tell us a different story and we need a referral to an ultrasound anyway," Brett persisted.

Becky pulled in a huge breath and sighed heavily, obviously struggling under the stress, with a simple doctor visit turning out to be a murdering fiasco. Trusting Brett's good sense, they pushed open the opaque green door and entered. Children were happily playing on the clean floor, surrounded by their expectant mothers waiting to see a doctor and when other pregnant women glanced up from their seats and smiled directly at Becky, she felt immediately at ease.

"Hello, dears, may I help you?" an older woman dressed in a white clinician's outfit asked from the counter.

"Um... I was wondering whether we could see one of your doctors," Brett spoke up. "My wife may be having some troubles."

"Of course, let me take a look," running her finger down the list. "Just so happens, Doctor Sarah has a cancellation in five minutes."

"Is she any good?" Brett's concern was immediately conveyed to the woman.

"Doctor Sarah is our leading specialist. I think you'll be more than happy with her," the older woman smiled and asked for their details. "She won't be long. Please take a seat and I'll call you when she's finished."

A young woman waddled out from a room down a hallway and called to a thin, kindly older woman following her, "Thank you. That's a great relief, Doctor Sarah. The hospital told me it was serious."

"Just keep with your routine, dear. It's just a normal part of being pregnant."

Sarah had a whispered conversation with the receptionist and then she searched around the room, her eyes resting on Becky and Brett. She saw fear and tension clearly ingrained on their faces and her bright green eyes reflected a calm and kindly wisdom. With an endearing smile, Sarah walked over to Becky and Brett, introduced herself and shook their hands. Kneeling beside the couple, she chatted for a few moments and calmed the tension and when they seemed less strained, she called them into her room.

"Please follow me, Becky _and_ Brett," Sarah whispered.

Once inside, Doctor Sarah's office was tastefully painted in warm colours, and a lounge suit set the room into a comfortable atmosphere. Offering Becky a specially designed chair to bring comfort to heavily pregnant women, Sarah waited for the couple to settle and then commenced. "Now, dears, what can I do for you?"

Becky nervously explained what had happened the previous night with the pain and the advice Munroe had given her. Sarah listened with patient interest and then reclined Becky's special chair with a touch of a button. When she was almost laying flat, Sarah lifted Becky's shirt, exposing her stomach and gently manipulated her baby bump with warm but tender hands, carefully tracing the outline of Becky's baby and cautiously turning Becky's body from one side to the other. As the chair returned slowly to a sitting position, Sarah smiled and pulled Becky's shirt back down, but both Brett and Becky were a mass of tension as they waited for Sarah to speak.

"Have you been under any unusual stress lately, Rebecca ?" Doctor Sarah prodded.

Becky glanced at Brett in surprise. "U..um... yes, some. In fact, quite considerable."

"Rebecca, your baby is fine. I think the little one was trying to tell you to calm down. I'm going to order an ultrasound to confirm my suspicions, but I wouldn't add to your stress over this."

Becky's eyes were swimming in relief, while Brett exhaled loudly, adding a forceful sense of reprieve.

"How do you know from just feeling the baby?" Becky asked.

"I've been in this area of medicine for almost forty years, dear. There have been a lot of major breakthroughs and new findings, but if you keep it simple, most problems the body deals with on its own. We know that our little ones react to what we are feeling, doing, eating and it all affects their development. We know that trauma to a mother can harm her little one's development and there are even studies being conducted now with some alarming results on post-abortion pregnancies."

"What do you mean?" Brett sounded suspicious.

Sarah washed her hands under a tap, wiped them on clean disposable paper and then took her seat again. "Abortion has many unknown effects on the womb—apart from infertility—on subsequent developing foetuses in particular. It almost seems that there is a permanent record of a trauma to a developing child inscribed on the womb. It can be likened to living in a house where a terrible massacre has occurred. It doesn't bring comfort or peace to the occupant and often post-abortion pregnancies can have some form of emotional side effects to the newborn. Somehow, that child _knows_ that they aren't safe in the womb and problems can stem from that."

"I thought abortion was a humane way of getting rid of an unwanted problem," Brett challenged.

Sarah laughed. "Mr Redden, abortion is _not_ humane. There is no nice way of getting rid of a _problem,_ as you put it. Disregarding all that the media tells you, there are a number of ways the baby is aborted and some of these are forced onto unsuspecting women right up to the time of birth. Can I tell you about some of these procedures?"

Brett glanced across at Becky. He didn't know whether he was going to regret this, but they nodded anyway.

"In certain cases, a circular knife is wrapped around the baby and literally, the living baby is hacked apart, limb by limb, inside the womb."

Becky and Brett gasped in shock. "You're kid-ding!"

"I wish I was, but there's an even more brutal procedure the abortion clinics use. The most cruel procedure is saline injection, where the amniotic fluid is removed from the protective sack via a large syringe forced into the mother's stomach, then saltwater is injected into the womb. The baby simply burns to death in the saltwater or drowns, and it can take up to seventy-two hours for the baby to die and in some circumstances, the baby is momentarily still alive after the woman's body forces the birth. Supposedly, the mother gives birth to a _dead_ _problem_ , in the form of a badly burnt and tortured baby. Of course, if that isn't bad enough, there's also potentially life-threatening risks to the mother if any of these barbaric procedures aren't done properly."

Becky and Brett stared in horror at Sarah's description and both swallowed down a sickening feeling. But in full newspaper mode, Brett challenged her with the scientific thoughts of the day. "Scientists tell us the baby doesn't feel anything until they're born."

Sarah could see the scepticism in Brett's eyes and countered with correct information, "Research tends to point to the fact that the baby begins to recognise pain around week eight. The theory fed to the public by the media that your living, beautiful child is just a bunch of tissue and doesn't feel anything... is just _plain wrong_. This information is hidden from the public and is often ridiculed by the very _scientists_ who'd discovered it."

"I don't understand. If what you say is correct, then why is the government pushing abortion?" Becky pleaded.

"I can only tell you what I suspect, Becky. If you want to know the truth, the government is tight-lipped and I believe it all has to do with economics. The mighty dollar. When human life is reduced to a monetary figure, then human life has no value and is easily snuffed out, without conscience. It is mankind's desire to be the ruler of his own destiny and to be accountable to himself for what he does, instead of the God of the Bible, who created us. When we remove God from our governments and law institutes, schools and universities and tell Him we don't need Him, then He takes the brakes off our society, hardens us in our folly, and allows us to follow our carnal desires and make our own rules. Instead of God's rules, stating that _every_ life is precious and accountable to Him, we say that every life is a useless burden on our economic wealth, taking food and prosperity away from the fancifully rich of the world. That's when we humans create the horrors of Auschwitz and Dachau in the mother's womb. So then, in this godless world, _who decides whether you live or die? Or whether your baby is destroyed, as Munroe tried to sell you this morning?_ "

Brett listened in amazement and disbelief at what Doctor Sarah had just told them. "So, the further we get from God, the more vulnerable we and our children are?"

"I am sorry, folks, I'm passionate about protecting the unborn and didn't mean to give you the medical lecture," Sarah apologised. "Rebecca, just try to limit your stress and don't let anyone tell you your beautiful baby is a burden to society."

"Can I give you a hug, Doctor Sarah?" Becky asked, relieved.

Sarah wrapped her arms around Becky and shook Brett's hand. "Enjoy this precious time in your lives."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 44

In the darkened room, Willis stared at the ceiling of his tiny apartment, unable to sleep. The seasons were changing rapidly, with summer just around the corner and the dawn was breaking earlier and earlier, with the sun's first orange rays already peering around the heavy drape covering the single window to his bedroom. Next door, he could hear the neighbours' children through the thin walls, making a racket and screaming at each other until their father's voice re-established silent order. Willis turned to face the alarm clock and conceded the journey into the position as a detective with the Criminal Investigation Bureau was going to be a slow, torturous ride unless he found a way to grab the boss' attention and draw the limelight his way.

Taking another wearisome glance at his alarm clock, he determined it was almost time to get up and ready himself for his shift, but when he realised what the day would entail, Willis sighed in frustration: more files and data entry. Rolling over again, Willis fumed. _If he'd wanted to be a secretary, he would have applied for a council job, with Missing Persons being like a trained chef permanently assigned to washing dishes._

Fuelled by a sudden pang of frustration, Willis threw his legs over the side of his bed, kicked the blankets to the floor and rubbed his head. Ambition burned in his blood and he needed a way to quell the flames. In an effort to clear his head, he turned to face the alarm clock again, calculating he had just enough time to go for a run around the neighbourhood before he was due to start his next shift. The exercise would calm him down.

Pulling on his running shoes and dressed warmly, Willis reached for the front door, turned the handle and stepped out into the growing morning light then closed the door with a determined _plunk_. Staring down the sidewalk, Willis debated... which direction? Then coming to a decision, he turned and headed down the street, planning to do a extremely fast loop around the block. As his stride increased and the pace forced his heart to pump furiously, the air filled his lungs and his brain began to shake off the growing sense of depression, feeling the frustration draining away.

As he rounded a corner, he could see someone sitting on the doorstep of an apartment just ahead.

*~*~*~*

Marguerite lay awake until she heard Majiv and Mr Lieberman leave for work and then soon after, Ima's quiet humming. She hadn't slept much that night because the baby was resting on her bladder and she'd needed to make frequent trips to the convenience, but after her wandering, she tried to go back to sleep, yet sleep evaded her. Although she was desperately uncomfortable, she tried not to fidget too much and risk waking Katarzyna, but when the first rays of morning leaked around the bedroom drapes, she raised herself to her elbows, intent on escaping the prone position. Glancing across to Katarzyna, Marguerite could see she was fast asleep, with the young girl's rhythmic, gentle breaths giving light to her restful enjoyment. Overcome with the need to break away from her bed, Marguerite threw her dressing gown over her shoulders and quietly opened the door to the bedroom, but an unruly creak echoed in the quiet and threatened her escape. She stopped and listened, then froze when Katarzyna stirred at the sudden noise, but settled again and continued on her restful sleep.

Pulling the door closed quietly and descending the stairs, Marguerite desperately needed some fresh air and ventured toward the front door to the apartment. Marguerite would feel safe sitting on the step to the apartment with Ima close by, still humming and busy in the kitchen. Leaving the door ajar slightly and listening to Ima's musical hum, she lowered herself to the step and groaned at the effort, with her stomach getting bigger each day, making movement more and more difficult.

Glancing down the early morning sidewalk, Marguerite saw someone running toward her and as they came closer, she recognised the man who had interrogated her at the bakery. Trying to rise swiftly under the weight of the baby, she was too late. He'd seen her before she could make her escape.

Puffing heavily, he drew to an abrupt stop and accosted Marguerite accusingly. " _Hey, you're that girl from the bakery!_ "

Marguerite's face was alight with terror, struggling to understand who this person was and why he was continually harassing her. She held his impudent gaze, trying to struggle to her feet and eventually managed to stand unsteadily and without saying a word, she pushed the door open and quickly entered the apartment and slammed the door with a _bang_.

Ima peered around the kitchen door. " _Marguerite, what are you doing outside?!_ " Ima could see the fear on Marguerite's face and rushed to embrace her.

"I was just getting some air, Ima, on the front step and _that_ _man_ harassed me _again!_ "

Ima opened the door and peered up and down the sidewalk, intent on defending Marguerite, but he was gone.

*~*~*~*

Willis' chest rose and fell as he struggled for breath, exhausted from the run and slowly climbed the stairs to his apartment. The sweat had moistened his jogging clothes and his brown, mousy hair lay dank at the fringe, but he couldn't shake off the image of the frightened pregnant girl or their chance meeting. Her actions suggested she was definitely underage and trying to hide it. Pulling off his running clothes from his sweating body, Willis headed for the shower, but he still couldn't dislodge the girl's guilty impression burnt so indelibly into his memory. He'd recognise that face anywhere now. Because of the girl, he was running late and had to hurry if he didn't want to miss his bus and turn up late for his second shift.

As Willis hurried to enter the police building, a sudden thought brushed against his arrogance. If he could somehow prove the pregnant girl was underage, that might go a long way to getting him recognised among his superiors and kick-start his career as a criminal investigator... but where would he start?

Checking his uniform in the mirror of the officers' change room and preening his appearance, if nothing else, Willis would at least look the part when his superiors eventually noticed him. Climbing the stairs to the third floor, Willis pushed open the doors to the CIB and made his way through a room brimming with suited professionals all busy at their desks and it didn't take much to imagine these men were detectives finishing up at the end of a long night shift. Pausing for a moment, Willis glanced longingly at the faces, determining one day soon he would join them, too.

When he was noticed gawking at the tired and hard-faced nightshift investigators, Willis quickly moved away and entered the Missing Persons section, walking briskly over to Roy's office to collect a substantial pile of manila folders and begin the tedious task. Tapping timidly at Roy's door, Willis' head peered around the door frame, but Roy was exactly where he'd left him last night: phone to his ear and talking animatedly to a colleague. Roy acknowledged Willis with a nod, his feet comfortably perched on his desk and without breaking step with the conversation, Roy pointed to the pile of manila files and the heavy, official _Police Missing Persons_ file, now stacked neatly by the door.

Willis sighed silently and then snatched up his work, noticing the pile had grown significantly since returning it to Roy's office the previous afternoon. Finding the same room and table he'd occupied previously, Willis dropped the manila files on the desk, replicating Roy's actions the day before and making it _thud_ under the load. Then flopping into the chair, he opened the MP file and picked up the first manila folder, checking the name and then locating the corresponding page on the MP file. There he found a picture of a teenage boy pasted across the manila folder and the same photo duplicated in the MP file.

_Urrph! If I looked like that, I think I would run away, too!_ Willis chuckled to himself. _Okay, let's see. Disappeared August 1955. Last seen by mother in his room at midnight of the twenty-first. Possible sighting at the Colonial Bus Depot June 18, 1956... here we go, new evidence._ Willis began to write. _Involved in two vehicle accident and identified by police at Berkfield County Hospital after admission from ambulance._ Willis continued to fill in the new information, then ticked the box at the bottom of the report... case closed. With an exaggerated huff, the rookie conceded, _that's one less I'll never have to see again_ , then threw the completed manila file on the desk opposite and reached for another one.

Opening a new manila file, he read, _Marguerite Anne Dillon. Reported missing by Arthur Ian Dillon, Father. Last seen on the evening of January 20, 1956. No reported sightings since the disappearance._ Willis glanced at the photograph and then took another stunned look, almost falling from his chair with his mouth hanging open as he studied the image, but there were no doubts... he'd recognise _her_ anywhere.

"Oh, this is too good to be true. I knew she was underage... and a runaway, too!"

Grabbing the file, Willis stumbled over his chair in the haste to get to Roy. Clutching the file like it was of great personal value, he burst into Roy's office, but Roy was still on the phone and gave Willis an annoyed stare.

He held the file up to Roy, pointing and mouthing, "I know where she is."

"Gotta go!" Roy ended his phone call in a hurry, throwing the phone back into its cradle.

"This girl... I know where she is! She's living in an apartment down the road from me and get this... she's pregnant!"

"You'd better be right, Willis. Come on, lets go pay a little visit."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 45

The Redden apartment was quiet in the early afternoon hour and after completing a sundry list of household chores, Becky was exhausted, especially since yesterday's fiasco with Doctor Munroe and Doctor Sarah refused to leave her mind. She had been churning over Munroe's apparent desire to abort a baby on the _suspicion_ of something nasty. Even if her baby did have the disease or syndrome, whatever it was Munroe was so afraid of, she wouldn't kill her child just because it may cost them some money, a little discomfort and extra work. Doctor Sarah represented a group of people whom the media portrayed as kooks and agitators, but they were the only ones who had gently explained what was going on with her baby and encouraged her away from aborting on such shaky evidence, thus putting her mind at rest.

The graphic explanation of the abortion process and the dangers to the mother kept replaying in Becky's mind. _What sort of a person could do that to an innocent and helpless baby?_ A frightened woman, who had been deceived by medical practitioners like Munroe, she conceded. After an afternoon nap had been advised by Doctor Sarah, Becky wandered into their bedroom and lay down on their bed. Staring at the ceiling, she pondered the different approaches of the two doctors. Where Munroe seemed to be money focused and pushed through his patients as fast as he could—Becky sarcastically wondered whether he got paid by the abortion referral—Sarah, however, disarmed the fear and spent whatever time the mother needed to understand the emotional pregnancy journey and the importance of her child. The difference, she concluded, was passion for life on one hand; and passion for money, on the other.

A sudden outside noise awoke Becky with a start, but her mind was heavy with sleep and she looked around the room, confused. It was still daylight and the bedside clock indicated mid afternoon, having slept for two hours, yet the evening meal needed to be prepared and she had to get to it. Pushing herself up from the mattress, she groaned and eventually shuffled out into the kitchen to prepare, knowing Brett normally arrived home just after 5:30 pm.

With the dinner simmering on the stove and the table set, Becky glanced at the clock, realising Brett would be close. Longing for him to be home, she hurried to the bathroom, combed her hair, put on some perfume and freshened her face. Her man's arms around her and his child growing in her womb were delights that made her feel alive and fulfilled. When the door finally opened, she met his hug and kissed him with warmth, ending the evening ritual with a reciprocated, "I love you."

Brett turned to face the landing at the front of the apartment where a large cardboard box was sitting against the wall. "What's with the box?" Brett asked, holding the door open and staring outside.

"What?" Becky threw him a questioning look. She pushed around him and peered out the door. "I don't know."

Brett picked up the box, and stuffed partially inside the folded cardboard flap, a note hung out. Removing the note, he read it aloud. " _These are part of my most treasured possessions. Your baby blankets, bibs and woollen diapers. I wondered whether you might want to use them with your baby. If you don't want them, can you return them to me and I will keep them. I didn't want to disturb you as I figured you might have been resting. Love, Mum Emma._ "

Becky sighed. "I heard something earlier in the afternoon. It must have been Mum dropping it off. She is so thoughtful," Becky mused. "Can you bring it in for me, honey? I'll go through it tomorrow."

Brett carried the box inside and placed it on a table in the lounge room where Becky could unload the contents without too much reaching. Becky began to reminisce over her beautiful and thoughtful mum and asked Brett if he minded waiting for his dinner until she could contact Emma and thank her.

Brett shook his head. "I can wait." And as the phone call lingered, he listened patiently as Becky affirmed her mum..

"I will use them, Mum, and I'll take good care of them. Thank you for being so thoughtful," Becky ended the call and took her place at the table.

"Guess what?" Brett teased.

"What?"

"Smiley and Jacqui have set a date for the wedding," Brett announced cheerfully.

"When?!" Becky returned excitedly.

"A year from today and he wants me to be his best man."

Becky laughed. "You'll be the best, best man for the job, Brett."

"I think Jacqui has her sights set on you for matron of honour from what she was saying today, but I'll let her confirm that."

"I hope I have my figure back by then," Becky worried and then broke into a smile at the thought of being Jacqui's MOH.

The night once again passed slowly for Becky, but Brett's heavy breathing told her he was enjoying his sleep and she felt envious. The baby seemed to be growing each day and the little kicks were getting more intense, often waking her from her sleep. It didn't matter which way she turned, she couldn't get comfortable. Feeling frustrated with sleep's indomitable absence, she raised herself from the bed under great effort and sauntered over to a chair by the wall. Two large pillows lay across the seat and she reached for the top one, carrying it back to the mattress, then lowered herself to the bed carefully, trying not to wake Brett. In her efforts, she crashed to the innersprings, sending a bump through the mattress that disturbed him.

"You okay, Becky?" Brett whispered hoarsely.

"Sorry, honey. I can't get comfortable enough to sleep and I just needed a pillow to support my legs. I was trying to be as quiet as I could," she whispered. Becky turned to lie down and placed the pillow between her legs, her back facing Brett. Brett sidled up and began to gently rub her spine and before long, she'd drifted off into a deep sleep.

When she woke, the room was aglow with warm sunlight and a note was attached to Brett's pillow _. Didn't want to wake you. Have a lovely day and see you when I get home. All my love, Brett._ She smiled at Brett's note and then checked the time. It was 9 am. Feeling deeply refreshed, amazed that she had slept so long and that the baby hadn't woken her with its little kicks, Becky eased her legs over the edge of the bed and pushed herself up with her arms behind her, slowly rising to her feet. Throwing her dressing gown over her shoulders and feeding her arms into the sleeves, she started to walk toward the kitchen. A series of little kicks alerted her to the fact that Baby was awake and was trying to get comfortable again.

Becky held her stomach and giggled, "You awake too, little one?"

She reached for the kettle to prepare for her much coveted morning cup of coffee since under Doctor Sarah's advice, she'd cut her intake down to one cup a day. The bright spot of her morning was to sit in the warm sunshine at the kitchen table with her coffee and gaze out the window into the bushland next door. As she reached for a clean cup from the cupboard, her glance deflected to the box of baby items Emma had brought over, bringing a smile to her face.

Becky gently rubbed her baby bump and with an air of excitement, she spoke to her tummy. "We're going to have some fun going through my old blankets and you can have the same ones I did. Wouldn't you like that?"

Feeling relaxed and contented and buoyed by the coffee, Becky waddled over to the cardboard container sitting on the lounge table and untangled the flaps, exposing the first layer of cloth. A heavy smell of naphthalene flakes met her senses as she unloaded the box and started to trace her early childhood history. By the time the box was empty, a large pile of bibs, blankets and woollen diapers filled the tabletop, yet she was particularly drawn to a beautifully embroidered soft pink baby blanket.

_Wow! You don't get quality stuff like this anymore,_ she thought.

Becky admired the needlework and turned it over in her hands, looking for a tag to see where it was made. Finding what she was looking for, she squinted to read the faded manufacturer's name and managed to piece together the meaning of the worn embroidery.

Especially made for you by the skilful hands of the blind.

There was another smaller inscription overleaf in the same stitching that she couldn't read. Becky placed the blanket down and wandered into the spare bedroom that Brett sometimes used as an office. Searching each drawer in turn, she eventually found a magnifying glass in the bottom chamber before returning to the lounge and focusing the glass on the tiny embroidered inscription and tried to read.

_To..._ something... _little..._ something... _Rebe... love..._ something... _atie_.

Confused, but determined, Becky tried to fluff the embroidery with her fingernail and had another read with the magnifying glass.

_To..._ um! _To our...! To our little...!_

Becky licked her finger and ran it over the inscription again, hoping to get more clarity, then re-read.

_To our little mir... miracle! To our little miracle Rebe... Rebecca! To our little miracle Rebecca love..._ something... _atie... Katie!_

_To our little miracle Rebecca love_ something _Katie!_

Becky's mouth fell open and she dropped the magnifying glass in shock. _What did this mean?_ Could it be a coincidence, or was it really a message for her to someday find, designed to cross the ages and the mysteries of her family history? She couldn't make out the final word, but the message was clear. This was _her_ blanket and if she had to make a guess, this little blanket was what Emma and Jacob had brought her home in and the message was about her as a baby... _from someone who knew her blood family_. Feeling a rising hope, Becky sighed and hugged the little pink blanket and then flopped, shocked, into the lounge chair, wondering what significance the little message held.

Who was Katie?!

Was it the Katie who haunted her dreams?

Was Katie her mother, trapped in some horrific nightmare trying to reach out to Becky?

Why did the message call her a miracle baby?

Did Emma know about this inscription?

She tussled with her thoughts. Emma probably had never seen the inscription. It was only by chance that Becky had decided to check the label and had had to use a magnifier, even with her youthful eyes.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 46

Provincial Legislative Commander Robert Draper pondered his growing workload pinning him to his desk. Two ships had disappeared in as many months, vanishing from the face of the earth. Head office was demanding results and a successful conclusion to the disappearances, but he had nothing. The times and tides would put Black Dean right at the centre of the suspect list, yet evidence was scant to confirm his theories and Black Dean wasn't about to give up her secrets.

The wild claims of Captain Lewis, stating his near collision with a missing renegade cutter bearing the name of _Rebellious_ , then the next day he and his ship loaded with dignitaries disappear into thin air, adding to his dilemma. To top it off, Emit Krueger had been onto the divisional chief, demanding an apology from Draper over his accusations of Krueger's involvement in the disappearance of his own vessel, _Rebellious._ The chief had warned Draper to back off, stopping short of demanding the apology, understanding Draper's suspicions of the wealthy man, so he let the apology slide... for now.

Draper sighed audibly and pushed the back of his office chair into a semi-reclining position, his oversized frame stretching the chair's integrity to its limits. As if all these worries weren't enough, now a couple of cowboy businessmen were attempting to build a lighthouse on the rocky wall of the Barrett Passage above Black Dean. He'd given the pushy Desapo fellow his tentative agreement to the scheme and a temporary permit to proceed pending a full examination of the working environment. It was Draper's responsibility to make sure Black Dean didn't have a field day with the lives of those involved in this crazy undertaking.

*~*~*~*

Bellaruse paced the floor of his box-like room in the Lightning Strike Hotel and after Desapo had recognised him, he needed to keep a low profile. The flea bag hotel was damaging his dignity, but he had no choice other than to take up residence there as the Desapo brothers had clear run of the best accommodation in town and if he tried to avail himself of a room befitting his dignity, he was sure the Desapos would put him out of business and run him out of town. Through the years, Bellaruse had managed to keep one step ahead of the troublesome brothers, but now he was playing Russian roulette and forced into a dangerous game of cat and mouse.

His hunt for the earl's sister had come to a skidding halt and so far, she had eluded him, with the search becoming more difficult now that the Desapos were aware of his presence. However, he had another more vexing problem and if the Desapos succeeded in making Black Dean navigable, he would lose a faithful ally and a perfect way of committing an untraceable crime. The circumstances were forcing him to show his hand and should the earl's sister elude him indefinitely, he needed a way of destroying the Desapos' scheme and in so doing, allow Bellaruse to continue his pirate activity undetected. If he was caught, they had enough evidence on his previous... _business dealings_ to put him away for life.

Gawking nervously from behind the yellowing drapes covering the small window of his tiny room, Bellaruse scanned the busy harbour and determined the lighthouse construction had to fail and he had to do everything in his power to assure its failure and ensure his own survival.

*~*~*~*

Desapo couldn't determine whether the success of his estimate for Black Dean was a good thing or not. Although the contract had been signed, Kruger had insisted on a default clause. Should the lighthouse take longer to build than the two year contracted term, then he would lose twenty-five percent of the total contract price and a further five percent for each month of delay. Desapo worried that unforeseen circumstances could severely hurt his bottom line, even though he had doubled the original estimate. Black Dean was an unknown and most people thought his plan was sheer lunacy. Although Neddy stood by him, if things went bad, it would be Desapo's business and empire that would suffer and not his older brother's.

Desapo began to worry about the ruse of Neddy being in charge, wondering whether he should come clean with the ladies and just bury his secret admiration for the black haired beauty. She was proving to be more elusive than he expected, and playing a game putting Neddy as the boss would make it difficult for Desapo to attend to the work on the job site; but then he figured, now that Neddy had Tess' respect and admiration, he wouldn't take too kindly to being ousted out of his role. Desapo loved his brother but he also had a company to run, and so just maybe he would play along for a little longer and see how things panned out.

Desapo closed the door to his room and walked up the staircase to the third floor, ascending the steps three at a time and making the third floor in five swift movements. Once he was at the head of the stairs, he did a sharp right turn and located the number 18 identifying Neddy's room. Rapping loudly, the door to his brother's room swung open. Neddy was expecting him.

"Want some breakfast?" Neddy mumbled, chewing on a piece of steak delivered to his room via room service.

"No thanks, Mr Parduck," Desapo answered sarcastically, wondering whether he should have increased the estimate again to cope with Neddy's luxurious tastes.

"Hey listen, Desapo," Neddy tried to speak, chewing over a large mouthful, "I told you this was gonna cost you, brother."

"That brings me to another concern. How am I going to be able to conduct my business with you masquerading as the boss?"

"That's your worry, Desapo. Tell me who it was that practically forced me into playing the part?"

Desapo sighed. "Yeah, it was pretty shortsighted of me to fall for a woman who has inward seeing eyes."

"I hate to tell you this, little brother, but like I said before, she would be perfect for you."

"What are you inferring, Neddy?! That I have eyes for myself?!" Desapo chided.

"If the shoe fits," Neddy teased.

"Can we get off my character assassination and onto the busy day ahead?" Desapo grumbled.

Neddy shrugged, dabbing his lips with a white cloth napkin and then swallowed the last of a cup of coffee. "The office has been leased and as soon as we have the phones connected, we can get the platform and the crew mobilised from down south. I've made a list of what's needed so Tess and Katie can work through each item, organising all the stone and cutting gear," Neddy handed the list to Desapo, who ran his eyes down the page, mentally checking off things.

"I think I just had another brain wave," Neddy remarked.

"What's this one going to cost me?" Desapo agitated sarcastically.

"If you don't want to hear it, I'll just keep it to myself," Neddy's indignant crow told Desapo his brother was becoming short fused.

"Come on, Neddy. You just tortured my character," Desapo complained.

Neddy grinned. "Okay. We can get around your problem of access to the job by me hiring you as a consultant engineer."

Desapo coughed. " _You_ are going to hire _me?_!"

"Can you come up with a better way for you to be hanging around all the time without causing suspicion?" Neddy challenged.

"Yeah! We call this whole charade off and I take back my company!" Desapo groaned.

"Oh, no you don't! Tess thinks I am the boss and I think she may be developing a liking for me," Neddy countered.

"The shameless way you threw her around in front of the whole diner last night, I'd say she has no misgivings about your intentions," Desapo grinned.

"Oh... I like that, Mr Swoon-Catcher! It's no wonder Katie is keeping her distance from you. She says you carried her upstairs against her will and dropped her from a great height onto her bed. Sounds awfully _brutish_ to me!"

Desapo sighed loudly, annoyed how Neddy could still get under his skin, just like when they were kids. " _Okay...! Hire me then, Mr Parduck!_ "

Desapo's annoyance made Neddy smile, just like when they were kids.

Neddy abruptly changed the conversation, like he usually did when he won an argument with Desapo. "What do you think Bellaruse is up to?"

Neddy's sudden question took Desapo by surprise. "I don't know, Neddy. It must be something drastic for him to risk being caught. We still owe him for the last meeting."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 47

The scene inside _Parduck's Stone Masonry, Lightning Harbour Office_ had begun to resemble bedlam. The small shop had two large full-length windows that faced the harbour and the entrance door was situated between these two windows. Inside, workmen were busy installing office furniture, directed by Tess and Katie. Since they had been given the responsibility to run the office, they intended to set it up in a style that they believed befitted the company's character. More workmen arrived and two phone lines were to be installed. By the time Neddy and Desapo entered, the scene was utter chaos. Tess and Katie were ordering furniture removalists to try different positions for the furniture around the office, until they gave their approval and each piece fitted perfectly into the office decor. Still more men with office equipment and fixtures were arriving, adding to the chaotic scene.

Tess noticed Neddy and made an excited beeline for him. "Do you like what we have done so far, Mr Parduck?"

Neddy, in his exuberance, complimented the ladies as if it was an art gallery and then added, "Tess, this is Mr Magellan Desapo. I have hired him to be our consulting engineer."

"At last, we are formally introduced, sir. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Desapo."

Desapo bowed his head. "Indeed it is a pleasure, Tess. I look forward to working with you."

Neddy caught Katie's attention and called her over. "Katie, this is Mr Magellan Desapo. I have hired him to be our consulting engineer," Neddy smiled.

"Consulting engineer, sir? I certainly hope your engineering is gentler than your handling of a fragile lady, Mr Desapo," Katie chided.

Desapo smiled and nodded. She wasn't about to let him get away with any excuse for his supposed rough handling when she'd taken a shock. "I hardly know, madam. I have never handled a fragile lady," Desapo's eyes were sparkling as he held Katie's gaze.

Katie opened her mouth to rebut him and thought better of it. "Excuse me, Mr Parduck. I have work to do," she turned and rejoined Tess, organising the furniture.

Desapo and Neddy departed after that and left the two ladies to their work and continued with their own organising duties. By day's end, _Parduck Stone Masonry_ was a fully functioning business. The windows had even been signwritten with the company name, leaving Desapo staring openmouthed at the fancy writing on the window.

Neddy slapped his brother on the back. "Well, brother, I couldn't think of a reason to stop the ladies from putting the business name on the windows. Come on inside and see how they have decorated your office."

Desapo followed Neddy inside, peering around in shocked disbelief. White lacy curtains hung in the windows; a comfortable new lounge chair was pushed up against one of the walls for customer use; and a teak counter separated the customer area at the front of the office from the area at the back. A coffee table sat in front of the lounge, with magazines neatly arranged in a boutique style on the top, while decorative paintings hung on the wall and vases full of fresh flowers decorated each desk. Lastly, a large Persian rug graced the exposed timber floor in front of the teak counter.

Speechless and shocked at the opulence, Desapo managed a squeaking, " _Did we get anything ordered for the job?!_ "

"As soon as the workmen finished, Tess and Katie got onto it. The barge will leave as soon as the tugs are ready and the stone and equipment have been loaded aboard. I put your stone cutting crew on the tugs as well."

" _On the tugs?!_ " Desapo almost cried.

"What would you rather have? A happy and relaxed crew arriving in ten days onboard a tug, or a grumpy crew arriving in three days onboard a train?"

Desapo sighed and nodded. His own experience with the train was testament to Neddy's choice. "How much did all this cost me?" Desapo waved his hand around the office.

"I don't know. The accounts haven't arrived yet," Neddy laughed. "I told you..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. _This is gonna cost you, little brother_."

Gustav had bitten off a large chunk of passing gossip from the offerings of the town gossip mongers and served it up to the Desapo brothers as they arrived from the office. "Congratulations, Messrs Desapo, on allowing the ladies full choice in the decorations to your new venture. I can only excogitate that the ambivalence of such a decision could never be described as execrable. Especially since their unabashed capability may have been of a truant nature. Well done, sirs!"

Neddy peered at Desapo and Desapo shrugged, "I don't know, Neddy; I don't understand him either."

The atmosphere in the diner that night was light and jovial, with the news of the opulent office finding its way around town and as Neddy and Desapo walked into dinner together, Tess invited the two brothers to join the ladies at their table.

"Are you sure?" Desapo glanced at Katie.

"Since we are to work together, sir, it is only fitting that I should get to know the people I am to spend a considerable portion of my day with. Shall we call a truce?" Katie volunteered.

Desapo couldn't believe the strong-willed beauty was offering an olive branch. "A truce it shall be," Desapo offered her his hand.

Katie gently shook Desapo's hand in a gesture of a ceasefire. "It is a difficult thing for me to admit, sir," Katie leaned over to Desapo and whispered, "I was possibly a little difficult when you assisted me to my room a number of weeks ago. I was suffering from a great betrayal at the hands of a man, and you, although your intentions were perfectly reasonable, just happened to represent an unjustified emotion." Katie gazed unfalteringly into Desapo's eyes, yet she appeared genuinely vulnerable.

"I may have been just a little reprehensible myself, madam. I am unaccustomed to handling ladies in such a condition as I found you and I was possibly a little out of my depth." Desapo added, "Indeed, you were a fragile woman at that moment and I must apologise for the rough handling."

This woman Katie was turning out to be a mass of contradictions and his demeanour changed more positively toward her. Katie seemed to soften also, with the ceasefire managing to remain enforced throughout the evening and they chattered effortlessly until it was time to retire for the night.

*~*~*~*

A face pressed hard against the glass of the shopfront, his hands raised to his eyes on both sides of his face, making a tunnel against the outside light interrupting his view of the darkened interior. His breath left a foggy stain on the glass and he had to wipe it away with his hand to get a closer look. He peered up at the lettering painted onto the window glass. _Parduck Stone Masonry, Lightning Harbour Office._ What was Desapo up to? Neither of the brothers' companies were called Parduck and what was with the lavish interior? It looked more like a hotel foyer than a stone building business. This wasn't making sense.

Bellaruse stalked away, pondering what the Desapos were up to. In any case, he had to get word to Recanauf and the Comtesse, disappearing for a few days to allow the heat he was experiencing to cool off him and for the Desapos to relax their guard.

*~*~*~*

On the western side of Contention Island, a small bay hid the twin masted cutter, with the high cliffs and thick vegetation making it almost invisible to the outside world. A series of caves ran from the bay anchorage and deep into the sandstone cliffs; if need be, a perfect place to hide a small town. A lookout, posted high on the cliff wall, kept watch over the marine traffic and the distant mainland. With the aid of an internal flying fox, the lookout could warn the cave dwellers below of approaching trouble and they could simply disappear into the labyrinth of underground tunnels.

Every night at 8 pm, the lookout would wait for a prearranged signal flashed by a powerful torch from the southern beach of Lightning Harbour. Once the lookout flashed back the _understood_ message, he would then hand deliver the instruction directly to Recanauf. Studying the dark horizon where the nightly signal would come from, the lookout scanned the southern beach of Lightning Harbour where a rocky point hid the light from any prying eyes within the busy town. It was a foolproof system, allowing the scheme to go undetected for many years. Abruptly, the signal erupted, causing the lookout to concentrate on the flashes, decoding as he went.

