Anthony Wall - The Eden Mission 2

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The Eden Mission by Anthony Wall in two volumes (youth project)

Volume 2

National Library for the Blind,

Far Cromwell Road,

Bredbury,

Stockport,

SK6 2SG.

Tel: 0161 3552000.

Fax: 0161 3552098.

Registered Charity No: 213212. 1998

This work is copyright and permission to copy for the sole use of braille

readers and those using the NLB Web Site has been given by the copyright

owner. This permission is gratefully acknowledged. No unauthorised

broadcasting, public performance or copying is permitted. Braille Page type:

Title

9. Revelations

It took a lot to annoy Yves, who would rather forgive and forget than let

resentment fester. Despite everything, he'd been willing to tolerate his

unco-operative room-mate. But that was before Darren stole the pen. A thief,

there could be no doubt.

"Why didn't I punch him on the nose?" Yves was still fuming as he passed

Vanessa and Susan's door. Shall I tell them about Darren? He kept moving. Tell

one of the teachers, Ben or the captain? He couldn't think straight.

Five minutes later he was back in the cabin. Darren had retreated beneath a

bunk blanket. Yves said nothing, biding his time.

The time to speak out came next day. After breakfast, ingeniously prepared in

the post-hurricane galley, Darren rose and left the others. Now, having

considered carefully, Yves produced his pen. Vanessa reached for it. "Where

...?"

"Darren's bag. He said he found it."

Susan kicked Gary under the table.

"Maybe he did find it," Vanessa offered weakly.

"Yeah, in my drawer!"

Norman toyed with a spoon. "What are you going to do, Yves?"

"Search through his belongings, that's what. And I want you all to be there."

Vanessa protested: "We can't. It's not right."

But Yves' mind was made up. "Suit yourselves. I'll just have to handle this

alone." Taking the pen from Vanessa, he stalked out of the dining-room. As he

expected, four figures followed him.

Darren was absent from the cabin. While Norman stood guard outside, Yves

emptied the hold-all on to the bottom bunk. Vanessa exclaimed, identifying her

watch. There was more "loot": a pocket calculator, a lighter, officers' brass

buttons, ship's cutlery, a bundle of ten-dollar bills, a sealed packet, an

orange pennant bearing the words "FRIENDS OF THE SEA OTTER". Seeing this last

item, Susan had to giggle. "How on earth ...?"

Three sharp raps at the door. Norman. Soon after, the door swung open - and in

walked Darren. He froze. Only his eyes moved, missing no detail. Then,

defiantly, he advanced to the bunk. "Hands off! That stuff's private,

personal. I'll ..."

"Report us?" Yves jeered. "Go ahead. You can explain how Vanessa's watch

jumped into your bag."

Darren wheeled, as if to break away, but the escape route was barred by Gary

and Norman.

"Sit down!" An authoritative Yves.

A deflated Darren sat beside the objects laid out like exhibits in a

courtroom. The trial was due to commence.

Yves picked up the first "exhibit" - knives and forks inscribed with Sea

Shepherd's name. "You stole these, didn't you?" He tossed them back on to the

bunk. "And the buttons. And this." He waved the pennant.

Susan interrupted: "Why, Darren? I thought you liked Rhonda." Any possibility

of a reply was curtailed by Yves, determined to complete his case. One by one

he held the confiscated possessions under Darren's nose. The calculator -

whose?

"Hey, I bet it belongs to Peter Stokes," Vanessa piped up, remembering that

the maths master had "mislaid" his.

The lighter. Yves continued remorselessly. Next he riffled the wad of notes.

"Rob a bank?"

Finally Yves came to the brown-paper packet. He kneaded with inquiring

fingers, then passed it round to the others. "What's inside, I wonder?

Something secret. Give it here, Gary."

He started to tear the paper.

"No!" The anguished yell shook Yves rigid. Darren was trembling. "Please ...

Don't ..."

