The Secret of Skeleton Reef (12 page)

“Obviously Isaac and Ishmael are involved,” Joe said, shifting gears as he drove up a slope. “And we know they aren't the only ones because someone with them was in the water last night.”

“They're probably looking to sell the plutonium, for a lot of money,” Frank said. A grapefruit-size quantity of plutonium is enough to power a bomb that can destroy the better part of a city. As Auntie Samantha said, that stuff is evil. Even if the divers find half that amount, they could probably make several million dollars off it.”

“Digging on the reef without permission is illegal,” Joe said. “And selling plutonium is even more illegal. If Chrissy found out about the scheme—overheard something, saw something—then the
guys looking for the plutonium would have a strong motive for getting rid of her.”

“Or, then again,” Frank said, “maybe Chrissy knows nothing about the plutonium scheme.”

Twilight had descended on the island by the time the Hardys pulled up beside the bungalow. Finding the house empty, the brothers walked down to the beach to see if Jamal was there. The sky was veiled with a pastel layer of pink and orange, and the sun was just touching the rim of the sea.

When they reached the sand, the Hardys saw a young woman standing in the shallow part of the water. She wore a loose white caftan that billowed gently in the breeze. She was gazing out at the water with her back to the Hardys. Frank was not the superstitious type, but by the eerie light of dusk the young woman resembled nothing so much as a ghost.

“Who is that?” Frank said quietly.

“It looks like Rebecca,” Joe whispered in awe.

“Wait,” Frank said, squinting to see the young woman better. “That's not Rebecca. It's Chrissy!”

“You're right!” Joe cried with joy. He realized the long chestnut hair was the same he had seen draped over the hospital pillow. Joe had never been so happy to see someone he hardly knew.

“And there's Jamal under that palm tree,” Frank said. “He must have found her. Come on.”

Frank and Joe hurried over to Jamal, who was sitting on the sand watching Chrissy. “Well, you must have done something right,” Joe said.

“Not really,” Jamal said, standing up. “I went through several villages asking about Chrissy but didn't find a thing. About a half hour ago, I came here. There I saw her, wading through the water.
I explained how we've been trying to help her out.”

“Where has she been?” Frank asked.

“After she escaped from the hospital,” Jamal explained, “she hopped a plane to the island of Grenada. She hid out there all day yesterday, then decided to come back here today.”

“Did she tell you what happened to her?” Joe asked, stealing a glance at Chrissy. “It's getting more and more important that we find out who tried to murder her. We might be next on the list.”

“No,” Jamal said, shaking his head. “She doesn't remember. It's as if she's blocked the whole thing out of her mind. That's why she came back to St. Lucia; she thought being here would help release her memory. She's walking the beach right now to try to remember what happened to her Thursday night.”

After the Hardys described the day's adventures to Jamal, the boys walked over to Chrissy, stopping where the water met the shore. Chrissy turned to face the Hardys, her long hair blowing in the breeze. “Hello,” Frank said. “It's good to see you.”

“Same here,” Chrissy said a bit shyly. She seemed worried.

“Are you having any luck with your memory?” Joe asked.

“Not really,” Chrissy answered with a sigh. “I'm fairly certain somebody tried to kill me Thursday
night. But everything else about that night, and even the few days before it, is a complete blank.”

“You've probably blocked out everything surrounding that event,” Frank said, “because it was so terrifying. People do that sometimes.”

“Does being here on the beach help any?” Joe asked, folding his arms on his chest.

“I feel as if it's bringing the memories closer,” Chrissy said. “But still not close enough.”

“Come here,” Frank said, leading Chrissy to a spot on the sand beneath a cluster of palm trees. Joe and Jamal followed, and everyone sat. Joe felt a cool current of air as the palm leaves rustled overhead. Gazing at the sea, he saw the twilight sky was now dramatically streaked with purple and lavender.

“Chrissy,” Frank said, his brown eyes focusing on the girl, “I'm going to try to help you remember. Please, just relax. Now, Thursday night you helped Pierre Montclare with his bookkeeping. You were at his plantation house. Do you remember that?”

“No,” Chrissy said, looking at Frank. “I remember helping him a few times before but not on Thursday night.”

“That's all right,” Frank said soothingly. “I know you were there. And I think there's a good chance you left Montclare's place and boarded some kind of a boat. Does that make any sense?”

“Uhm, well . . . not really,” Chrissy replied.

“Maybe just a little?” Jamal said.

“Maybe,” Chrissy said, brushing back her hair.

“Good,” Joe said.

“Once you boarded the boat,” Frank continued, “I think you went out to sea. I know you don't remember, Chrissy, but I want you to try. Close your eyes. Really let yourself relax.”

Chrissy shut her eyes and rested her hands on her crossed legs.

“Now listen to the waves,” Frank said quietly. “Try to envision yourself on the boat. You're cruising through the dark water. The moon is shaped like a crescent, a little slimmer than it is tonight. After a while I believe you see the
Destiny
in the distance. Your boat is drawing nearer . . . nearer . . . nearer.”

Joe saw Chrissy nodding her head slightly, as if following the story. “Is it coming back to you at all?” Frank asked hopefully.

“Maybe it is,” Chrissy answered. “Maybe it isn't. I just can't . . . I can't quite get there.”

“Keep relaxing,” Frank urged. “Stay calm. You're doing just great.”

“Chrissy,” Joe said softly, “does the word
plutonium
mean anything to you?”