Pick...me...up...rocky...point...southern...beach...eight...o'clock...tomorrow...night...finish.

The lookout flashed back the signal. _Understood._

Moments later, the lookout arrived in Recanauf's company, prepared to divulge the plan.

Peering over the dark ocean from a hidden cave, Recanauf held his hands behind his back as the lookout read the message. "Bellaruse must have stumbled upon some trouble," the acting leader whispered.

" _Are the boiler repairs finished?!"_ Recanauf then bellowed.

A small man entered the cave from an adjoining passage. "We expect they will be repaired by morning, Mr Recanauf."

"Good! Then prepare the Comtesse. Bellaruse will be longing to see her."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 48

The door to the small room pushed back against his efforts with equal force and he had to apply a greater intensity to overcome the stubborn stiffness of the hinges. The door frame scraped across the vinyl floor covering, making entry into her secret sanctuary even more hesitant. He lost his temper with the perceived attempt by his long deceased wife to keep him out of her world and violently kicked the door. The door gave way under his compelling and crashed hard against the wall, sending a small cloud of dust drifting across her things. It had been nearly thirteen years since this room had seen the light of the outside world, with his wife herself closing the hallowed door just before she died. Since then, he had treated the office sanctuary like a sacred mausoleum, ignoring its very existence... until now.

It was _her_ room, where she had advocated the rights of the migrants, and the reminder set his face hard in an angry frown and his hands trembled with rage. She always had time for the needy and the downtrodden, but never time for him. When she'd died unexpectedly, it was if she had turned her back on him in a final act of defiance, locking him forever out of her world. He flicked on the light, but it blinked a couple of times and then _fizzed_ and _crackled_ in a puff of smoke and then darkness again. He clenched his teeth, erupting at the room in a frenzy of destructive passion. She was still trying to keep him out of her world.

Enraged, he whirled through the room like a tornado and destroyed any remaining evidence of her life as a migrant advocate. He turned the desk over and the drawers spilled open, with files and papers scattering onto the floor. A carefully clipped newspaper headline drifted out of the top drawer, yellowing from age but clearly announcing to the world, _new legislation passed on migrant rights._ His ire spewed out of his throat and rattled against his yellowing teeth, letting go of a turbulent scream before tearing the newspaper clipping into tiny pieces and then like kicking a football, he launched the drawer against the wall.

A small cash tin hit the wall in unison with the drawer and fell at his feet. Lying next to the fallen tin, a key rested among the wreckage, seemingly sitting in the lock where she had last left it and his violent rage had knocked it from its resting place. Grasping the opener between severely shaking fingers, it took a few attempts to thread it back into the lock of the battered cash tin and for it to finally open. Inside, there was a list of yellowing receipts and donations from people aiding the cause of the migrant advocacy. He turned the box upside down and a pile of vouchers drifted to the ground, followed by a neat pile of currency tethered together by a deteriorating elastic band.

Staring in disbelief, his eyes rested on an amount of money lying on the floor and like a pouncing tiger, he bent down unsteadily and almost toppled over, retrieving the cash. It took a few attempts to right himself and count the money, but he was sure in the end he had a windfall of over a thousand dollars. With his features contorting into an evil grin and realising the currency was more than likely from donations, he thrust the money into his pocket and saluted the mess. Aiming his thoughts to his dead wife, he figured at last he had settled a little of the score. _I'm going to have a little drinky, thanks to the donations of your migrant advocacy._

Arthur Dillon had consumed his latest welfare cheque on alcohol two days after receiving it and with another twelve days to go until the next, finding the cash tin was an unexpected bonus and he would _party_ tonight. With his mouth dry and his hands trembling, Dillon ran his sweaty palms down his dirty jeans to dry them and then spied a half full bottle of vodka lying against the sofa where he'd fallen asleep last night. His mouth watered at the sight and he licked his lips, making an unsteady path from her room to the lounge chair where the stale alcohol would top him up until he could drive down to the bottle shop and buy some more sweet painkiller. Lifting the bottle to his lips and draining the remains, Dillon felt the calming effect almost immediately, with his hands ceasing their trembles and the sweats disappearing instantly.

Wandering into the bedroom and searching the chaos for the car keys, Dillon explored the broken furniture until he found a key ring lying on the floor partially covered by a dirty shirt. Steadying himself and using the bed frame for support, he grasped at the car keys and staggered to his feet, feeling for the folded currency notes in his pocket to make sure he hadn't imagined his good fortune, he determinedly wobbled for the door.

As he was passing the middle of the room a quirky, unfamiliar noise stopped him in his tracks. After searching the gloomy surrounds, it suddenly dawned... the phone was ringing. He stopped for a moment, coming to a decision, but the presence of the money in his pocket was urging him to press on toward the door and the bottle shop. He glanced at the front door and then back at the phone, still insistently calling his attention to answer it and for no other reason but to stop the incessant chime hammering through his brain, he grabbed up the receiver, putting paid to the troublesome noise.

"Yeth!"

"Mr Dillon?" an official sounding voice tore at his brain.

"Yes, who is this?" he mumbled, trying to sound normal.

"This is Police Constable Kerri Binns of Missing Persons."

Dillon's mouth went dry and his heart pounded.

"Are you still there, Mr Dillon?"

"Yep, what's up?" he managed to keep up the charade.

The constable continued, "I am phoning on behalf of Senior Constable Roy and the police's department of Missing Persons. We believe we had positively identified your daughter and her whereabouts soon after you reported her missing, but a lengthy police investigation had to ensue and it led us to an address in Crescent Street, Brenton Park."

Dillon swallowed heavily at this latest news. "But..but that is a highly populated ethnic suburb," Dillon complained.

"Yes, sir, that's correct. Officers are on their way there now to intervene and forcibly remove your child and deliver her back to you. There is one other detail you may want to prepare yourself for, sir."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"It appears that your daughter is in her last few weeks of pregnancy," the constable explained.

"Pregnancy?! But she is too young to be pregnant," Dillon stammered, shocked.

"Yes, Mr Dillon, we believe that is the case and we will be conducting further investigations that may uncover the father and perpetrate a possible jail term. If our enquiries are correct, sir, your daughter will be returned to you later today."

Dillon dropped the phone and missed the cradle, with the receiver dangling by the coiled wire and resting on the floor. He slumped into a chair, turning over the word _pregnant_ in his mind and soon shock turned to anger and then to rage. "How dare she, the little tramp, and I bet the father is one of those trawling migrants."

Standing to his feet, he searched the phone desk drawer and removed the telephone directory, angrily flicking the pages until his eyes fell on a name made famous by heated protests outside its premises. He grabbed the phone by its cord and lifted the receiver from the floor, then pointing to the number with his finger to keep track, he dialled. "I'll at least put a stop to my daughter adding to the migrant population."

In his ear, he could hear the phone ringing through the receiver until a woman's voice answered, "Privilege House, how can I help you?"

"Yeah, I want an emergency procedure done this afternoon," Dillon barked.

"I am sorry, sir, we are fully booked," the voice replied.

"Look, everyone has a price. How much will it cost to do the procedure _this_ _afternoon_?"

"Emergency procedures cost $500, sir."

Dillon stuttered for a moment. "Okay, I'll bring her in this afternoon. I don't know what time, though."

"For five hundred dollars, sir, you can bring her in at any time. What name will it be under?"

"Arr..." Dillon looked around the room for some inspiration. Resting his eyes on his vodka bottle, he read the name: _Tyson's Vodka_. "Elizabeth Tyson," he lied.

"And what relation are you to the girl, Mr Tyson?"

"I am her father," Dillon replied.

"Of course. It is only to be expected, Mr Tyson, when our daughters make wrong choices. Be assured we will remove the problem with the utmost sensitivity to your privacy."

Dillon hung up the phone and pondered with amazement how easy it was to be rid of such an embarrassing situation; and with this new revelation causing his anxiety to rise, he grabbed the car keys and staggered for the car... he needed to keep $500.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 49

Marguerite loved sleeping on her stomach, but the baby was pressing on her wherever she turned and couldn't get comfortable. Katarzyna had gone to school while Majiv and Mr Lieberman were at work and Ima had gone down for an early midday nap, leaving Marguerite feeling alone, claustrophobic, fat and very unattractive lying around inside the apartment. Ungainly, she rolled over onto her side, staring at Katarzyna's empty bed, but the baby objected and kicked her every time she moved as if it had to resettle after each change. Ima had assured her the baby's actions and placement in the womb at this stage of development were typically that of a girl.

When Marguerite's unoccupied mind turned to the chance meeting this morning with the stalking stranger, a shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the unimpressive dark features of his severe face. She had first seen him in the customer queue at the bakery and his demeanour was one of someone who was trying to place her in a jigsaw puzzle... _What did he want from her and why was he so intense? If she was an underaged pregnancy, what was it to him?_ _People like him judged without knowledge and had no idea of the circumstances behind her situation and she wasn't about to torture and kill her baby just because it was a product of deceit._

The day was dragging and Marguerite's mind felt numb, yet the more she thought, the less things made sense. Glancing to the second-floor window, the curtain had been pulled back and the warm sun was streaming in and she felt like she needed some fresh air. Maybe she would take a short stroll while Ima slept, giving the baby and herself some much needed exercise. Pushing herself to her elbows and then struggling for her feet, the baby objected and kicked her again.

"Okay, Mummy gets the hint, little one."

Feeding her arms through a lime green cardigan, Marguerite left the light woollen fabric open at the front with the buttons undone, nimbly protecting her shoulders against the late spring breezes. The buttons wouldn't do up over the baby, anyway. Then she pulled on some elastic waisted long pants over her house dress and tucked it in. "Well, at least I look like I feel," she conceded, checking her reflection in the bedroom mirror.

Quietly creeping down the stairs and into the entryway of the apartment, Marguerite checked for noises, satisfied Ima was still resting. The door opened slowly, silently gliding on the heavy hinges and as she stepped cautiously to the sidewalk, Marguerite checked up and down the street. Satisfied no one was watching, she pulled the door closed and waddled breathlessly down the street. The baby was heavy in her womb and she struggled for breath, panting hard even at a gentle walking pace, but the sun was warm on her back and it made her feel better immediately.

Her heart was hammering at the exertion and as people gawked, she wondered what she looked like to passing strangers... _probably an awkward sight_ , she conceded. When she'd walked about two hundred yards from the apartment, Marguerite decided she'd had enough and turned around on the spot, facing the opposite direction with the safety of her home easily observable from where she stood.

*~*~*~*

About to solve his first case, Willis smiled to himself, imagining a stream of shining accolades gurgling from the boss of the CIB and over his deserving persona. Daydreaming as he walked to the unmarked car with Roy, Willis assumed this would be the start of a heroic career and his last day playing peek-a-boo with Missing Person's files.

A new, unmarked grey Chevy Belair shone even in the CIB building's undercover parking area and as Roy thrust the key into the solid door, the door locking stalk popped up on the inside, indicating the door could be opened and access gained. Threading his lanky frame into the vehicle and leaning across the saloon seat, Roy reached for the passenger side to unlock Willis' door. As the two slightly built men took their seats, the new vehicle's suspension settled under their weight and soon two reverberating _booms_ chased around the parking area, with the driver and passenger barriers slamming shut in unison.

Roy fumbled with the key and inserted it into the ignition and twisted it, cranking the big Chevrolet V8 engine. With an enthusiastic whir, the big engine turned over and then caught, filling the undercover garage with a youthful roar. Roy pushed the gas pedal and the engine responded quickly, searching for the open road and to demonstrate the high speeds it was more than capable of producing. With the strong aroma of new interior leather making his eyes water, Willis had already wound down his window and Roy quickly followed suit. Eager to get started, Roy pulled on a steering column lever while the heavy vehicle jumped as the transmission found forward gear, straining against the vehicle brakes and when the parking brake was released, the car lurched forward in response. Pushing down on the throttle, the new police car purred and easily climbed the slight gradient out of the car park and onto the main street.

After weaving their way through heavy city traffic, the grey Chevy eventually turned into Crescent Street. "Is this where you live?" Roy asked with a frown.

"Yeah, down toward the other end," Willis responded. "Slow down. That's the bakery she was working at," Willis disclosed.

Roy stared into the window, craning his neck. He could see a crowd of people lined up inside the shopfront.

"They sell _great_ pastries," Willis bragged, as the car slowly ambled past.

" _Really?!_ " Roy declared, as if he was talking to a simpleton.

"My place is just there and the girl lives... _well, what do we have here?"_ Willis pointed to a girl waddling down the sidewalk. " _That's her!_ " Willis exclaimed excitedly.

Roy pulled up beside the girl and commanded, "Marguerite Anne Dillon?"

Marguerite's shocked expression stared back in terror _._ " _Who are you?! What do you_ _want?!_ " she panicked, looking to the front door of the apartment still one hundred yards away.

"My name is Senior Constable Roy and this is Constable Willis. We have a Missing Person's bulletin out for you and we understand that you are a minor. Carnal knowledge carries a jail term in this state," Roy stated emotionlessly, both getting out of the car.

Marguerite searched for an escape route and began to pant heavily as the two men surrounded her, pulling her toward the car. _"Please! Leave me alone! I am happy here with my new family. Don't take me back to my father. He will kill me!"_ Marguerite pleaded. She began to scream even louder, somehow hoping to attract the attention of Ima and safety.

The two policemen handled her forcefully, shoving her into the back of the vehicle and forcing her to land heavily onto the bench seat until eventually the door _slammed_ shut and locked with finality. The man who'd recognised her earlier that morning climbed in next to her while Marguerite screamed, trying frantically to open the door, but it wasn't going to budge.

Attempting to quieten Marguerite's tirade, Roy bellowed, _"SHUDDUP!"_

But as Marguerite watched the apartment door slip past, a final desperate scream filled the vehicle interior, feeling her new life ebbing hopelessly by. Stunned into desperate silence, Marguerite turned in her seat and watched her security drifting away as the apartment door disappeared and the grey Chevy drove swiftly out of the street. Shocked and whimpering, Marguerite could only imagine what horrors awaited her, worrying desperately for her baby's safety.

*~*~*~*

Ima's little round frame broke into the bakery shopfront, her face red with the exertion of her panicked run and began desperately searching around the crowded room. Majiv noticed the strange appearance of Ima into the bakery, knowing she didn't come down into the business unless there was an emergency.

"Eleazar! Eleazar!" Ima shouted, terrified.

The crowd began to murmur and stare at the woman.

Mr Lieberman entered the shopfront amongst the crowd. "What is it, Ima?!"

"Marguerite is gone! Tell me you have her down here," Ima pleaded.

Mr Lieberman sighed heavily, anguish written in his eyes. "She is not here... the young man yesterday. It has to be related."

"What should we do, Eleazar? Do we call the police?" Ima entreated, her concern mounting.

"I think this _is_ the work of the police, Ima. I have seen that look on the young man's face many times before when the authorities came to my village and took away my family members during the holocaust. No... the only thing we can do now is pray and trust our Marguerite into Father's hands."

*~*~*~*

Before long, the word reached the Christian church community and people began to fast and pray, holding Marguerite before the Throne. The evening meal had been cancelled for the Lieberman home, fasting instead for the safe return of Marguerite. The family conversation was interspersed with desperate prayer around the Lieberman table and shrouded with many tears, with Ima staring desperately at the empty chair where Marguerite used to sit.

Old Tom Jefferson heard about the family crisis and he had driven to the family as soon as he got word. The Liebermans had been there for him in his crisis, and now it was his turn to offer a compassionate shoulder.

The prayer and fasting went on into the early morning and at about 2 am, the Liebermans' phone rang, breaking into the intense atmosphere. Ima's worried eyes glanced across to Eleazar and he returned her concern, but then she hurried to answer it.

"Hello," Ima whispered.

The voice on the end of the phone was breathless and faltering. "Number...12...Grimond...Street... _please_... _hurry_."

Then the phone went dead.

" _Eleazar...! Eleazar...!"_ Ima cried hysterically. _"Marguerite is in desperate trouble and she needs us urgently._ _Number 12 Grimond Street."_

Tom launched from his seat, heading for the door. "I know this street and I am going to bring her back."

" _I am coming too, Tom!_ " Majiv responded.

"This might get messy, Majiv. Her father may be violent toward me and the police may be called. I'm willing to stand in the face of this crime and take the ire of the authorities. You are not a soldier like me, Majiv," Tom responded. "Tonight may have far reaching consequences."

" _I don't care. Marguerite needs me!_ " Majiv responded dispassionately.

"Okay. Come on, but do what I tell you!"

After blessing the two men with Jesus' protection, the Liebermans settled back into frantic prayer.

Close to 2:30 am, number 12 Grimond street was in complete darkness when Tom and Majiv stole up to the front of the house. Tom put his ear to the door, listening to someone gently moaning inside. He stood back and launched his body at the door like a battering ram, with his foot making direct contact. The door buckled under his kick and his foot went right through the thin layers of the wooden structure, leaving a football-sized hole where he could reach inside and open the door.

Stunned by what he saw, Tom hesitated for a second, gawking at the chaos; but even in the semidarkness, the house was a battlefield with furniture splintered all around and bottles laying scattered and broken. The body of a man lay prostrate on the floor and then another smaller body lay on a lounge close by, with the intense smell of body odour, blood and stale alcohol reefing at Tom's stomach. He'd seen this scene and the indelible smell many times as a soldier caught up in a terrible war. Tom picked through the carnage to the lounge and found Marguerite's bruised and swollen face staring—unconscious—back up at him. She had a sheet wrapped around her pelvis and it was soaked in blood, causing Majiv to choke at the sight and trying to hold the contents of his stomach.

" _Is she alive, Tom?_ "

Tom listened to the raspy breathing and felt for her pulse. "Yes, Majiv, but only just. We need to get her to Ima... _and quickly._ "

The Liebermans were alerted to Tom and Majiv's arrival by an impassioned _knock_ , and as the door swung open, the sight of Marguerite's battered body made Katarzyna gasp. As Tom pushed the door open against the wall, he gently carried Marguerite inside, the blood soaked sheet still wrapped around her body.

" _Place her on the kitchen table!_ " Ima ordered, already knowing what had happened. "We need to work quickly, Katarzyna, and you must be strong. Boil some water and keep it coming until I tell you to stop. You men... _get out_ and close the door. Katarzyna, you are about to learn what we women must endure."

As she was closing the kitchen door, Ima pleaded with the men to pray.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 50

Tom, Majiv and Mr Lieberman knelt by the lounge, their heads bowed in prayer, pleading for Marguerite's life. When a strong, overpowering presence surrounded the tiny room, Mr Lieberman paused and his demeanour suggested he was listening to a confiding voice. Then the old man whispered, breaking the sacred silence, "I believe our prayer is to be answered, but it's not safe for Marguerite to remain here. The authorities and her father will return to our home, attempting to force her back into the same situation and possibly then she will not survive."

"I have friends in a county across the country," Tom offered unexpectedly. "They're Christian folk and aren't afraid to be involved in desperate situations like this. They will look after Marguerite and protect her."

With a sombre nod, Mr Lieberman agreed with Tom's plan. "This sounds good to me."

Majiv's expression was one of nervous desperation. "I would like to go with her, too."

Mr Lieberman suspected that there had been something developing between Majiv and Marguerite and now it had been confirmed. The old man carefully considered the consequences of Majiv's statement and finally nodded, but his grim expression left Majiv even more anxious.

"I... I would like to marry Marguerite when we are of age," Majiv's vulnerability made his tone deepen like a man, but he wasn't used to discussing his emotions in such an open situation. Devoted to the girl he wanted to marry, Majiv had spent all of his spare time encouraging and admiring Marguerite, holding her hand and urging her to fight for her life and now he was more certain of his desire than ever.

Backing Majiv's assertion, Tom glanced at Mr Lieberman and quickly added, "You're already old enough to marry Marguerite in the county where we're going. I believe seventeen is the legal age there!"

Majiv held his breath, and when Mr Lieberman assented, he beamed and bubbled excitedly, "Marguerite turns seventeen in a couple of weeks!"

*~*~*~*

Needing constantly to monitor Marguerite and seize sleep when she could, Ima moved a mattress into the girls' bedroom and laid it on the floor. With the battle raging for Marguerite's life turning in her favour, a critical point had been passed as the fever abated and the grave infection subsided. Meticulously, Ima had cleaned Marguerite's bruised face and treated her injuries, but only now did she resemble the pretty girl she'd always been.

Tuned in to the slightest noise, Ima awoke in the middle of the night and leaned towards her patient, hearing Marguerite's breathing had increased and then she realised she was crying. Reaching for a small torch, Ima switched on the insipid beam and pointed it to the ceiling, giving enough light to recognise Marguerite's outline.

"Hello, dear child," the older woman whispered, reaching for Marguerite's hand and squeezing it lightly.

Marguerite gently squeezed back, realising she was safe among her family once more. " _They killed my baby, Ima!_ " Marguerite whispered in a flat, defeated voice and then broke and sobbed.

"I know, dear one, I know," Ima's tears overflowed and ran down her face. "You need to get well again, Marguerite. Father God has not finished with you yet," she gently encouraged.

Marguerite's bruised expression painfully swivelled toward Ima, trying to talk through tears and severely swollen lips. " _Why, Ima?_ _Why did God allow this to happen?_ "

Ima sighed heavily at the question, knowing Marguerite wasn't condemning in her attitude, just trying to understand. "Sometimes there are no answers to questions like this, dear one. Father didn't destroy your baby, Marguerite. The devil did that with the help of deceived people. This world is overrun by the devil until Father calls him to account and restores it back into Jesus' hands. That day is coming soon, while tragedies like this can still be turned around for good, if we trust Father to do it. Do you remember how the devil tricked Adam and Eve into giving up their right to live with God forever in the Garden of Eden?"

Marguerite nodded.

"Well, God sent Jesus, His perfect son, to Earth to become a man and to sacrifice His life on the cross. He regained our right to spend eternity with Father again, by his dreadful death on the cross. Jesus is the only one perfect in every way and He was the only one good enough to purchase our right back for us, by giving His life. Had He not done that, then we would have been forever kept out of Father's presence and spent eternity in punishment with the devil. In fact, when Jesus was a baby in His mother's womb, the devil got wind of Father's plan and tried to destroy all the baby boys of Jesus' time, hoping to destroy our Saviour and the only way back to our rightful place with Father. He has always attempted to destroy God's plans."

As the battered girl listened intently, Ima gently stroked Marguerite's soft hair.

"There also seems to be an age of accountability, Marguerite. An age of innocence, after which Father holds us responsible for knowing the difference between right and wrong. Your baby, Marguerite, had no knowledge of right and wrong and is safely in Father's hands and will live with Him in eternity, forever. That's true even for women who deliberately abort their babies. We, however, have to _choose_ to accept Jesus as our Lord and Saviour or follow the devil's way. If we choose Jesus, we will live forever in Father's presence, too. Once you know Jesus as your Saviour, your baby will be waiting for you to enter the Heavenly Garden of Eden again and you will be wonderfully reunited."

Marguerite coughed and the tears began to stream down her face. "Pray with me, Ima. I don't want to live forever in the devil's dominion here and then share in his punishment. I want to go home some day and be reunited with my beautiful baby girl."

*~*~*~*

As the Lieberman family gathered around Marguerite's bed, she tried to show a brave face, smiling at the sombre gathering until her father figure delivered the grave news.

"We need to get you out of this state, Marguerite," Mr Lieberman exclaimed. "It's not safe for you here. Soon your father will come after you and the authorities may be with him."

Marguerite's expression fell, while a fearful tone etched itself across her face, weighing the old man's words. _"But I don't want to leave you!"_ she defended.

Ima took Marguerite's hand. "Next time, your father may succeed in killing you."

Mr Lieberman continued forcefully, "This is what we have decided. Tom and Majiv will take you across the country in Tom's wagon, where he knows people who will protect you."

Marguerite glanced from face to face around the room. "But _you_ are my family..."

Majiv kneeled beside the objecting girl and took Marguerite's hand. "Under the circumstances, there is no romantic way to say this, but I want to take you as my wife and we can do that legally where we are going."

Shocked by Majiv's confession, Marguerite's guilty countenance fell. "You would take a tainted and battered woman as your wife? _Look at me!_ "

Majiv sighed and squeezed her hand. "You're the most _beautiful_ woman in the world to me."

Interrupting the young couple and disturbing the intimate emotions, Mr Lieberman whispered grimly, "We have to get you out of the state urgently, even tonight, Marguerite. Your father will be here soon enough, but don't be concerned. Majiv and Tom will protect you and make a bed for you in Tom's wagon, driving you to safety... _but we must hurry._ "

A heavy burden of elation and sorrow washed over Katarzyna and Majiv, realising for the first time in their lives, brother and sister would be separated. However, the preparations to move Marguerite continued swiftly and with great care until they were ready to leave.

"I love you, Majiv. Take good care of my sister," Katarzyna hugged her brother, knowing their lives would be different from here on and silently tried to convey a lifetime of emotion in one embrace.

As Majiv released his sister, Ima placed her arms around him and prayed a blessing over the couple. "Majiv, my son, you must know something," Ima whispered solemnly. "Marguerite's womb has been seriously damaged by the abortion and she may not be able to give you children, yet the wounds of a woman go very deep when she is violated in this way. The physical damage is a constant reminder, but she will be scarred in her mind, too. You need always to remember this and how precious she is," Ima hugged him again.

"Thank you, Ima. I will remember," Majiv responded.

"I'll pray every day that Father will allow a child of your own to bless you and Marguerite."

As the station wagon pulled away from the apartment and Marguerite lay on a bed in the rear of the car with their belongings packed around her, Majiv sat next to Tom as he drove the couple away. Behind the moving wagon, three people waved frantically from the kerb, leaving Majiv torn. He was waving goodbye to his parents and sister, but he knew deep in his heart his future was with Marguerite. Checking his watch, Majiv could see the tiny hands indicating midnight's cry and suddenly realised he and Marguerite were repeating his parent's beginnings... hounded by the same but different enemy.

The street was deserted and deathly still as the wagon slowly turned the corner and drove out of sight.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 51

Becky pushed the door open to the spare room and glanced at Brett's computer standing silent on his desk and draped in a plastic cover. It hadn't received much attention since he had taken his new job, with most of his work now done in his office at the newspaper and in direct contact with people rather than on a computer screen. Becky pulled the cover off the screen and placed it on a chair by the wall, pushed the power button, but nothing happened. Following the power cord, she could see the end lying on the floor, assuming Brett had disconnected it. She sighed, then put her hand on her stomach.

"Sorry, little one," she whispered and dropped to the floor on her knees, with a groan. Crawling under the desk, she found the end of the lead and plugged it into the power and switched it on.

Unamused and with a disapproving barrage of kicks finely orchestrated in a chorus of protest, the baby was uncomfortable and was letting her know. _What are you doing, Mum?_

Panting heavily and trying to regain her breath, Becky flopped into Brett's office chair, her face red from the exertion. In control and settling at the desk, Becky manoeuvred once more, attaining a favourable position; but baby had gotten a rough ride, giving a final kick and sending a clear message not to do that again. Becky placed her hand tenderly over her bump. "Mummy gets the message, little one."

She pushed the power button again and this time the computer whirred into life, then gently, Becky wheeled the office chair as close to the desk as she could, but the baby was so big now that she felt like she was sitting at arm's length from the keyboard. With her little pink baby blanket neatly folded on the edge of the desk, Becky glanced at it hopefully and once the password had been typed in, the computer allowed her access. Eventually dancing through the computer hoops and locating her search engine, she typed _Landon County Institute for the Blind_ and pushed the _enter_ button. A few seconds went by and a catalogue of results displayed, prompting Becky to scroll down the list. There was everything from curtains and drape manufacturers in Landon County to holidays and accommodation in the region's most beautiful city, but nothing came up... Landon County Institute for the Blind didn't seem to exist.

After a futile half hour search, Becky gave up. It appeared that Landon County didn't have a facility that employed and trained blind people, let alone manufacturing beautiful needlework and baby blankets like the one folded neatly on Brett's desk. Dismayed by the lack of information, Becky shut down the computer and sighed heavily. It was obvious wherever Katie was, it wasn't in Landon County. Carefully replacing the plastic cover back over the machine and deciding not to risk Baby's ire by diving under the desk, Becky waddled into the kitchen carrying the baby blanket. Rubbing her face in the soft material and then playing with the tag, she studied the faded fine needlework and the message she supposed was intended for her to find. _Where are you, Katie, and what are you trying to tell me?_ she pleaded with the little blanket.

A sudden thought teased her mind. _I wonder whether Mum knows about the tag and the baby blanket._ In a moment of decision, she walked over to the phone and dialled Emma's number and after a pause, Emma's bubbly voice greeted her in response.

"Hi, Mum, it's Becky... no, everything's okay... I was just wondering about something in the box of baby things you sent over... well, do you know that pink baby blanket?... yeah, it's my favourite, too... do you know where that came from?... That's what I thought. So I was wrapped in it when you and Dad brought me home from hospital?"

Becky lingered as Emma described the process of picking her up from the hospital, but no more light could be shed on the baby blanket. For the moment, Becky decided not to tell Emma about the message on the tag, but felt deflated as she put the phone down, seemingly drawing blanks and coming to dead ends, just like Smiley said she would. Becky decided to put the blanket aside for the moment and concentrate on her housework, and by the time she'd finished her chores, it was mid afternoon and she was feeling raw and fatigued. Waddling into the bedroom and gently lowering herself to the mattress, Becky tried not to disturb Baby and as if mother and child had the same intention, Becky's eyes closed, drifting off into an exhausted slumber.

Waking with a start and panicking when a familiar voice called from the lounge room, Becky's sleepy eyes struggled to focus as she stole an anxious glance at the clock, realising it had already turned 5:30 pm and Brett was home. " _Oh no, I must have fallen asleep and I haven't put the dinner on!_ "

Hurrying to rise and among the confusion, Becky could hear other voices conversing with Brett. Quickly straightening her appearance and unprepared for company, she made an awkward sleepy entry. " _Smiley! Jacqui!_ " Becky announced with delight. But when she turned to her husband, Becky flushed with embarrassment and tried to explain. " _I'm sorry, Brett. I fell asleep and I haven't started dinner._ "

Brett grinned and held up a large bag of takeaway, saving the day. Relieved and not feeling sparky enough to cook for four people, Becky pressed into his embrace and kissed him with gratitude.

"You surely didn't plan this, Brett?" Becky gazed adoringly at her man.

"No, but I think the soon-to-be newlyweds want to discuss something with you, so I invited them over for some improvised dinner. It was a spur of the moment thing."

"I hope you don't mind us crashing your dinner, Becky," Jacqui apologised.

Becky wrapped Jacqui in a hug. "Of course not, _a-n-d_ I just happen to have something to tell you."

Smiley and Jacqui glanced at each other. "I think we've already guessed that one, Becky," Smiley had that teasing older brother look on his face, causing Becky to tilt her head in confusion, leaving both her and Jacqui wondering what was coming. "We already know you're pregnant and that's not a watermelon under your shirt."

By the time the laughter died down, Jacqui and Becky were preparing to dish out the meal when Jacqui noticed the pink baby blanket neatly folded on the counter where Becky had left it.

"Wow, isn't this little blanket absolutely beautiful?!" Jacqui exclaimed.

"Well, yeah, it is. And there's something of a story behind it, too," Becky explained.

Jacqui stared at Becky, intrigued, with her eyes asking many questions.

"I'll explain after dinner and once we've discussed your news first."

The meal passed in the usual frivolities whenever Smiley was present. Becky was feeling much more alert and alive after the improvised meal and the laughter with their best friends. When Becky excitedly accepted Jacqui's invitation to be her matron of honour, the small group erupted in loud festive talk and laughter, before retiring to the lounge while Becky prepared the coffee, placing the pot and cups on a small nearby coffee table. Returning to the kitchen, Becky picked up the baby blanket then headed for the spare room to track down the magnifying glass once again.

"Do you need a hand, honey?" Brett called after her.

" _No!_ " she called back. " _I'll only be a moment,_ " Becky's voice drifted out of the spare room. Locating the magnifier, she then rejoined the others back in the lounge room. With an expression of curiosity settling over the group, Becky handed the baby blanket and the magnifier to Smiley and with an amused look, Smiley peered at Becky.

"What's this about?" Smiley asked, knowing Becky had something to share.

"Take a look at the stitching," Becky urged, and for the first time in a long while, she had Smiley guessing.

Smiley glanced at Becky as if she had eaten too much takeaway. "Yeah, the stitching is indeed magnificent and the blanket is beautiful," Smiley puzzled, realising Becky had a reason to show him this. "Okay, Becky, I give up. What's the deal?" Smiley admitted defeat.

"Take a _close_ look at the tag," Becky prompted.

Smiley focused in on the tag and read out the needlework. " _Especially made for you by the skilful hands of the blind._ I still don't get it, Becky."

"Turn over the tag, Smiley, and read the inscription on the other side. It's a bit hard to read, but you can just make it out."

Smiley squinted and pulled faces trying to read the tiny needlework, then once he had deciphered its meaning, his face took on a faraway look. "Wow, Becky! How did you find this?" Smiley bubbled.

"What does it say?" Brett and Jacqui questioned in unison.

"I can't make out the second last word but it says, " _To our little miracle Rebecca love... Katie!_ "

The silence inside the room was deafening as each person pondered the meaning of the blanket's message.

Becky eventually broke the silence. "I thought there may have been a blind institute in Landon County that might lead us to Katie and so I spent a lot of time on the internet searching, however, I came up empty. It appears Landon County doesn't have a facility for the blind or a place that teaches fine needlework like this."

Smiley could see the excitement and the deflated demeanour struggling for pre-eminence on Becky's attractive features. "This could be one huge coincidence, Becky, or you may have stumbled onto a major clue in the search for your birth mother."

Smiley's animated snoop instincts had shifted to high alert.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 52

Smiley tossed and turned into the early hours of the morning, unable to get Becky's discovery out of his thoughts and shut down the niggling silent cry that someone somewhere was trying to reach out and make a valid connection. The inscription on the tag of the little blanket seemed to be too much of a coincidence for Smiley's suspicious mind and maybe this Katie that haunted Becky's nightmares was actually trying to warn her and not destroy her mind as Brett had suspected.

_But what was she trying to say, if anything at all and what did the tag actually mean?_ _Was this inscription indeed aimed at Becky, or maybe it was a plea from someone who knew something of Becky's beginnings, giving just enough information to entice a curious trail leading to the author of the needlework?_ To Smiley's way of thinking, she appeared to be hiding her own identity, but giving just enough away to make Becky search for her. _But what would make someone go to all this trouble? What situation would dictate that the needleworker go to such lengths to remain anonymous, but give a clear signal to someone like Becky searching for answers?_ The questions were coming thick and fast, prompting the frustration to climb and causing _snoop Smiley's_ tail to wag with the scent of a mystery.

Turning harshly and bouncing on the mattress, Smiley faced the clock, reading the digits with sleep-deprived eyes and realising it was still a number of hours before he was officially expected at work. Unable to bear the questions any longer, Smiley threw off the blankets in an effort for answers and decided the paper and his office would be the best place to start. Smiley flung his legs over the bed and immediately, his feet tangled in a pile of dirty clothes, tripping him up and sending him hurtling across the room. Jacqui had bought him a basket for his used laundry, attempting to force a change in tradition and having to acquaint himself with her way of thinking when it came to housework. Throwing the clothes at the lid in an attempt to comply, the unhelpful bundle bounced off the wall, hit the side of the basket and fell lethargically back onto the floor. In a hurry, Smiley sighed, tempted to leave them where they lay, but then Jacqui's cute face came into his mind and he obeyed her perceived direction to _pick them up_.

"Yes, ma'am!" he answered, as if she was there.

The early morning horizon, painted with a dusty orange hue and punctuated by shimmering street lights, slowly gave way to the shadows of a new day creeping across the sleeping city. Smiley paused on the second floor landing, peering across at the sunrise with the taste of discovery on his tongue. Maybe he would find something in Becky's riddle that she had missed. He pulled the apartment door closed and heard the deadbolt driven home with a _thunk_ , denying access to everyone without his key, then quickly made his way to his car and started toward the newspaper building. The streets were ominously quiet, but in a matter of time the peak hour chaos would dispel any sense of peacefulness.

Smiley pushed the main door to the newspaper open and was immediately accosted by the nightshift supervisor.

"What are you up to, Smiley? Work doesn't start for you for another two and a half hours."

Smiley pushed past the rotund nightshift boss and called back over his shoulder, " _Research, Milky._ "

Milky had been given his nickname by his crew. The rotund man consumed copious amounts of milk during lunch break, leaving a telltale white moustache decorating his face and a disrespectful junior coining the phrase, _Milky_. When the lunchroom had recovered from hysterics, the name stuck, yet after many years no one could remember his real name. Milky had been with the newspaper for decades.