The semicircle of accusers changed conspicuously. Nobody wanted this - Darren

in tears. Susan wished she were somewhere else.

Gary, who'd begun to think Yves was relishing the role of prosecutor,

intervened: "OK. Enough's enough. Darren, we'll wait outside and leave you in

peace for a bit. But we'll be back for some answers."

Whether or not whole-heartedly, Yves accompanied them. Gary expressed concern

that they all keep their heads. "He's entitled to a fair hearing." Norman

nodded.

After a short interval the five re-entered the cabin. Darren was dry eyed, on

his feet. An air of challenge hung about him, like a boxer ready to

counter-punch. Gary took over. "Well, what've you got to say for yourself?"

Darren glowered, his mouth a thin hard line.

"Not talking, eh?" Gary said mildly. "I can understand that, in a way. You'd

probably prefer to answer to someone else - Ben Bellingham, for example."

Darren jerked forward a pace, driven to respond. "Drop dead, busybody! You're

bluffing. Can't prove a thing."

"Oh no?" Gary side-stepped him and snatched up the orange pennant.

"Rhonda gave it to me," Darren retorted.

"That's a lie," Susan declared. "Rhonda told Vanessa and me they didn't have a

spare flag."

While this was going on, Norman examined the lighter. "L.C." he uttered. "What

do those initials stand for? L.C." Without wanting to, he'd become the focus

of attention. "I know...Leslie Curtis! He's a smoker."

Darren's denial was emphatic. "Rubbish! Just a coincidence."

Gary shrugged, seeming not to care. "It's easy enough to check. We'll ask

him."

Suddenly Darren lost his cockiness, the boxer's nerve had gone.

Sensing victory, Yves returned to the attack. Before Gary could stop him, he

was undoing the packet. Darren surrendered at once, pleading with his hands.

Yves relented. The torn paper revealed a flat, black book cover? "What is it,

Darren? And why are you so scared?"

"I don't know. Really...honestly...I promise. It's Curtis's. I'm to look after

it. If anything happens to him, I've got to give it to the captain."

Sceptical, contemptuous, Yves widened the hole in the paper. "Expect us to

believe that? Who'd trust you?"

"It's the truth! Please don't open it. Curtis will...My dad ..." Darren was

reduced to incoherence.

Gary regained control of the situation. "OK, OK, nobody's gonna lynch you. But

you must come clean, tell us everything."

Drawing a deep breath, Darren recounted his story - falteringly at first and

then with a kind of feverish fluency. The revelations could hardly have been

more startling.

He recalled Sea Shepherd's departure, from Southampton, seven months ago, when

he'd joined the fortunate few on a voyage of discovery that his schoolmates

envied. It should have been the best day of his life. Instead it was one of

the worst. Thanks to Curtis!

Soon after boarding, Darren was singled out by the radio officer, whose

apparent kindness proved false. And then the blackmail began.

"Curtis knew all about me - and my family. Said he'd make trouble, big

trouble, if I didn't do exactly as I was told. He knew that I, well, I...take

things. Can't help it. It's like an illness."

"Kleptomania," Norman supplied.

Vanessa: "Klepto-what?"

"Kleptomania. A compulsive urge to steal."

"That's the word," Darren confirmed. "That's what the doctor called it."

He resumed his narrative, which grew stranger by the minute. His father was

serving a prison sentence for theft - and would not come out alive, Curtis had

sworn, unless Darren "obeyed". The boy gestured helplessly. "He means it. I

daren't cross him."

Outraged, Susan interjected: "The swine! I never liked him. But I don't

understand what use you are to him."

Darren lowered his head guiltily. "I, er, spy and eavesdrop on people.

Anybody, everybody. And whatever I find out, I pass on to Curtis. He says I

can go places he couldn't without causing suspicion."

Yves' budding sympathy withered at this confession. "A nasty little tell-tale,

aren't you?"

