The Devil's Triangle by Mark Robson Page A

defiant grin as he returned his focus to the mountainous waves ahead. He knew his friend well enough to know that the sarcastic response was automatic. Niamh was safe, and the knowledge of this gave him renewed heart and strength. The boost proved invaluable, as the storm refused to let up and Sam was forced to dig deeper and deeper to find the strength to keep fighting it. Time ceased to have meaning as he negotiated wave after wave. When, finally, he spotted the flickering point of light ahead, he could not help wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him. Was it a miracle or a mirage?
    ‘A light!’ he called, a thrill running up through his stomach to his chest. ‘I’m sure I just saw a light ahead!’
    In normal daylight he would never have seen it, but the clouds overhead were so thick that it felt as though night was falling early. Sam was soaked to the skin, shaking with cold, and his arms were weak from what felt like an age of wrestling to keep the boat from capsizing in the monster swell. Constant pricking needles of salt spray stung his eyes and his lips were sore from repeatedly licking away seawater.
    A sudden spark of warmth ignited inside him as hope flared. He glanced back over his shoulder at Callum.
    ‘Did you hear me, Cal?’ he asked. ‘I said I saw a light.’
    ‘Great!’ his friend replied automatically, his voice barely audible above the wind and his tone registering little real interest. Callum appeared lost in a personal world of misery. He looked exhausted and hideously pale. Sam felt for him, but there was nothing he could do. He could not leave the wheel or they would both die. Callum had been sick so many times that he had nothing left to throw up, but his empty stomach had not halted his retching.
    ‘There it is again!’
    It was barely more than a flicker – just to the right of their current course. It hadn’t been a hallucination. Sam could not tell if the light was coming from a point onshore or from another vessel, but he didn’t care. He turned the boat towards the source, watching intently for further telltale flickers.
    A glance at the sonar screen told him they were still in relatively deep water, though it was definitely getting shallower. Given the visibility, he would have expected to be on top of the reef if the light was coming from the Keys. The swell alone was bigger than the two metres of depth he would have found there. His heart sank. The light had to be from another boat. There was no other explanation.
    Another pulse of particularly intense rain lashed at him, driven on by the wild, gusting wind. It drummed on the boat’s surfaces so hard that Sam could feel the vibration of it, distinct from that of the engines. Forward visibility was poor at best, but for a moment, he felt as if he was driving blind.
    He had little choice. Following the light was their only hope for survival.
    When the change came, it came quickly. Sam glanced at the sonar again. They were entering much shallower water. The rhythm of the waves was changing and he could hear a booming roar ahead that could only be surf. The strange thing was that he wasn’t approaching the reef – that would have appeared like a wall on the screen.
    ‘This is all wrong!’ he muttered again. He must have thought the same words a thousand times over since they had entered the strange patch of water. ‘Hang on, Callum. It’s hard to tell for certain, but I think we’re getting close to the shore.’
    ‘Thank God!’
    ‘You can thank who you like,’ Sam called. ‘But we’re not out of trouble yet. Give it one last push with the bailing. It might make all the difference.’
    Sam knew that even if they were not driving towards a reef, getting through the surf without capsizing would take a miracle. And if they made it to the beach – what then? How could he secure the boat? His dad would kill him if he wrecked it! But given the choice between staying alive and facing the wrath of his father, it was a