The library was in darkness as Smiley pushed open the heavy glass door. He flicked on the lights to reveal row upon row of shelving and newspaper editions for each day of every week, of every month, of every year since the paper had started ninety years ago. This room was a testament to its own history. Finding a private cubicle supported by a computer, Smiley switched on its power and waited for it to come to life. Peering back at the entry door, he noticed the coffee machine steaming away. It had just been serviced by the night cleaner and for the first time since his arrival at the paper, his would be the first cup off the rank. He stood and made his way to the coffee machine and finding a clean cup, he filled it with a brew and added two sugars. Then, with the assistance of the coffee, _turbo charged snoop_ kicked in to pry mode.

Smiley logged onto the newspaper search engine and punched in _Institute for the Blind Landon County,_ but after an hour of fruitless searching, Smiley came to the same conclusion Becky had. However, something bothered him about the search and he felt like a gold miner digging in the wrong spot. He could feel that the gold was there, but he had to change his method of mining. A thought flashed into his mind and he punched in a new search: _Vision Impaired Society of Landon County._ Seconds passed and then the computer spat up a list of possibilities. Smiley scrolled through the list, discounting each until he came to a blog titled, _History of The Vision Impaired Society Landon County 1948 to 1973._ Smiley clicked open the blog and checked out its _about_ page, reading the acknowledgements and noting, _Betty Gavin had been registrar of the Landon County Vision Impaired Society from 1960 to its closure in 1973._

"Okay, so that's why nothing comes up in a search. The society has been closed for over forty years."

Smiley continued reading. _The Society has been successful in training young vision impaired individuals in handicrafts including: basket weaving, pottery, leatherwork and their speciality, fine needlework._ A picture of young men and women from an earlier era graced the screen, obviously blind and engaged in each described activity.

Smiley grinned. " _Super snoop is on it!_ "

Scrutinising the faces, he wondered whether one of these people might even be the secretive and elusive Katie. He searched the blog for Betty Gavin's contact details and right at the bottom of the extensive historic blog was a contact number. Smiley scribbled down the information and checked his watch, but it was way too early to contact the woman. He would have to wait till 8 am, thinking the woman would be more receptive to a phone call asking for information at a more decent hour.

*~*~*~*

The phone had started ringing early this morning, but today this didn't bother Betty Gavin. With the cold spring mornings adding another layer to her pain, Betty had been awake for hours as her eighty-two year old frame throbbed with arthritis. Beckoned by another caller, she sauntered into the musty smelling hallway for the third time since abandoning her bed, with her slow movements hindered by aching joints. The phone sat upon a small ornate table, a gift made by one of her ex-students and as she reached down to silence the insistent device, she brought the receiver slowly to her ear.

"Hello."

"Is this Mrs Betty Gavin?"

"It's Miss, and yes, it is."

"Miss Gavin, my name is Smiley Williams. I'm trying to locate one of your ex-vision impaired people."

"Students."

"I beg your pardon?" A confused Smiley replied.

"We called them students," Miss Gavin corrected.

"Oh, okay. I am trying to find some information on one of your ex- _students_."

"The Society has been closed for forty years, Mr Williams, since the government removed our funding and most of the students have left the area. Whom are you trying to reach?"

"I only have her first name... Katie," Smiley held his breath and waited for what seemed like ages. "Are you still there, Miss Gavin?"

"I am here. What do you want with Katie?" Miss Gavin demanded.

"So there was a Katie in your society?"

"Mr Williams, I have no idea who you are and what your purposes are in contacting our ex-students."

Smiley drew in his breath and explained Becky's story; her search for her birth mother; the little needlework blanket with the message; and how Becky had found it.

There was a long pause again, as if Miss Gavin was coming to a decision. She drew in a breath and then exhaled loudly, almost as if annoyance had taken a part in her reply. "Mr Williams, I am indeed sorry for your friend, but I must inform you that Katie died in 1968."

Now it was Smiley's turn to sigh audibly. The news had broadsided him, unprepared for her answer.

Noting the long shocked pause from the caller, Miss Gavin felt the man's disappointment and she stammered, "I..I am still in contact with a Bethany Graham, who was very close to Katie. If you give me your phone number, I will explain your friend's circumstances and _maybe_ she will contact you."

Smiley was about to argue with Miss Gavin and offered a rebuttal. "Can't I contact her direct?"

"Mr Williams, Miss Graham is an ex-student and is extremely shy. These are my terms... _take it or leave it._ "

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 53

With the insidious darkness hiding the shape of the cutter slowly picking its way through the shallows, low tide prevented it from approaching the shore without running aground, forcing it to stand off 200 yards from the beach. A light flashed three times from the shore, signalling the location of their passenger while a long boat, hanging from a davit, dropped over the side of the cutter and into the inky blackness. Fortunately for the oarsmen, the water was calm and the wind had died right off, but a slight chill indicated the seasons were changing. Yet with the coolness and the calm, the atmosphere was heavy and unmoving, creating a situation where every sound amplified and drifted across the flat sea surface, carrying the noise of clanging oars against the wooden boat and piercing the quiet as the two oarsmen pulled haphazardly toward the beach.

As the point of the bow ran up onto the sand, a dark shadowy figure met the long boat and castigated its crew with a hissed warning. "I could hear you coming like a couple of old women banging pots and pans in a kitchen."

One of the oarsmen broke the silence. "Apologies, Bellaruse."

"Just get us back to the cutter as soon as possible. This is too dangerous with the Desapo brothers so close."

With the boss onboard, the oarsmen made a concerted effort to silence their strokes, gliding swiftly out to meet the mysterious anchored cutter. Bellaruse smiled when he saw the outline of his ship up close and the name stood out even in the dark.

Comtesse _de Bellious_.

"Hello, my beauty," Bellaruse's creepy tenderness, intensified by the gloom, appeared almost psychotic.

The ropes, still dangling from the davits, were quickly attached to the lifting points of the longboat and the three men along with the small craft were hauled aboard and the boat stowed.

With an emotionless face, Recanauf greeted Bellaruse, "Is there trouble in the township?"

Bellaruse turned to face the lights of Lightning Harbour, checking his nemeses weren't within earshot. "The Desapo brothers are onto me and there is no sign of the earl's sister, yet the talk suggests she has been sighted recently. Worst of all, the Desapos are planning on building a lighthouse over Black Dean and making our great monster into a pussycat. I will need to lie low for a while, until they suspect my presence no longer and then I will move again."

Recanauf's face contorted and even in the darkness, Bellaruse could see the hardened lines on his toughened features. "So we need to put an end to the Desapos' plan, Bellaruse," Recanauf growled.

"Let's get back to Contention Island before we are discovered. We can discuss the destruction of the Desapos' ill-fated building project then and maybe we can rid ourselves of the Desapos, too," Bellaruse retorted.

Recanauf gave a muffled command, "Weigh anchor, steer a course back to Contention Island."

*~*~*~*

Hidden in the sandstone cliffs high above the shores of Contention Island, the night lookout was bored and cold and hadn't seen any movement worth reporting as he continually scoured the darkened sea. Nothing had happened during the day watch either, except for the normal movement of shipping in and out of the Barrett Passage. With the long hours of tedium, the lookouts were becoming complacent and tired of watching day after day. Besides, no one had told them exactly what they were looking for, anyway, just expecting a report on any unusual activity. As the night chill made him shiver, he shifted his cold numbing body from foot to foot, trying to get the circulation back into his toes. Stamping his feet and blowing his warm breath into his hands, the lookout hoped dawn's appearance would happen soon, then his watch would be almost through.

After another bone chilling hour, the sun finally broke over the eastern horizon, bringing a welcome sense of warmth to his stiff, aching body. Then the long awaited music to his ears as three short whistles signalled the change of shift and his hammock waiting to greet his tired body.

The day watch lookout shifted on his feet and squinted against the rising morning sun, his feet resting in the same deep prints that the night watch had stamped in the soft sandstone path. After only an hour, the beginnings of a headache throbbed in his temples, with the heat and reflected light from the sea surface hurting his eyes and making the headache worse. Scouring the horizon, his gaze settled on a faint line to the west, just barely able to make out the southern beach of Lightning Harbour; but then sweeping to the east, he could see nothing except endless deep ocean. To the north and some three miles away, ships could be seen nervously picking their way through the Barrett Passage and Black Dean at low tide. The sun caught his eyes as he scanned to the south where millions of reflected prisms shone off the water surface and momentarily blinded his search. Narrowing his stare and holding his hand up to shield the sun's brilliance, he sighed, rubbing his forehead and closing his eyes against the glare as yellow flashes and eye floaters crossed his vision against his eyelids.

"Sleeping at your post, Coban?" a gruff voice shook his eyes open.

" _Recanauf...?!_ _No!_ I have a headache and the sun's brightness isn't helping," Coban responded defensively to the hard tone of accusation.

"Does the protection of our hiding place depend on your... _headache_ , Coban? If you fail to warn the others, our existence will be blotted out and you, along with your crew members, will go to prison. Do you wish to be hunted forever for letting them go to jail?"

Coban hung his head. It was useless trying to argue with Recanauf. "No, Recanauf."

Recanauf scanned the skyline to the south where the sun was reflecting off the sea surface and causing him to squint, also. He checked the horizon again, his hard features concentrating on something when a vessel appeared out of the brilliance and then he saw the mammoth barge being towed behind. "Do you not see the threat appearing out of the glare. This is why you must be alert... _sound the alarm!"_ Recanauf disappeared back into the tunnels.

Coban stared in disbelief. _The only time in ten days Recanauf makes an appearance at the lookout station, he spots a threat and sounds an alarm while I have my eyes closed._ Coban fumed, watching the tug towing the huge barge and then another tug followed, pushing the barge from the stern. This _was_ an unusual event, with the strange fleet negotiating the landward side of the submerged rocky barrier and possibly coming close enough to see straight into their protected island fortress.

Crewmen scattered throughout the tunnels to take up their positions as the alarm passed around their hiding place. The Comtesse was pulled around on her mooring hard against the bay wall, making her virtually invisible to the passing convoy.

" _Bellaruse!"_ Recanauf's impassioned shout echoed through the tunnels and into his quarters.

" _What do you mean by disturbing me?_ " Bellaruse growled as Recanauf entered his chamber. The two men eyed each other in a dangerous standoff.

Recanauf's eyes narrowed as he spoke, " _If you would spend more time taking command rather than lying sulking on your bunk...! The answer to your questions with the Desapos is passing the lee of the island as we continue to play your childish game!_ "

" _What?!_ " Bellaruse eyed Recanauf with a threatening gaze, springing to his feet and pushing past Recanauf, heading for the lookout position.

Coban jumped as Bellaruse approached, followed closely by Recanauf, both staring at the approaching barge.

" _So this is how the Desapos are to tame our monster,"_ Bellaruse hissed.

*~*~*~*

Neddy and Desapo stood expectantly on the deck of Mario's fishing boat, watching the approaching vessels. The barge dwarfed the two powerful tugs that were pushing and towing it, with a crane gantry towering high above the barge deck and four stabilizer legs, making the platform look like a huge four-legged floating insect. Being low tide, the walls of the Barrett Passage were clearly visible from the landward side, giving the tug operators a bird's eye view of what had to happen as soon as high tide had been reached. They could hear the threat of Black Dean howling and roaring on the other side of the wall, while Desapo watched nervously as two heavy anchors dropped over the side of the barge, holding her in place until they were ready to position the platform over the walls of the passage.

From his position, Desapo could see a group of men mingling on the deck of the leading tug and quickly recognised the familiar stonemasons he'd worked with for many years. The stonecutters were pointing at the exposed walls and gesturing to each other as they did with every new project, until Desapo had a chance to convince them the obstacles _could_ be overcome. It was like a little dance that had to happen before they could settle into any new job and see a way through the challenges they faced and proceed with the new project. Old Jock, in particular was a powerful voice, pulling against Desapo's leadership and pointing out to the crew the impossible nature of the job. Once Desapo set easily attainable goals for the first couple of days until the crew got into the swing, Old Jock would lose interest in his complaining and the job could proceed without his hindrance.

Desapo felt a hand slap across his back, the stinging sensation shaking him from his thoughts.

"Well, Desapo," Neddy grinned, "how do you like your new job site?"

Desapo swallowed hard and nodded... there was a lot riding on Neddy's idea.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 54

Unlocking the office door and pushing it open, Tess was greeted with the sounds of a spirited cuckoo clock announcing 8 am and time to start work. Initially, Tess and Katrina had disagreed on the validity of a cuckoo clock in an office environment, but now with its homely and soothing greeting, Tess was happy she'd won the issue. Mr Parduck seemed most amused by it and accepted it, but Mr Desapo appeared to take umbrage. Tess wasn't sure about Mr Desapo and although he gave the impression of affability and offered a gentlemanly attitude, his stiff businesslike manner at times was overpowering, as if he was boss and not Mr Parduck.

Before the two ladies could swing into their new morning routine, two men in overalls waited with tool box in hand by the door. "Morning, madam. We have come to fit your two-way radio receiver."

"Oh, yes. Come in," Tess invited, expecting the tradesmen.

Some discussion followed while the two workmen glanced around the office. "Where do you want the station fitted?" one asked.

"Station?" Tess returned with a questioning expression.

"Yes, miss, the receiver and hand piece," the workman glanced back at his friend as if he was talking to a simpleton. "Maybe on that desk," he pointed with enthusiasm to an empty table by a wall, not waiting for Tess' reply.

Tess consented with a nod and they got to work installing the two-way radio.

The morning's activities were disturbed by constant banging and heavy boots up on the tin roof, as if a giant gopher had taken up residence above their heads. Cables and wires hung untidily from the ceiling and down the wall, until they were hidden neatly by steel conduit, bringing order back into the ladies' neat and ordered environment. In the absence of both Mr Parduck and Mr Desapo and with the telephone constantly ringing, the ladies were forced to make crucial decisions, with the boss and their engineer deserting the office for the landing process of the new work platform an hour out to sea.

By the time the workmen had powered up the radio transmitter, it was early afternoon and the office was busy with more visitors seeking the boss' attention. With a small radio tower installed on the roof, the reach of the communications device had been enhanced, gaining the ability to reach ships far out to sea. Satisfied the installation had gone to plan and now all that remained was an equipment test, Tess and Katrina were summoned over to where the radio transmitter had been placed and a demonstration swiftly followed.

"Leave the power on at all times," the workman instructed, "so the set remains operative. Set your dial to channel 6, the universal call channel and then push the call button," the workman demonstrated pushing and releasing the handpiece's button and the set responded, making a clicking noise.

Nodding appropriately, the ladies tried to absorb this strange new technology and the instruction for its use.

"Hold the handpiece to your mouth, like so, and press the button and speak normally. Once you have made contact with the vessel you're calling, tell them to switch to channel 58, which is your designated channel."

Tess appeared to be confused and Katie was wide eyed with apprehension.

"Okay, let's try it," the workman bubbled. He set the channel dial to channel 6 and handed the microphone to Katie. "Now, to call the person you want to reach, push the button and ask for that person."

Katie's demeanour was filled with nervousness, but she obeyed the man. She pushed the button. "Hello, Mr Parduck, are you there?" she spoke into the device then released it.

"Over!" the workman added.

"Excuse me!" Katie queried.

"When you talk and finish calling, you end with _over._ That tells the receiver that you have finished speaking and they can answer you back."

Katie pushed the button again and repeated, " _Over,_ " into the handset.

A voice she didn't recognise responded immediately, _"Hello, love,_ _this is Mr Pheasant._ _It appears Mr Parduck ain't wanna be answerin' but I'd be more an' willen' to talk to you..._ _over."_

Without so much as a blink, Katrina pushed the transmit button and responded, _"It is obvious, sir, that your level of intelligence is lacking to the point that, I am convinced, you would not understand the difference between the two creatures, making any conversation on my behalf a complete waste of my time. I would be grateful if, before you attempt to further_ _engage myself and demonstrate your complete ignorance, you would at least avail yourself of some kind of understanding of the English language... over."_

Complete shocked silence followed, equally in the room and on the airways, with both workmen staring at each other in astonishment.

"This is Mr Parduck. Katie, is that you?" Neddy responded.

"You are supposed to say, _over,_ sir, when you have finished your transmission. Can you please switch to channel 58, sir?... _Over._ "

Neddy had listened with amusement to the radio call and decided to respond to Katie before she gave every radio user on earth a piece of her mind. Mario switched his set to channel 58 and nodded back to Neddy.

"Mr Parduck calling Katie... _over._ "

Katie seemed pleased that Mr Parduck had responded and changed to channel 58. "We have the new radio installed, sir, and it appears to work fine. How is the barge parking going?... Oh... _over._ "

"Wonderful, now we have contact with the office. The barge _mooring_ has been a bit touch and go and it is not properly in place yet. _Over._ "

Katie continued to explain the decisions they'd made to enquirers while he and Desapo were absent. Neddy was amazed at the good sense the two ladies made as a team and he affirmed their efforts. Once their business had concluded, Neddy smirked contentedly to himself and handed the handset back to Mario.

Neddy found Desapo on the forward deck, biting his fingernails as attempt after attempt to lower the legs onto the passage walls and lift the platform just above the waterline, thus protecting the hull, failed. The tide had turned and was falling rapidly, leaving the barge floating only a few feet above the jagged rocky wall. Even though it had a triple bottom, the weight onboard the barge, combined with the severe walls of the passage, were a lethal partnership, sharp enough to tear it open if the legs weren't in place by the time the tide had reached its lowest point. However, the tugs were struggling to hold the barge steady in place with the force of the falling tide and Black Dean's ever present roar appeared to focus on the intrusion of the massive platform, seemingly angry at the attempts to place the barge on the wall above and to one side of its gaping mouth.

A deckhand working on the platform finally raised his arm above his head with his thumb up in the air, the signal to power down the massive supports. Four straining engines powering the legs burst quickly to life, groaning under the stress until the barge lifted clear and levelled a few feet above the rocky wall. Desapo's shoulders slumped under the stress. _At last, the platform was in place._

As the tide drained the remaining water from under the colossal platform, the top of the ferocious rocky barrier was completely exposed. The barge legs were squarely in place over the passage walls and the hull was hanging off the four mechanical limbs, with its underside in full view from the tug deck. A three foot gap existed between the hull and the rock, but the big test would come when the goliath crane at the rear of the platform swung around, ensuring the platform's final stability and workability.

The appearance of an official looking craft distracted Desapo and with the aid of binoculars, he recognised Draper's rotund figure holding onto the vessel's deck railing and peering over at the work platform. Draper had arrived to give the official nod, approve the platform's safety and sign off on the work permit, but as the platform's crane engine burst into life, Desapo worried about the final formal test.

Draper had to witness the barge's stability firsthand while the enormous crane swung through a complete circular circuit, without disturbing the work platform's precarious position perched on the Barrett Passage wall. Even the slightest movement would condemn the project from an official standpoint. Holding his breath, Desapo heard the engine of the crane burst into life and then complete a 360 degree rotation on its cradle. The barge legs were rigid and didn't move and everything seemed secure, leaving Desapo's pent up breath exhaling a loud sigh of relief. When he saw Draper smile and give him the thumbs up from the deck of his vessel, Desapo eagerly waved back, knowing the equipment positioning on the flat deck of the barge was critical to its balance. The crane, at the stern, could easily reach anywhere over the construction site and into the depths of Black Dean, if need be.

With a man cage attached to its towering boom cables, the crane jib swung over the side of the barge and lowered to the waterline next to Mario's boat, inviting Desapo and Neddy to come aboard. The swell was calm and entering the cage would be easy. Climbing into the protective lift and giving the crane operator—ten storeys above the platform—the thumbs up, the heavy cable began to reel in and lifted the brothers clear of Mario's deck.

Arriving onboard, the brothers inspected the work area layout, noticing the barge had been expertly balanced for a long sea journey and its ultimate positioning above Black Dean. There were neat stacks of heavy, square cut granite blocks situated in the centre of the barge; a toolshed/workshop and a small kitchen on the port side; a small caretaker hut on the starboard side which gave a clear view of every part of the deck; and a generator shed sat positioned on the bow and away from the work area, limiting the noise from its engines.

Desapo marvelled at the unbelievable sight and conceded his brother had saved the day with his ingenious plan, but as the tide began to run in again, Black Dean seemed more agitated than usual, screaming like an injured banshee and sending a chilling shiver up Desapo's back.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 55

The Lightning Harbour Hotel diner resounded with juvenile antics and boyish laughter as the stonemason's crew were reunited with their boss; and to have Neddy present was a greater reason for celebration. The noise was deafening, with suspect stories circulating among the group until Tess and Katie walked in and the room fell deathly silent. The sight of two attractive ladies amongst the crew was an unusual event and was treated with extreme awe and uncertainty. But like a group of prowling hyenas huddled together for safety, Desapo waited for the two women's attention to wane and then shot his crew a warning, holding his finger to his lips and shaking his head. He'd already warned them about calling him boss while the ladies were present, but somehow he knew they wouldn't be able to keep up the ruse for long.

"Ladies, may I present my stone cutting crew," Neddy announced.

A look of confusion flashed over the stonemasons' features with Neddy calling Desapo's team _his crew_. Then the penny dropped and the men began to speak all at once, hoping to impress and capture at least some part of a pretty glance, until Neddy held up his hands for quiet and turned to face Katie and Tess.

"So you'll know who's who, I'll introduce them one at time. Starting with the eldest," Neddy pointed, then recited their names, "Jock, Chiseller, Backache, Motor Mouth, Greer... and Mouse is on the barge as watchman." Hoping to appeal to their manners, Neddy's gruff expression threatened and demanded restraint and respect, "Gentlemen, this is Katie and Tess... our office managers."

As if a group of boys were eyeing a highly decorated birthday cake, the men disintegrated into salivating drools until the room erupted with each one trying to talk over the other and impress with their tone and volume.

*~*~*~*

A slight wind had kicked up over the work barge's expansive floor, chasing stone dust from the granite mountains stacked in the centre of the massive steel deck and spilling into the rising sea. Mouse sheltered his eyes from the swirling dust with his hand and squinted into the setting sun across from the granite stacks. The final streaks of the day coloured the sky a bright orange and then slowly deepened into a ball of red, filling the horizon in an apocalyptic canvas of colour. A purple hue hugged the horizon and quickly engulfed the darkening theatre like some giant hand rolling up a blanket. When sunset eventually faded into evening, the stars appeared, a few at first and then a immense explosion of pointed light filled every direction. Awestruck, Mouse followed a storm of streaking meteors detonating across the heavens and burning up in a display that made him feel insignificant and intensified the fact... _he was very much alone._

The wind suddenly dropped, amplifying the sound of lapping water around the massive legs and as Mouse listened to the thickening night, he held his breath as an unexpected _s-c-r-e-e-c-h_ stole across the deck and tore open the calm.

Flinching sharply under the unanticipated assault and almost blinded by the dark to any threat, Mouse anxiously searched the surrounds, wide eyed and straining, hunting for an explanation until his nervous gaze settled on the crane's imposing silhouette. The gargantuan outline, backlit by millions of stars, hung over the aft deck like two giant muscle bound arms about to pounce, encasing the lone figure in a brutal and overpowering battle for sanity. With his heart hammering and suspecting the heavy platform had settled a stress point in its precarious feet, Mouse chided himself for being a coward. But as he scanned the stretching silhouetted deck, he couldn't shake off the feeling something beyond the realms of reality was watching his every move, lurking just outside of his understanding.

When another unexpected and explosive _C-R-A-C-K_ shuddered through the night and trembled through his feet, Mouse lost all courage and made a panicked dash from the open deck in a quest for the safety of a nearby structure. Carelessly scurrying over the shadowy floor, Mouse stumbled repeatedly until eventually, he pulled open a heavy metal door and entered, leaving it held ajar by a rickety catch and using the dim starlight to feel his way around inside.

Recognising the crew kitchen, Mouse tried to imagine the familiar faces and the constant banter of his companions in an effort for comfort and an escape from the numbing fear and the increasing sense of being alone. Groping around the dark kitchen wall in a deliberate search, Mouse's hand finally brushed against a gas lantern and with relieved but trembling fingers, he twisted the gas supply valve to the _on_ position. Fumbling with the igniter and frantically pushing the valve inwards to operate the flint, the responding _clacking_ noise sounded like a freight train rumble in the silent atmosphere, alerting anyone to his whereabouts.

When the flint responded and ignited the gas, delightful friendly light spilled throughout the dusty room and although the illumination was welcome, the night was so deep he couldn't see beyond the glow of the hissing gas lamp's rim and whatever lay beyond that, the obscurity hid in its secret places.

Buoyed by the light and bowing to his body's need for food, Mouse glanced at a pantry locker standing to one side of an industrial sized stove. Grasping the metal door handle in a search for sustenance, the lock gave way with a metallic _creak_ and when it opened, a shelf of tinned provisions met his gaze. Taking his choice of fare and locating a drawer of utensils, Mouse selected a primitive tin opener. Removing the tin lid, he emptied the contents into a pot and placed it over a burner, then lit one element. A hissing blue flame and the heat it generated accompanied the skinny loner and settled his mind while he waited for the makeshift meal to heat through.

A sudden gust of wind blew a cloud of dirt into the kitchen and stirred the dusty floor, teasing the gas flame and as it flickered violently, the flurry threatened to extinguish both his light and his cooktop. However, the burst disappeared as quickly as it came and the light settled again, but his meal had succumbed to the wind's teasing and left it with a grimy covering. Clenching his teeth, Mouse crunched unwelcome dirt between molars just as a stinging feeling attacked his eye and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear the dust from his tear ducts.

Inside the kitchen, the light was attracting insects even though they were miles from land. He reached out into the night and released the door catch, sealing the door against the wind and the marauding hordes, then placed his gritty meal onto a wooden table which occupied the rear of the kitchen and sat down to eat in peace. Staring into the darkness through a small window, a chilling thought washed across his mind that he hadn't even considered in the daylight hours.

If something happened to him out here, he would be on his own.

Hurrying to finish his meal, Mouse chased away the invading thought and chided himself... _Come on, Mouse, keep it together._

The long days on the ocean had worn Mouse out, with the sea air making him feel sleepy and his bunk in the caretaker's hut was calling. He'd made up his bed before sundown and all he had to do now was fall into it. The trip from the kitchen on the port side to the caretaker's hut on the starboard side was about one hundred feet, but his room was indistinguishable in the pitch black beyond the galley light. Deciding to leave the gas lamp going in the cookhouse while he crossed the sinister expanse to the hut and light the lamp in his room, he would then return to extinguish the light in the kitchen. Testing each step as he ventured further into the bleak unknown, Mouse felt his way across the deck and as he got closer to his room, he could hear a sound like a raging waterfall just over the featureless place where the side of the barge should be. The obscurity was so deep he could almost feel it, and as he got closer to his room, goose bumps were forming on his skin and a deep sense of fear swept over him.

When an unexpected and deafening _h-o-w-l_ erupted from Black Dean, followed by the sound of thundering water, he lunged for the hut door, cracking his knuckles on the door knob. Anaesthetised by fright, Mouse's injury hadn't even registered until he pulled open the door, felt for the gas light and once he'd located the bulge, he fingered the gas valve and switched it on. Then pumping the flint frantically, it _clicked_ several times before the room eventually burst into light, turning the feverish unknown into a mind-numbing known. With the light escaping the room, positioned only a few feet from the bleak edge of the deck and Black Dean's howling trouble, the ghoulish monster fell playfully silent as if calculating a new tactic.

Frozen with fear and standing by his door, Mouse tussled with returning to the kitchen in a bid to extinguish its light, studying the distance where a slim passage of light reflected across the deck and everywhere else was inky blackness. After a few sickening failed attempts, he finally pushed his feet out of the hut and quickly covered the distance to the kitchen, throwing himself at the light, twisting the gas valve to _off_ and plunging the kitchen into a total absence of light. _Slamming_ the kitchen door, he ran for the protection of his room. Tripping on a raised section of the deck but quickly stumbling back to his feet, he could hear something raging over the side of the barge, turning angrier and thundering as if it was tearing at its restraints.

Mouse launched into the room and _slammed_ the door closed, frantically searching for the lock, but found the deadbolt had no latch and the door couldn't be locked against whatever was lurking outside... something in the darkness was hunting him and it wasn't happy. Cowering in the corner of the hut with his back pushed hard against the far wall, the terror exploded into new degree of mania when the whole barge began to vibrate severely, threatening to collapse into a watery grave. Mouse could hear something being dragged over the deck and then eerie tortured moans like people perishing, forcing his head to swim in panic.

Without warning and among a torturous howl, the door burst open violently, _slamming_ into the room's wall with such force the ground shook and the gas lamp extinguished, prompting a raspy scream to rise in Mouse's throat. In utter darkness, something was creeping over his body and wrapping around his mind until reason could take no more and sank desperately into unconsciousness.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 56

Unimpressed with his new routine and striding towards the kitchen, Pierre muttered to himself in French interspersed with an occasional accentuated broken English phrase. Pushing open the kitchen door, reaching behind and onto the wall, the highly strung chef flicked on the kitchen lights and immediately, the darkened room flickered into light. Fitting his bulging frame into a chequered grey chef uniform, it seemed his work days were growing even longer, as last night Gustav had added yet another earlier breakfast shift to feed a group of fastidious stone workers. Pierre glanced up at the clock on the wall with a groan and at 4 am he would normally be still asleep, however, the early starters had to be fed and out of the diner by 5:30 am to catch a boat out to the Barrett Passage. Then Pierre could clean up and settle into his normal routine by 6:30 am, preparing to feed the more deserving hotel guests at a more conducive hour. According to Gustav, this new arrangement would be permanent for the near future at least and to add insult to injury, his fine talents had been reduced to cooking bacon and eggs. Obviously this group were of uneducated stock and his culinary expertise was wasted on such juvenile taste buds.

Next, they would be requesting steak and chips for dinner.

*~*~*~*

Although the crew were used to early starts, the new routine was met by bleary eyes and tired, grumpy groans as they entered the diner to settle in for breakfast. The ten days on a dipping and weaving tug, and the constant hum of straining tug engines had rocked them to sleep, and now a quiet and unmoving hotel bed was proving a difficult readjustment.

Neddy strolled into the diner, but his attire indicated he had come from outside the hotel, drawing a quizzical glance from his brother. "Took a walk down to the tug just to make sure they'd loaded the supplies overnight and everyone was ready for the first morning," Neddy explained, drawing on experience how easily things went wrong on the first morning of a new project.

Desapo nodded and pointed to a seat, and then at a huge pile of bacon and eggs steaming away inside a bain-marie.

Neddy's eyes firmly focused on the mountain of food being pounced on by his hungry workers. " _At last, some real food!_ " Neddy declared, grabbing a plate from a nearby table and elbowing his way to the front of the queue.

While the crew settled in for a long and lethargic breakfast, Desapo had other ideas and cracked the whip, forcing the men to swallow their food in haste and out the door to meet the waiting tug. Neddy had already left to finalise arrangements with the workboat, while Desapo and his crew walked down the dark street toward the dock. The noise the group were making sounded like a circus had erupted in the quiet main street while they excitedly joked and chattered to Desapo and about the challenges of the new lighthouse construction.

As the group walked past the shopfront, Backache and Motor Mouth stopped to check out the inside of the office, leaning against the glass and shielding their eyes from outside interference and dispersing any reflections with their hands.

Jock turned to face Desapo as they all peered into the darkened shopfront. "This woman really took your fancy, hey, Boss? I mean, making Neddy boss and changing the name to Parduck Stone and all."

Desapo turned away sheepishly, feeling the weight of his decision like some love struck teenager. "Yeah, Jock, sometimes we do stupid things," Desapo tried to close the conversation.

"I mean, she's a real looker, Boss, but something that sweet has to come at a huge cost."

The gawking men started to laugh at the opulent surroundings inside the office, leaving Desapo feeling foolish and that he'd really backed himself into a corner. Desapo sighed at the usual teasing from his crew and with an unamused bark, he ordered, " _Come on, let's get down to the tug!_ "

The workboat slowly idled through the harbour with its twin propellers stirring the calm green water in a gentle swirl. As soon as the vessel ventured through the heads protecting the harbour, the skipper pushed the throttles wide open and the powerful engines responded with a surge, digging in the stern and lifting the bow, pushing headlong toward the open sea. When the vessel pointed its bow for the platform, they were sailing directly into the rising sun, causing the skipper to shade his eyes with his hand and while an easterly breeze had intensified overnight, foaming whitecaps had turned the sea into a churning rollercoaster. The tug slammed headlong into the curling swell and sent spray billowing over the deck, bathing the crew in cold saltwater, causing a hurried and squealing exodus from the bow to the stern.

Neddy braced himself against the helm, standing next to the skipper and watching the shadowy outline of the crane onboard the work platform come into view, just as another wave hammered into the tug. The windscreen wipers flapped back and forward, wiping off seawater sprayed up by the wind, momentarily blocking a clear view of what was in front of them. Although they were still thirty-five minutes from Black Dean, the towering deck crane appeared huge, even from this far away. Neddy swallowed hard when he saw the outline of the barge suspended above the sea, pinpointing the location of the Barrett Passage. It was high tide and the legs supporting the platform disappeared below the sea surface, while the hull of the huge structure sat clearly above the water line and from this angle, Neddy could see how flimsy it all appeared.

Neddy shrugged, thinking to himself as if he talking to another party. _Well, it has survived the first night and if it survives the first day of work, then it should survive the whole project._

After another half hour travelling and with the barge looming huge in the tug's windscreen, the skipper pulled back the throttles to idle and the vessel responded immediately, bobbing on its own wake while the team waited for Mouse to start up the crane engine and lower the man cage so the crew and supplies could be taken aboard.

Many moments passed as they waited, but Mouse hadn't responded. Neddy searched the deck, wondering whether he'd slept in, and with a hissed conversation to the skipper, several loud blasts erupted from the tug's horn. The crew standing at the stern took fright at the sudden noise and complained loudly, but Neddy's concern wasn't with them and after a brief pause, he asked the skipper to repeat the horn blast.

By this time Desapo had made his way into the wheelhouse. "What's up, Neddy?"

"Mouse hasn't responded. I'm worried something has gone wrong," Neddy replied.

As the blast from the horn bellowed out for the second time, Neddy and Desapo scanned the deck. But still no Mouse.

"That blast should have been enough to wake the dead if he'd slept in," Desapo explained. "Maybe he stumbled on something and is injured."

Neddy pointed to the closest leg and turned to the skipper. "Can you get close to the leg? I'll try to jump across from the tug and climb up the inspection ladder to the deck."

"Come on, Neddy, there has to be another way other than this?" Desapo complained. "If you get hurt, they'll hang me out to dry."

"Can you see another solution, little brother?" Neddy roughly answered.

"Yeah, it's my project, so I'm going to be the clown that attempts to drown himself."

"Okay, Mr Hero. If you drown, who's gonna keep that Katie in line?" Neddy played.

"Look who's talking and what about the adorable Tess?!" Desapo returned.

The skipper broke in, "I might be able to nose the bow up close enough to grab the leg, but the tide is dropping and if we hit the reef, it'll tear us open."

Desapo and Neddy stared at each other.

"We have to try something," Desapo conceded. "And I'm going for the jump," he added.

With the hero selected and Desapo clinging to the point of the bow, ready to lunge for the access ladder, the tug idled up to the leg. The lazy movement of the sea pushed the vessel up and down, and they almost crashed into the barge when a rolling rogue swell hit them hard. The skipper was about to lose his nerve and abandon the dangerous manoeuvre, when Desapo abruptly disappeared from the bow. Neddy raced out to where he had last seen his brother and began searching the water frantically.

"What ya looking for in the water, big brother?" Desapo's voice came from above him.

"You wait, Desapo!" Neddy bellowed, clearly relieved.

"If I can work out how to operate this crane, I'll let down the man cage," Desapo responded nonchalantly as he walked toward the rear of the barge and while the tug backed away from the platform out into the safety of deeper water.

From his seat in the crane high above the deck, Desapo felt his stomach tighten as he glanced down across the platform and to Mouse's room, noticing the door was half open and gently swinging in the wind. Reaching for the starter key, Desapo cranked the crane's engine into life and then pulled on each lever until the huge machine responded as he wanted. With the tug now securely anchored, Desapo lowered the man cage down over the tug's stern deck and the crew climbed in. Winching up under Desapo's control, the cage drifted over the platform and soon rested gently on the stretching deck, while the crew exited and began to search their new surrounds.

Within fifteen minutes the barge deck had been searched, with no sign of Mouse and the caretaker's hut smelled excessively of lantern gas. Desapo checked the gas light and noticed the gas valve was still open, but the gas had long since drained out.

Neddy waved his hand in front of his face as he entered the room. "Phew!" he responded, with the escaped gas insulting his tender nose. "There's no sign of him, Desapo," Neddy whispered, wrinkling his nose against the pungent gas smell.

The two brothers stared at each other in shock, wondering what had become of Mouse.

"I'd better report this to Draper," Desapo huffed despondently. "An incident to report already and we haven't even started."

Backache took over the crane's controls, peering down over Desapo far below, while he lowered the boss in the man cage onto the stern deck of the tug. Desapo dismounted the enclosure and waved an _all clear_ to Backache and hurriedly walked into the tug wheelhouse. Commandeering the tug's radio, Desapo attempted to contact the office, hoping to have Tess report Mouse's disappearance to Draper and kick-starting the official investigation, circumventing any need for Desapo to leave the job site.