Darren didn't try to excuse himself but proceeded with the story. Guarding the

packet was his most important job, he said, and no one must learn of the

contents - except in an emergency. Curtis had paid him, in dollar bills.

Darren owned up to further "crimes", even to the fire he hadn't meant to

start.

His painful explanation over, he awaited their verdict in a lengthening

silence. Yves broke it. "We'll have to see Ben or the captain right away.

There's no choice."

Darren's face contorted. "But ..."

Gary cut across him. "Hang on, Yves. If his father's in danger... Curtis can't

be operating alone and could have heavies to do his dirty work. This needs

thinking about."

"What's behind it all?" Susan was bewildered.

"Your guess is as good as mine," said Gary. "But Curtis and Co. are no

supporters of The Eden Mission."

The debate ebbed and flowed until they reached a provisional agreement. They'd

leave Stokes's calculator on his desk at the next opportunity, and find a way

of replacing other stolen items.

"As for Curtis," added Gary, "we'll watch his every move. You, Darren, will be

our undercover man." He jabbed a finger. "And remember, you're on probation.

No more thieving - or else!"

Two thousand miles to the west, in his Houston office, Art Benton sat stiffly.

"Call from Zurich, Switzerland," his secretary announced. Benton felt his

stomach tighten. Zurich, home of ... The Director.

Benton listened to the unmistakable tones - soft, lisping, mid-European - of a

man he had never seen, whose name he did not know, immensely powerful and

influential.

"That fiasco off Santa Barbara!" The Director simmered. "Who authorised the

ramming of the ecologists' boat? You?"

"I'm not that dumb."

"Who, then? It was clumsy, rash and pointless."

Benton answered slowly: "I've a hunch, no more."

"Yes!"

"My money's on Max Kruger."

"Kruger, hmmm," The Director mused. "Possible. An overambitious hothead who

employs crude methods and cruder operatives. Quite possible."

"So what shall I do?" queried Benton.

"Do? Absolutely nothing. Leave Kruger to me."

The line went dead. Benton hung up. He dried his damp palms on a

handkerchief.

Seconds later, in Zurich, The Director's phone rang. Maximilian Kruger

calling.

Though the hurricane had long abated, every hour brought fresh evidence of

Hannah's handiwork. Captain Alexander felt downright pity for Sea Shepherd,

mauled, maimed and sorely in need of rest and recuperation. He and his company

were busier now than at the height of the storm. Mopping up and running

repairs disrupted normal schedules. Other matters, such as finding the

saboteur, must wait.

On deck, two ratings cleaned out the swimming-pool - in which the corpse of a

large sea-bird appeared to be browsing among assorted junk.

Below, lab scientist Frederick Cairns talked to and fed his surviving fish. In

the ship's hospital an orderly tended the helmsman, whose stitched face would

heal and whose eyes, by God's grace, had not been punctured.

It was a starry night with a lemon-slice moon when Sea Shepherd finally found

a berth - and a deserved respite - at Port of Spain, Trinidad. Crowding the

rail, the teenagers gazed across the multicoloured scribble of harbour lights

on the water to the inviting island beyond. While the ship underwent a

three-week refit, including a period in dry dock to attach a new propeller,

they vowed to take full advantage of this unplanned pause in the voyage.

The days dissolved into each other. For a few of the crew there was the luxury

of a little shore leave. For most, however, the stay meant work and more

work.

Varied messages poured in through the radio and satellite receivers. Ben

Bellingham was delighted to hear that the otters had eluded the oil's slimy

embrace and that some were being relocated in less hazardous areas.

But this was his sole cause for rejoicing.

Next he learned about the mini-submarine, still missing. Not so the two men

with it. Their mutilated bodies, washed up on a beach, lay in a California

morgue. Soon after, another bombshell - a radio call from the abducted trawler

skipper, freed so he could deliver a short speech from his captor: "We'll meet

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Anthony Wall - The Eden Mission 2

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