The tunnel continued endlessly through the rock that had formed the island millions of years before. Here and there a shaft rose up from the ceiling of the passage towards the surface. Fragmented speckles of light shone like bright stars from the tops of some of these as the day fought valiantly to break through into the perpetual night of the underworld through which they passed. Arthur wondered why they had not noticed the deep wells in the ground when they had explored the island.
At some points the tunnel was no more than three or four feet tall, forcing them almost to their hands and knees. At others the path rose and fell following natural fissures in the rock where the roof was high above and their footsteps echoed eerily.
At last they came to a place where the tunnel split in two. On the left the path took a sharp upward tilt, with shallow gravelled steps edged with planks of wood. The right hand tunnel continued for a few metres and appeared to come to an abrupt end. Nevertheless it was into the right hand tunnel that Tracy led the way, shining her torch at the ceiling to reveal a rectangular hatch door. Tracy reached up and pulled at a handle at one end. The hatch swung easily down on oiled springs to release an aluminium loft ladder, which clattered down to reach the floor. Above he recognised the underside of rafters and floorboards and guessed correctly that they had arrived at the cottage.
Climbing the ladder Tracy pushed at two floorboards which moved easily to allow her to pass up into the room which had until recently been her temporary home. Arthur followed, speechless. The door to the room still bore the marks of the violent invasion of the previous day and Tracy stooped to pick up a long, heavy object that had been propped in the corner before leading the way out into the blinding light of day.
"I'm amazed.” said Arthur. "I thought passages like that only existed in stories or medieval castles."
"The tunnel was mostly my Great Grandpa's work. Pretty good when you consider there was no machinery to dig it out." There was pride in her voice. "It originally came up in the yard, part of an outside cellar but when Grandpa extended the cottage he built the kitchen over it."
Passing through the remains of the kitchen garden the two of them began the climb that would lead them over the hill to the camp. On the brow they paused and looked down towards the cove. There appeared to be no sign of life around the camp, although a thin pencil line of smoke that rose almost vertically from the fire in the centre showed that someone could not be too far away. As they resumed their walk Arthur's eye was caught by a flash of reflected sunlight in the waters of the cove itself.
"What's that?" he pointed. Tracy trained her battered field glasses on the scene.
"It's a canoe." she replied. "I think it's Phil. I can't see Reuben."
"I wonder what he's up to." Arthur mused. "Trust him to be playing about at a time like this."
The angle of light on the sea had prevented them from seeing the shadow of the submerged boat, and Reuben and the others were hidden by the rocks of the cove from which they had been pulling steadily on the rope. Arthur was unaware of anything out of the ordinary until Tracy, glancing up from the path, noticed with alarm that Phil was out of his kayak and seemingly struggling in the water close by.
"What's he doing?" Arthur was concerned and even a little annoyed. It was basic safety procedure not to be out on the sea on your own, even this close to land. Reuben should have been out with him to effect a rescue. "Where's Reuben?"
Phil's head disappeared below the surface. Arthur taking the field glasses watched in dismay. It would take them minutes to reach the cove. If Phil really was in trouble there was not much they could do. Phil reappeared, seeming to reach out for the abandoned kayak and leaned over the cockpit. Both observers breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the canoeist recovered his paddle and his position in the small craft. Paddling towards the shore he disappeared into the shadows of the rocks.
As chance would have it the two groups arrived at the camp from different sides at roughly the same moment. As Phil appeared, out of breath, Arthur was quite prepared to deliver a mouthful of reproachful abuse to his Irish friend, but stopped short in his tracks when he realised not only that he had company but also that the nature of that company was somewhat familiar. He had only seen those faces for a few seconds, but they had made a considerable impression.
Tracy had also recognised the two older men and had levelled the familiar shotgun in their direction as a precautionary measure. Phil grinned widely, Gregory frowned and Harry raised his hands warily.
"Hey! Take it easy with that thing!" he spoke softly and nervously. "It's dangerous to point those at people!"