" _Barrett Passage calling Parduck Stone Masonry office, over._ "

Desapo waited for an answer and then repeated his transmission, but the same silence met each try. "That's odd. Tess and Katie should be at the office by now," Desapo whispered.

After repeated attempts to raise the office, Desapo became concerned. Either the radio wasn't working or something had gone badly amiss. With his frustration on the rise, Desapo walked out onto the deck and bellowed up to Neddy, _"I can't reach the office. I'll have to go back in and report Mouse's disappearance to Draper myself and I'll check on the girls as well!"_

Neddy gave him the thumbs up and shouted down to his brother, _"It's almost low tide so we'll start setting up the foundation work and while where down there, we may find a clue to Mouse's disappearance and whether he fell overboard!"_

From the stern of the tug, the trip back into Lightning Harbour was full of tension, with Desapo gazing at the sea and watching the shape of the barge diminishing in the distance. Mouse had been with Desapo for over ten years and he was struggling with emotions, wondering what had happened to one of his best workers.

As the tug tied up at the pier, Desapo jumped onto the dock from the vessel and started to walk quickly toward the office and as he came closer, he could see the office door was open. Swiftly approaching, Desapo expected to hear Tess and Katie chattering as usual, but as he pushed the door fully open, ready to give a round of crisp commands, Desapo abruptly stopped in his tracks. The office was deserted and a table had been knocked over, spilling the contents to the floor. He reached for the radio receiver and called the tug and when the tug answered loud and clear, Desapo peered around in concern.

" _What on earth is going on?!_ "

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 57

Bethany Graham's small apartment, especially designed for the disabled, was very familiar with everything in her universe having a place and everything was in its place, knowing exactly how many steps it took to reach every part of her intimate world. To any outsider watching Bethany in her home, she seemed to move about with confidence and ease, making it almost impossible to detect she was totally blind. Even ex-students believed she could see with her fingers, having developed a heightened sense of touch.

Lately, the nights had been racked with terrible pain and she spent most of her time sleeping on her easy chair in the small lounge room, while the constant babble dribbling from the television kept her company through the long, lonely hours. Bethany's sixty-nine year old frame was still in good order, except for the injury site and as she ran her hand over the indentation in her skull that had almost killed her and sent her blind, she pondered whether the increasing pain was a sign Father was planning to take her home soon.

That awful day when the government closed the training facility was another cruel blow that had sent her into a tailspin, slamming the gates of isolation firmly closed around her life. The school was a lifeline for her and many of her friends, allowing them to socialise and learn new skills. Since the closure forty years ago, many familiar people had wandered out of her life, moving on to other parts of the country or passing away, trapping her in a desert of loneliness and fear. Miss Gavin kept in contact with many of her previous students and was Bethany's only visitor these days.

The jingle of the telephone ringing surprised her, with its intrusive tone sounding foreign in her isolated world. The phone rarely rang and was mainly there for her to ring out if she got into difficulty and needed to call for help, but the irony struck her and she wondered who she could actually turn to in a time of need. Bethany stiffly raised herself from her chair, pushing aside the blankets that kept her knees warm and then reached out to switch the TV off before walking briskly to the small table in the kitchen and warily intercepting the receiver.

"Hello?" Bethany whispered, listening for signs of treachery.

"Hello, dear, it's just me. How are you doing?"

" _Miss Gavin!_ What a nice surprise. I am having a little pain in my old injury site, but apart from that everything is okay," Bethany explained. "How are you doing?"

"Oh... every day is another day I live, dear. I won't beat around the bush, my love. I had a phone call from a gentleman looking for information on Katie yesterday morning... Are you still there, dear?"

"Y..yes, sorry, Miss Gavin," Bethany stammered in shock. "It has been a while since anyone has tried to find Katie. I thought all that was behind us," Bethany worried.

"If you don't want to talk to this man, dear, you don't have to," Miss Gavin assured.

Bethany's voice cracked as she spoke, "Is it _him_ , trying another tack?"

"Mmm... I don't know, dear, but there is a subtle difference worth thinking about. He spoke of an adopted girl, Rebecca, trying to locate her birth mother."

Bethany interrupted, a frightened tone in her voice, "He's got her name!"

"There's more, dear. He also spoke about a pink baby blanket with a tiny message embroidered on the tag."

Miss Gavin heard a gasp from the other end of the line.

"Just to be sure, dear, I told him when Katie died. He did sound genuinely upset."

"Could it be...?" Bethany broke off.

"I have a number for you to contact if you want to risk a conversation. If you would like, dear, I can be with you when and if you decide to follow this up," Miss Gavin offered.

"That would be wonderful. I need to think this through, though. He may have uncovered some new facts, hoping to trick me into giving up more information."

*~*~*~*

Resting his mobile phone in the palm of his left hand and awkwardly stabbing at the keys with both thumbs, Smiley frustratingly toyed with the device, pushing buttons till his address book appeared on the screen. Then typing in _Betty Gavin_ and her phone number, Smiley conceded it was a great shame that Miss Gavin wouldn't give him Bethany's direct number. Becky might have had a good chance of locating her birth mother or at least a clue to her identity, but for now it was out of his hands and the ball was in Bethany's court. If she decided she didn't want to make contact, then the whole thing was over and Becky probably would never know.

Smiley stared past his computer screen, his eyes focused on another time and another place when he officially conceded defeat and gave up his own search. The symbolic act was still fresh in his mind even after almost three years, when he took a cardboard box and wrote _Mother_ across the top. Sitting alone with the empty cardboard container for many hours, pouring his heart out to his mother: all the missed Christmases, birthdays, school events and every other major circumstance in his life, he agonizingly described to the carton.

Then after driving deep into the forest, miles from prying eyes, he cuddled the box and softly spoke, " _I forgive you, Mum._ "

Remorsefully, he took a shovel from the back of his car and dug a deep hole, with the exertion helping to melt away the tears and release him from decades of pent up emotion, chaining him to the blurry image of an illusion. Placing the package into the hole and covering it over, closed off the most painful chapter in his life.

Until that time, there hadn't been a moment when he didn't think about the faceless woman, consequently resigning himself to the soul-destroying fact that his mother just didn't want to be found and to accept the finality of her decision and get on with living his life. If he had given up earlier, Jacqui would already be his wife and they may have had kids of their own by now. At that point, Smiley conceded he would never give up any child of his and put them through the years of rejection and heartache that had dogged his aching world.

Now, his birth mother was symbolically dead and the black cord holding Smiley's emotions prisoner had finally been broken.

Shaking off the bitter memories, Smiley seemed to be engrossed in his computer screen, but in fact was having a frantic private debate. _Should he ring Becky and let her in on the new developments or should he keep the information to himself?_ Remembering the last time he'd uncovered information, Brett and his family had all but imploded, _but this was different_ , he argued, _most of the harrowing facts were now on the table and if one woman decided not to cooperate, then Becky's search was over... plain and simple._

*~*~*~*

Becky lay on her bed in the darkened bedroom, with the blinds drawn, blocking out the mid afternoon sun. Her mind drifted back over the last few months and how her ordered life had fallen to pieces and then, thanks to Smiley's amazing investigative skills, the pieces had seemed to fall back into place again. She lifted the tiny blanket to her face and rubbed its velvety texture, then once again inspected the tag, amazed at the message.

Dropping the blanket by her side and with its texture still grasped in her hand, she teetered on falling into an exhausted sleep when the phone began to ring. Drawing her back from the edge of rest and emitting a frustrated sigh, Becky eased her feet over the side of the bed, pushing up with her arms behind her and gasping at the effort while baby kicked in protest at the sudden move. After a waddling amble, but moving as fast as the baby would tolerate, Becky eventually arrived in the kitchen and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Becky, it's Smiley. Hope I didn't wake you or something."

" _Smiley!_ No, I was just lying down, but I promise I won't chew you out for disturbing me and getting me back up again."

"Thanks, Becky, that's comforting. Um... I may have a little lead on your baby blanket."

" _Really?!_ " Becky exclaimed.

" _Don't get your hopes up just yet!_ If the woman doesn't ring me back then it's all off, I'm afraid."

Smiley spent the next few minutes explaining how he'd redefined her search which led to Miss Gavin, which _may_ lead to a woman known as Bethany Graham who allegedly knew the woman Katie mentioned on the tag, but faltered when he came to the part about Katie dying in 1968. Becky's hopes were up and down all over the place at Smiley's investigation narration. One minute she was elated and the next, she crashed and burned.

"So, as soon as Bethany's made contact, I'll let you know what she is willing—or _not_ willing—to say. However, there's one thing you need to prepare yourself for and if she decides not to make contact, then the search is basically over for your birth mother."

The finality of Smiley's words hit her hard and almost winded her, forcing a sharp, gasped breath to fill her lungs.

" _You okay, Becky?_ " Smiley wondered whether he had done the right thing.

"Yep, Smiley, I understand... and thanks," Becky whispered. "I'll have to talk to Brett about increasing your salary."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 58

Bethany Graham sat motionless in her easy chair with her companion—the television set—remaining resolutely silent as she contemplated the meaning of Miss Gavin's phone call. At sixty-nine, Bethany had spent so many years hiding from Katie and now, encouraged by Miss Gavin, just _maybe_ it was time to confront her fears. Bethany kept thinking about the baby blanket and how _he'd_ found it. He said he knew Rebecca, but that didn't make sense either. Was this man that Miss Gavin spoke of one of _his_ latest ploys to trap her? Bethany's brow furrowed, the pain in her temples pulling tight across her injury site and making her feel bilious.

A sudden _knock_ at the door made her jump with fright and she panicked, whimpering and holding her hand over her heart. Was this _him_ closing in on her?! The _knock_ came again and then the soothing tone of Betty Gavin's voice drifted into the apartment.

" _Bethany, are you all right, dear?_ "

Bethany hurried to unlock the door and as she did, Miss Gavin could see the intense alarmed expression on Bethany's face. Immediately, Miss Gavin reached in and hugged the frightened woman.

"Can I come in, dear?"

"Please," Bethany suggested, as an expression of relief settled on her lined face.

"Have you thought about our conversation yesterday?" Miss Gavin asked.

Bethany offered the older lady a seat in her small lounge room and as they settled into the chairs, it took many calculated seconds for Bethany to respond. "I... I don't know whether I am strong enough to go through another one of these games," Bethany admitted honestly.

"Have you given any credence to the fact that this may be genuine and Rebecca may be out there, waiting to make contact?" Miss Gavin suggested.

Bethany had been so consumed with _him,_ she hadn't even considered that it may be Rebecca who was trying to make contact.

Bethany could still see Mr Williams' telephone number digits in her mind's eye, just as Miss Gavin had recited it to her in her call, but Bethany's face displayed her fear and her unwillingness to take a chance. Bethany was good at so many things, but hiding her emotions wasn't one of them. Rubbing the tender injury site and hoping to avoid another debilitating headache, Bethany considered the facts and the hope she wasn't about to engage on another of _his_ tiring and deadly games.

"I tell you what, dear... let's make a call to this man and if he really is who he says he is, then he should be able to prove it. Your phone number is an unlisted number, so he can't trace your call and maybe we'll be able to let Katie rest in peace, once and for all. What do you say?"

Bethany appeared nervous, but made a concession. "Okay, but please don't leave me," she pleaded.

*~*~*~*

Smiley had been terminally distracted since locating Betty Gavin, finding it difficult to concentrate on his normal work and willing Bethany Graham to find the courage to put Becky out of her misery, offering what she knew of Becky's birth parents. Smiley daydreamed and wondered how that would feel... finding out who you belong to.

Drawing the final cold dregs from the bottom of a disposable cup, his desk was littered with similar but empty and used Styrofoam coffee containers from the coffee machine. Staring blankly up at his computer screen, a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around his shoulders from behind and made him jump.

"This phone call is really making you tense, Smiley," Jacqui's voice soothed.

Smiley relaxed at his beautiful distraction as she collected up the coffee cups strewn across his desk and leaned down and planted a kiss on his lips. He chased her lips with his as she drew away, looking for more of the woman he loved.

Smiley sighed. "I guess I am living my dream through Becky," he conceded.

"Finding your Mum...?" Jacqui coaxed.

Smiley nodded.

Jacqui's attractive face responded with an expression of concern. "I don't know how it feels, honey, and I wish I could make it better for you," Jacqui empathised.

"Can I have another one of those kisses?" Smiley begged.

Jacqui smiled and leaned into a kiss that would distract his mind for hours to come. " _More later_ ," she whispered, gazing around the newsroom and embarrassed at the spectacle they were creating. As she left Smiley to his work, a chorus of cheers went up from the people in the newsroom. Jacqui flushed red and hurried back to her desk and as Smiley watched Jacqui leave, he stood, collecting the accolades and took a bow.

When the cheering finally abated, the coffee room caught his eye, taking a step toward making his desk a parking area for used Styrofoam cups again. About to take a second step, his mobile phone vibrated in his pocket, making him aware of an incoming call. Fumbling for the phone and checking the screen to identify the caller, he noticed no number displayed and it made him suspicious.

"Hello, Smiley Williams."

A female voice stammered on the other end and then shyly offered, "M..Mr Williams, my name is Bethany Graham. I believe you spoke to my mentor, Miss Gavin, yesterday and would like to discuss some information regarding a deceased friend's family?"

Smiley excitedly responded to her question, "Yes, that's right, Miss Graham."

"I have to tell you, sir, that I am a little apprehensive about talking to you, as my friend's information is extremely private and may have far reaching consequences for me _and_ Rebecca if the wrong people get my—or her—information."

Smiley cottoned on quickly. She was asking for some identification. "I understand, Miss Graham. Well, I am a newspaper journalist for the Mainline Times and Rebecca is a close friend of mine. In fact, my boss is her husband," Smiley wondered whether that information was enough to scare her off on its own.

A long pause punctuated the phone conversation.

Smiley had an idea. "If I give you the number of the paper, you can easily look it up then prove that I am who I say by asking to speak to Smiley Williams. They'll put you through to my extension and I will be waiting to hear back from you."

Smiley wondered whether she would do it, but she agreed. After a long, nervous wait, Smiley's desk phone rang and he almost dropped it in the haste to pick it up.

"Smiley Williams."

"Thank you, Mr Williams. At least I know you are who you say you are," Bethany's voice had relaxed a bit. "Why do you want information on Rebecca?"

"I am sorry, Bethany, I don't want information on Rebecca. I already know Rebecca and her whereabouts. I am looking to confirm you and I know the same Rebecca, born June 12th 1986, Landon County Hospital and for any information on her birth parents." Smiley figured he had just been handed a cleverly disguised question designed to trip him up.

Again, there was silence.

"Listen, Bethany. I have Rebecca's phone number and maybe you'd prefer to talk to her, but I have to warn you, she's heavily pregnant. Although she is aware I have spoken to Miss Gavin and that I am expecting to talk to you, she's apprehensively waiting to hear anything about her birth family and perhaps the shock of hearing from you directly and out of thin air may not be good for her, either."

Smiley waited as the pause extended and thought he'd heard a sniff, like someone crying and trying to gain composure.

Then Miss Gavin's voice came over the phone, "Mr Williams... Betty Gavin. I need to end the conversation for the moment. As you may have supposed by now, this situation is very complex and is not only about finding Rebecca's birth family. You can rest assured I will call you again in a couple of days and let you know of any further developments. Goodbye for now."

Smiley's phone clicked as Miss Gavin terminated the call, leaving his mouth hanging open in mid objection, shocked by the curt abruptness and the conclusion to the conversation.

The coffee machine bubbled and groaned as Smiley fed the coins into its open slot, followed immediately by a Styrofoam cup appearing below the spout and hot black liquid filling it to the brim. He stared at the steaming coffee with its pleasant, strong aroma drawing him out of his thoughts, watching the final drips falling to his cup and then with a determined grasp, wrapped his hand around the cup and removed it from the machine. Walking back to his work station, Smiley placed it gently down on his desk and after a tense few moments, reached for the phone, dialling Becky's number. By the time he'd filled her in on the details, she was crying, too. He did his best to console her, but he was out of his depth and then decided to ring Brett, who was good at tempering raw female emotion... especially Becky's.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 59

Smiley's days had been distracted by a breaking news story that Brett had assigned to him, keeping him out of the office. He was following a disturbance at a remote mining camp as miners clashed with protesters, incensed by an ecological disaster. By the time he had wrapped up his story and submitted it to Brett, a week had passed with the constant action and frenetic pace keeping Smiley on the move, leaving little time to reflect, let alone attend to anything else. Facing a new week, Smiley flopped into his office chair, exhausted, perusing his computer screen and checking his emails. His forefinger scrolled the usual junk mail until something caught his eye and when his mouse hovered over the name _Betty Gavin,_ he excitedly clicked it open _._

Please contact me when you have time, regards Betty Gavin.

The email had been sitting in his inbox for three days.

Smiley's heart raced as he dug into his pocket and switched his phone back on, scrolled through his address book and located her number then reading the digits, he picked up his desk phone and dialled.

*~*~*~*

Bethany Graham began to worry at the absence of Smiley's reply and became suspicious when he hadn't answered his mobile phone, even though when she'd contacted the newspaper office, they had warned her he was out of town. Miss Gavin, too, tried to convince her that he was on an assignment and that journalists often disappeared from the office for extended periods of time. Bethany was beginning to wonder about Smiley and whether there were any ulterior motives. She kept thinking about the pink blanket and Rebecca and _him_. Miss Gavin had convinced her to confront her fears and try to make contact with Smiley and in turn maybe even Rebecca, and in so doing, breaking Katie's stranglehold on her life... once and for all.

She sighed heavily, speculating about Rebecca and what sort of woman she'd become. Her hands began to shake as she remembered _that_ _day_ , wondering whether she could relive the painful past, even if it was to bring closure for Rebecca and healing to her own life.

The sudden interruption from her telephone made her jump and shook her out of her thoughts, forcing her to move quickly from her easy chair in time to intercept the voice she was expecting to hear.

"Hello?"

"Hello, dear, you can rest easy now. He's just made contact and he _was_ on assignment and responded immediately he got back. It's all arranged. Are you sure you want to go through with this now?"

Bethany nervously sighed and then managed a shaky, "Yes."

"Okay, then, I'll be around early about 6 am. I'll organise a taxi to take us to the bus and then Mr Williams will meet us at the bus stop at the other end and take us to meet Rebecca."

There was a long pause as Bethany gathered her courage and then confided with a feeble whisper, "I'm scared, Miss Gavin."

"Take courage, my love. This day has been coming for many years and I have a feeling things will turn out, one way or the other."

After the phone call ended, Bethany counted her steps and stood in front of a tall, thin inbuilt wall cupboard, pondering all that she would need. Above that was a smaller cupboard, also built into the wall and that was where her life had been hidden for many long and frightening years. Turning to face the kitchen table, Bethany felt for a chair and finding what she had expected, lifted it into place, positioned in front of the cupboard and cautiously climbed onto it. Standing above the ground, she felt for the cupboard handle and pulled it, and with a _thunk_ the cabinet opened, assaulting her strong sense of smell with the intense scent of musty mothballs. Groping into the tiny hideaway, Bethany felt into the cupboard opening and removed a cardboard box.

"My, it has gotten heavier over the years, or maybe I have gotten weaker," she chided.

Stepping down off the chair cautiously and clutching the box, she felt inside and when they brushed against her sensitive fingers, she relaxed, knowing they were still there. Carefully she packed the contents into her suitcase and covered them with her clothes for the trip.

*~*~*~*

Becky flopped down into a kitchen chair and then struggled up again, not knowing whether to sit or stand, to jump and sing or fall on the floor and cry. Smiley's call had filled her with so much joy and so much fear at the same time, realising they would be here tomorrow and finally, she would learn about her birth mother and maybe some of her family background, too. Bethany had been so close to Katie, but soon the thought turned her world upside down, realising she had no idea who Katie was... or Bethany, for that matter.

Becky's face was a mass of tension with so many questions chasing each other across her mind. She searched through drawers and dug out photograph albums and the documents that had started the mania, leaving the pink blanket with the tag sitting on top of it all, while she gathered anything of significance that may help establish the connection to her birth mother and make it easy to prove she _belonged._

Emma's frightened face flashed across her mind and her heart sank; but she wasn't going to shut her parents out of something so important, even if it was painful for them to witness, acknowledging she still needed to include them. Becky waddled determinedly to the phone and punched in her mother's number, listening to the ring tone and when it connected, Emma's voice met her ear.

"Hello, Emma speaking."

"Mum, it's Becky."

" _Are you okay, sweetheart?!_ " Emma asked, fearing something was wrong.

"I'm fine, Mum, but I have some news that may not be welcome, however, I need you and Dad to be there anyway."

" _My goodness, Becky, what is it?!_ " Emma chafed.

"I'm meeting a woman at home tomorrow morning," Becky hesitated. "Sh...she knows some of my birth Mum's story and maybe she might have the key to finding Evelyn."

Emma hesitated. "Of..of course, we'll be there. _Are you sure you want us there?!_ "

"It doesn't matter what we find, Mum. You and Dad are still my parents and no one is going to change that or how I feel about you. Okay?!"

"Okay, Becky, we'll be there. What time?"

*~*~*~*

The Reddens' lounge room looked like a cinema, with chairs laid out and fresh coffee and sandwiches waiting on tables. Brett had taken the day off on such an important occasion, along with Smiley and Jacqui who'd gone to meet the bus, while Emma and Jacob hovered around like two sacrificial lambs about to learn their fate. Becky's face was red from nervousness, with Brett ordering her to take a nap while she waited for their guests to arrive, but he knew she wouldn't sleep. Brett tried to calm Becky by rubbing her back while she lay upon their bed, but a loud _knock_ at the apartment door announced Smiley's arrival, sending Becky into a tailspin as Brett helped her up from the bed.

" _Calm down, Becky, please!_ " he pleaded.

Jacob opened the door and met two elderly women flanked by Smiley and Jacqui. The smaller, rotund lady had a shock of white hair and she had the thinner, younger one holding onto her arm. The thinner one had an ugly looking indentation in her skull above her right temple, giving a grotesque disfigurement to her body. Long grey hair fell to the middle of her back and the lines across her face indicated she had seen her fair share of troubles. She carried a cane in her spare hand to help her feel her way around.

"Welcome, ladies," Brett announced. "I'm Brett Redden, Becky's husband. This is Emma Forest, Becky's Mum. This is Jacob Forest, Becky's Dad. Smiley and Jacqui you've already met..."

Smiley waved as he placed the ladies' bags in the room.

"...and this is the lovely Rebecca," Brett introduced proudly.

The ladies warmly responded to the welcome. "I'm Betty Gavin and this is Bethany Graham," Betty announced nervously, eyeing Becky.

An awkward silence settled over the lounge room until Becky offered the women a seat and coffee.

"I know this is a strange request, dear, but you know Bethany is blind?" Betty Gavin explained.

Becky and Brett nodded in unison.

"Bethany can get a better picture of your face if she can feel it. Would you indulge her?" Betty asked apologetically.

Becky silently appealed to Brett and Brett nodded. Then Becky stepped over to Bethany and she traced the features of Becky's face gently with her fingers.

Bethany smiled. "You're very pretty, Rebecca. You have your dad's mouth and nose and your mother's ears. I assume you have your dad's soft black hair, too?"

Becky gawked, awestruck. Her mouth hung open and she was speechless at Bethany's comments. "M..my dad and mum? Did you know Evelyn?" Becky weakly offered.

"May we sit now, dear? It's been a long journey from Landon County and neither of us sleep on buses," Betty Gavin pleaded.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 60

The atmosphere inside the Reddens' lounge room rippled with tension and expectancy as all eyes focused in on Bethany. Emma fidgeted nervously, holding onto Jacob's hand, while the others held their breath.

"Yes, Becky. I may call you Becky?" Bethany enquired.

Becky nodded, forgetting Bethany couldn't see her gesture.

"Rebecca has nodded her assent, Bethany," Miss Gavin interpreted.

"Sorry, Bethany," Becky corrected herself. "Becky is what everyone calls me, so Becky is fine."

Listening intently to the atmosphere, Bethany tried to gauge the feeling in the room. Satisfying herself a threat or a trap wasn't lurking, she nervously continued, feeling terribly exposed, "I..I knew... arr... Evelyn."

A murmur ran through the people in the lounge room.

"I'm just a little uneasy, Becky," Bethany shifted uncomfortably. "Please forgive me? Would you indulge me and show me your little pink baby blanket?"

" _Of course, Bethany,_ " Becky hoped it would put Bethany's mind at rest and wriggled out of her seat, making her way to the box of information she had put aside and took hold of the little blanket. Returning to Bethany, Becky reached for Bethany's hand and placed the little blanket into her palm.

The older woman felt the blanket and then turned it over in her hands to locate the tag and when she'd found what she was looking for, she ran her fingers over the top side and then turned the tag over and ran her index finger carefully over the fading needlework. Assured the blanket was authentic, Bethany smiled.

"I have my birth certificate, also," Becky stole a quick glance to Emma to see how she was coping and when Emma smiled back and nodded, Becky handed the birth certificate to Miss Gavin to read out to Bethany.

"Bethany, the document says, _Birth certificate: Rebecca Ellen Brown; Born June 12th 1986; Landon County Hospital; Mothers name: Evelyn Brown."_

Bethany shifted uncomfortably in her seat and a rogue tear slipped from her blind eyes. "Forgive me, Becky, I need a few moments. This is hard for me to revisit."

Becky instinctively wriggled out of her seat and kneeled in front of Bethany, taking her hand. "I'm sorry this is distressing you, Bethany. Please take your time and stop when it gets too difficult."

Bethany took comfort from Becky's words and in some strange way she could hear Becky's mother speaking, and reached out, stroking Becky's face. Then after a massive sigh, Bethany's voice whispered just loud enough for Becky to hear, "It's time I confronted my fear and you deserve to know, Becky. June the twelfth, 1986 is a day I will never forget. Your mum and dad had been praying for a baby for a long time and it seemed that Father had not heard their petition, remaining childless throughout their married life. Then one day your dad and mum got the surprise of their lives when, roughly nine months before, Evelyn missed her period. Your mum was forty-six and she at first thought it was the beginnings of menopause and went to check with her doctor, but to their excitement he confirmed she was pregnant."

Becky's eyes were running over. "Mum was forty-six when she had me," Becky voiced her thoughts. " _Then why did they give me up?_ " Becky's hurt pierced the silence.

Bethany quickly continued, "The early morning hours of June the twelfth were times of joy and great sadness, when heavily pregnant Evelyn began to experience severe labour pains but thankfully they were only twenty minutes from the maternity ward by car. The pains were getting closer together and more intense, and your father prepared to drive her to the hospital. By this time, it was well after midnight and everyone was getting concerned for Evelyn. Being an older lady, she had struggled with the pregnancy and her doctor had confined her to bed weeks before."

Bethany suddenly choked at the memory and tried to regain her composure. Miss Gavin squeezed her hand for assurance, giving Bethany the fortitude to continue.

"Outside, a massive thunderstorm had moved in and the wind was howling. All the ambulances had been tied up with storm related accidents, so your father had to act quickly and only just managed to get Evelyn into the car before the sky opened up. Driving rain was pouring down everywhere, while Evelyn's contractions came closer and closer, leaving her struggling for breath. Your father panicked and tried to get Evelyn to hospital as fast as he could, but as he approached an intersection in the blinding rain only a couple of miles from the hospital, a truck ran a give way sign and ploughed into the car and pinned it against a tree. The truck driver simply hadn't seen them," Bethany began to weep and then broke and sobbed and sobbed.

A shocked realisation was forming in Becky's mind and her mouth hung open, staring at the broken woman and tears began to stream down her face.

After Miss Gavin's reassurance, Bethany blew her nose and then wiped her eyes, continuing unsteadily, "Y..your father died at the scene and by the time an ambulance arrived, your mother was fading fast, being badly injured. They rushed her into emergency but she died on the operating table, however, they did an emergency caesarean section and little Rebecca made an unexpected healthy arrival."

The lounge room was unnaturally quiet and tense with emotion while people blew their noses and wiped away tears, but Becky openly wept.

Bethany continued, choking on her tears, "So you see, Rebecca, you were our miracle baby in more than one way and your father and mother were so happy when they found they were carrying a girl. They loved you so deeply and they had no intention of ever giving you up."

Brett pulled his grieving wife into his arms. Becky's face was a mess of emotions, buried in Brett's chest and her shoulders shuddered as she tried to come to terms with Bethany's story. Joy and grief chased each other across her features, then a question formed in her mind and she turned to face Bethany.

"I don't understand," Becky wiped away tears. "If they had no intention of giving me up, then why does my birth certificate forbid any details from being released about my mother?"

Bethany swallowed hard and then sighed. "It wasn't to stop _you_ from finding her or your family history," Bethany shifted uncomfortably _._ " _It was to stop someone else from finding you._ "

Bethany's meaning trickled into understanding and the people in the room murmured.

Becky's eyes were wide. " _Finding me?!_ "

Bethany's demeanour took on a darker appearance. "This is where things start to get complicated, Becky. The reason you, or your friend, Smiley, couldn't find anything on Evelyn or your father or their deaths was because they were buried under another name. Your mother and father were buried together in a grave site under Michael and Julia Classons."

Smiley nodded, looking like a big piece of the jigsaw suddenly fitted and that part was starting to make sense.

"I used to visit their grave frequently, until it became too dangerous for me to continue."

" _Too dangerous?!_ _My goodness, what danger could possibly be lurking for someone as lovely as you?_ "

Bethany smiled a watery smile. "Thank you, Becky."

"I became the only link for _him_ to find you and I was the only one who could _stop_ _him_ from finding you."

Smiley's head began nodding as his investigative mind started to piece the puzzle together, although he remained silent and waited for the puzzle to fall into place.

Becky's mind was reeling from the blows and starting to feel like she had walked into a minefield. "Why does this... _him_ want to find me and who is Katie, then, the one spoken of on the blanket tag?" Becky's expression was confused.

Bethany shifted uneasily in her seat. She was sure she was safe, but being hunted was still fresh in her mind. She stammered, trying to spit the words out, divulging a secret she'd worked so hard, for so long to protect. "K..Katie is me," she confessed in a whisper. "I am your father's sister. Your aunty and your last remaining blood relative."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 61

Rebecca Redden stared, shocked, across at the blind woman sitting not more three feet away from her. " _You're my aunty?!_ " Becky repeated, stunned.

"I can assure you she is telling the truth, Rebecca," Miss Gavin interrupted her.

"Then why did you tell me Katie died in 1968?" Becky couldn't understand the deceit.

"To understand that, you have to understand the... _him_ that Beth..Katie keeps talking about," Miss Gavin responded.

"Can you bring my case over for me?" Katie turned to Miss Gavin.

Smiley had the case and was halfway across the room in an instant. He laid it at Katie's feet and backed away again.

"Thank you, Mr Williams," Miss Gavin responded.

Katie searched through her belongings until she found an old school photo. "Here, this may help to fit the pieces together," Katie handed Becky the photograph.

Becky searched a row of people until she stopped on a younger version of Katie and then fingered the name written beneath it.

Katarzyna (Katie) Protlenski.

Becky began to tremble, feeling weak as she studied the name again and again.

Then it dawned.

If Katie's name was Protlenski, then Becky's name would have been Protlenski, too.

"I..I am a Protlenski?" Becky stammered.

"Your father, like me, was of Polish descent, although we were both born in this country. That's why you have such lovely, jet black hair. Your father was dark haired like you, but your mum was blonde and she was born here, too."

"So, Evelyn was a cover name to stop _him_ from finding me?" Becky realised.

"Yes. Your mum's name was Marguerite and your father's name was Majiv."

Becky sat in silence. Her thoughts kept chasing Marguerite's and Majiv's names around in her head and then she remembered the car accident that had robbed her of her parents and changed her life forever.

"I have only one photograph of your parents."

Katie's voice interrupted Becky's thoughts and Becky's heart raced. She took the photograph eagerly from Katie's hand and studied the black and white print: Majiv's dark handsomeness and Marguerite's blonde beauty, but they seemed so very young. Becky studied her mother's form closely and then realised, with a gasp, " _She's pregnant!_ " Becky's eyes were questioning. " _I thought I was their only child?_ "

Katie shifted in her seat again. "It's time for me to take you right back to the beginning and fill in the gaps. The _him_ I keep referring to, is your mother's father and your grandfather. Marguerite's mother had been an activist for migrant rights and her father was a deeply-seated racist and hated everyone who had foreign descent. Marguerite's mother died suddenly when she was three years old and her father turned to alcohol, blaming migrants for her death. Marguerite's father was lost in a world of selfishness, hatred and alcoholism, neglecting poor Marguerite.

"Searching for love, Marguerite fell in love with a boy who turned out to be a user. He basically raped her and at age sixteen, she fell pregnant. The boy told her to have an abortion and when she refused, he beat her up and sent her packing. A sixteen year old girl, pregnant and without any support, is easy prey to any passing abuse. Marguerite knew if her father found out she was pregnant, then he probably would kill her. So she ran away.

"Majiv and I lost our parents when we were quite young and we lived next door to two childless wonderful Messianic Jews, Mr and Mrs Lieberman. We called them Ima and Abba and they unofficially adopted us as their own kids. Mr Lieberman was a baker and owned his own business down the road and taught Majiv the trade while I attended a Jewish-Christian school. Marguerite applied for a job with the bakery and Mr Lieberman put her on staff. He became suspicious about Marguerite when she came in to work sporting a black eye and then found her suitcase stashed in the alleyway beside the bakery. He confronted her about where she lived and Marguerite couldn't answer him convincingly. So basically, we adopted Marguerite, too.

"Ima found out one day that Marguerite was pregnant and asked her what had happened. Marguerite nervously explained her story and to her surprise, everyone was so excited about a new life coming into the family. Everything was going well until a young policeman saw her working at the bakery and became suspicious that she was an underage pregnancy. Apparently at the same time, she had been listed by her father as missing and the policeman somehow recognised her. Just about a week before she was to give birth, an unmarked police car picked her up not one hundred feet from our apartment door and took her back to her father. Her father thought the child was Majiv's and took her to an abortion clinic. They killed the baby and in so doing, damaged Marguerite's womb."

Becky's eyes were wide and her tears spilled over in grief. "My poor Mum," she gasped.

Katie continued, "Marguerite's father took her home from the clinic, bleeding and suffering from toxic abortion and then beat her senseless, nearly dying there and then. Somehow, in the early hours, she managed to gather enough will and strength to make a phone call to Ima, resulting in Majiv and our friend, Tom, breaking into her father's house. Her father was unconscious on the floor in one of his drunken stupors and they managed to rescue her and bring her back home, but it was touch and go for many hours. I can still remember the fervent prayer that was being offered on her behalf as Ima and I worked on your mother.

"Afterwards, Ima kept vigil in the room your mum and I shared, nursing her back to a place where she could be moved without causing her more pain. Abba figured it wouldn't be long before Marguerite's father would be around to try and force her back home again and finish the job. So they made a bed in the back of Tom's station wagon and organised to send her to some friends of Tom's in Landon County. Majiv refused to let her go alone and soon after they arrived in Landon County, they were married."

The mood in the room was one of unbelief and grief at the story.

"So, did you go with Marguerite and Majiv?" Becky asked, wiping her eyes with her hands.

"No, Becky. I was only eleven." Katarzyna sighed and began again, "Just as Abba predicted, your grandfather came after Marguerite the next day. He banged on the apartment door, demanding to be let in and as Mr Lieberman opened it... _this_ _him_ went mad with a baseball bat, swinging and lunging at everything in his path. Abba couldn't stop him and he easily overpowered the old man. He saw me and brought down the bat across my head... and that was the last thing I remember..."

Becky stared directly at Katie, suddenly realising why she was blind and had the unsightly deformity on her head. She launched herself at Katie and wrapped her in a watery hug. " _Oh, Aunt Katie, I am so sorry, honey!_ "

The room was tense as Katie regained her composure and she hesitatingly continued, "They... they sent your grandfather to jail for only five years for what he did to us. Abba died two days later from a heart attack and Ima retreated into herself. Majiv sent for Ima and me once I got out of hospital and then the years and years of heartache and painful convalescence began. My world fell apart when I finally accepted the fact that I was blind and would never see again. If it wasn't for Miss Gavin here and her relentless driving to train her students in the blind school, I would still be a mess.

"I made your baby blanket for Marguerite when the school was still open, as a kind of encouragement for Marguerite to believe that Father still did miracles and He would give her another baby girl—and as a healing process for me. I had no idea that so many years later, it would bring us together," Katie had a faraway look on her face as she recalled. "Ima prayed for a miracle baby for Majiv and Marguerite every day before she died, and now our miracle is right here with us."

Becky reached out for Katie's hand and pressed it lovingly, bringing Katie to herself again. She smiled at Becky's touch and returned her gesture.

"Anyway, back to _him_. Arthur Dillon dried out in jail and vowed to find Marguerite, Majiv and anyone else connected to us. He made some powerful allies in prison and many times we have been on the wrong end of his friends' attempts to even the score and destroy us."

