Chapter 1

“They advise you to stay with the wreckage.” Daniel said this not for the first time, the second or the third. The conversation would be equally productive if he addressed his remarks silently. He clawed his fingers into the sand and pressed his teeth together so hard his jaw ached. He only eased up because of the fear he might break something.

Richard continued to ignore him, having paid little attention of any comment to spill from Daniel’s mouth all morning. His boss put on a display of unprecedented contempt, stepping over Daniel where he lay on the beach. One shouldn’t expect much respect from some management types, but while he withstood bullshit relating to work, Daniel took the spray of sand falling from Richard’s footwear on to his legs as a personal insult.

Richard crouched, stuffing items into a rucksack. Daniel remained on his back, staring up at a serene and pale blue sky, his emotions anything but tranquil. With his thoughts in turmoil, he managed to keep his panic at bay only by sheer will. The turbulence thrived in deep, dark recesses of his mind never previously tapped. They might be facing serious trouble. How could Richard refuse to consider the situation grave?

Daniel swallowed. He should have chosen a better word. He didn’t want to consider anything linked to a burial place on such a beautiful day.

The weather had improved, at least, though the thought threatened to send him spiralling into maniacal laughter. To gaze at the sky now, one would never believe twelve hours prior one murderous storm forced them inland. Terror—the distraction of fighting for his life—the only reason the entire contents of his stomach didn’t end up in the ocean as the waves turned choppy. Too-familiar queasiness had taken hold even before the conditions became hostile. If sea legs were an actual thing and existed, Daniel would never possess them. All he recalled of the previous day were hours of anxiety and torment. Time spent unable to appreciate the sun or the scenery until even those turned against him.

Infuriating. His boss was utterly infuriating.

Richard knew Daniel hated the water, understood very well how he feared the thought of sailing, yet the man insisted he come out here failing to inform him there were no flights between the islands until long after his arrival. Transfer by light aircraft remained at the planning stage. For now, the only way across was by boat. After an hour at sea, Daniel spotted their destination…or so he had believed. A sigh of relief only started to flow over his lips when Richard told him this was one of several islands, their goal still off some way.

“What are you doing?” Daniel exclaimed as Richard took the boat closer to shore.

“Showing you the sights.”

All well and good but hidden dangers might scupper a vessel.

“See that?”

“What!” Expecting Richard to say they had run aground or the engine had developed a fault Daniel jumped and clutched at the side of the craft, blushing under Richard’s grin of amusement and mockery. Instead of pronouncing doom, Richard pointed. A minute or two passed before Daniel observed the resident bird life.

“The atolls are home to a large number of plovers, sandpipers, many others. What you are looking at are terns. Can’t tell you what types without grabbing the binoculars. If you’re lucky, you’ll see a pelican.”

“Aren’t they bad luck to sailors?” To his question, Daniel received another smile though one impossible to read. As Richard turned away, Daniel had stared at the island while the boat drifted past. As beautiful as the landscape was, he found it difficult to enjoy.

Now he lay on the sand unable even to think thoughts of getting a good suntan.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Daniel spoke softly, but loud enough for Richard to hear. Nothing. No response. He almost growled. He and Richard had worked together sufficiently for the man to understand he would never make a sailor. The one thing about this trip Daniel was able to appreciate was the irony of having no fear of flying. Only the realisation of every yelp or squawk to slip out of his mouth making him appear a fool eventually silenced his initial protests, the chance of dying from embarrassment greater than his drowning. That belief changed when the sky turned the dark grey of granite. To think, a few hours before Daniel had been heartened when Richard said, “We’ll wait out the storm at a small inlet I know, head on as soon as the bad weather passes.”

“I’m an idiot,” Daniel whispered, this time talking to himself and not for Richard’s benefit. Stupid, indeed. He should never have left London, never shown faith in Richard’s promises. He couldn’t accept his belief in Richard when the man told him all would be well. All Daniel wanted was to return to the mainland—technically, an island too, but one with a population and resources; hotels, hot and cold running water, fresh food brought to the room delivered on a trolley in answer to a simple phone call. His stomach grumbled at the thought.