"You've got a nerve! You don't seem to mind danger when it comes to dishing it out! I bet it feels different to be on the other end!" Tracy spoke vehemently from between clenched teeth.
Phil's smile had disappeared and was replaced by bewilderment. This feeling was shared by Reuben, arriving seconds after the rest and finding himself confronted with the whole scene.
"Oh great!" he exclaimed resignedly.
"Look I think there's been a misunderstanding here." It was Gregory who spoke.
"I'll say!" Arthur retorted hotly. "Although I don't think we could make much mistake about what you were trying to do!"
"We weren't out to hurt you. We just aimed to shake you up a little!" Harry sounded sheepish.
"You succeeded!" Arthur was not convinced.
"Excuse me for asking," Reuben interrupted, "but have I missed something here?"
"These two clowns tried to kill us." Arthur's eyes remained fixed on the two men.
"No, we wouldn't do that. We only wanted to teach you a lesson." Gregory pleaded earnestly. "We didn't know who you were. You could have been anyone. We were sure you had stolen the boat. Although I should have known from the way you handled it that you were his daughter."
"You know my dad?" It was Tracy's turn to look perplexed.
"They say they were at college with him." said Phil. "There's no need for the artillery. They're unarmed and in no position to do any damage if they wanted to, which I doubt."
Tracy obligingly lowered the shotgun and continued her puzzled stare at the two strangers.
"I'm Harry. Last time I saw you, you were knee high to a grasshopper and toddling about the garden with little more than a sun hat! This is Greg. I don't think you've met him before but we were all part of the same club with your father."
"Harry?" Tracy sounded uncertain but the name did appear to have some resonance. "We get a Christmas card from you every year. Colorado?"
"Denver! That's right." Harry smiled broadly.
"Something to do with communications?" The light of recognition was stronger now. Tracy seemed relieved and yet still unable to believe the situation was real. "I've heard a lot about you."
"Satellite broadcasting." Harry replied. "I thought your Dad had told me most about you too but I can see you've grown up since he last wrote!"
"Do you know where he is?" Tracy asked earnestly.
"What do you mean?" Harry stopped smiling. "Isn't he about?"
"Anyone for a cup of tea?" Reuben decided to shelve the desire to comprehend, which appeared to be an unrealistic ambition, and concentrate on the practicalities of the here and now. The two groups sat down around the fireplace. Tracy told Harry the details of her situation although Arthur noticed that she made no mention of the tunnel, the cave or the box. Looking at the faces of the newcomers he noticed that their concern appeared genuine enough.
"So you haven't seen him or your mother for three weeks or so. Didn't you ought to tell the police or something?" Harry asked.
"And risk being taken into care?" Tracy was scornful. "I can look after myself and I know Mum and Dad wouldn't want that sort of attention from the council when they get back."
"Don't you mean 'if' they get back!" Gregory pointed out gravely. "It's a little longer than 'a week or so' isn't it?"
Tracy paled. "Oh no! Once he left us for two months saying he'd only be a few days. Mum didn't seem worried and said it was an 'occupational hazard' or something." She was beginning to sound a little less convinced even to herself now. "But they've never been away this long together without making arrangements."
"But that's just it! They're not together as far as you know, are they?" Gregory sounded more and more like a lawyer and his tone had an edge to it that was not altogether friendly. He gave Harry a furtive glance but Harry's gaze was fixed on the ground. The look did not go unnoticed. Reuben frowned as the big man spoke again.
"What do you know about your father's work?"
"Not very much. He works with computers, like Mum. Mum says he often has to go abroad to sort out problems with various programmes or software. She says if no-one can sort the problem out they call in my Dad."
"That just about sums it up!" agreed Harry. There was a wry smile on his face that made Reuben think that somehow Harry knew more about her father's job than she did.
"Did he ever tell you about his journeys?" Gregory persisted.
"I wouldn't understand a lot of what he was saying but he used to bring me things occasionally."