"And that's why you killed Katie off in 1968. So _him_ would think you were dead, leaving no trace leading back to Marguerite, Majiv or _me_ ," Becky speculated.

"Yes, that too, but it was a way of vetting anyone looking for Katie and then watching their reaction to her apparent death. It told us whether they meant us harm or not, and we became very good at covering our tracks."

Becky thought out loud. "What about the police? Couldn't they do anything?"

Katie sighed. "We figured they were complicit in killing Marguerite's child by sending her back to her father and would only help him find her again." Katie was starting to feel a sense of healing after sharing the story, leaving the horrors of the past years seeming like a bad dream now it had been given air space. She continued, "I believe Arthur Dillon died two years ago. But we weren't sure if he still had his friends out looking for us. That's why Mr Williams got such a runaround."

Smiley grinned at the mention of his name.

"Wow, what a complicated web," Becky remarked, peering across at Smiley.

Smiley mouthed something to Becky and her brow creased in puzzlement and then she understood his mime.

"Aunt Katarzyna, I don't know if you know anything about this, but I have had nightmares all my life about a girl named Katie and a place called Contention Island..." Becky stopped mid sentence as Katie's face contorted in a disturbing expression.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 62

The morning had been a draining experience for all the people in the room and most particularly, Katarzyna. Miss Gavin could see her charge was becoming tired and distressed. "Can we take a little break, my dear? The bus journey has been telling on both of us and the morning has been stressful for all concerned. We would benefit greatly from a respite."

Becky's concern for the two elderly ladies took precedence over her curiosity. She had organised with Smiley and Jacqui to borrow a couple of single divans and had set up the spare room to house the two beds. They were her guests and now that the bond had been established, she was determined that Aunt Katie would be made as comfortable as she knew how. "Would you like to take a shower and have a nap in the spare room? I've set up some beds for you," Becky offered.

Katie's face relaxed at the thought of a nap and Miss Gavin appeared visibly relieved. " _That would be wonderful, dear!_ "

Becky helped Katie to her feet and wrapped her in a hug. "Thank you, sweetheart, for everything you have suffered on my behalf. I love you, Aunty."

Katie's eyes were moist when Becky broke from her arms. "I love you too, Becky. I'm glad your life has turned out exactly as your birth parents would have wanted. Can I speak to your parents, please?"

Becky led Katarzyna over to a very nervous Emma and Jacob. "Aunt Katie, I am proud to introduce you to my parents, Emma and Jacob Forest."

Katie enfolded Emma in a huge hug. "Thank you for being Becky's wonderful parents. You've brought her up just like Majiv and Marguerite would, and as far as I am concerned, I lost my brother and sister many years ago, but now I have you two to take their place," Katarzyna kissed Emma's cheek.

Emma could only manage a whisper through her tears, "I was so afraid that Becky would find her real parents and then forget about us, but now I see that your family is _our_ family and we would be honoured to call you sister."

Katarzyna and Emma hugged for a long time, the bonds of sisterhood blooming into a tightly formed knot.

As the door to the spare room closed, a smaller group of people remained and seated themselves in the Reddens' lounge room. Becky leaned into Brett and whispered into his ear and he nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Becky excitedly hugged his neck. "Thank you."

Smiley peered at the two people deep in secret whispering, "You gonna let us in on the secret?"

"You'll see, later," Becky assured. "I just don't know how to thank you all for making this happen for me," Becky glanced around at the familiar faces. "I now know who I was and I love who I am. Thank you, Mum and Dad, for loving me and particularly you, Mum, for letting me go to find out who I am. I know how much that cost you and I will always be grateful."

Emma and Becky hugged tightly and Jacob joined in.

"Your birth parents sounded like wonderful people, Becky, and Katarzyna is just adorable," Emma sniffed.

"We're going to ask Katie to come and live with us. We've just signed a contract on a four bedroom house," Becky confided.

"Oh...! So that was what the whispering was about," Smiley grinned, bombing the conversation.

"Nothing gets past you, Mr Williams," Becky chided. "That reminds me... come over here, sir. I have a bone to pick with you."

"Uh-oh! What have I done now?" Smiley grinned as he walked toward Becky.

Becky wrapped him in a hug. "Thank you, big brother. If it wasn't for you, this could have ended badly. Instead, it was the most wonderful morning I have ever had."

Smiley blushed red. " _I don't know the woman, honest, Jacqui!_ "

The room burst into laughter and relieved the morning's tension.

"Ssshhh, the ladies are sleeping," Emma demanded.

"You're worth everything I went through in my search, Becky, and I am glad it turned out well," Smiley's sombre tone rattled against his tonsils.

"I only wish you could have found your birth mother, Smiley," Becky's joy saddened a little.

"I have the feeling I wouldn't have liked what I'd find, Becky. In fact, I buried my mother not so long ago," Smiley tried to back pedal, feeling vulnerable and wondering whether the words that had slipped out so casually were a little unwise.

Becky eyed him, her head tilted to one side. "More information, please?"

Smiley flushed with embarrassment. "It doesn't matter."

"Oh no you don't, mister. You've heard and seen all of my dirty laundry, so give!" Becky insisted.

Smiley appeared small, like a little boy admitting to the teacher he'd put the apple on her table. "I..It was just a dumb thing I did, saying goodbye to my mum."

Becky stared at him, unmoving.

"Okay! If you must know... I found a cardboard box and wrote _Mother_ across the lid and I spent hours crying over it and confessing all the bad feelings I had toward her and then telling her I forgave her and loved her. Then I went out into the forest and dug a hole and buried it, and had like a burial ceremony on my own."

By the time Smiley had finished his confession, he was encircled on all sides by hugs, sniffing and wiping away of tears.

"That's the most beautiful thing I have ever heard, Smiley," Jacqui declared, feeling proud of her man.

The afternoon slipped away quickly as the small intimate group laughed away the hours, discussing the sadness and the joy of Becky's birth parents and the lengths they went to, to protect her.

Emma peered up at the lounge room clock. "My goodness, it's time we were getting home and preparing tea."

"Oh...! Would you please stay and have dinner with us? You, too, Jacqui and Smiley," Becky requested.

"Only if we can help make it," Jacqui stipulated.

"Okay, deal!" Becky conceded.

The three ladies headed for the kitchen and laughter soon radiated from their work. By the time the meal had been prepared, the dining table was loaded with mouthwatering scents. The odours must have made it into the spare room, for soon after, Betty Gavin and Katarzyna made an entrance.

"You're just in time for dinner," Becky walked over and hugged her refreshed aunty and then led her to the table. "What can I get you, sweetheart?" Becky recited what was on the table and then loaded her plate.

People stood around the lounge room, holding plates of hot food, eating and chatting. Becky sidled up to Katarzyna and peered across the room at Brett and he answered her questioning gaze with a nod. Becky smiled and then engaged her aunt.

"Aunty? Brett and I have been talking. We've just signed up for a four bedroom home and we would like you to come and live with us permanently. You'll have to put up with a new baby girl in the house and you might not get much sleep, though. Well, what do you say?"

Katarzyna thought of all the years she had spent alone and isolated, and then the terror she had suffered at _his_ hands. She reached around to hug Becky and then dissolved into tears. Through her sobs she replied, "I would love to come and live with you and I don't care if I never get any sleep with a darling baby girl in the house."

Brett watched the scene unfolding from across the room and guessed Aunt Katarzyna had just accepted Becky's request.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 63

The meal time had been an occasion of joviality and of forging bonds, with the sheer noise of people enjoying each other's company resonating throughout the apartment. Katarzyna hadn't laughed so much in years and as Miss Gavin glanced over the crowd, she could see Katie had found her niche among her own family with Emma and Katarzyna chattering together like two old friends, leaving Miss Gavin certain the remaining years for Katie would be happy ones. As the lounge room chairs filled with chattering bodies, Becky and Jacqui served the coffee and chocolates, then finding their seats, they joined the others in the festivities.

A lull in the conversation was interrupted as Katarzyna directed a crowd-stopping question to Becky, "Tell me about these nightmares you have been experiencing from your childhood."

The suddenness of the question made everyone pause and peer at Becky, while in turn she glanced over to Brett and when he nodded, Becky found it hard to pick up the sudden change in mood.

"Well... um... in my nightmares, there is a girl whose name is Katie and she seems to be in some kind of trouble..." Becky sighed as if she was rearranging her thoughts. "Let me start at the beginning. Katie appears on a beach on an island called Contention Island and a really dark and violent storm surrounds her, then it starts raining hard. She searches the dark sky above the waves and sees a number of flashes of purple light, but the light isn't like lightning and is more like a light beam. Something happens to her there that distresses her so much that she faints on the cold beach sand and when she awakes, a man with cat-like eyes is carrying her. She is so frightened that she screams and that's usually when I get woken up and I am screaming, too," Becky glanced curiously across at Katarzyna to see if any of this was causing a reaction.

"Is that all?" Katarzyna probed, listening intently.

"Well, no, there was another one just a few weeks back. Katie was in a dark room that I didn't recognise and the room was large, because it echoed and I could smell salt air... oh, and there was a spiral staircase, too. At first, I heard some soft voices calling _,_ ' _Katie, it's almost time. You know who this is, don't you?_ ' And then there was a second voice, like an echo of the first. She seemed quite comfortable with the voices and they appeared to be familiar. Then there was an awful presence in the darkness with Katie and it made a clicking noise, like shoes on concrete. She was trying to get away from it, but it just kept coming for her and then she cried out, ' _How did you get in here?_ ' Then she screamed and called out, ' _Please answer me. I'm frightened._ ' Then there is crashing noise and the room fills with light as two doors open, and there at the doors is the man with cat-like eyes and he is coming for her. He grabs her and she is in terrible pain and screams a horrible scream and that's when I wake, also."

The lounge room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, with the faces of the familiar people drawn at the intensity of Becky's description. All eyes turned to Katarzyna.

"This is incredible," she answered.

"What do you mean, Aunty?" Becky wondered what was coming.

"I need to get my case from the room," Katarzyna requested.

"I'll get it for you," Smiley offered.

"Yes, if you would, please, Smiley,"

Smiley returned with Katarzyna's case and laid it at her feet. Thanking Smiley, she pulled open the lid and shuffled around under items of clothing and eventually withdrew a series of yellowing notebooks neatly tied together with red twine to make a large bundle. "These are my most treasured memories of your father," Katarzyna handed the stack over to Becky. "Please open them and read," Katarzyna requested.

Becky opened the top notebook and read aloud, " _Acknowledgement: For my parents: Bolek and Alenka Protlenski. Your struggles and courage are an inspiration to me. In dedication to the memory of your lives... The journey out of preoccupation Poland had been intensely risky for Bolek and Alenka Protlenski, having been warned by the underground that the Nazi war machine was on the move and Poland was their intended destination. Regardless of the propaganda that it was a peaceful mission, Majiv's constant urging unsettled young Bolek and he and his pregnant Alenka joined the gathering throngs leaving Krakow and heading for the free west..."_

Katarzyna interrupted her, "These notebooks are a story that Majiv wrote in honour of our parents' memory, Bolek and Alenka, your grandparents. It goes on to describe how they made their way out of Poland and to America and how we came to be American citizens. But Majiv didn't get to finish the story and instead spent the rest of his life dedicated to protecting Marguerite, and the tale remained unfinished."

Becky appeared confused and asked the question everyone else was wanting to ask. "I don't understand. What's this got to do with Katie?"

"Flick down a couple of pages, past the lengthy acknowledgement."

Becky obeyed her aunt and began to read again.

" _A highly agitated captain nervously paced on the bridge of the steam cutter, Rebellious, seething that the boilers had once again dumped the valuable steam pressure, leaving them powerless and bobbing around at the mercy of the heavy ocean swells. Yet he knew his overworked engine room was doing the best they could with the antiquated equipment they were forced to work with. Along with countless others, the sea freight company had fallen on hard times due to the stock market crash resounding through the autumn of 1929 and folding up the fortunes of many well-to-do in a perilous fiscal house of cards. Those that could survive only did so by cutting corners and spending only what was absolutely necessary, with the much needed repairs to Rebellious' boilers secretly dropped from the maintenance schedule. But the company still expected the cargo to make its destination on time._

" _The steam pressure was vital to drive the steam engines, to keep the cutter from being smashed against the feared jagged rocks of Black Dean laying in wait just ahead. Any more delays would be a dire cost to the schedule and place the ship in mortal peril, having just enough time to traverse the passage safely as long as their boilers maintained pressure. An offshore solid rock barrier acted as an impasse to the international shipping route, submersed and invisible just below the surface at high tide and one hour's steaming time from the shore. Guarding the length of the coast and the entry to vital ports, it forced shipping to take a long detour around the southern end of the reef. A journey that added two days onto any trip. Entering the narrow Barrett Channel between Black Dean and Contention Island..."_

Becky abruptly paused and recounted the description of the Barrett Passage between Black Dean and _Contention Island_. Her mouth hung open, with her mind going to places she didn't know was even possible.

Smiley leaned back in his lounge chair, nodding his investigative head... the last piece of information was about to fall into place. Now he understood why he couldn't locate Contention Island. It didn't exist in real life, only in Becky's father's story... _but how had Becky come to dream of it?_

Katarzyna shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she grappled with what she was about to say. "Your older sister was aborted nearly thirty years prior to you being born and your mother was going to name her Katie, after me, but they murdered her in the supposed safest place in the world... her mother's womb. In a time, long after the abortion when your mother was suffering from the effects of depression, she explained to me what they did to her and her baby. I won't repeat the graphics, but it's enough to say that it was barbaric.

"Katie survived for a few moments after the saline abortion and when Marguerite gave birth to her, her beautiful little girl was burnt by the saline fluid and suffering cruelly. The people performing the botched abortion carried the dying baby outside and that was the last time Marguerite saw Katie; but Marguerite suffered horribly as she tried to drown out the scenes of her burnt, precious little daughter being taken away from her."

The lounge room was so quiet as Katie continued.

"The story of Contention Island was created by your father in a work of fiction because he wanted to publish the book as a permanent reminder of the family name. He read the story to us every night for weeks as he diligently wrote, and Marguerite, then heavily pregnant, was his cheer squad and encouraged his writing. Katie was safe in her mother's womb and I believe somehow, the story, just like the evidence of the previous abortion, appears to have been transferred to you in the womb by Katie's traumatic prior experiences. I can only suggest that's why you knew about Katie and Contention Island through the nightmares.

"It would appear that the lighthouse and the womb are symbolically the same thing, with both representing safety, but in Katie's case they were representative of horror and a cruel death. I think, quite possibly, the man with the cat-like eyes in your nightmare may have been symbolic of the abortionist seen by the suffering Katie, as he carried her to the place where she would finally die, painfully. I don't know why Katie haunted your dreams, Becky, but I suspect it was a tragic warning that the womb isn't a safe place. Abortion is so easily performed these days and for reasons of selfishness, too, and after today, I'd be surprised if Katie bothers your dreams again."

Katarzyna paused and thought of Ima. "Ima explained something to Marguerite just after her abortion. There appears to be an age of discernment, when God holds us accountable to know right from wrong. The aborted child, innocent and just out of their mother's womb, is unaware of right and wrong and goes immediately to live forever in God's eternal kingdom, free from pain and death, with the child's spirit returning to the Creator from whom it came. The guilt and spiritual fallout that goes with an abortion is immense and causes women to act in some strange ways, but Father God offers forgiveness through acceptance of His Son, Jesus Christ, and He wipes the guilt of the act away and declares us forgiven. The best thing of all, through, accepting Jesus' forgiveness and acknowledging him as Lord and Saviour, mother and child can be reunited in Heaven forever. Guilt free. The reasons for aborting a child are many. Some, like Marguerite, are forced upon them but for others it's for reasons of convenience. However, most decisions to end a child's life in the womb are taken because of extremely poor medical advice to the mother and the misunderstanding of the value God puts on human life."

The room was quiet as the people within it chewed on Katie's explanation of the nightmare and the unbelievable connection to her older sister through Majiv's story.

Smiley racked his brains and then quietly interrupted the silence. "I've reported on studies being conducted on children born to a woman after they've had abortions and they seem to be saying they're often more disturbed than those born to a womb that has not suffered an abortion. The womb almost seems to have an imprint of the previous trauma, like the feeling you get when you enter the scene of a bloody massacre. You know something horrible has happened there and you can't wait to get out, but the developing child, however, is imprisoned in a chamber of horrors, and of course there is always the unexplained bond that twins apparently have. Just like womb mates," Smiley grinned, trying to soften his description. "A twin seems to know when the other is in trouble or at risk, even if they are miles apart. These phenomena are not easily explainable, but there is documented evidence that it does actually exist."

Katarzyna nodded in agreement with Smiley and spoke again, "I don't know if what I said makes sense, but I can't explain how else you would know about Contention Island and Katie's nightmares."

Becky flicked through the notebook, deep in thought, trying to come to terms with the strange story, then glanced across to Brett. "May I read the story of Contention Island, Aunt Katarzyna?"

"Of course, Becky," Katie replied, pleased at Becky's interest.

"Perhaps I can even finish the story and publish the book on behalf of my family," Becky offered tentatively, gazing at Brett and then back at Katarzyna.

Brett raised his eyebrows and then conceded maybe this would be a good connection with Becky's father to finish his book.

"I'd be delighted for you to finish it, Becky," Katarzyna bubbled, "but just a simple point... your father, Majiv, was going to call the book, _The Secrets of Black Dean Lighthouse_. _"_

"Then that's what it will be called, Aunt Katie."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 64

Dear Miss Gavin,

Aunt Katarzyna has asked me to drop you a quick note, apologising that she can't write this email herself as her talking computer has had to be sent in for repairs. It 's hard to believe that it's been almost twelve months since we first got together and found each other after so many years. The joy and heartache are still very real for me and even now, I can't believe the lengths my family went to, to protect me.

Aunt Katie has settled in well with us in our new home and she is such a blessing. The new house is only a five minute walk from Mum's place, with Katie and Emma getting together daily and chattering like sisters. Little Emma-Marguerite only has to cough and she has a great-aunt or grandma picking her up from her cot and cuddling her. I love having them here all the time and it gives me a lot of freedom to do other things and know that Emma-Marguerite is in good hands.

I haven't had much time to look at Dad's book yet since Emma-Marguerite was born, but now she's almost one, Mum and Aunty have decided to give me the time and babysitting prowess to make a start. Jacqui and Smiley and Mum and Dad come over on Friday nights and we all sit around together in the lounge and read five or so chapters of Majiv's story. It has become a regular thing and now that we have finished up to where Dad stopped writing, everyone is keen for me to complete the ending. I think I understand the story and where Dad left it, but the challenge for me is to try and figure out how he would have written and do justice to the ending. I've made a connection with Dad through reading his thoughts in the book and sometimes I imagine I can hear him speaking to me.

Smiley and Jacqui's wedding is next week and I feel a little apprehensive, as my figure still needs some work and I am not sure I can fit into the dress Jacqui has chosen for me to wear. Maybe a corset will be in order. I didn't want to eat at the wedding, anyway! I don't doubt Smiley's love for Jacqui, but he is really nervous about the impending wedding, yet Jacqui has the glow of a woman deeply in love and her calming influence on Smiley just astounds me.

Everything is ready for your visit. You have the room overlooking the backyard and just opposite Katie's. Jacqui has seated you with Emma and Katie and Dad at the reception, right up close to the bridal table.

I can hear Emma-Marguerite crying, obviously wanting some of my time, too, so I'd better sign off for now. See you Thursday afternoon at the bus station.

Love from the Redden clan.

Becky pushed the _send_ button and shut down the computer. When she made her entrance into the room, Emma-Marguerite stopped crying and grinned from ear to ear with the presence of her mother. Becky picked up her baby, assured Aunt Katie that the email had been sent and sat down with the older women.

*~*~*~*

Smiley's fingers were thumbs as he nervously tried to do up his bow tie. He stood in front of his bedroom mirror, frustrated with the article that just wouldn't behave itself and sit square in the middle of his shirt.

Brett heard a frustrated moan from the bathroom and went to see what was going on. "I've never seen you so nervous, Smiley. Here, let me tie it for you."

"Thanks, Boss," Smiley conceded defeat.

"I've seen you walk fearlessly into battle zones and report from fires, earthquakes, floods and human catastrophes of all kinds, but going through a simple ceremony marrying a wonderful woman like Jacqui and you fall to pieces."

Smiley flopped on the bed. "I just don't know if I am going to be good for Jacqui, Brett. I'm so afraid that I will mess it up... for her and for me. I'm wondering whether I should just call the whole thing off," Smiley huffed despondently.

"Have you seen the glow surrounding Jacqui? She has loved you since she laid eyes on you and if you call it off, you will be making the greatest mistake of your life," Brett pressed.

Smiley eyed Brett. "Do you think so?"

"Smiley, I know life hasn't been easy for you, but you made Becky face up to making crazy decisions that would have wrecked her life, mine and her parents'. You now need to face up to the same decision with Jacqui. That girl is just nuts about you and I am not going to let you walk away from the best thing that ever happened to you. I appeal to you as a friend _and as your boss_ , face your fears. I assure you the fears have nothing to do with Jacqui, but everything about what your mother did to you. Jacqui is about to make a promise to you that she will always be there for you and not reject you like your mum did. I will be standing right beside you, blocking your escape; and in a week, I guarantee you will be thanking me for it."

Smiley stood and threw his arms around his friend. "Thanks, Boss," Smiley drew in a big breath, held it for a few seconds and then let it out. "Well, let's go and make this thing happen."

Brett's pep talk had worked.

*~*~*~*

Brett and Smiley stood at the front of the church, with Smiley nervously playing with his bow tie and looking back toward the church entrance. Brett couldn't work out whether he was looking for an escape or waiting to see his bride. The crowd in the church was quickly gathering and getting seated before Jacqui arrived, with Brett recognising many faces from the newspaper.

The minister gave the two men a nod, the music began and the crowd stood to their feet with Brett and Smiley turning to face the church entrance. Brett beamed with pride as his beautiful Becky walked slowly up toward the altar, preceding the bride with her purple dress fitting just perfectly... she was stunning. Seeing the adoring stare, Becky smiled at Brett and then at Smiley, but Smiley had his eyes riveted on the entrance.

And with the moment everyone had been waiting for, Jacqui stepped into view, holding onto Jacob's arm. An ' _aww_ ' went through the crowd and Smiley's mouth dropped open, catching the softness and love in Jacqui's eyes; and when she smiled at him, he nearly collapsed.

After witnessing the exchanged expressions between bride and groom, Brett knew Smiley was smitten and he wasn't going anywhere.

Jacob took Jacqui's hand and then joined it to Smiley's, and then moments later, they made their vows. At the end of the proceedings, the minister announced to the crowd, "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present... Mr and Mrs Smiley Williams."

*~*~*~*

The telephone bellowed into the dark stillness of the Redden home, waking Becky and as she shook her husband awake with a raspy, " _Honey, the phone,_ " Brett responded quickly and strode to intercept the caller. Just before reaching the jangling device, Brett ran his hands through his hair and glanced sleepily at the kitchen clock: 1:30 am. It'd been almost a week since the wedding, with Smiley and Jacqui honeymooning somewhere on the other side of the world.

"Hello."

Smiley's relaxed and ecstatic voice came over the phone. "Howdy, Boss."

"Smiley, what are you doing calling at this time of night," Brett's sleepy voice demanded. "Is everything okay?"

" _Night...?!_ Oh... it's 9 am in the morning here. Sorry, Boss. I just wanted to tell you, you were right about facing my fears. Jacqui's one heck of a woman. And guess what...?"

Brett was still shaking the sleep from his mind. "What?"

"We're pregnant. Well, Jacqui is. She did the test thingy this morning _and it's positive_."

"Oh, Smiley, I am so happy for you both. You deserve it," Brett exclaimed. "Pass on our congratulations to Jacqui."

When Brett returned to bed, he had a grin on his face.

"What was that all about?" Becky asked.

"That was Smiley."

" _Smiley?! At this time of night?! Are they all right?!_ "

"Yeah. He just wanted to tell me he got over his intimacy issues," Brett laughed.

" _What?!_ " Becky seemed confused.

"Jacqui's pregnant," he laughed again.

" _Wow! That's wonderful,_ " Becky exclaimed. "It's amazing what happens when we face our fears."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 65

Brett finished wiping the last of the dishes, while Becky put away the washing. Aunt Katie had cooked the meal, surprising everyone at her ability to find her way around the kitchen and the meal she'd cooked was unbelievable. Katie was reading a book in Braille, sitting contentedly on the lounge and when Becky strolled past with another armful of washing, she stopped and bent to kiss her aunt.

Katie smiled. "Thank you, Becky."

"I love you, Aunty."

"I love you too, Becky."

Becky continued on to the linen closet, but paused at Emma-Marguerite's door, peering in at her baby and found her fast asleep in her cot. Satisfied all was in order, Becky smiled warmly and closed the door again. Then finding the family linen cupboard, Becky unloaded her armful, neatly stacking the piles in their proper places, afterward making her way back to the kitchen but dwelling at the open door to the office. Staring at the computer from the doorway, a voice beside her made her jump.

"You need to start sometime. Now is as good a time as any," Brett challenged. "Face your fear."

She smiled back at her man and leaned into his embrace. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

"You've been staring at that computer every time you pass by it for days now," Brett chided. "The first step is always the biggest in any project."

Ambling into the office and running a finger over the screen as if she was checking it for dust, Becky stared at the keyboard whimsically. "I'm not sure I have what it takes to finish Dad's story," Becky admitted, probing Brett's face for reassurance.

"I know you have it, Becky. You just need to sit and concentrate. Majiv's creativity flows through your veins, too," Brett pulled out the chair and removed the plastic cover from the keyboard and pushed the _power_ button, with a _whirring_ noise indicating the start up process had begun. He pointed to the chair and Becky hesitatingly sat. Heading for the door, Brett left his wife to the story. "I'll make you a cup of tea and bring it in shortly," Brett added as he pulled the office door closed.

Becky stared at the screen and then configured a new document, trying to think. Half an hour passed, but the story wasn't coming and she was getting frustrated. Brett knocked and pushed open the office door, holding a steaming cup of tea and placed it on the table, noticing the blank page on the screen and the discouraged expression on Becky's face.

"I don't think I can do this, Brett. It's harder than I thought," her frustration sounded through.

Brett stood behind her and rubbed her tense shoulders. "You can't write a story from the outside. You have to live in it and _feel_ the emotions of each character from their point of view. When they feel pain, you have to feel their pain and then write so your reader can experience what the character is feeling. Whatever you write has to come from your heart, Becky. Now... _don't tell me about the words of your song. Let me hear the music of your heart._ "

Becky's mouth fell open. "That's beautiful, Brett. What about if _you_ write the story?"

"You can do it, Becky," Brett encouraged. "Write a love song for your parents," Brett kissed her head and pulled the door closed behind him again.

Becky recalled the last part of the story. Mouse was missing from the barge platform and Desapo had just entered the office to find that Tess and Katie had disappeared also...

*~*~*~*

Desapo pulled the office door closed behind himself and locked it, then made his way back to the hotel. His demeanour spoke of a man on a mission and as he broke into the hotel foyer in full stride, Gustav jumped with surprise by Desapo's appearance and shot him a quizzical glance.

"Did you forget something, Mr Desapo?"

Ignoring his comment, Desapo's concern piqued. "Have you seen Tess and Katie this morning?"

Gustav glanced at the wall clock before answering. "Why, yes, sir. They left for the office a little before 8 am this morning and just after the morning meal. Is anything wrong?"

Desapo sighed. "They've gone missing, Gustav."

Gustav's face wrinkled in concern. "Have they not taken to a delivery, Mr Desapo, and will return directly?"

"I don't think so, Gustav. They're both gone and the office was left open, something Tess or Katie would not do. Also, a table had been knocked over and left where it landed, another thing that they would not do. It appears as if force was used."

"It does sound very much out of character for the ladies, I do admit, sir," Gustav's concern was now aroused. Desapo headed for the door again and Gustav called after him, "I will phone the office, sir, to inform you if I locate them."

Desapo waved his hand over his shoulder as he strode for the main street, acknowledging Gustav's fading voice.

Pike's Cadillac Sixteen pulled up alongside the determined stride of Desapo, disturbing his thought process and stopping him mid gait. "How is your project fairing, Mr Desapo, or is it too early to determine?"

Desapo's crisp command shocked Pike. "Take me to see Draper...! Please... Mr Pike."

Pike threw open the door and Desapo climbed in.

"Anything wrong?" he enquired, dreading an answer and turning the vehicle around.

"One of my crew that I left on the work platform as a caretaker disappeared last night and my two office ladies have also disappeared this morning."

" _Goodness, Mr Desapo! Do you have any idea who is behind this?!_ " Pike questioned.

Pike's query started Desapo's logical mind processing, then he thumped the dash with his open hand. "Yes, Mr Pike, I know _exactly_ who is behind this," Desapo's face set in a cross expression... " _Bellaruse!_ "

Pike's blank gaze told Desapo he had no idea who Bellaruse was.

"I believe you know him as Van den Guys."

"Are you sure, Mr Desapo? Van den Guys has operated vessels along this coastline for many years."

"Yeah?! Well, tell me this..." Desapo replied angrily, "what does he transport?"

Pike stammered over his question and then had to concede he had no idea.

"I would hazard a guess that the crime rate along the sea lanes increased with the arrival of your... _Van den Guys_ ," Desapo ventured.

Pike's hands wrung the steering wheel nervously as he saw Draper's office come into view and then spoke again, "What did you say this gentleman's name was?"

" _Bellaruse!_ " Desapo spat.

"I am good friends with the local sheriff. If indeed your Bellaruse-Van den Guys is a wanted criminal, I dare say he will be more than interested in becoming involved. While you explain your plight to Mr Draper, I will engage Sheriff Dwyer," Pike proposed.

"Thanks, Pike," Desapo's attitude softened.

*~*~*~*

Tess' head ached like it did when a determined Lady Katrina spiked her lady-in-waiting's drink so she could go exploring aboard the _Riviera_ unencumbered by a chaperone. Through her aching temples and blurry vision, Tess could just make out Katie's unconscious figure lying on the wooden floor not two feet from her. Studying her surroundings, Tess conceded it appeared to be some kind of a jail cell, and judging by the sounds of lapping water, they were close to water. Tess tried to stand, but her feet had been chained together and the chains anchored to the wall, making movement nearly impossible.

"Katie...! Katie...!" Tess called in a whispered panic.

Katie groaned, her dark black hair tangled around her face. "O... h! W..where am I?" Katie demanded.

"I don't know," Tess' responded.

"Tess, are you all right?" Katie questioned, suddenly coming to her senses and noticing the heavy chains connected to her friend.

"Yes, I think so. Do you have any idea what happened?" Tess asked, hoping to understand the events which led to their imprisonment.

"I think we were abducted and then drugged," Katie tried to stand, but fell back to the hard wooden floor boards. Frustrated, she wrenched at the chains, trying to pull them from the wall, but all it did was rattle the steel against the wood and cause a sharp pain in her shoulders.

"It won't do any good," a voice called out from another part of the room. "The chains are solid in the wall."

The two girls jolted in fear at the sound of the voice. "Who are you?"

"My name is Jonathan Bridges."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 66

Becky rubbed the stiffness from the back of her neck and re-read the chapter again, worried it sounded a bit too cheesy and then checked the clock at the bottom of her computer screen. It was after midnight and the rest of the house was quiet. She jumped when a gentle _tap_ broke into the silence. The door opened and Brett stepped in.

"How's it going, honey? I wasn't sure whether you might've fallen asleep."

"No, but I've finished my first chapter," Becky reported, amazed and yawning softly.

" _Hey, well done!_ " Brett congratulated. "Can I have a read?"

Becky knew there was a lot of interest from friends and family over her ability to finish her dad's manuscript and with Brett being the chief editor of the biggest newspaper in the city, his trained eye would be invaluable to her. "I'm a little embarrassed with you reading it, Brett, and I'm not sure whether it is too cheesy," Becky admitted.

"Cheesy?!" Brett leaned over his wife's shoulder, reading from the computer screen.

"You know... predictable," Becky clarified.

Brett finished reading. "No, that seems great for a first effort. Who's Jonathan Bridges?"

Becky smiled, teasing her man, "If you're asking questions like that, then there is hope for the story yet."

Becky shut down the computer and stood and stretched, yawning, but halfway through a breath, Brett swooped her up in his arms and kissed her, stifling the yawn and igniting her passion. Then carrying her sleepy figure into the bedroom, he gently kicked the door closed... the night wasn't over for his budding Emily Hemingway.

*~*~*~*

Katarzyna stirred, feeling the warmth of the sun shining into her room, but it was still early and she could hear Emma-Marguerite playing in her cot next door and laughing to herself. It wouldn't be long before she would be demanding her mother's attention and her breakfast, but Katie hadn't heard the office door close until 12:30 am, figuring Becky had spent hours working on the manuscript and would be still asleep.

Finding her way into the kitchen, Katarzyna prepared the high chair and then Emma-Marguerite's breakfast. With everything ready, she walked quietly into the baby's room and picked her up from her cot, cuddling her and causing Emma-Marguerite to giggle with delight. Whispering quietly as they walked, the baby's coos filled the kitchen as Katie placed her in her high chair and began to feed her great-niece. After breakfast, Katarzyna changed the baby's diaper, then settled on the lounge to play together like two best friends.

Katarzyna awoke at a sudden movement as Becky kissed her forehead, with Emma-Marguerite asleep, cradled in her aunty's arms. "My, what time is it?" Katarzyna wondered, slowly re-entering the conscious world.

Becky took Emma-Marguerite from Aunty and cuddled her. "It's after 10 am, Aunty. Thank you for getting her up and feeding her, allowing us to sleep in. What would I do without you?"

"Did you get anything done on the story, Becky?" Aunty asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did," Becky replied, "and I think I have found the story thread."

"Wonderful, Becky! I look forward to hearing what you have done. I dare say Brett is eager for you to write, so I guess between him, me and Emma, we can take care of the household."

*~*~*~*

The sound of a heavy steel door _clanked_ and reverberated in the quiet, while Katie stared at the pocked face grinning maliciously at her from the other side of the bars.

"Lady Katrina, we finally meet. I do hope my men weren't too heavy handed with you, as I would hate to deliver you to my client in any bruised or damaged condition. He is quite particular about his _pretty_ things."

"Who are you and how do you know who I am?" Katrina demanded, glaring at the man who was treating her like a chattel.

"My name is Bellaruse, madam, but that is of little consequence to you and while your new owner will pay a high price for you, a pretty lady-in-waiting _,_ " Bellaruse pointed at Tess, "will be a bonus that will delight him even further. I do hope you will find living in Argentina to your liking," Bellaruse laughed maliciously.

Katrina, however, picked up a small water pail that had been filled for them to drink from and hurled it at the bars, emptying its contents over the man and _clanging_ loudly against the steel cage. On the other side of the bars, Bellaruse stood dripping, his face alight with anger.

" _You...!"_ he uttered angrily and then tapered off, realising she was tempting a beating and hopefully discouraging his sale to the Argentinean. "Very clever, Lady Katrina, but I can assure you, it won't work."

Bellaruse turned to leave and then turned back to face the feisty Katrina. "Oh...! By the way, your brother the earl sends his greetings. Since your father's death, he has instructed me to _do away with you,_ however, rather than killing you, I have procured a far better deal by selling you and then blackmailing the estate, subsequently taking everything your brother inherits. Ingenious, don't you think?"

" _What are you talking about?!"_ Katrina demanded, sitting with her feet still in chains.

"Oh, don't tell me you didn't know? The _Riviera_ had an altercation with Black Dean and it seems Black Dean won. Unfortunately, all souls were lost including your father, yet your brother was hoping you had also perished; but as you did not, he sent me to finish the job. It must be so nice having a... caring brother. Being a businessman, Lady Katrina, I can recognise an opportunity when one presents itself and you have walked straight into my hands. I will be a very rich man in a week or two, while you will be enjoying your new home."

Katrina was stunned at Bellaruse's malevolent speech. _Her father was a cruel man, but she never wanted him to die and what of her brother? He was always trying to push her out of the way, even as a child, and promote himself in his father's sight._

"Try to get some sleep, for tomorrow night we sail for Argentina," Bellaruse chided, wiping water from his clothes.

"Don't you think we will be missed, Bellaruse? We were working for Mr Parduck and he will have the police looking for us," Katrina threatened.

"Parduck? Oh, you mean the Desapo brothers. By the time they figure out anything, we will be well on our way to Argentina. It is a shame the Desapos didn't know who you were. Maybe they wouldn't have engaged in such a ridiculous effort to capture your emotions," Bellaruse scoffed. He turned to leave again and stopped next to Jonathan Bridge's cell. "You, sir, will get to see your friends once more... from the bottom of Black Dean."

Bellaruse threw him a contorted grin and then his eyes thinned in an angry glare.

*~*~*~*

With his face bruised and his eyes sporting two black eyes, Coban stood guard at the stairwell leading from the cutter deck down into the stores' area two levels below. Recanauf had beaten him savagely when he had fallen asleep at his lookout post and a passing ship had almost spotted the Comtesse, but now that Coban had heard everything that had happened when Bellaruse went down to the women imprisoned below, he smiled when Bellaruse walked out of the stairwell drenched in water.

