The Curiosity Machine by Richard Newsome Page A

see them for sure. Gerald touched Ruby’s hand, and with a ‘follow me’ jerk of his head he scuttled towards the rails and deeper into the shadows. Sam and Felicity crawled across to join them.
    â€˜What do we do—’ Sam began in a whisper butRuby stopped him with a finger to his lips. She pointed to an open window across the deck. The doors to the ballroom were closed but they could still be overheard. For a moment, the four of them simply stared at each other, at a loss what to do.
    Finally, Ruby gestured towards a set of stairs further around the curve of the deck that led up to the next level. Gerald nodded—anything that put some distance between them and the gunmen was a good idea. But where could they possibly go to escape? Gerald held up his forefinger, signalling they should go one at a time. He glanced over his shoulder towards the glass doors, then patted Ruby on the arm. She nodded and, true to her rat costume, skulked low to the deck and silently climbed the stairs out of sight. Sam waited a few seconds and, with a cheery thumbs-up, followed his sister.
    Gerald’s mind buzzed. Maybe they could get to the bridge. Did Captain Cooper mention there was a satellite phone there? There must be an emergency radio. They could call the police. Or the coastguard. Or the navy. Someone would come and rescue them. Gerald’s heart sank. What was he thinking? They were in the middle of nowhere. Rescuers could be days away. Felicity tapped Gerald’s hand and disappeared up the stairs. Gerald counted to ten, ready to slink to the stairwell. Then, from inside the ballroom came raised voices. Gerald flinched as a shot rang out. A window exploded, sending a cascade of glass just as Gerald sprang forward, missing him bycentimetres. He stumbled to the bottom of the stairs and chanced a look back. Glass shards were strewn across the deck, shining like diamonds in the night. Through what was left of the window, Gerald heard a voice, as dark as death.
    â€˜Where is he?’ the voice demanded. ‘Where is Gerald Wilkins?’
    Gerald froze. He strained his ears.
    â€˜He was here a moment ago, I know it.’ It was a woman’s voice. A friend of his mother’s, maybe? He could not place it. What Gerald heard next made no sense. It was the man—the voice of death. ‘You were supposed to keep him close so we could extract him quickly.’
    The words bounced around inside Gerald’s skull until they settled in a manner that he could comprehend. Someone who was already on the yacht had the job of helping a bunch of armed hoodlums ‘extract’ him. Gerald’s eyes came to rest on one of the flag decorations strung around the deck, flapping in the breeze: a black and white skull and crossbones. The symbol stuck in his vision.
    Were pirates trying to abduct him?
    Gerald scurried up the stairs to find the upper deck dark and deserted. The swimming pool, the scene of so much boisterous activity earlier in the day, was a silent millpond reflecting the stars overhead. Gerald squinted into the gloom. Where were the others? A hollow voidopened in the pit of his stomach. Could they have been caught, snatched by pirates? Mad thoughts crowded his brain. The shotguns from the clay pigeon shooting: he should find them and arm himself. At least then he’d have a fighting chance, could go down in a blaze of pellets and gunpowder—
    A hand reached from the darkness and wrapped around Gerald’s mouth. He stiffened and tried to twist around, struggling to break free. But the hand just pulled him in tighter.
    â€˜Stop messing about,’ Sam hissed in his ear. ‘You’re making too much noise.’
    Gerald wrapped his fingers around Sam’s wrist and peeled the hand from his face. He swallowed hard and turned to his friend. ‘I thought you’d been caught,’ he whispered.
    â€˜We will be if you don’t shut up,’ Sam said. He jerked his head