"What sort of things?" The question came that little bit too abruptly to be mere curiosity. This time Reuben was not the only one to feel uneasy. Harry looked up at his companion. His eyes reflected a growing anger at his friend's insensitivity.
"Hey! Lay off with the Spanish Inquisition will you!" he drawled. "It sounds like she's been through enough without you playing the great detective!"
Gregory scowled and returned his gaze to the now empty mug of tea in his hands. The strain of the day’s events seemed to catch up with him. "I'm sorry. Just trying to find some way of making sense of this mess." His excuse seemed a little lame.
"It doesn't matter." Tracy said quietly. "I've been thinking the same for some time, and believe me if I could remember anything that might be relevant I would have done something about it by now."
"How about a stroll down to look at the boat?" Phil suggested. "The tide will be well on the way out now. Let's see what the old tubs up to."
Gregory welcomed a change of scene and left with Phil and Arthur who was intrigued by the whole salvage operation. Reuben found himself blessing Phil's knack of breaking a 'heavy' atmosphere with a grin and a twinkle of his Irish eyes.
"You O.K.?" Harry looked across the fire at the girl he had not seen for so many years. She had changed almost out of all recognition.
"Fine." She looked back at him, searching her memory for confirmation of the familiarity of his features.
Reuben looked at them both. He was still puzzled by the speed of events. There were too many loose ends. Something just didn't add up. He had an uneasy feeling about Gregory but, instinctively, Harry appeared to him to be genuine. Were his instincts right? He couldn't tell. He started to poke the fire idly with a stick, turning over the rocks and the charred ends of those larger sticks that protruded from the edge of the fire. He found himself looking carefully at each blackened branch and the patterns of soot on the smooth surfaces of the stones on which splashes of burnt fat bore witness to their temporary role as a cooking stove.
"What are you looking for?" Harry had been watching his movements for some minutes before asking the question.
Reuben sat up with a start. That was it! What were they looking for? Something that should not 'fall into the wrong hands', that's what they had said at the house. And why the mess at the cottage, the boxes had not just been upset, they had been systematically searched.
"What were you looking for?" The words escaped involuntarily from his lips.
Harry frowned. "I beg your pardon?"
"At the house. You were looking for something." Reuben was looking straight into his eyes. "And again at the cottage. You didn't just rough it up. You were looking for something." 'Whatever had happened to timid old Reuben!' he thought to himself, yet again surprised and impressed with his own growing confidence.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Harry protested. "I told you we've been living in the house. The only thing I've looked for is the key! In the end we put a new lock in the back door so we could keep the place secure when we were out."
"Did you look for the key in the safe?" Tracy understood what Reuben was asking. Her eyes flashed as she remembered discovering the invasion of her home.
"Whaddya mean?"
"The safe was open. I saw it!" she continued. Her eyes were fixed in a steady gaze under which the American felt distinctly uncomfortable.
"No way! We never touched any safe." Harry was indignant in his denial. "We made ourselves at home, and perhaps we should have thought better of it, but we didn't go poking our noses. I wouldn't do that to anyone."
"What about the cottage?" There was anger in her eyes, and Reuben felt a slight sliver of sympathy for the victim. He had been on the receiving end of those eyes before.
"We thought you were trespassers! We only meant to shake you up a little, to give you a few second thoughts. We weren't to know who you were."
"So it was you who messed it up then." Reuben stated. "You're not denying that."
"Actually it was Greg who went ashore. I looked after the boat, but I was with him all the way. I really thought you were up to no good."
"So why not call the police?" Reuben asked coldly. "Probably because you had no more right to be here than we did."
Harry looked annoyed, but there was also a trace of pain in his expression. "Gee! I don't want to fight like this. It's such a mess. We've not handled things well I know, but believe me when I say I'm really sorry."
Somehow Reuben did believe him. He didn't know why. Just a hunch maybe. But the facts had not gone away. Tracy had said that the safe was open. He believed her too. The cottage had been Greg's doing. Had he been responsible for the safe without Harry’s knowledge?