"What are you laughing at?" Bellaruse's boot connected with his mid section and he buckled to the deck, gasping to refill his deflated lungs. "Get up and if you fall asleep at your post again, so help me, I will personally throw you into Black Dean tomorrow evening. _Get up!"_

Holding his injured stomach, Coban struggled to his post and watched Bellaruse walk off the deck along a gangplank and back into the sandstone tunnels. With his blackened eyes squinting in hatred, Coban uttered a murderous sigh.

*~*~*~*

Katrina silently mourned her father's death and as tears slipped from her dark eyes, trying to understand the treachery that had taken hold of her brother, she wondered how he could stoop to murdering his own father and sister and aligning himself with a cold blooded fiend like Bellaruse. And what did Bellaruse mean by Mr Parduck being one of the Desapo brothers and that it was a ruse to capture her emotions? Katrina's mind paused, pondering the handsome Magellan Desapo, conceding that under all that annoying pigheadedness, he was quite the charming gentleman.

Katie's realisation that she and Tess were about to be sold into some foreigner's harem and used as a pawn to blackmail her brother, brought a fresh round of grief, even if her brother deserved everything he got. She slumped her back against the wall next to Tess, frustrated and wondered how she could get word to Desapo... _but where were they?_

Tess was obviously tussling with the same emotions, her tear-stained face and shuddering shoulders giving testimony to her grief. Katrina was aware of Tess' feelings for Mr Parduck, or whoever he was, and how he had treated her with the utmost courtesy, something _she_ had never done and now she was feeling ashamed. Katrina reached over and took Tess in a hug.

"I know we will get out of this, Tess... somehow. I'm responsible for this mess and I won't give up until we are free."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 67

Neddy peered out across the water from the deck of the barge, realising Desapo had been gone for a long time and he was getting concerned. At last, Neddy spotted a small dot on the horizon, recognising the tug was on its way back to pick up the crew for the night. With Mouse's disappearance spooking the whole crew, Neddy had had to bawl harshly to get them working, but as much as he was talking to _them_ , his gruff rebuke found a place in his own hearing, too. The stone cutting had been a slow process as his frightened men grappled with the horrors of Mouse's unknown circumstances and with Jock's constant sniping, they hadn't finished a single foundation stone yet and Desapo wouldn't be happy.

Black Dean had gushed and roared all day long with its violent whirling motion, instilling further panic into the crew as they watched the monster from the safety of the deck. When the tide stopped running and Black Dean quieted, the silence was even spookier than when it was running. Black Dean's pause lasted for thirty minutes while the churning waters calmed and the turbulent mouth closed, giving the illusion of a deep sleeping kitten; until the outrunning tide deliberately disturbed the slumbering giant, propelling it into an angry and violent roar and stirring the mouth into a vicious prowling tiger.

Devouring anything that came within reach.

A shiver ran up and down Neddy's back, conceding that if Mouse's fate was somehow connected to Black Dean and if he'd fallen into it disorientated in the darkness, he wouldn't be coming back.

As the vessel came closer, Neddy could see Desapo standing on the bow of the tug, waving frantically. Waving back, Neddy strode to the rear of the barge to climb the ladder and start the crane, then let down the cage for Desapo to access the deck.

Just as he reached the first rung, a violent _rumble_ shook the stretching platform and as Neddy held on, the shaking intensified. Neddy shouted to the men to get away from the sides of the barge and hang on, hopefully preventing any more loss of life. If the determined shaking continued for any length of time or grew in intensity, the likelihood that the barge would dislodge, turn upside down and plunge into the sea became more obvious.

After witnessing Black Dean's violent shaking, Neddy was sure now how Mouse had disappeared. A rumble during the night would have frightened him senseless, causing him to investigate in the darkness. Stumbling on some obstacle, he would have lost his balance, falling overboard and the voracious mouth of Black Dean would have swallowed him alive. Neddy shuddered at his own thoughts and considered being alone out here at night when something like this happened, but as he tried to put himself in Mouse's shoes, the rumbling disappeared as quickly as it came.

" _Everybody okay?!"_ Neddy shouted.

Shakily and one by one, they called back, declaring their safety and presence. Satisfied they'd escaped unharmed, Neddy climbed the ladder to the crane and fired up the engine and within moments, Desapo was aboard.

"We've got trouble," Desapo announced, his face distraught. "Bellaruse has kidnapped the girls."

" _What?!"_ Neddy was enraged as he saw Tess in his mind's eye _._ " _If that piece of work harms even a hair of her head, I'll hunt him down even if it takes me the rest of my life!_ "

"Steady on, Ned. The police are involved and we have to get the crew back into town until we figure out what his game is. You can rest assured he wouldn't be too happy with us building Black Dean Lighthouse and if my gut feeling is correct, he will do whatever he can to stop us."

"You have another problem, Desapo," Neddy added.

"Oh, great, now what?"

"I think Black Dean is not happy."

"Come on, Neddy. You're starting to sound like one of my crew and their superstitions," Desapo moaned.

"Just before I let down the man cage for you to come aboard, the barge shook violently, like an earthquake and I thought we were all going to end up in the sea," Neddy stared into his little brother's eyes and held his gaze.

" _An earthquake?!_ " Desapo sounded dubious.

"Ask the crew if you don't believe me and what's more, I think that's how Mouse went missing. He came outside in the dark to investigate, tripped over something and ended up in your monster's mouth."

Desapo held Neddy's gaze, pondering his terrific story. "What do you suggest then, Neddy," Desapo complained. "Shut down the job?"

"If need be, for a while at least. First of all, we lock everything up as best we can, then clear everyone off the platform at night, with _no one_ —and I mean _no one_ —staying out here and particularly not alone. If I am right about Mouse, then Black Dean isn't stable and something serious is brewing beneath it. We might just be playing with the trigger of a time bomb."

Desapo winced. "I have everything I own tied up in this project and if I don't build this lighthouse, _I'll be ruined._ "

"Better to be ruined than dead. You have the lives of your crew to think of, too," Neddy urged.

"I'll be meeting Draper here in the morning, for him to open an investigation into Mouse's disappearance," Desapo sighed heavily. "This is becoming a nightmare."

"If the barge is still here in the morning...!" Neddy warned.

Desapo paused, staring daggers at his brother. " _Do you really think it's that bad?!_ "

"We'll know for sure in the morning, little brother. Let's get back to town and see whether the police have found out anything on the girls."

*~*~*~*

At the back of a secluded bay on Contention Island, the starlit outline of the Comtesse cast a dark shadow against the cliff face while the crescent moon, only a slither and down low on the eastern horizon, refused to rise any higher, protecting his movements, hidden against the dark sea. The lone figure pushed the beached long boat out into deeper water, careful to keep his head low and with the oars tucked inside the boat, the tiny craft broke out into the open water. The wind had died down as it did each night just after sundown, with the incoming tide aiding his attempt and taking him straight for his intended destination... freedom.

Hopefully, the lookouts wouldn't be able to see the small boat framed by the night and by the time he started rowing, he would be well out of hearing range. As the craft slipped silently out of the concealed bay and headed into the growing obscurity of open water's, he could just make out the lights of the distant settlement. Watching the cliff face for signs of movement, the current began to carry the insignificant vessel away from the island, stealthily drifting under the lookout's noses. Theoretically, once he was missed, he would be too far away to be brought back to the island, but he shuddered involuntarily as he pondered what they would do to him if they caught up with him. He had to complete his task and then disappear forever... or risk being hunted for the rest of his life if he failed.

Calculating he was far enough away to avoid detection, he sat up in the boat and scoured the horizon. The dark outline of Contention Island was growing smaller behind him and the lights of the settlement became brighter, yet he had no plan once he'd made landfall. Conceding he couldn't go to the police, and having heard the name _Desapo_ mentioned with disgust so many times, he figured that was who he would try to find. Vengeance burnt deep in his gut and one thing was for sure... he had a score to settle with Bellaruse.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 68

The mood in the dining room that night had turned dramatically mellow with both pretty ladies missing and Mouse's mysterious disappearance on everyone's mind. The sounds of cutlery on china were the only indication that human habitation was present, however, Desapo was nowhere in sight.

Neddy stared at his food, untouched and going cold while his mind filled with murderous thoughts toward Bellaruse, getting angrier as the time passed. _If he touches her, I swear I'll..._

"Mr Desapo?"

Neddy glanced up from his moping and stared into the eyes of a policeman, suddenly jumping up and sending his chair flying backwards and crashing upside down. " _Have you found them?!_ "

"No, sir, I am sorry. May I sit with you?" the policeman pointed to a chair and peered at Neddy's upturned seat lying upside down some distance behind him.

"Please," Neddy offered, and reached behind to retrieve his own. He turned it right side up and lowered his bulky frame. "How did you know my name?"

The policeman pointed toward Gustav and Gustav saw the gesture, blushing and leaving Neddy nodding unperturbed as he turned to face the official.

"I'm sorry about your missing employees. My name is John Leshun," the policeman began.

Neddy absentmindedly shook the man's hand over the table and his cooling supper.

"We seem to have made an important connection since your brother has positively identified Mr Bellaruse. I know it isn't any comfort to you at this point, but it does bring some clarity into a spate of disappearances and other felonies we hadn't experienced prior to Van den Guys' arrival. We've been busy conducting an investigation into Van den Guys' shipping business and it appears the address given for his headquarters is, in fact, a vacant block of land in a town on the other side of the country. Your brother tells me you each saw Bellaruse recently and he was trying to pass himself off as Van den Guys. Is that right?"

Neddy nodded, almost disinterested.

"If your brother's hunch is correct, then we have reason to suspect that Bellaruse is held up some place close by," Leshun waited for Neddy's response.

" _What hunch? He hasn't spoken of any hunch!_ "

"He explained the animosity between yourselves and Bellaruse and also alluded that you may have some damning evidence—on his past activities against you—that might see him locked away for a good stretch," Leshun eyed the big redhead, waiting for a reaction.

" _Yeah, but what's Desapo's hunch?!_ " Neddy face reddened with annoyance as the cop danced around his question.

Leshun sighed, conceding it had been long enough for Desapo to get into place. "He believes that Bellaruse wants to vandalise your operation out on the Barrett Passage," Leshun submitted.

"Yeah, I could have told you that," Neddy complained.

"Your brother is expecting Bellaruse to make an attack on your operation tonight and he and a few of my men have gone out to set an ambush for Bellaruse."

" _What?!"_ Neddy's chair went flying again as he sprang to his feet. _"The fool will get himself killed and your men along with him. That platform is unsteady and is likely to crumble into the sea. I already told him that there was something happening beneath Black Dean. Something really bad is about to take place!"_ Neddy fumed.

"Your brother has already signalled your concerns, Mr Desapo, and has assured me that Bellaruse is a greater threat, and to be frank, sir, I tend to agree."

" _Then you're as big a simpleton as my brother. I was onboard that vessel this afternoon when it shook and I know how much of a threat Black Dean is to the safety of that barge!"_ With Neddy's face as red as his passion, he stalked past Leshun and strode for the door.

" _Where are you going, Mr Desapo?!"_ Leshun spun around in his chair and called after Neddy.

" _To save that fool kid's neck!"_ Neddy shouted back. Stunned faces glared from the dining room, staring at Neddy's hulk flouncing out of the room.

Leshun's concern was also growing. _What if he'd assigned his men to a dangerous task that he didn't fully understand._ _"Wait up, Mr Desapo. I am coming with you!"_

*~*~*~*

"Raise the alarm!" Recanauf's bellow echoed through the tunnels.

"What's the meaning of this ruckus at this hour of the morning?" Bellaruse demanded, still buttoning his shirt.

"Coban is missing and one of the long boats is not at its mooring on the beach," Recanauf's eyes squinted.

"What do you think he's up to?" Bellaruse demanded.

"I think our young friend has vengeance on his heart after the... _attitude adjustment_ he received for falling asleep at his post yesterday," Recanauf conceded.

Bellaruse remembered the afternoon's confrontation with the bruised cutthroat and how he had crumpled at Bellaruse's boot, but there didn't appear to be a need to add his actions to the dilemma, causing Recanauf to challenge his already unsteady grip on power.

" _We need to abandon our hiding place now and make way toward Argentina!_ " Recanauf demanded _._ " _Coban will be spilling his bruised mouth to the authorities as we speak._ "

" _Are you mad?!_ " Bellaruse spat. " _Attempt Black Dean in the dark?!_ "

"If we stay here until sunrise, our secure place will become a dungeon and a trap to us. _We must move now! Or have you lost your nerve, Bellaruse?_ "

Bellaruse stared down Recanauf and drew his pistol from his shirt... forcing Recanauf to step back. "If you so much as _scratch_ the Comtesse getting her through Black Dean in the dark, I will dispatch you myself."

"You and your love affair with the Comtesse is pathetic," Recanauf retorted. "Go ahead and shoot an unarmed man. I am the only one that can get us through Black Dean safely. _Kill me and you kill yourself and everyone here._ "

Bellaruse knew he was losing the challenge and had to back down without losing face with his men. "Our time will come," Bellaruse deliberately set the challenge in the hearing of the crew and returned his pistol back in its holster. _"Prepare the_ Comtesse _,"_ Bellaruse bellowed, overriding Recanauf. "We will bring forward our plan to set fire to the Desapos' barge as we pass by and while we still have the cover of darkness."

*~*~*~*

A gentle tap startled Becky as Brett glanced around the office door and into the tense environment, with Becky's telltale expression divulging she was deep in the story.

"How's it going, honey?" Brett whispered.

She smiled, relieved for a chance to step back from the tension. "Things are really hotting up. But you can't read it until I have finished," she teased.

"Can you come out for a while? Smiley and Jacqui are here. They have some honeymoon photos to show us."

Becky's face broke into a grin as she closed down the computer, pushed her chair in and wrapped her arms around Brett. "Lead the way, sir."

Smiley and Jacqui appeared refreshed, with Smiley's demeanour like that of the king of the world and Jacqui had a peachy glow around her, too. Becky took Jacqui in a hug and then patted her stomach and spoke to it.

"Hello, little one. You're one lucky little baby, having parents like your mum and dad."

With the promise of honeymoon snaps and after much laughter and frivolity, Smiley set up his laptop and plugged it into a projector he had purchased duty-free. The Redden clan settled into their lounge room and soon Smiley's honeymoon antics were bringing raucous laughter to the household and some delighted embarrassment to Jacqui. Smiley described each picture at length to Katarzyna and she enjoyed the laughs too as she imagined each new image.

Then once coffee and refreshments had been served and the laughter had died down, Smiley turned to face Becky. "How's the book coming?"

Becky flushed with embarrassment. "I've finished a couple of chapters. In fact, I was writing when you arrived," Becky declared.

"So, do we get to hear a chapter?" Smiley glanced across at Brett, asking with his eyes whether it was any good.

Brett understood Smiley's unspoken question. Smiley's eyes had asked the same question a number of times in his office when he was fishing for compliments on his own work. Brett nodded enthusiastically and Smiley was impressed at his boss' endorsement.

Becky shook her head. "You'll have to wait until I have finished."

Smiley laughed. "I guess you will be looking for a job at the paper soon."

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 69

A forlorn figure removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. His eyes were tired and red from lack of sleep and his head was fuzzy from trying to piece together the latest dramas. Hoping tonight he might get something resembling a decent night's sleep, the figure reached across to the bedside lamp and flicked off the switch, plunging the room into deep darkness. Pulling the blankets up around his face, he fluffed the pillow from the edges in with his fists and tried to relax. Moments later, the shadowy visions of a dream played with his subconsciousness, stretching his breathing into a deep, drawing rhythm and leaving his mind hanging by a thread into two worlds until the thread unravelled, splayed and broke, spilling his awareness headlong into blissful sleep.

A stumble, a crash, a sudden movement and then a groan forced his eyes open... _someone was outside his window!_ With his heart pounding and trying to untangle the fingers of sleep wound around his mind, he reached under his bed and fumbled for the cold steel. Finding the comfort of the cylinder and then the wooden butt, he dragged the gun to his side, cranked the breech and loaded a killer shell. Waiting in the dark, he pointed the rifle at the window and listened.

The screen came away and dropped with a gentle _plunk_ to the ground outside, then the unmistakable sound of his bedroom window sliding quietly up against its tracks. Readying the light switch and keeping the gun trained on the silhouette of an intruder, he would wait until they were inside and within his sights, then dispatch them. He saw the figure teetering half in and half out, and like a jester in a comedy show, the figure overbalanced on the window sill and fell heavily to the floor with a _crash_.

The sudden brightness of light filled the tiny bedroom and the two men faced each other. " _Make any sudden moves and they will be your last!_ " the man with the rifle ordered.

The intruder raised his hands above his head and slowly hoisted himself to his knees. " _Don't shoot, mister! I ain't here to harm anyone. I'm just hungry,_ " the voice of a teenager squeaked.

" _Get up!_ " the man with the gun instructed as he eased himself out of bed. "What happened to your face?" the man demanded.

"If you give me something to eat, I'd be glad to tell you all about it," the teenager exclaimed.

Moments later, and with the gun following every move, the two figures sat around the table while the teenager hungrily devoured a plate of cold meat.

"Okay, tell me what's going on."

The teen eyed the gun, prompting the man to lower the barrel to face the floor.

"My name is Coban and I escaped from Contention Island. A man named Bellaruse is holding three people hostage onboard the Comtesse _de Bellious_ , a steam cutter anchored in a concealed harbour at the back of the island. The two women, he intends to sell to a rich man in Argentina and the man, he intends to throw into Black Dean on the way through the passage tomorrow afternoon. I was one of his lookouts, but I fell asleep at my post and another man, his second in charge, beat me unconscious."

The man with the gun eyed the teen warily, with Coban returning his stare over a roast beef bone. "Do you know these men?" Coban asked.

"Yes, son. I know them, all right. My name is Robert Draper. Have you heard of me?"

Coban shook his head. "Should I?"

"I am the Provincial Legislative Commander for the National Shipping Board. Anything to do with the sea is my responsibility," Draper's jowls flapped.

"Well, then, have I got a story for you. I can tell you _exactly_ what happened to the _Riviera_ and others."

"I'm all ears," Draper smirked, finally getting his break.

*~*~*~*

Leshun was finding Neddy's impassioned steps hard to keep up with as he strode for the dock. Ahead of the policeman, Neddy boarded the second tug tied up to the dock, and noticed lights permeating into the night through portholes in the cabin walls and grabbed the wheelhouse entry door, frightening two crew members playing cards directly inside, when he reefed the door open.

" _Mr Desapo?!_ " one of the crew exclaimed.

"Where's the skipper? We have to get out to the barge immediately," Neddy ordered.

"He's below decks in his cabin," the crewman explained.

" _Get him up here!_ " Neddy ordered.

*~*~*~*

Barely visible from his hiding place on the platform's deck, the dark outline of the anchored tug reflected a starlit silhouette and when a breeze whipped across the work area, sending granite dust swirling into Desapo's eyes and mouth, he blinked rapidly, trying to dislodge the dirt and clear his vision. Crunching on grit, Desapo's distracted thoughts turned to Neddy, pondering his brother's ire once he'd realised Desapo had hidden out on the barge, directly disobeying his command not to have anyone on the deck at night. Desapo sighed, he'd have to deal with Neddy later, but at the moment a greater threat had taken precedence over Neddy's temper and it was Desapo's responsibility to protect his investment from Bellaruse's treachery.

Desapo also suspected if he found Bellaruse, he would find Katie and Tess. The thoughts of the black haired Katie ambled into his mind, remembering the evening they'd shared in the diner just a few nights ago. The way her dark eyes sparkled and the fine lines of her near perfect face, accentuated by glistening white teeth when she smiled and her perfume that had haunted him for hours afterwards. She was very pleasant to be around when she dropped her snooty facade and Desapo found it hard to resist her charms; but not knowing whether she was safe was proving to be a harder thought to bear than he anticipated. Desapo's eyes thinned into slits and his fist tightened around the small pistol he was holding. He had to agree with Neddy that if Bellaruse harmed the girls in any way, he would probably join forces with his brother and hunt him down once and for all.

Trying to shake the protective thoughts, Desapo scoured the deck, leaning his back against a stack of granite with the big crane's silhouette standing impressively against the starlit background and leaving the appearance of the huts ghost-like against the black outline of the horizon. Black Dean gurgled and swirled and at times, it roared like a crazed animal. A demon tethered to a chain, violently screaming to be freed and hungry for blood. Desapo swallowed hard, knowing there were five other men on the deck with him yet he was still feeling uncomfortable with the noises in the darkness, while Mouse had been alone with this monster. Neddy's theory on Mouse's disappearance made a lot of sense now that Desapo was in Mouse's shoes, but he tried not to think about Mouse and his fate.

Desapo felt a little vibration run under his feet, as if the deck was moving. Then a violent shaking erupted, _screeching_ and _groaning_ in the darkness as if metal was twisting and being torn apart. The granite stack began to move, forcing Desapo to dive from its swaying trajectory as a two ton block dislodged from the top of the stack and crashed violently to the deck, narrowly missing him. The noise was deafening, while the big crane jib rocked violently and the hook swung from side to side like a metronome keeping in time with the movement of the deck. Desapo began to think he'd made a giant mistake disobeying Neddy's command, but then just as quickly as it came, the shaking stopped.

A huge hissing _scream_ came from the direction of Black Dean and then the sound of large amounts of water being hurled high into the sky and splattering down on the sea surface, with the chilling spray drifting across the deck and showering the men as Black Dean settled back again.

Panicking, Desapo cried out into the darkness, hoping he would get five replies. _"Is everyone all right?!"_ his voice echoed across the deck. A chorus of shaking voices disturbed the night air and as all called back, Desapo breathed a sigh of relief, but his fear was increasing and it appeared Neddy was right.

Whatever was happening with Black Dean was not good.

After experiencing Black Dean's screech and the shaking, Desapo himself doubted the barge would survive the night.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 70

The house was quiet and the hour was late when the bedroom clock _chinked_ and a new number displayed: 3:32 am. Brett's rhythmic breathing told Becky he was deeply asleep, but rest escaped her and she tiredly rolled over on her back, staring at the darkened ceiling. While shadows danced across the room, illuminated by the soft light of the clock, frustration mounted as Becky invited sleep but it refused to visit, with the story alive, chasing any thought of refreshing slumber away from her mind and out of her head. Wide awake, she sighed quietly while her creativity silently wrote another chapter.

Driven on by the characters calling from the pages of her father's book, Becky eased her feet over the side of the bed and stood gently, trying not to disturb Brett. She held her breath as Brett stirred and then rolled over and went back to sleep. Grabbing for her dressing gown lying over the nursing chair, Becky quietly slipped her arms through the holes and pulled it closed around her waist, tying the straps, holding the gown closed against the morning chill and then located her pink fluffy slippers in the corner by the chair and slid her feet into their comforting warmth.

Reaching for the door, she twisted the doorknob slowly and pulled the door ajar, but the door _creaked,_ sounding like a jet airliner landing in the quiet room. Holding her breath, Becky glanced back at her sleeping husband and waited, hoping he hadn't heard the noise and when he showed no signs of stirring, she pulled the door open completely, holding the knob twisted in her hand. Once she was on the other side and the door closed off the bedroom, she released the knob and it twisted closed. Thankfully, Brett hadn't been disturbed and her writing desk was in reach.

The passage was dark except for a nightlight left on to give a gentle glow, enabling Becky to attend to Emma-Marguerite when she wouldn't settle. Reaching for the office door and pushing it open, Becky flipped on the switch, flooding the room with artificial daylight. Squinting against the sudden stinging attack on her eyes, she pressed the computer power button and quickly closed the door, leaving the rest of the house undisturbed while she waited for her eyes to adjust to the light. Minutes passed as the computer went through its start up ritual, demanding passwords until the blank page of chapter seventy stared challengingly back at her.

Okay, Becky, what are you going to type on me?

Staring at the screen, it didn't take long for Becky to pick up the story thread...

*~*~*~*

Once again, Desapo peered down off the deck of the barge and into the pitch darkness where the anchored tug was waiting and only just visible against the sea's gloomy background. Thoughts of surrendering his mission and saving the lives of those waiting in ambush aboard the barge crossed his mind, but by now Neddy would be ranting like a runaway train, especially since he was right about Black Dean, giving him another excuse to scold Desapo. Figuring another violent rumble like the one they'd just experienced would be the death knell for the barge, Desapo acknowledged that if they were still onboard, they would die with it, leaving his resolve to falter and consider abandoning the trap.

At this late stage, Desapo couldn't do anything about saving the valuable equipment, taking full daylight and high tide to manoeuvre the hulking platform off the Barrett Passage wall and besides, it would take the power of both tugs pulling in unison to dislodge the colossal barge. He sighed loudly, with the weight of indecision pressing down on him, giving away his position hidden in the dark. The barge's owner would probably sue him for the loss of the hired equipment and bankrupt him forever, unless he could salvage anything to lessen his debt. Things didn't look that bright, with Desapo wondering whether going down with the barge wasn't the better prospect.

He was still deep in his depressive thoughts when a whistle broke the silence... the signal.

Rising to his knees, Desapo glanced over the granite block unceremoniously dumped onto the deck while the barge was shaking and focused on the darkness, scouring the gloom to locate the source of the whistle. But then to the south of the barge, a powerful spotlight divided the darkness and focused on the passage wall some distance away, divulging the presence of a vessel trying to pick its way through the passage at night. Desapo watched, dumfounded, wondering what would push a person to attempt such a desperate and dangerous ploy in the pitch darkness, with certain disaster waiting once they met the mouth of Black Dean. He repositioned himself to get a better view over the approaching vessel, hearing the _chuff_ of a labouring steam engine engaging and disengaging drive as it tried to steer a course clear of the passage walls.

*~*~*~*

" _Turn that light off, you idiot!_ _Don't you know how far even a weak light travels at sea? Someone in Africa could see that at night,"_ Bellaruse barked, chiding Recanauf severely.

A powerful search light, mounted on the wheelhouse roof, could be turned by a handle protruding into the wheelhouse and aimed anywhere in a 360 degree position. Recanauf flicked the switch mounted on the helm to _off_ and the passage fell into darkness.

"How do you propose I am to see where we are going if you don't want your precious Comtesse scratched?" Bellaruse's stare was matched with Recanauf's.

"I will be glad when we are out of Black Dean's grip. How far is it before we are on top of it?"

Recanauf flashed the powerful light back on and focused the beam, searching the passage wall until it rested on the towering crane looming over the deck of the gargantuan barge. "Two miles, I estimate."

Bellaruse smiled when he saw the spotlight reflecting the barge's superstructure, ordering his crew into positions, ready for an arson attack. _"Get the paraffin bottles ready and fit the wicks!"_ Bellaruse ordered. "We'll finish off the Desapos once and for all and after we're done burning their equipment to the surface of Black Dean, they won't be able to afford to _draw_ a picture of a lighthouse, let alone build one.

*~*~*~*

Desapo quickly dove for the protection offered by the granite block as the searchlight swept past and illuminated the crane, sending crazy shapes dancing over the deck and hoping the powerful beam hadn't unearthed their hiding places in the process. However, the big light blinked out once again and as the globe cooled, the light resembled an ember in a dying fire, pressed against the darkness. Desapo breathed a sigh of relief when the vessel kept coming and her engine tone remained unchanged, but many times the searchlight flicked on and off, figuring they were trying to see where they were going without being detected.

Abruptly, the engine stopped and then changed note as it came closer, the tone eventually increasing until it screamed at full throttle in reverse. Desapo watched in horror as Black Dean drew the vessel closer and closer, but the cutter's engine was no match for the powerful whirlpool, drawing its prey inch by inch into its deadly mouth.

As the labouring vessel came into full view, he could see shapes on the deck and then hundreds of little fires lit in bottles. It didn't take Desapo long to realise the bottles were fire bombs, ready to be deployed against the barge and wreak havoc with the deck.

A _shot_ rang out from the barge deck and one of the bottles _exploded_ , sending fire spilling across the deck of the Comtesse. The men struggled against the flames and managed to extinguish it, while the big searchlight blinked on again and washed over the deck to the barge.

Bellaruse's voice echoed across the darkness, _"Mr Desapo, it is a dangerous game you play."_

Just then, Tess' and Katie's faces were illuminated as they leaned against the rail of the forward deck.

" _As you can see, I have your lady loves and if you continue with the defence of the barge, we will dump them into Black Dean. The choice is yours."_

Bellaruse had a pistol drawn and was hiding behind Tess and Katie, and even from his hidden position, Desapo could see the panic on their faces. As Desapo watched, planning his next move, Black Dean drew the Comtesse inch by inch, dragging the cutter forward into its swirling mouth while the panicked movements of the skipper, fighting against the whirlpool, were also easily seen from the deck.

Desapo stood and held his hands above his head _. "Let the women go and you can do whatever you want with me and the barge,"_ Desapo's voice rattled against the sound of the screaming engine. He figured Bellaruse was about to meet his end and so he had to get the women out of Bellaruse's hands before they perished along with him.

Just then, the bow of the Comtesse hit the mouth of Black Dean and spun the stern into the passage walls, making a chilling _screeching_ noise that echoed up and down the passage, tormenting Desapo's ears as the wall tore open the steel hull.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 71

Consumed by the drama unfolding on the story's pages, Becky jumped when a sharp _rap_ came at the door and Brett's face appeared around the door frame, whispering hoarsely, "What are you doing, honey? It's 5 am." Brett's bleary eyes squinted against the light.

"Sorry, honey, I couldn't sleep. Black Dean was calling me and I needed to get back into the story."

Brett sniffed sleepily. "Can I see what you've done?"

Becky nodded and watched her man close the door and walk around behind her chair. She scrolled the page back to the top of chapter 70 and he began to read, then after a while he patted her shoulder and kissed her head. "It's good. But do you have to write in the middle of the night?"

"If I don't write when I get the inspiration, I could lose something valuable," Becky's eyes implored.

"Okay. But are you coming back to bed now?"

Nodding reluctantly, she reached over and closed the chapter and exited the computer, gesturing for him to pick her up. Effortlessly, her tiny frame boosted from the chair as Brett carried his pride and joy back to bed. The door to the bedroom gave a gentle _plunk_ as the latch found its place, closing off the rest of the house.

Becky's dreams were full of Tess and Katie, with their desperate plight worrying the story teller. She awoke with a start, concerned for her two favourite female characters, then glanced around the bedroom, disorientated. Brett was already up and the bedroom was alive with sunlight while voices drifted into her room and when she glanced at the clock, it was already after 10 am.

"My goodness, I've slept in," she panicked, throwing off the blankets and dressing swiftly, but in her haste to open the bedroom door, it slipped from her hands and crashed against the wall, announcing her arrival.

Three stunned faces turned toward her, pausing in mid speech. Emma and Katie were discussing something, sitting together on the lounge while Emma-Marguerite lay across Aunt Katie's and Grandma's lap.

"Hello, sweetheart," Emma greeted.

"Hi, Mum," Becky answered groggily. "How long have you been here?"

"A couple of hours."

"Sorry, I got engrossed in writing earlier and I slept in," Becky apologised.

Emma-Marguerite lazily lifted her arms toward her mother to pick her up, already having had the attention of both older ladies, now she decided to make the best of both worlds. Becky grinned affectionately at her beautiful daughter and rushed forward to cuddle her.

"Bathed and fed," Aunt Katie explained.

"I love you guys so much. Thank you," Becky replied, bouncing Emma-Marguerite on her hip.

"How's the story going, sweetheart?" Aunty asked.

"I'm right in the middle of the exciting bit, but I'm not going to give away the story. What time did Brett leave?"

"The four of us had breakfast together," Emma laughed, "then he went to work."

"He's such a wonderful man," Becky sighed.

"If you show us what you want done, we can attend to the house and you can go and finish your story," Emma offered, clapping her hands together to gain Emma-Marguerite's attention and then gently lifted her from Becky's hip. Emma-Marguerite didn't mind which one of her favourite ladies cuddled her, as long as someone was and she happily went back to Grandma.

While the sound of the vacuum cleaner outside her door soon dissipated and the noise went to another part of the house, Becky opened chapter 71 and stared at the screen before finding the thread again...

*~*~*~*

Desapo stood anxiously on the edge of the barge, staring down at Tess and Katie helplessly imprisoned by Bellaruse, when Katie caught his eye in the half-light and her frightened pleading eyes begged him to do something to rescue her and Tess from their hopeless situation. She held on desperately to the cutter's deck railing, trying to remain upright as the Comtesse began to self-destruct in Black Dean's enormous swirling jaws.

An abrupt and disorientating sound behind Desapo confused the man and destroyed the silence when the platform generator burst into life, flooding the deck with brilliant and painful eye-straining light. The beam of large deck lights also spilled over the flailing Comtesse and flooded Black Dean's anger, giving a clear indication of the monster's intention.

A _shot_ rang out, forcing everyone to duck for cover as Bellaruse stumbled forward, knocking both Katie and Tess overboard and into Black Dean's mouth. The girls' screams were soon muffled, disappearing beneath the swirling water, while Bellaruse's body melted over the edge and plopped lifeless into Black Dean's waiting jaws as a bullet signed off on his heart. While he lowered the smoking pistol to his side, the cold calculating stare of Recanauf watched Bellaruse disappear overboard.

From out of nowhere, Neddy sprinted across the deck past Desapo's position and dove head first off the deck and into Black Dean's whirlpool. Desapo yelled at him to stop, but his body disappeared below the swirling waters and without so much as a moment's thought, Desapo followed his brother, diving desperately into the swirling death.

The grinding hull of the Comtesse spun faster and faster in Black Dean's whirlpool, throwing bodies into its voracious mouth as it gained speed until she seemed to accept her fate, listing bow up and sinking beneath the waterline, joining Bellaruse in his watery grave.

Seconds later, the crane engine started and the man cage was lowered, holding stationary just above the whirlpool, hoping any survivors could grab a hold of the cage and be winched to safety. Reflected in the work lights, the walls of the passage were clearly visible and the raging whirlpool began to settle into calm... the bottom of the tide had arrived and Black Dean's fury hissed and subsided into defeated sleep.

The policemen searched the calm deep black water, looking for any signs of life, but sheer terror rose up in their stomachs as they came to terms with the carnage that had just taken place and disappeared from view, leaving no trace. The seconds ticked past and time stood still as anxious rescuers watched and waited... but then like the sound of a breeching whale, Neddy surfaced with an unconscious Tess in his arms. Hauling her into the man cage and turning her on her side, Neddy felt her pulse and signalled to the crane to haul her up. Satisfied she would be alright, he took four large breaths and then duck-dove back down and disappeared into the calm black depths. Soon after, Tess was safely on deck and the police officers were working on her, clearing her airways and getting her breathing again properly while the man cage was lowered back to the water, just high enough to be reached from Black Dean's surface.

Two more figures abruptly broke the surface. Desapo had Katie and she was gasping and coughing heavily while Desapo held onto the man cage, catching his breath and then with a brutish shove and no apology, he pushed Katie up on to the man cage with as much exertion as he could muster. Katie coughed up water and gasped for air as she lay on the cage floor, with Desapo treading water and signalling the crane to hoist her to safety.

" _Where's Neddy?!"_ Desapo's impassioned voice called.

A policeman mimed a dive and with Desapo acknowledging his action, wiped away the water running from his nose, took a couple of deep breaths and disappeared beneath Black Dean again.

With Katrina safely onboard and the cage returned over Black Dean, Neddy surfaced with an unconscious man gripped under his arm. Neddy gasped for air and pushed the man into the cage with all the strength he could marshal, but immediately noticed the water around his body beginning to agitate again... _Black Dean was waking up!_

Hoisting himself into the cage's safety, Neddy sprawled against the steel sides while the water began to swirl faster under the suspended cage. Catching the eye of a police officer, Neddy shouted up at the deck, _"Where's Desapo?!"_ but when he pointed at Black Dean, Neddy's exhausted figure stood and prepared to dive again.

Black Dean began to swirl faster, hungrily feasting on the carnage and as Neddy was about to join his brother, perhaps in the final pages of his life, an arm appeared in the middle of the monster's mouth as if it was savouring a tasty morsel.

Neddy stretched himself from the cage, trying to grasp the desperate gesture for help, but he was just out of reach. He shifted his weight to the opposite side of the cage, then rushed to the other, making it swing. Again and again, he swung the cage and when he was just about on top of the arm, he dropped to the cage's floor and grasped the arm like a vice, ceasing the swing as if it had been stopped by an anchor rope. Desapo's body heaved from the jaws of Black Dean and landed heavily into the man cage while Neddy fell beside his brother, exhausted. Desapo wasn't breathing and he was turning blue, prompting Neddy to gesture wildly for the crane to hoist them up as he worked on Desapo, frantically trying to get him breathing again. As the crane hoisted the three men up onto the barge, the policemen rushed in to assist but it soon became obvious... Desapo wasn't responding.

*~*~*~*

## Chapter 72

The scene inside the kitchen was surreal. Desapo lay on the table, his body pummelled as the policemen took turns at performing heart massage; but with Desapo's colour approaching a deathly grey, Neddy turned his head and walked out of the kitchen, not wanting to witness the final breaths of his little brother and break down in front of Tess.

Walking away and stumbling to the deck, Neddy took refuge behind a stack of granite and slumped to his knees, weeping. " _Please, God, don't take him from me!_ "

Neddy flinched, when he felt the warmth of a small gentle hand on his back, realising someone was kneeling beside him, wrapping him in their embrace while a cold shivering voice warmed his heart.

"I'm so sorry, Neddy," Tess whispered.

Neddy's heart burst at the gentle words and his big frame shuddered in the arms of the woman he loved.

Katie watched in horror as the men tired from trying to keep Desapo's body alive and his colour began to drain even more. In an act of total desperation, she took hold of his hand and chided him. "Don't you _dare_ give up on me, Magellan Desapo! No man has ever stolen my heart like you have. _Please don't give up,_ " Katie whimpered. "For me... please don't leave me!" Katie pleaded, tears running down her face.

*~*~*~*

A _patter_ at the office door startled Becky and she quickly wiped her eyes, answering the enquirer with a shaky voice. "Come in."

Aunty opened the door. "I am sorry to bother you, dear, but I think Emma-Marguerite might need to see a doctor."

Becky gasped and shoved her chair back in haste, searching for her baby. Emma-Marguerite lay in Aunty's arms with her pain-filled face flushed and hot, and a tiny fist rolled up in her mouth, chewing down hard. Tears welled up in the baby's eyes and a slight rash displayed across her chin, drooling profusely. Becky sighed with relief, suspecting the culprit by running her finger across Emma-Marguerite's gums, eventually finding a sharp little tooth trying to push its way into position.

"Her first tooth has made its presence felt, Aunty," Becky took Aunty's finger and rubbed it across Emma-Marguerite's gums, with Aunty's face taking on a relieved gesture, too.

"Teething. Poor little darling," Aunty kissed Emma-Marguerite.

"Yeah, for some reason she's been late in getting her teeth. I'll give her something to ease the pain," Becky assessed, and wriggled past Aunty, heading for the kitchen. "I am making a cup of coffee as well, Aunty. Would you like one?"

"Thank you, Becky," Aunty called after her, making her way into the kitchen and cuddling the baby.

Soon after, Becky closed the door to her office, pulled in her chair and settled back to write. Staring at the computer screen, she read the last entry into the story and sighed.

"I need to take some of that out and reorganise that line..."

The text on the screen did a little dance as she copied and pasted some words and deleted others. "There, that reads better."

Satisfied with the rewrite, she continued...

*~*~*~*

One of the policemen cried out, "He's got a pulse and it's getting stronger!"

They rolled Desapo on his side and waited for the inevitable, when a stream of water purged from his lungs and then he gasped in a huge breath. Coughing and spluttering, his eyes were weak and tired as his body filled with pink life once more.

Hearing the cheers and closely followed by Tess, Neddy rushed for the kitchen and burst in, to see his little brother grinning sickly back. Overcome with relief, Neddy grabbed his brother in a hug. _"Don't you 'ever' do what I tell you?!"_

Desapo shook his head weakly. "If I had, we would be in a right pickle now." Desapo reached for Katie's hand. "Besides, I think my reasons to disregard your orders have paid off."

A face appeared into the kitchen and grinned at Desapo.

" _Mouse!_ _Where on earth did you come from?!_ " Desapo rasped, but getting stronger.

"It appears from the bottom of Black Dean and under Neddy's smelly armpit," Mouse laughed, teasing Neddy.

Tess glanced up at Neddy, looking for confirmation. "I thought you said your name was Jonathon Bridges?"

Mouse smiled big. "It seems that pirates are afraid of Black Dean's moans and groans, too. They came onboard that night looking to do some serious damage, but found me and took me prisoner just before Black Dean shook the foundations of the barge. I've never seen a group of men run so fast and in the dark, too. I thought they were going to drop me at one stage."

"Speaking of which, Neddy, you were right," Desapo conceded. "Something is really upsetting Black Dean and we need to get off this thing before it really cracks open. We had a huge earthquake earlier on, large enough to dislodge a granite block from the top of the stack, then water sprayed high into the air. I heard it raining down on the surface of the sea and it was frightening, even in the dark," Desapo exclaimed.

The first rays of dawn were just appearing on the eastern horizon as Neddy shut down the generator, plunging the deck into semidarkness. Mouse had the crane running and waited for Neddy to join the others in the man cage, with one tug having already departed for Lightning Harbour, while the other waited for passengers coming aboard via the man cage. With passengers safely aboard, Mouse shut down the crane and ran across the deck to an access rope ladder dangling into the sea, while the tug waited by the rope, holding itself in position with the engine. Mouse lunged for the tug deck, landing heavily, and when the skipper observed his harsh arrival, he steered the tug for Lightning Harbour.

As four people stood on the aft deck, holding onto the railing and watching the barge becoming smaller, Neddy wrapped his arms around Tess as she shivered in the early morning chill. She leaned back into his tender embrace, enjoying his warmth.

Katie, however, glanced across at Tess and Neddy and then turned to Desapo. " _Mr Desapo, I am cold!_ "

Desapo didn't need any more prodding and wrapped Katie in his arms and for the first time in her life, she enjoyed the pleasure of being close to a man.

Desapo watched the barge crane growing smaller in the distance and whispered, "Goodbye, old friend."

Katie spun in his arms to face him. "What do you mean by that?"

Desapo sighed. "I have a feeling next time I come out here, the barge will be gone and Black Dean will have swallowed it. Everything I've worked so hard for will be gone and I will be bankrupt. I had intended to ask you to marry me, but I can't ask you to marry a pauper."

Katie beamed. "My name is not Katie. It's Katrina. _Lady_ Katrina, in fact, and my father is... _was..._ a wealthy duke."

Desapo pulled away from Katie. "Well, if that's true, then I certainly have no right to ask you anything."

Katie drew back into his arms. "I can assure you, Magellan, it is true and if you will not propose to me, then I'll be left no choice but to propose to you. Now which will it be?"

Neddy broke the silence. " _Come on, cranky._ For reasons I'll never understand... the lady wants to marry you. Just open your mouth and ask her, then we can have a double wedding."

*~*~*~*

Becky turned the finished book over in her hands. Brett had arranged the printing and editing and had brought it home and presented it to her in front of friends and family. The cover had a silhouette of a lighthouse and its beam ran through the beautiful face of a young woman. _The Secrets of Black Dean Lighthouse_ proudly displayed across the cover. As she pondered the book, Becky remembered the incredible journey she had embarked on and the discoveries that had changed her life so profoundly. She held the book to her heart, listening to a voice and nodded her understanding. "I will always remember you and your struggles. Thank you for all you did for me, Mum and Dad."

Black Dean Lighthouse had at last divulged all of its secrets.

THE END

###

*~*~*~*

Author's note

G'day,

Thank you for reading _The Secrets of Black Dean Lighthouse_.

There are many skeletons that parents hide from their children, especially things that may not serve the parents' interests, leaving a child struggling with baggage and no idea why. I have been intrigued for many years by a close friend's recurring nightmares that have haunted them for as long as I have known them. There doesn't seem to be any reason for the described visits and I suspect, through casual comments from their other siblings, it appears they were the product of a direct post-abortion pregnancy. The description of the nightmares led me to investigate the possibility of the horrors of an abortion leaving a story imprinted on the womb wall and transferred to a post-abortion gestation. Much like entering a house where a massacre has occurred, you can feel something is not right.

This attitude, although circumspect, does explain some of the inveterate themes of terror replayed in the nightmares. Unexplained—and in some cases, irrational—fear seems to have a place in this thought as well. These ideas, at some point, are believed to be possible according to the scant, obtuse literature available. This research, however, appears to be in its infancy and to make a tangible provable case is still being developed. Hopefully, someone will undertake a convincing study and release it in its entirety to the public at large, before it is stifled under immense pressure from agitating groups and governments with a vested interest in killing innocent, God ordained and created lives growing in the Holy of Holies— _the mother's womb._

At any rate, it is known that a mother's post-abortion depressive situation can—and does—cause serious issues for the development of the brain in children born to a post-abortion womb. It would be interesting and enlightening to conduct an exhaustive study using the warnings and wisdom in Papa's Word as the terms of reference, to collect and substantiate the effects on children born to a post-abortion womb and its suspected far ranging effects. Just a side observation: my friend's older siblings don't appear to have been affected by any similar reappearing themes.

For any serious Christian family—or any family for that matter—to kill a baby in the womb is to drive a stake into Papa's heart and poke a finger in the eye of the celestial gift giver, thus aligning ourselves with the detestable Chemosh, Satan's infant killer of ancient times.

Papa God has not bequeathed his sole right to _anyone_ to give and take life, regardless of what we are told by Satan's advocates as _our choice._

Papa has not changed his mind on this fact.

All human life is still sacred.

Having said that, there is always unconditional forgiveness through the acceptance of Jesus Christ, if we ask, for those who have made this error and Papa will even reunite mother and child in His paradise, no questions asked.

To those who have been given the gift of children, please see them in the light your ultimate gift giver intended them to be. A child, although difficult at times, is not an inconvenience that has to be put up with, or a drain on your retirement savings. It is a little reflection of you, for whom you are responsible to God for, and is made in His image.

In any case, regardless of this specific avenue of the abortion issue, research clearly shows an abortion does have far ranging negative effects, not only for the woman, but for her present and future family, too. I hope this has challenged you to investigate this idea for yourself, or at the very least given you food for thought as it did for me.

How will you answer a close friend seeking your guidance, from a Biblical perspective, whether she should terminate her pregnancy?

Most importantly, _what does Papa expect?_

Jack

*~*~*~*

About the Author

Jack Dey, born to adventure, lives in the beautiful rainforest of tropical North Queensland, Australia. He has four loves in his life: Jesus; The Editor (his wife of 30 something years); writing adventure novels; and the _Sand Flea_. _The Secrets of Black Dean Lighthouse_ is Jack's fourth novel. He is also the author of MAHiNA _;_ Paradise Warrior _;_ Aunt Tabbie's Wings _;_ The Legend of Ataneq Nanuq _,_ The Valley of Flowers _and_ La Belle Suisse _._ As this updated edition goes to publishing, his new novel, Zero, is being written and is soon to be released. Jack writes only to please Papa God and considers his writing a ministry, demanding nothing from the reader for his e-books. If you like Jack Dey's books and would like to support his ministry, please consider praying for the team at Jack Dey and telling your friends about his other titles. New books are constantly being written with the intention of being a pencil in Jesus' hand and bringing joy and encouragement to you, the reader.

*~*~*~*

Connect with Jack

Thank you for reading my book. I enjoyed writing it for you. If you enjoyed reading _The Secrets of Black Dean Lighthouse,_ please tell your friends and take a moment to leave a comment at Smashwords or at my web site JackDey.com. Please also _like_ my Facebook page. I invite you to read my other novels, MAHiNA; Paradise Warrior, Aunt Tabbie's Wings, The Legend of Ataneq Nanuq _,_ The Valley of Flowers _, and_ La Belle Suisse _._ Click for an exclusive preview of my next novel, Zero, which is currently being written and soon to be released. I invite you to connect with me online, leave a comment or review and that is where you will find out more: JackDey.com

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*~*~*~*

Discover Other Titles by Jack Dey

MAHiNA

Paradise Warrior

Aunt Tabbie's Wings

The Legend of Ataneq Nanuq

The Valley of Flowers

La Belle Suisse

Zero

*~*~*~*

Exclusive Preview of Jack Dey's Novel

MAHiNA

Things are not always what they seem.

A compelling novel of mystery and exotic intrigue loosely based on historical fact.

The faded blue paintwork of the converted trawler, _Annemarie,_ made him wince, but he couldn't afford to paint her again. She was a sixty foot, forty year old fishing boat and in her heyday, she was the fastest and tidiest vessel in the northern fleet. Since the government had cracked down on the fishing industry and developed great allotments of marine park in the lucrative fishing grounds of the greater north eastern coast and Torres Strait, Damon and most of the other vessel owners had fallen on hard times. His misfortunes continued until he had to sell his fishing licence, just to keep his beloved _Annemarie_.

He peppered his disdain for his demise with large, toxic amounts of alcohol that should have killed any other man and in the morning, he was clear headed again and at the helm. Damon was known amongst his peers as a tough, no nonsense skipper, who prided himself on his skill and ability to conquer and tame the sea in any of her moods. His crew did what he said without question, otherwise it was a long way to swim, as some of the past rabble had found out. He was a tall, dark haired man, built on solid muscle, with a face worn hard by a continuing battle with the sea, though he looked a lot older than his thirty eight years. He had a knack for sniffing out trouble and on occasion, had to use his fists to clear his nostrils.

Below decks, _Annemarie_ had a good sized galley; sizeable cabins along the port and starboard sides fitted out with bunk beds; a common toilet and bathroom; and plenty of room undercover. All in all, _Annemarie_ could comfortably accommodate ten people. Her hull was a deep-vee, all steel and she cut through the water like a well sharpened knife, perfectly at home in the roughest of seas.

Damon's financial misfortunes reduced him to running _Annemarie_ on joyrides into the Torres Strait for rich tourists. It pricked his pride and irked him to have rich people climbing all over his boat and complaining about everything. For now, they held all the cards, paying the bills and so he held his tongue, playing the game of host and mister nice guy, secretly seething, and only just restraining himself from throwing them overboard.

Today was a strange charter. A young woman had hired his boat and his crew to take her to Bathurst Bay, on some secret mission. Damon's curiosity was piqued even further when the mysterious woman paid cash up front.

There was a tired mythology amongst the fisherman of the Torres Strait, to anchor in Bathurst Bay was considered bad luck. The shaky fable stemmed back to some cyclone that had crept up on the pearling fleet stationed in Bathurst Bay, a hundred and fifty years ago and wiped out most of the vessels anchored there. Legend has it at night, when the southeast gales blow, you can hear the souls of the lost crying out for help in the pitch darkness.

Damon shook the thought from his mind and wiped his mouth, immediately accepting the young woman's cash. He hadn't seen so much money in fresh bills for a long time. As a point, the destination would purposely remain concealed from the crew for the moment, stopping any superstitious behaviour that inevitably would spread, causing them to abandon the charter and leave him shorthanded. After all, if he didn't accept the cream work, someone else would step straight in and take the easy money. The pretty redhead was just a side benefit.

The woman appeared at the wharf covered head to toe with a Khaki long-sleeved shirt, long pants, hat and sunglasses. Damon regularly found himself in hot water trying to guess women's ages and at his lack of success, he usually didn't try. Today, this unusual young woman intrigued his fascination and Damon could feel the fire of a challenge and took a stab. He guessed she was twenty five.

"Mister...?" the young woman's voice interrupted his imagination.

"Damon," he replied, almost too enthusiastically.

"Damon... let me put something up front straight away, so there is no misunderstandings. I am chartering your boat for a specific purpose. I will not tolerate any interference in my business and I expect you to keep to your business. Are we agreed?"

Damon's hackles went up at the stern, unexpected caution, but in a moment of decision, he swallowed them back down. After all, she had paid good money for the charter and there was plenty of time to make a move on this girl.

"Whatever you say, Miss...?"

"Elishia... Elishia will do fine."

Damon helped her onboard, then had one of the crew show her to her cabin while the others stowed her gear.

It was nearing mid morning when Damon eased _Annemarie_ from her berth on Thursday Island. The tide was nearing its highest point before turning, so there was plenty of water in the south-eastern channel, but if he was delayed a couple of hours, the tide would be too low and he would have to take the western channel, adding nearly a hundred nautical miles to his journey. He had taken on fuel, food and water the day before, in anticipation of the voyage. The crystal clear, emerald green waters of the Torres Strait still took his breath away, even after twenty years. He was doing what he loved and that was all that mattered.

Horn Island was to starboard. He had been involved in a lot of fights there, usually at the local bar, sitting minding his own business when a drunk local would recognise him and want to settle a score. It was a rough place where the dregs of the earth seemed to inevitably find a home and he didn't care for the uncivilized roughnecks that hung around, looking for trouble. Thursday Island, however, just twenty minutes across the harbour by boat from Horn, was civilized and comfortable, with a family feel to it; a contrast that he didn't understand.

The other islands surrounding Thursday Island were primitive and sparsely inhabited, usually by people looking to escape something or someone. The harbour was a naturally occurring safe haven, protected by Hammond Island to the north; Palilug Island to the northwest; Gialug to the southwest; Muralug to the south; and Horn to the southwest. Several tidal channels allowed shipping to enter and leave the anchorage safely at high water.

_Annemarie's_ engine, just above idle, pushed the sixty foot vessel slowly through the calm waters of the harbour. Damon steered her into the southeast channel and pushed her throttle forward to wide open. _Annemarie's_ engine growled, forcing her stern to dig in and the bow lifted, like a racehorse given its head and unlocked from its stall.

Elishia was standing against the railing at the bow, just staring into the expanse of emerald water. Her long, rich auburn hair danced crazily behind her in the wind. She was directly in front of Damon's view as he skilfully orchestrated the vessel's controls. He found himself staring at her form and there was no doubt, she was a stunner.

_Annemarie_ burst out of the southeast channel and was now in open water, the swell gently rocking the vessel like a mother lulling a child to sleep. Damon pushed the buttons on the chart plotter: 14 degrees 25 minutes south, 144 degrees 23 minutes east, set, enter. The apparatus beeped as it accepted the instruction. Set autopilot, enter. Another beep. _Annemarie_ was acting on her own now, which left Damon to attend to other things. The voyage would take 12 hours.

Damon opened the wheelhouse door that led to the forward deck where Elishia was standing. She didn't hear his approach over the noise of the engine and he startled her when he spoke, jolting her from her thoughts. She had been a long way away and judging by her facial reaction, he was intruding on some sacred moment.

"Beautiful, isn't it? The sea, I mean."

She nodded, annoyed at his imposition.

"I don't mean to intrude, but you..."

"Damon!" she interrupted, in a low voice that he had to struggle to hear. "I thought we had this discussion before we left T.I."

His dark eyes narrowed as he met hers. Fury burned and he turned and stalked away.

Read more of MAHiNA

*~*~*~*

Exclusive Preview of Jack Dey's Novel

PARADISE WARRIOR

Sometimes it takes an accidental hero. A riveting story of courage, redemption, love and friendship. Warning: Paradise Warrior is not for the faint hearted. Don't read it alone!

Mendacante rocketed skyward, his tiny frame blurring as he sped high above the community. Two Yellow Lights were close on his tail, grasping at the air as he slipped out of their reach. Below, groups of people gathered and pointed skyward, marvelling at the sight. He corkscrewed backwards and dived, gathering speed as he plummeted towards the ground. The Yellow Lights, although bigger than he, were caught off guard by his manoeuvre and overshot him. Incensed by Mendacante's tactic, they threw themselves at a blinding rate towards the little Grey Light, gathering speed and closing the gap. Just as Mendacante was about to hit the ground and within reach of the Yellow Lights, he suddenly shot sideways and the Yellow Lights disappeared into an explosion of colour, ploughing headlong into the ground.

"Daydreaming again, little Grey?" came a gruff voice beside him, shaking him from his pleasurable thoughts. "How do you think you are going to earn your colour, if all you do is shirk your training?!"

Mendacante recognised the owner of the voice. It was his drill sergeant. He wore his yellow and blue coloured light proudly, shining all around him like a light through a prism. The superior being made sure his subordinates understood they were not yet worthy of the prestige that came with colour.

"I..I was just going through some tactical procedures in my mind, sir."

"Report to the colonnade and join your platoon. You will see what awaits those who do well."

Mendacante made his way slowly to the colonnade. His dream of becoming a hero and enjoying the adoration that came with colour seemed further away than ever, after the rebuff from his commander. He wondered if he would ever make it out of the Grey Lights, the lowest in the ranks of the Army of The King. He brightened when he remembered that his friend, Detanyun, was amongst those being honoured today. He momentarily forgot about his troubles and hurried to join the other Grey Lights gathered around the great structure.

An impressive throng assembled around the place of honour, each in their respective colours and each in their ascending ranks. There were the Grey Lights at the back; next were the Yellow Lights; then the Blue Lights; Green Lights; and finally, the Red Lights at the front. The platoon commanders wore a base light of red, interspersed with bands of coloured light. The higher the rank, the more coloured bands.

When a warrior did well in his training, he was honoured at the colonnade and depending on his achievements, was assigned a higher coloured light. The newly honoured warrior was then given an assignment for The King, to prove himself worthy and maybe earn a coloured band if he did well in his assignment. Every warrior knew the assignment meant crossing over through the door in the dimensions that led into the Tempter's kingdom and the confines of four dimensions. Being chosen for dimensionalism was a distinguished honour, but it carried terrible dangers, restrictions and extreme temptations to indulge in the ways of the creatures of the earth.

In the legends of the phenomenal battles of Heaven, it is said that Lucifer, the impressive Fallen One, had led a revolt against The King and was thrown out by the High Prince Michael. When Lucifer fell, he took a third of the warriors with him and in so doing, they lost their light and their honour, never to return. Dwelling forever in a place caught between dimensions, in an eternity of darkness, these fallen warriors roamed the dimensions often, finding entry points into the human world when invited by humans looking for supernatural power. Once indwelling a human host, they could command terrific power and significant evil in the world using the host.

The Son of The Great King Himself was the only one to take on four dimensions, become human and not indulge in the Tempter's kingdom. He was adorned with pure white light, an honour reserved only for the greatest warrior. He came back scarred and disfigured, beaten beyond recognition from His battle, but He succeeded in releasing the chosen ones from the captives of the Tempter's kingdom.

There were rumours among the ranks of an ensuing battle, soon to take place, where The Great King would send His Son back to the earth, to rid it of the Tempter, judge the creatures identified by the Tempter's mark, and do away with the restrictions of the four dimensions, forever.

Today however, there were murmurings that the impressive warrior, Michael, was going to be present, to honour a special warrior and assign him a dangerous mission. This was the stuff of dreams, the epitome of every warrior's desire, to be honoured by the prodigious and humble warrior prince. From his distant position among the Grey Lights, Mendacante could see his friend proudly walk out into the middle of the colonnade with three other warriors. Detanyun's light shone a brilliant yellow among the three other Blue Lights.

Although Detanyun was a rank above Mendacante, he by no means treated Mendacante as if he was inferior. In fact, Detanyun had tried to coach the little Grey Light in all forms of combat, but giving up as the little Grey stumbled over, tripping on himself. However, Detanyun became aware of Mendacante's ability to plan a battle strategy that left even his wiry skills stretched to the limit and trapped in an embarrassing defeat. As Detanyun became hopelessly ensnared in Mendacante's trap, the sly little Grey would excitedly proclaim, "...and check mate!" his crooked little smile evidence that he was enjoying Detanyun's embarrassment. Though they were worlds apart in capability, their friendship was strong. For many years, they had grown together in the Grey Light platoon, until Detanyun had been honoured and moved up a rank. Now Mendacante spent most of his time dodging the drill sergeant and dreaming of glory.

A sudden ' _aww_ ' rumbled through the colonnade. A huge figure appeared, dressed in red light with six bars of colour, one on top of the other and topped off with a band of white light. Michael had made his entry and the gathering fell silent at the sight of the majestic warrior, while Michael's booming voice echoed across the gathering.

"Fellow servants of The King, messengers and protectors of the chosen ones, we have come together to honour the achievements of these, your brother warriors. Through their impressive performance, training as warriors of The King, they have been chosen to represent Him in a commando assignment behind enemy lines. Their ability to carry out their assignment is imperative, to set the ground work for the plans of the next, looming battle against the Fallen Ones."

Michael then walked up to the four warriors, dwarfed in his presence and nodded toward each one. The three Blue Lights immediately turned green and the warriors smiled in appreciation to Michael, obviously proud of their promotion. Detanyun gazed up toward the great warrior and Michael smiled directly at him. Detanyun's Yellow Light turned red, sending a ripple of disbelief through the gathering. Michael reached down and handed Detanyun a medallion, a small gold circle, encircling a six-sided star on a chain. The medallion awarded to The King's elite warriors.

Mendacante broke protocol and cheered from the ranks of the Grey Lights and was immediately castigated by his fellow Greys for drawing attention to them. He didn't care. He was living his dream through his friend. Michael and Detanyun glanced towards the direction of the ruckus and Detanyun smiled. He couldn't see Mendacante, but he knew his voice.

Michael then handed Detanyun a red folder, with the star emblem on the front. He commended the four warriors and made his way determinedly back to stand in the presence of The King.

*~*~*~*

Mendacante buzzed around Detanyun like a fly attracted to a dead carcass, while Detanyun sat with his back against a tree, staring dejectedly at the folder lying in his lap. Mendacante's euphoria at his friend's promotion to a Red Light warrior and his acceptance as a member of the special Forces suddenly ceased, as he surveyed his friend's downcast features.

"What's wrong, Detanyun?" Mendacante asked with concern.

"My assignment is to watch over a baby Earth girl," Detanyun replied disappointedly, "an assignment any other colour, including you, could do. Am I to be a babysitter after many years of intensive training? And now the Prince chooses to embarrass me, with this."

Mendacante sat next to his friend and thought for a while. "This baby must be very important if she is to be assigned a Special Forces Red Light. I am sure there is more to the story, otherwise the Prince would have chosen someone else."

"Yeah, I guess you're right, Mendacante."

"When does your mission start?"

"Tomorrow. Michael will open the dimensions for me to cross over, first thing in the morning."

"Are you scared?"

"No, just a bit disappointed."

*~*~*~*

Gabriel, who also stands in the presence of The King, met Michael at the entrance to the throne room. "How did he take it, Michael?"

"As expected. He thinks we are sending him in as a baby sitter," Michael responded.

Gabriel waited for a moment and then spoke again. "The King wants to give him the heart of a human as soon as he crosses over," Gabriel whispered, fearing for Detanyun.

"The heart of a human?! That's a heavy load for any warrior to carry," Michael answered, sharing Gabriel's concern.

Michael thought for a while. "The King is the Great Wise One. He sees things from every angle, at every moment in time. He must have a plan, Gabriel."

*~*~*~*

Detanyun stood expectantly by the tree that marked the opening to the four dimensions. It was early morning and as he searched the surroundings, he could see Michael's huge outline approaching, moving swiftly towards him.

*~*~*~*

Concern gripped Michael as he drew near the tree to the dimensions and Detanyun waiting nearby. He knew the warrior wouldn't have any of his heavenly assets on Earth and for his own safety and the success of his mission, his identity would be masked while operating deep inside enemy territory.

Michael approached the tree and commanded the dimensions to open.

Mendacante stood nearby, hiding, hoping to stay out of sight but also wanting to see his best friend leave. A doorway appeared and Detanyun stepped towards it. Mendacante glanced at the place where Detanyun had been sitting and saw his medallion lying there. He rushed in and scooped it up and then sped towards Detanyun. Just as he was about to hand it over, the dimension closed and both Detanyun and Mendacante tumbled through.

Michael watched the scene unfold in front of him and then spoke softly to himself, "So this is the plan of The King."

Read more of Paradise Warrior

*~*~*~*

Exclusive Preview of Jack Dey's Novel

AUNT TABBIE'S WINGS

A beautiful story of love, adventure, struggle and redemption

The old Bible, dog eared and fraying, lay closed on the old woman's lap. She painfully flipped the cover open and stared down at the inscription.

To my beloved Father, Sergeant Major Pell (Bluey) Burns. All my love, Tabbie.

Running her finger over the dedication, a tear slipped from her eye and plopped onto the back of her gnarled skinny hand lying across the open Bible. The chrome wheelchair was parked hard against a large window overlooking the garden and her legs were covered by a homemade, knitted woollen blanket. As she sat peering out into the warm afternoon sunshine, her praying lips began to slowly move, but making no sound.

Tabbie was sixty, but she looked more like ninety. Rheumatoid arthritis had invaded her body at an early age and now, painfully swollen joints made it impossible to do much but sit and stare. The nurses did all they could to make their favourite charge comfortable and ease the pain, even though she didn't complain. Tabbie would always enquire into the happenings of the lives of the nurses, her deep blue eyes full of compassion and wisdom. It wasn't unusual to see a nurse sitting next to Tabbie, sobbing violently as she emptied her heart to the old woman, basking in the love and hugs of which she seemed to have in volumes.

Everyone lovingly called her _Aunt Tabbie_.

There was something about Tabbie that drew people to her. A warm smile, a charismatic personality and a deep love for troubled humanity. She had a word of encouragement for everyone, from the doctor to the ones who emptied the rubbish bins, and very observant too, leaving the nurses to wonder whether she could actually see inside a person.

Tabbie's skinny frame worried the doctors. She hadn't been well for many months now and the arthritis was engulfing her ever faster. Asked if she was feeling well, she would often reply with a twinkle in her eye, "My times are in the hands of my Father in Heaven."

Tabbie had a busy visitor schedule. Every day, well wishers would engulf her, hoping to bring comfort to the old lady, but in most cases, the visitor would leave receiving the comfort. However, Tabbie's protective nurses became annoyed when people visited just to take from the giving woman, using her as sounding board for their own problems; and by the end of the day the caring staff could see Tabbie's strength starting to fade, becoming distressed physically, until they forbade any more visitors. Even after the exhausted woman was wheeled back to her room, her phone would ring incessantly into the evening, still giving and giving, until Matron put her foot down and the phone was diverted.

Although the night hours were racked with awful pain, that was the time she spent in the presence of Father, learning from Him and sitting at His feet in prayer. But the door to her room was never locked and the nurses kept careful vigilance during the night, monitoring her pain level. Even though Tabbie never complained about the discomfort, the nurses knew when the pain level was becoming intolerable with her sharp blue eyes clouding over into an icy grey, before relief was administered and Tabbie drifted off into another world.

*~*~*~*

Matron Jillian Miles took her job seriously. She was a large, stern woman with a round face and ran the nursing home like a tight navy ship. Crisply in command, nothing escaped her notice and if the nurses did anything wrong, they owned up to it immediately. Some had tried to conceal their guilt when things got out of hand but when Matron discovered the covert plot to deceive, she let the culprit have it with both barrels once they were discovered.

Needless to say, the guilty party didn't try it on again.

Not only was she known for being decisive and tough, she also had a huge compassionate heart which wouldn't allow her to hold a grudge; and as experience dictated, it was best to remain on the leeward side of the staunch disciplinarian and confess all shortcomings to survive on the turbulent sea of nursing home protocol.

Matron glanced up at the clock on the wall and sighed. 9:30 am. Time to do her rounds, but she hadn't even started the mountain of paperwork left for her from the nightshift staff and the doctor was already making a steady path towards her desk to join her on her morning duties. Just as she had shifted gears and mentally prepared for the doctor's arrival, the phone on her desk began to ring, calling her attention away from her mounting workload. A frustrated huff escaped her lips, watching the doctor rapidly approaching and contemplated leaving it to ring, but gave in to her natural curiosity and answered it.

"Matron Jillian Miles."

A timid voice she didn't recognise answered her query. "Hello, Matron, this is Senior Constable Ian Palmer from the Juvenile Justice Department."

"Yes, Constable Palmer, what can I do for you?"

"I know it's an unusual request but you've helped us out with our _Young Offender Programme_ in the past. I was wondering if we could bring a young fourteen-year-old, at-risk female to see Aunt Tabbie. The last time, she facilitated a turnaround in a very tough case and this time, it's even worse."

Matron's ire went from cooling breeze to boiling point in just a few shaky seconds. "Constable Palmer, Tabbie is not well. I understand that she has an immense love for people, but she is in a nursing home for a reason!"

Palmer sensed the passion in Matron's reply and could almost feel the receiver earpiece temperature rising as the stern woman gave him a taste of her stinging tongue. "I... I understand your concerns, Matron, but the Young Offender Programme is falling helplessly behind and is failing this child. If I don't do something, this child will self-destruct!"

Matron's sternness imploded in on itself, listening to the desperation and concern in the young policeman's voice, sensing she had just become a victim to her own good heartedness. "I will talk to Tabbie and _if_ she agrees, then you may bring her here. On one proviso..."

"Name it, Matron!" the young constable was about to agree to anything.

"The moment she starts to show signs of distress, you and the child are to leave. Immediately. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Palmer quickly responded.

*~*~*~*

Two nurses helped Tabbie shower and dress and after she was presentable, Matron entered her room but taking one look at Tabbie's pained demeanour, Matron was already reconsidering her offer to the policeman.

"A young policeman has made a request, Tabbie. He has an at-risk juvenile female whom he is hoping to bring for you to talk to. I have tentatively agreed to his request, providing firstly you agree and secondly, that you are well enough to take on such a situation."

The two nurses gawked up at Matron in surprise, their gazes saying, _you are not serious_.

Tabbie's blue eyes were brilliant in the morning light. She nodded and smiled affably, as if this meeting had already been arranged and she was expecting the child at any time. "Of course she can come!"

Tabbie gasped as the nurses lowered her into her wheelchair and then placed her woollen blanket over her legs.

*~*~*~*

Ian Palmer strolled up to the glass front door of the nursing home accompanied by a distracted young girl. The unimpressed juvenile female protested loudly at coming to an old people's home, so Palmer gave her a choice: the old people's home, or back to Greyton's tough and regimented institution for hardened juvenile offenders and take her turn swabbing out the filthy ablution block.

Settling on Palmer's first option, the young girl felt uncomfortable out of her peer situation, with piercings all over her face and boot-polish-black, short cropped hair. She wore a traditional institution uniform, Greyton's dark green long trousers and shirt, with her young face already showing signs of setting into a hardness beyond her years. Intentionally, her severe dark appearance purposely deflected any interest in her disguised femininity, making it extremely obvious she didn't trust anyone, especially men.

Palmer pulled the door open for the girl and she slipped in without offering a word. They walked down a polished corridor, his shoes making a _clip-clop_ sound, echoing in the quiet as he walked. The girl looked around in horror at the sights she was taking in. Old people were being wheeled around, or slumped and parked in wheelchairs next to windows, just staring.

"Why did you bring me here?!" she squirmed, peering over her shoulder for a quick exit and back onto the streets.

"There is someone I want you to meet."

"Well, I don't want to meet them!" The girl was becoming agitated.

"Calm down, Casey. There's nothing to fear here."

"I'm not afraid!" she suddenly spat.

"Okay, Wonder Woman, prove it."

The obvious challenge calmed her down. No one spooked out Casey Lowe.

They rounded a corner and pushed open a glass door, entering a large lounge room. An old woman in a wheelchair sat at the end of a lounge and smiled as they entered. Casey was immediately taken by the depth of the old woman's blue eyes and she seemed to be surrounded by a peacefulness and warmth she had never felt before. Her smile drew Casey and she fought against it, closing her mind, not wanting to trust anyone.

"Casey, this is Aunt Tabbie."

*~*~*~*

Tabbie's acute mind surveyed the forlorn figure of the troubled young girl perched uneasily on the edge of the lounge. She silently winced at the pieces of metal forced through the young attractive facial features, pondering the reasons a pretty young woman would deliberately try to mutilate her beauty, but quietly, Tabbie understood the signs of deep self hatred. The girl's disturbing eyes reflected the hollow, destructive paths of violent storms not too distant past and the emptiness of a short life full of pain, etched in distrust and her harrowing story written vividly across her face.

"Casey, is it dear?" Tabbie asked quietly.

"Yeah!" the girl retorted sharply as if the old woman had no right to ask.

"Would you like to tell me something of yourself?" Tabbie gently prodded, bracing herself and all too certain of the girl's reply.

"Fat chance, lady!" Casey spat, glancing rebelliously around at Palmer.

"Casey...!" Constable Palmer chided.

Tabbie eyed the constable for a moment and then filled the uneasy silence. "Mr Palmer, would you excuse us for a moment, please?" Tabbie pointed to the door.

Reluctantly, Constable Palmer rose from his seat next to Casey, gave Tabbie a glance of concern and started for the entrance. "I'll be just outside!" he threatened.

Tabbie followed him to the door, pushing her wheelchair with her skinny arms. Once he was safely outside the room, Tabbie thrust it shut and locked it behind him. A bewildered expression on Palmer's face, as he rattled the door from the outside, made Casey laugh. But she quickly brought herself back in check, not wanting to find any reason to connect with this old lady.

Tabbie then wheeled herself directly opposite Casey. "Now, if you can't tell me about you, would you allow me to tell you about me?"

Read more of Aunt Tabbie's Wings

*~*~*~*

Exclusive Preview of Jack Dey's Novel

THE LEGEND OF ATANEQ NANUQ

When injustice and fear collide it has a name... Ataneq Nanuq. A disturbing mystery.

A crisp command silenced the dogs as the weathered, leathery face pressed hard against the fractured window; a legacy from last winter's trials. His faltering gaze followed the rocky shoreline of the bay through the broken glass and from the confines of the tired, dishevelled hut, keeping his aging outline pressed against the wall and trying to stay out of sight. His panicked hot breath steamed the pane, partially obliterating the view while two milky brown eyes, bloodshot and squinting from too many years exposed to the glaring icy landscape, traced the small ship's progress as it entered the deepest part of the wilderness of Scoresby Sund.

A worried frown settled across his wrinkled brow. It had been nearly two years since he had glimpsed another European and by his reckoning, that wasn't long enough. The fear rose into his chest and threatened to freeze the scene into a long buried moment in history he'd worked so hard to forget.

In the isolation of the wilderness, there was no one to impress or be judged by. Being alone was sometimes lonely, but it was far easier than feeling hunted by his own kind and required to perform or give an account of what he had done. There just wasn't a plausible, easy explanation for what had happened able to satisfy him, let alone a _civilised_ European court. He had evaded his hunters for well over fifty years, vanishing like a shy Arctic fox into the tundra and beyond the reach of their prejudiced form of justice.

He was bitterly aware, maybe even more so today than the day it happened... he was a fugitive: a wanted man.

Dwarfed by icebergs, floating lazy and majestic in defiance to the seasonal thaw and towering rebelliously against the smoky-blue backdrop of the late summer sky, the tiny ship appeared insignificant by comparison. The remnants of the winter sea ice, now scattered and breaking up over the surface of the warming water, playfully nudged the steel hull of the white ship as she pushed closer to the shore and his hut. The ship's movement through the Sund created ripples that disturbed the tranquillity and betrayed the ship's intended direction. As it came closer, he could make out the Russian name: _MV Multanovskiy._

Momentarily distracted, his eyes diverted from the vessel and focused on a nearby berg. Desperate thoughts chased around his mind. _Surely the Russians couldn't have an interest in my history or a reason to pick a fight with me._

Just to be certain, he stayed well out of sight anyway.

Surrounded by a backdrop of rugged, snow capped mountains, the tortured old hut stood on crumbling brick pillars just one metre above the rocky tundra floor and only a stone's throw from the Sund. The floor timbers sagged with age, complaining bitterly with every step the old man took while the fire had finally gone out in the old fireplace. He had used up the last of the seal blubber fuel and the gaps in the stone chimney let the windblown chill into the hut, something he would have to fix in what remained of this summer, before the ice storms of January. The roof above him was the strongest part of the hut, strengthened to support the weight of dense winter snow and the turbulent gales of the long Arctic night.

It wasn't the Ritz, but it was home.

After the summer thaw had advanced and defeated the winter pallor, Salix glauca turned the once-white snow covered tundra into a rich red, giving the illusion of a living welcome mat sprawling across the landscape and leading to the rocky shores of the Sund, testifying that the long winter had indeed retreated and the short summer was now in command.

As he gauged the ship's position once again, a sense of irony struck him. In the depth of the endless Arctic night, he had driven his dogsled clear across the frozen Sund on an iceshelf two metres thick to fish through a drilled hole in the ice, close to where the ship now cautiously picked its way across the fluid summer sea and towards his home. He watched in surprise as the ship executed a wide arc and came within fifty metres of his old dwelling. Seemingly convinced there were no signs of life, it turned unexpectedly and steered again for the entrance to the Sund, picked up speed and silently slid out of the fjord, bringing a sigh of relief from the old man.

From his position hidden within the shelter, the aging eyes struggled to focus on the departing vessel as it vanished from view.

The dogs began to whimper, eager to get back outside into their natural environment and leave the confines of their hiding place. He cautiously surveyed the scene outside the window, sweeping the barren landscape for any threats. His searching stopped abruptly, while his blurry eyes pressed shut and open again in an attempt for clarity, trying to focus on a large granite boulder some distance away. It was still there after so many winters and summer thaws, perched lifeless on the granite mound, weather bleached and staring in the direction of the fjord where Nanuq had slaughtered him: the skull of a muskox.

The hapless creature had wandered into a two day standoff between the old man trapped inside his hut and a hungry nanuq, keeping the human pinned down. The dogs had alerted the old man to the presence of the dangerous male polar bear, while Nanuq had watched every move from his hidden position, his fur camouflaged perfectly against the white winter environment. Unwittingly, the muskox had sacrificed his life and meandered into Nanuq's patient trap, ending the ordeal for the old man. Nanuq struck with such stealth and ferocity, driven by hunger. His agile and powerful 600 kilogram frame, standing 2.7 metres tall, launched with deadly accuracy as his voracious, tearing jaws crushed the life from his victim. It was doubtless the muskox even saw him coming. His hunger then satisfied, Nanuq, the powerful male polar bear, had turned toward the hut and tossed his head and sniffed the air in a warning toward the old man. Nanuq's dark eyes had set a deliberate challenge, daring him to do battle in a future time. One last huff and Nanuq had sauntered away into the depths of the polar winter, leaving enough of his conquest as a sign of his rank and stature among the polar bears, allowing the smaller, hungry subordinate bears to clean up after him.

After the altercation with Nanuq, the old man had left the skull of the muskox where it lay, as a chilling reminder and evidence of the ruthless fight for survival in a hostile and unforgiving frozen wilderness devoid of friendly human contact. One lapse in concentration in a powerful winter storm—where the temperature plunged to in excess of minus twenty-three degrees Celsius—or an unguarded moment flaunting his life in front of a hungry, prowling nanuq away from the safety of his shelter, could prove fatal. Still, he was more at home in the cruelty and isolation of the tundra where man, beast and the environment fought to the death only for survival purposes. When hunger and the depths of winter no longer threatened, man and beast lived together in an uneasy cohabitation, keeping a close, wary eye on each other. Unlike European society, where a fatal blow constantly lurked in every corner and every human being was an enemy and a target in a relentless drive to conquer and dominate each other. He shivered as he imagined society closing the door on his troubled freedom and trapping him in a crowded man-made nightmare.

Sensing the threat had passed, Akiak's warm muzzle pushed into his empty hand, forcing his thoughts back to the present and reminding him his dogs needed to get outside. She was his faithful dogsled team leader, wise in the things of the tundra, saving his life more often than he cared to remember. He stooped to ruffle her thick fur and then opened the hut door, the dogs bursting out into the warm sunshine excitedly barking and enjoying their sudden freedom.

The temperature this time of year was an exhausting one degree Celsius and there was much to do before the relentless winter night once again descended on his world, plunging him into the crippling freeze. The old man felt different in the bright polar sunshine, lighter in spirit and even a small sense of hope pervaded his thinking. A noticeable freshness drifted across the polar tundra leaving the threats of winter far from his mind, while his old enemy, Nanuq, had migrated further north following the food source associated with the permanent pack ice of the extreme Arctic pole.

For now he was content and an uneasy peace settled over his soul.

As he ventured outside, he bent to investigate the sled lying unused in the protection of the crawl space under his hut. He stiffly drew it from its resting place and examined its condition. The shaped timber skids had dried and split, but it was still solid and usable. The tow straps the dogs wore were stiff, but would soon become pliable once the dogs had worn them in again. A shrill whistle from the old man called the dogs to the sled and away from the serious play they had engaged in. They came barking and running, excited at the thought of pulling a sled again.

Today he would venture onto the edge of the vast tundra away from the hut to trade Arctic fox furs he had trapped during last winter. His buyer, Katu, lived fifty kilometres away and his store was an outpost for the remaining trappers living deep in the wilderness. He would trade for supplies for the coming winter and learn the grave news of the outside world. Katu was a native born Greenlander with no apparent interest in the history of an old European fugitive. The round trip would take two days and he usually stayed the night with Katu.

The old man peered over his shoulder at the hut from his position standing at the back of the sled, a sick feeling rising in his gut as if he was saying goodbye to a trusted friend. With a pile of furs lying in the passenger well of the sled, he breathed out a nervous sigh, turned and mushed the dogs on toward Katu. The dogs barked with excitement as the old wooden sled jolted forward and sped across the Salix glauca effortlessly.

Two hours into the journey, the old man spotted a strange sight in the distance. He called the dogs to a halt and tried to squint, to clear his vision and focus. The fear rose, marshalling his senses to high alert at the outline of a large nanuq prostrated on the ground, as if he was preparing to pounce.

Thoughts flashed through his mind and then reason took over: all nanuq should be hundreds of kilometres to the north by now and if this particular bear was a threat, Akiak would have surely warned him. The old man trusted her implicitly; her senses were sharp, always testing the environment around her for threats and she missed nothing. From her position at the head of the stationary dog team, she raised her snout again to taste the air in the direction of the nanuq, wary of the deadly menace. Convinced Nanuq offered no threat, she turned to concentrate on another distraction and contemptuously lost interest in the hulking, motionless form.

The old man stepped from the sled and reached for his rifle, then cautiously measured his ground till he was almost on top of the predator. The smell of decaying flesh assaulted his senses and a gasp filled his lungs. There had been a momentary struggle before this large, three metre tall male nanuq had succumbed to a single, brutal force that had stolen his life. The old man prodded the dead beast with his rifle butt and estimated the nanuq to be close to 700 kilos then searched around till he found the footprint of the culprit, perfectly preserved in a mud puddle created by melting snow. He dropped to his haunches and examined the massive pad print, then compared the huge male bear's paw lying dead before him.

It was nearly fifty millimetres bigger.

He swallowed hard, the fear bristling the hair on the back of his neck and out of habit he searched the surroundings, gripping the barrel of his gun tightly. After all these years, his old nemesis was still around somewhere. The last time he saw a track like this he was only a boy, nearly sixty years ago, and the memories of that horrific day etched forever into his young mind, shaped his life and as a fugitive, drove him deep into the wilderness.

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*~*~*~*

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THE VALLEY OF FLOWERS

Out of your heart the tears I keep and when I am no longer, your knowledge is complete.

Dear Diary,

Today was the worst day of my life. Mum dropped by to see Dad but I was hoping she'd come over to patch things up and move back in with us. My hopes evaporated when I peered through the curtains in my room and saw 'him' sitting in the driver seat of her car, waiting for her to finish talking with Dad. Turns out she'd only dropped by to deliver the divorce papers and she didn't even take the time to stop by my room and talk with me.

I feel really hurt!

Things have been tense around Dad since she dropped her bombshell and moved out. The walls are so thin in this house and sometimes I hear him crying late at night in his room, although around me he tries to maintain his composure, but I can't help thinking their breaking up is somehow my fault. Maybe if I had been a better daughter, not so moody or so fat, maybe if I was prettier or helped her more around here... IDK!

I 'HATE' coming home to an empty house after school too. It freaks me out and I check behind each door and in every cupboard, then lock myself inside my room once I feel kinda safe. Scaredy cat, maybe... I guess; I should stop watching horror movies before bed. It's pretty late when Dad finally walks in from work and I'm sure I can smell alcohol on his breath. I try my best to take the load off him and I know I can't cook to save myself, but he usually doesn't want any dinner anyway – don't blame him really. So I end up eating in my room... I feel so empty and alone!

Sorry, Diary, I smudged your beautiful pink pages with my useless tears. Don't go away, Diary, I need to blow my nose... I'm back; did you miss me?

Tina knows something's up, but I feel too embarrassed to tell her. She keeps asking me if I'm alright and I keep telling her I'm fine, but I know she knows something's wrong and she won't give up until she's got the 'gos'. She's spending a lot of time with Danny Dickson lately, too. Yuk...! I can't stand the guy, but Tina likes him and I think she's intending to go all the way with him. I hope she thinks about it a lot before and isn't making a big mistake. I don't know what I would do without my BFF!

I just don't get life and what it's all about. It all seems so pointless and sometimes I feel like the world would be a better place if I just died! No one would even realise I was gone or miss me once they found out, I'm sure. Although! Mr Bryce stopped again to have a chat in the hallway at school; he's always so positive and encouraging and I always enjoy talking to him. Wonder if he wants a daughter? No, I guess not! He reminds me a lot of Grandpa Dan; I wish he wasn't so sick and we could spend time together again.

Why does everyone want to leave or get sick when I'm around?!

I should finish now, Diary; I still have some homework to do but I feel too depressed and can't be bothered. It's only maths and I can't stand maths!

*~*~*~*

Elly Parker's finger hovered over the _start_ button on her small laptop, contemplating watching another horror movie before turning out the light and trying to sleep. The movies seemed to resonate with the horror of her short teenage life and in some strange way, the images on her screen shocked her into a fantasy world, leaving her own desperate world far behind and in the shadows. She drew in a long breath, holding it trapped in her lungs while she studied the outline of her pink laptop.

In a moment of decision she released her breath, closed the screen with a _click_ and checked the bedside clock. It was just after midnight and the passageway light was on, signifying her father was still up. She combed out the length of her long blonde hair, the hairbrush crackling with static electricity at each deliberate stroke. When she had finished preparing for bed, she reached for the bedroom door handle and cracked it open. In a raised voice she called to her father, "Goodnight, Dad...!"

No answer.

She sighed and closed the door again then made her way to her bed and climbed in, pulling the blankets up to her eyes. Soon after making a mental check of her surrounds, Elly disturbed the neat blankets partially covering her face and reached for the bedside table, extinguishing the light and reducing her room into a confusion of darkness and shadows. With a sharp motion, she pulled her arm back into the safety of the blankets, her eyes slowly closing and soon she drifted into another world.

*~*~*~*

A distant rumble echoed up and down the steep, green valley walls. Then a gentle breeze rippled across the valley floor stirring a patchwork of yellow, pink and blue, making the colourful tall stems of happy flowers seem to giggle softly and sway gently in the giddying silence. Patches of blue sky peered around the tall cliffs, partially obscured by lazy clouds hanging deftly and close to the rocky peaks. A monolithic giant, draped in the royal green velvet of deep rainforest, towered high above the trail and stood guard over the entrance to the enchanting scene, making sure only the invited found the secret, narrow breach.

Something was beckoning, tugging at her heartstrings and drawing her onto the path, urging her to keep walking. Step by step the trail led her deeper into the valley, tantalising her senses with each guarded step and piquing her curiosity.

Where was she?

Suddenly, the valley erupted into whispered laughter, adorable impish laughter echoing across the valley floor and entangled among the swaying flowers. She searched around trying to identify the voices, but they remained shy and hidden from her view.

Then the sky opened and a warm, gentle shower drizzled over her, flooding her mind with childish delight as she tasted drops of water sweeter than honey.

The rain began to teem down on her and as it did, the impish laughter increased; she heard a giggle trickle over her tonsils and then an echoing laugh bubbled up from deep inside her and spilled out into the rain. In a moment of ecstasy, she peered up at the sky and the mountains surrounding her and twirled on the spot, pirouetting like a ballet dancer, lost in excited elation and sending her long white gown whirling around her.

As suddenly as it came, the rain stopped and a gentle breeze caressed her face, dancing with her, calling to her in a loving whisper, "Elly... Elly... come to me, pretty lady," enticing her down into the valley while its call halted her ecstatic dance.

The voice made her heart burn within her and she searched among the flowers until she saw a beautiful young man standing on the path, beckoning to her with an outstretched arm. She gazed at the gesture for a moment, hesitating and a little confused, but then his haunting green eyes peered into the depths of her heart and overpowered her emotions, gently pulling her towards him, desperate to experience the love he was offering.

A rasping clamour broke into her fantasy and before Elly knew what was happening, the scene had evaporated like a steamy breath into a cold atmosphere, sending her into a tailspin and searching frantically about the sunlit room for evidence of her intrigue and the green-eyed young man. She sighed, slapping the alarm clock into silence with an agitated hand and fell back to her pillow, exasperated and grieving for the lost opportunity for romance. It took her moments to realise she'd been dreaming, but the ecstasy she'd felt and the beauty of the young man haunted her.

If only she hadn't hesitated...!

Even as she peered around her empty room, the emotional depths of her encounter still remained and she longed to return to the gentle, enchanting world in her dream.

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Exclusive Preview of Jack Dey's and Dodie La Mirounette's Novel

LA BELLE SUISSE

A small, battered brown case, grasped in a weathered hand, protected Philippe de la Calle's meagre worldly belongings. As he stepped from the crowded train, pondering the rising apartment towers and the lavish streets of his once boyhood home, he considered he hadn't been back here in almost thirty years. Now the memories sealed in the timeless corridors of his mind collided heavily with the opulence that flaunted itself in the unrecognisable streets where poverty once gripped his hand and kept his family prisoner. Somewhere in his tangled thoughts, wooden shanty housing leaned together in a mass for communal support, and if one stick was removed then the whole town would collapse; so it had been with the simple community structure of poor families living and relying on each other to survive.

A storm of wealthy, influential invaders had seen the potential of the small seaside hamlet as a tax haven and playground for the rich and famous. With the casual stroke of a pen on a blank cheque book stub, life had changed drastically for the poor, stealing the land from under their feet in a desperate greedy grab and displacing families who had depended on it to survive for centuries. Philippe gawked around at the ordered lavish streets bordered by sandstone buildings, groomed with gold leaf architecture and emblazoned with impish statues. Walk paths of rich, intricately cut Italian stone meandered lazily between millionaires' villas, diverting here and there through an ornate and expensively decorated park. Fountains splashed and gurgled on every profligate street corner. Where once there was thirst, now water seemed to bubble up from under every manicured rock.

An incredulous sweeping gaze at the tidy harbour, protected from the Mediterranean's boisterous moods by heavy rock barriers, abruptly halted Philippe in mid glare. In a time gone by, a great and proud natural granite seawall had protected the village from the ocean's wrath. Now it stood impotent and tamed as a backdrop to a fester of towering apartments. The sea in front of the buildings, reclaimed and pushed back, today accommodated meandering streets and a circus of harbourfront villas. Beyond the reaching luxury, a fleet of magnificent private floating palaces lay at anchor, neatly moored in million dollar pens. Polished and watched over by zealous crews, the palaces lay idle until their millionaire masters were ready for another lavish fling to impress the latest sports or movie stars, showing off their abundant wealth in another partying sea jaunt going nowhere.

Philippe swivelled on his feet and slowly completed a 360 degree scan. All about him, trillions of euro lay buried in a hoard of personal greed while the people he lived and worked among died in droves from lack of a daily meal, clean drinking water or a few euros of antibiotic medicines.

" _Excusez-moi, Monsieur!_ "

A petite, well dressed young woman drew Philippe back to earth. " _Pardonnez-moi_ , _Mademoiselle_ ," he apologised and stepped aside so she could navigate around his disbelieving frame. With a large group of chattering, awestruck tourists approaching from behind and cameras catching images from every direction, Philippe's train of thought dissolved and he began to follow the young woman along the path lest he be swept up by the wave of envious humanity.

It took some time to orient himself in the unfamiliar streets, but as his thin and tall, fifty-year-old frame came to an abrupt stop in front of an opulent structure, the bitter memories came flooding back. Intending to step from the ordered kerb and cross an immaculate street to face his nemesis, a red and black Bugatti-Veyron sports car blared its horn in warning and then quickly slipped away in an expensive plume of racing formulae fuel. Philippe stared after the vivacious vehicle, realising he'd just missed being run over by 1.1 million euro. Checking for further fast moving indulgent drivers, he quickly scampered across the street before a yellow Lamborghini driven by a sports model blonde approached and roared past in a flash of vibrating noise.

Safely across the roadway of spoilt disdain, Philippe stood silently, contemplating the extravagant building threatening to engulf him in a tsunami of past regret and shame that had divided his family and destroyed the people he loved. Philippe's father, the village leader, had colluded with the wealthy invaders and engaged with them in a despicable bid to defraud his people. Ancestral land and homes had disappeared in a sanctioned and swift, vacuous grab with little recompense. And for his efforts, Philippe's father was rewarded with a small fortune by poor people's standards. Seeing the need for a rich man's playhouse, Philippe's father had invested all he had in a gambling den for the wealthy and now after thirty years, he was one of the wealthiest men among the wealthy.

As a young man, Philippe had sensed the rising tide of affluent evil gripping at his bones, stifling the overwhelming desire to make a difference in a lopsided world, ignoring the cries of the suffering and filling his mind instead with the rich man's disease. But no longer able to survive an audience with his conscience, Philippe, along with his mother, had left his father and brother to live their lives of indulgent riches. Now, as a fifty-year-old missionary and after working in abject poverty in some of the poorest hot spots of the world, it had been nearly three decades since he'd seen his wealthy and elderly father and the place he once called home. Philippe took a last glance at the opulent casino, patted down his ragged clothing and started to climb the hill to his father's house bulging out onto a nearby hillside. As he approached the sprawling driveway, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the letter that had started him on his latest pilgrimage and began to read again.

Philippe

Your father is not well and the doctors suggest he has only weeks or possibly months to live. I am not sure why he requested to see you and Mother one last time before he dies, but you owe it to him for giving you life to at least make some kind of effort and fulfil his dying request. I still can't forgive you for walking away from the family when Father invested his complete fortune in the casino and it looked like we would be poor again; but as you will see, Father is exuberantly wealthy now and I only hope he has kept his promise to cut you out of his will. Just so you know, it is my intention to contest any favours he has set aside for you in his last testament, and I can afford the best legal team possible. Personally, I couldn't care if you don't come, but Father asks every day after you and I urge you, for his sake, to make a concession in your selfish lifestyle and fulfil a dying man's request.

Once again, I remind you I am the firstborn son and I am entitled to every bit of Father's substantial estate, simply because I stayed and supported him in his decisions and I will see to it you receive nothing from this incredible self-made man.

As agreeable as ever, your older brother Robert.

Philippe folded the tattered letter and placed it reverently back in his threadbare shirt pocket. From the moment he'd received the news of his father, it had taken him nearly a month to travel across some of the most inhospitable territory on Earth, calling on favours with grateful people to help him traverse across continents just so he could reach his ailing father's side. But now he wasn't sure his foolhardy journey had all been for naught and whether he was too late to fulfil his father's dying wish. After the nerve-racking trek, he stood in the sun tiredly blinking down a lavish driveway and into the haughty eyes of extreme opulence. He paused for long moments, considering the final few metres of his sojourn and what lay in wait for his arrival. With a quick prayer for strength, he pushed his feet on toward the enormous front doors, staring at a plethora of closed-circuit cameras watching him, watching them. Philippe lifted his hand to knock but before his knuckles made contact with the expensive paintwork, one half of the massive doors opened and a maid met his eyes with a disdainful frown.

" _Eh, vous là-bas, le vagabond_ , _get away from the door before I have security run you off!_ "

"If you please, Mademoiselle, I am Philippe de la Calle and I have come to see my father, Henri Rousseau!"

The maid's eyes suddenly clouded with fright. " _Excusez-moi, Monsieur_ , I did not know! Your father told us to expect an unusual person in the form of a _fils prodigue_."

Philippe smiled at the quavering maid. " _Oui, Mademoiselle_ , I guess my attire does suggest the presence of a prodigal son."

The front door soon gave way into a mammoth echoing amphitheatre with full length windows traversing two storeys above to the ground floor below, and giving an unhindered view of the impressive harbour and the millionaire's paradise perched at the foot of the mountain. Gold staircases led to ornate balconies far above Philippe's head, while each unintentional sound amplified and distorted in the clinical ambience of splendid white marble floors and ceilings.

A booming voice originating from one of the opulent staircases overpowered Philippe's awestruck gaze and he turned to meet the unmistakable owner. "So, you have disowned my name as well as my family, Philippe de la Calle! Why are you known as _Philippe of the Streets?_ "

Philippe's shocked countenance stole the ability to respond to the spritely elderly gentleman walking effortlessly down a flight of stairs to greet him. "I... it is an identity with the people I live and work among, Father. The poor of the world!" Philippe's voice echoed around the palatial surrounds as his incredulous eyes asked a silent question of the apparently healthy older man.

"Arr, the poor of the world," the disgruntled voice resonated, pursuing Philippe's dialogue in a fading game of chase. "People who refuse to take advantage of the wealth the world offers."

"No, Father, you have it wrong. These are people who have no opportunity to take advantage of the wealth of the world, when you consider that one percent of the world's population controls fifty percent of its wealth."

"Statistics, Philippe, that mean nothing. You grew up with the poverty of this place and look at me now. I have power, recognition and everything I could ever want."

"But are you happy, Father?"

"ARE THE POOR HAPPY, PHILIPPE?!" the booming voice reverberated again, bouncing forcefully off the clinical walls and shocking the younger man.

"They are among some of the happiest people I have met, especially when they know our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ," Philippe's words were a little more subdued, showing respect to the man he called father and hadn't seen in years.

"You always were a simpleton child, filled with the superstitions of religion. But there is no religion except wealth and fortune. Look what it can do for you!" the elder man swept his arm around the opulent surrounds.

"And what of your impending death, Father?" Philippe whispered with concern.

"I will not die, Philippe. You can see how healthy I am and I have many beautiful young women around to keep me young."

"Everyone dies, Father, and yet we are eternal beings. Our spirit is alive for ever. You may be rich now, but what awaits you without Jesus is eternal agony and poverty."

"Huh! More of your confounded brainwashed idealism, Philippe! Robert told me I was wasting my time trying to make you see reason. The only thing that exists is now and today. And today, I am a king!"

A ruthless, calculating stare settled in the old man's eyes as he bored into his wayward son. "Here is my challenge to you, Philippe de la Calle. Stay with me and in my home for six months and I will show you the power money wields and the truth of its idealism... instead of your toothless God."

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*~*~*~*

Exclusive Preview of Jack Dey's New Novel

ZERO

COUNTING: 10 DAYS-07 HOURS-00 MINUTES-56 SECONDS-ACCURACY AFFIRMED

"Hand me that ring spanner please, Matt!"

The straining voice called from _Esau's_ engine cowl, his head buried deep inside the floatplane's solitary radial power plant while balancing his wiry, elderly body over the aircraft's stubby nose and his feet dangling in mid air. Awkwardly suspended two metres above the waterline and teetering on his stomach, all it needed for _Beaver Jack Marshall_ to plunge into Morgan Lagoon's crystal clear tarn was a sudden unintended move. It'd happened before when a determined fastener refused to budge, suddenly giving way under Beaver Jack's aggravated tug. The consequences had raised such hilarity from onlookers not more than a metre away, but they were standing out of harm's way, dry and safely confined to the floatplane's mooring wharf. As the elderly licensed aircraft mechanic plunged and disappeared, flailing under the water's surface, the laughter increased when Jack bobbed up victoriously seconds later, showcasing his shining spanner still grasped firmly in his hand. Floatplane repairs were Beaver Jack's life, but he was getting older and the gymnastics required to reach the engine bay of a moored aircraft were telling on the old body; yet he couldn't bring himself to retire.

"So when are you taking a trip into the city, Matt?" Jack's voice distorted, partially blocked by _Esau's_ metal frame and sounding like his speech had emanated from a well.

Matt reached up from the dock where _Esau_ was securely moored and pushed the spanner into Jack's blindly grasping hand, but winced when Jack's question drifted down to assault his ears. "You never give up do you, Jack?!" Matt sighed good naturedly, yet loud enough, giving the elderly mechanic an indication he'd hit a raw nerve. The same nerve. "Girls just don't go for blue eyes, pale skin, freckles and red hair, Jack!"

Beaver Jack's head suddenly appeared over _Esau's_ engine cowl. A greasy smudge ran down his cheek, giving him the appearance of an Indian brave about to go on the warpath. With the spanner being used as a teacher's pointer directed straight at Matt, Jack began the recital Matt had heard a thousand times before. "A woman who's worth her salt looks past the exterior box and sees the heart of a man. Character and soul are far more valuable to the Lord than fading temporary looks that disappear with increasing age."

"Character and soul may be valuable to the Lord, Jack, but try offering it to one of today's women without the handsome exterior and see how far you get. Not everyone's as wise and discerning as your Nancy!" Matt smiled to himself in victory, knowing Jack's adoration for his long time wife, Nancy, would distract the lecture and send the elderly aircraft mechanic on a tangent.

"Now there's a woman to be admired. She was the prettiest gal on the block and I was just a mangy mongrel but she married ... _me!_ Don't know what she was thinking and a finer woman you'd never find..."

Matt grinned as Beaver Jack successfully sidetracked onto his familiar rave, but as usual Jack's constant hints had found its mark and left Matt feeling hollow and almost hopeless of ever finding a decent lady to call his own. Even if a pretty girl with character came within shouting distance of his ruddy features, nothing would convince her to take a second look.

"There you go, all finished! Now all we need is that part from the city to complete the job and hopefully it should arrive today or tomorrow on the supply plane."

The unexpected voice interrupted Matt's sombre thoughts as Jack precariously replaced _Esau's_ engine panels and wiped the paintwork with a rag before sidling off _Esau's_ stubby nose. "Better start this cantankerous old man and give his engine a test."

"Will it be alright to start with the old part still in place?" Matt worried.

"Yeah, it's just a precaution replacing it. Considering the country you fly over, we don't want to take any chances."

Matt obeyed Jack's spanner-pointing directive and climbed behind the pilot's seat. With Jack safely stretching his elderly frame and ironing out his bony stiffness on the dock, _Esau's_ radial energy source burst quickly into life, showering the old mechanic and the dock in a healthy blue cloud. Grinning from ear to ear, Matt quickly shut down the purring machine and gratefully bounced from the plane's cockpit and onto the dock.

"I don't know how I would've managed without your help, Jack. The tourist season opens in two days. Can I pay you when I get my first cheque?"

Jack nodded, but he knew Matt's tours weren't very popular with patrons, especially with Mason Brand's charismatic and handsome features muscling in on the tourist traffic and tickling the fancies of the wealthy middle class women. It seemed Brand had a successful advertising regime in the distant cities showcasing his blond, athletic good looks and his sleek, late model floatplane pasted to a invigorating picture backdrop of Morgan Lagoon's wilderness, drawing tourists to the sleepy settlement in ever increasing droves. Some operators intent on challenging Mason Brand for business had ignited an advertising war and the once unknown lagoon had become a household word. Unfortunately, an undesirable knock-on effect developed out of the attention, with Morgan Lagoon becoming crowded with floatplanes and itinerant operators hoping to capitalise on the tantalising and free television publicity.

Morgan Lagoon was unofficially discovered by Jack and Nancy twenty years ago on a chance floatplane adventure, and soon after leasing the land, they'd retired at the remote and isolated paradise but had never thought of visitors or restricting strangers from enjoying their discovery. Now the small but picturesque hamlet, bordering the high wilderness' southern boundary and offering the perfect base and springboard into one of the world's last true open and unexplored natural rainforest playgrounds, had become insufferably busy in the dry and mild, tropical winter months.

The isolated village, accessible only in the dry season by a bone-jarring week long trek on dishevelled and maze-like wilderness roads or a four hour journey by floatplane, disbanded and its permanent population disappeared with the tourists during the unpleasant wet and humid summer months. However, a handful of diehards remained with their floatplanes to battle with exhaustingly high humidity, teeming rainfall and the confining monsoon's dismal boredom until the pleasant months of winter returned, bringing perfect days and a fresh round of income generating holidaymakers.

According to Jack's often repeated legend, the small lagoon had been formed overnight and long ago when a large spherical chunk of space rock took umbrage to the earth blocking its determined trajectory, hurtling through space and prompting the two stellar opponents to lock horns in a destructive battle. The audacious streaking comet plunged into the obstinate globe, hoping to inflict a mortal wound and deter the planet from blocking the heavens, but only managed to achieve an open fissure in the dense forest and a blackened, gaping hole in the ground. Within a heartbeat, the spectacular smoking conflict had been settled and the earth declared victory, leaving the comet's legacy and final resting place to fill with pure rainwater in one torrential storm as Morgan Lagoon was born. No one, not even Jack, knew _or cared_ who Morgan was or whether he was the first to discover the pristine lagoon carved into the intense forest. However, the comet's scar offered a natural approach through the dense tree line and onto the small waterway, making it possible to land a floatplane into the restrictive tarn. Without it, the lagoon would be too small, even for the fabled _Beaver floatplane_.

To survive as a successful floatplane tour operator in Morgan Lagoon's crowded, stiff and highly competitive winter market required a handful of specialist skills: a pleasant, charismatic demeanour; a smooth and convincing voice, coupled with an intimate knowledge of the outer extremities of the intense wilderness; and most of all, a cowboy-pilot attitude. The more successful pilots had a predictable approach: a lady-killer instinct with their plain-featured and wealthy, middle aged women passengers, separating a couple and placing the unsuspecting female victim in the co-pilot seat while their male partner languished stupidly somewhere in the back. As the flight skimmed over untouched lakes and squeezed through impossibly tight canyons, exhilarating his prey, the pilot flirted shamelessly, igniting and toying with long forgotten emotions trapped in the dull repetition of pampered domestic boredom. The experience not only provoked a sense of mystery and attraction within the elated quarry toward the handsome pilot, but ensured the unscrupulous businessman would have a ready source of income as word of mouth spread among gossiping middle class and likeminded pampered ladies looking for a dangerous spark.

However, shy and polite Matthew Hayes couldn't stoop to such lows, and for his stance, his tour operation struggled to survive; but the business he'd managed to secure from his competition was a small, select group of satisfied and compatible customers that shared Matt's desire to keep Morgan Lagoon's secretive face... secret.

_Esau_ , Matt's beloved 1956 Beaver floatplane was an immediate hit among his limited and peculiar clientele, with no tour complete without a group photograph in front of _Esau's_ brightly painted scarlet fuselage and an effigy of a scruffy, red hairy warrior of Biblical proportions painted on both sides of the plane. Along with Matt's shock of red hair, the tour wasn't easily forgotten, with most people able to recall Matt's and _Esau's_ names even if Morgan Lagoon's identity escaped their memory.

For the members of Matt's trusted meagre clientele, the wilderness experience included a breathtaking picnic and swim at _Surprise Eden,_ the drawcard and jewel in Matt's invigorating wilderness experience. On a clear approach to the clandestine and mysterious, well hidden utopia, the view left his exclusive guests speechless as _Esau_ shoehorned along a stretch of tight and heavily forested canyon with the snaking river water level well below the impenetrable plateau's jungle canopy. Then as the river widened and the floatplane landed, _Esau_ bumped along until he reached the obscure entrance. Although the fabled Eden's existence had become somewhat of a taunting folklore among Morgan Lagoon's competitive floatplane operators and their clientele, no one could actually weasel its location from _Esau's_ tight-lipped redheaded pilot or his guests. To maintain the secretive ambiguity, Matt shut down all positioning instruments just before entering a fifty kilometre radius, depriving any astute passenger a clue to its whereabouts and foil an attempt to sell the coordinates to a rival.

Standing on the jetty next to Matt and busy cleaning up the remnants of _Esau's_ repair, Jack stole a sideways glance at the young pilot, suspecting the presence of a familiar emotion and the distant fire of unwise adventure burning furiously in a faraway look.

"You haven't got any cockamamy ideas of the deep wilderness again have you, Matt?" Without looking up, Beaver Jack's voice competed with the _tinkling_ spanners while his hands worked furiously, cleaning his tools of trade before placing them meticulously back into their specific home within the well loved kit.

Matt seemed amused at Jack's perceptiveness. "Am I that easy to read?"

Jack's leathery old hands froze in mid polishing and turned to face the starry-eyed twenty-five year old. "Trying to gain an advantage over the other operators by expanding deep within the wilderness and leaving the other tours to skirt the fringes isn't a smart idea, Matt."

Matt became concerned at the rebuke and remembered Jack warning against the prospect before, but considered the elderly mechanic was simply kidding. It was true; no one had ventured deep within the wilderness and lived to tell the tale, especially since the unexplored region had an uncanny knack of throwing up unpredictable dry season storms and exhausting an aircraft's fuel resources fighting the melee. Some had foolishly attempted the feat but had never returned, with the thick jungle hiding a suspected crash site in an expansive tangle of constantly changing vegetative conspiracy. The secretive wilderness was a shy and foreboding place to modern man and his machines, pulling the curtain closed against his conquering efforts with a defining _clunk_ and sealing the mysterious disappearances into man's imagination and the constricting and sticky cement of legend. The fact none of the other tour operators would even consider the deep wilderness had almost become an obsession with Matt and he'd secretly decided at some point to push _Esau_ to his limits, challenging the stupid fairytales surrounding the legend and conquer the fabled yarn with truth.

"Do you really think it's inconceivable to venture inside the deepest parts of the wilderness and also survive, Jack?"

"I told you about Surprise Eden, Matt. Just be happy with that and leave well enough alone. Eden's far enough into the wilderness to be adventurous, but close enough to be safe," Jack seemed less than amused at Matt's probing.

"Yes, you did and I'm very grateful, Jack. If you hadn't, I doubt _Esau_ and I would still be here," Matt unexpectedly laughed, drawing Jack's attention while recalling the tricks of other operators trying to pry the coordinates from his grasp, or worse, soliciting information from his elated but stoic passengers. "The competition are still trying to work out whether Eden exists, and if so, where it is, yet I'm sure they will find it eventually; but there's a big difference between the other operators venturing four hours into the wilderness to Eden and a full day's travel into the deep wilderness. As far as I know, nobody's ever gone in and come out to tell the story. But if I could..."

"Yeah they have and trust me, you don't wanna go there!"

Jack's accidental disclosure and matter-of-fact statement caught Matt off guard, interrupting his babbling euphoria and causing the young pilot to stare intensely at the elderly mechanic's back as he finished packing away his kit.

Matt hadn't heard _this_ story before and Jack's casual statement broadsided the redhead and ignited a storm of curiosity.

*~*~*~*

*** COMING SOON ***

*~*~*~*

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