“Plutonium,” Chrissy said slowly, her eyes still closed. Then she gave a slight shudder. “The word scares me for some reason, but I'm not sure why.”

“Do you remember anything about there being plutonium on Skeleton Reef?” Jamal asked.

“Uh . . . ” Chrissy said, her brow wrinkling.

“It was plutonium that sank thirty years ago on a Cuban fishing boat,” Frank said, sensing Chrissy was getting close to a memory. “On the northern end of Skeleton Reef. I think you might have known something about the plutonium. And I think this might have had something to do with why someone tried to kill you.”

Chrissy shut her eyes tight.

“Come on, Chrissy,” Jamal said humorously. “How many Cuban fishing boats are carrying plutonium?”

“Ahh!” Chrissy said, slapping the sand with her hand. “It sounds so familiar but . . . It's like having a word on the tip of your tongue yet not being able to remember it. It's . . . terribly frustrating.”

“I bet it is,” Frank said sympathetically.

“I want to know what happened to me!” Chrissy said, opening her eyes. “I know someone tried to kill me Thursday night, and I want to know who it was. Then maybe I can find a way to stop them from trying it again. Otherwise I'm going to be on the run for the rest of my life, always living in fear, always looking over my shoulder.”

“Take it easy,” Joe said, touching Chrissy. “We're going to help you get to the bottom of this.”

“Okay,” Frank said, trying to collect his thoughts. “The word
plutonium
seemed to ring a bell for Chrissy. I think the plutonium must be why
some people are taking the
Destiny
to the northern section of Skeleton Reef. These people tried to murder Chrissy because she knew about it. In fact, I think Chrissy was thrown from the
Destiny
into Skeleton Reef so she would drown. That's why she kept saying ‘skeh' right after we found her.”

“The problem is,” Jamal said, “we'll never be able to prove someone tried to murder Chrissy unless she can remember it. Even if we were to find the culprit, he or she would just deny it, and Chrissy would be in no position to argue.”

“It turns out,” Frank said, stretching his long legs in the sand, “the biggest secret on Skeleton Reef is the one inside Chrissy Peters's mind.”

“I'm sorry,” Chrissy said, on the verge of tears. “Really, I'm sorry.”

“Forget it,” Jamal said, waving a hand. “Well, maybe that's a bad choice of words.”

Chrissy smiled. It was the first time Joe had seen her smile, and it made him happy.

“You know,” Frank said thoughtfully. “Sometimes when psychiatrists want to help a patient remember an incident that's been blocked out, the psychiatrist takes the person to the place of the incident through hypnosis. Unfortunately we can't do that. But maybe, Chrissy, if we took you to the actual site of the attempted murder, it would help you unlock the secret.”

“You could be right,” Chrissy said. “It seemed to help a bit just being here on the beach.”

“Let's do it tonight,” Joe said eagerly. “The longer we delay, the more chance something will happen to Chrissy. Odds are the
Destiny
will be on the northern part of the Reef in a few hours. Just as it was last night.”

“Aren't you forgetting a small detail?” Jamal said. “Like the bad guys will be there, too? Some of them might be in the water, but Isaac and Ishmael will probably be on deck. And somehow I doubt they're going to give us a nice friendly welcome.”

“I'm getting an interesting idea,” Frank said, staring at Chrissy's white caftan.

“What?” Joe asked.

“No, forget it,” Frank said, brushing sand off his knee. “It's way too risky.”

“Tell us, please,” Chrissy said, grabbing Frank's arm. “I have to know what happened to me!”

• • •

A wooden skiff was cruising through the sea several hours later with the Hardys, Jamal, and Chrissy aboard. A slender crescent of moon glowed in the sky, but otherwise the sea was quite dark.

Joe and Jamal were both wearing scuba gear, Frank was dressed in black, and Chrissy had applied white makeup all over her face, giving her skin a ghostly pallor. She manned the outboard engine while Frank did the navigating. The skiff had been borrowed from a neighbor of Jamal's uncle.

“I see the
Destiny
,” Joe said, peering through
binoculars. “Isaac and Ishmael are on deck, leaning on the starboard gunwale. I don't see anyone else, but there's a faint light in the water.”

“That means someone is diving,” Jamal said.

“All right,” Frank said as Chrissy cut off the outboard. “Let's get this show on the road. Is everybody ready?”

“I guess so,” Chrissy said nervously.

“Let's go for it,” Jamal said. He and Joe both strapped on diving tanks. Then they put in their mouthpieces, activated their diving watches, and slipped quietly into the water.

With a pair of oars Frank began rowing the skiff toward the
Destiny
, which was still too far away to see without binoculars. “How do I look?” Chrissy asked, moving to the front of the boat.

“Mess your hair up a little,” Frank suggested. “Remember, you're supposed to be a ghost who's been dead a few hundred years.”

Several minutes later the skiff was nearing the
Destiny
. “Ahoy there!” Isaac called out. “We have exclusive rights to this area! Do not approach!”

Chrissy stood up in the bow of the skiff as Frank continued rowing. Frank saw the giant Ishmael move away from the gunwale as if to fetch something.

“I repeat,” Isaac called, “we have exclusive rights to this site. Do not approach!” But Frank kept rowing, the steady rhythm of the oars propelling the skiff forward.

“Maybe you will understand this!” Isaac called. Ishmael handed him a rifle and brought one up to eye level. They took aim at the skiff.

I hope this works, Frank thought. He kept rowing toward the
Destiny
. Chrissy spread her arms, and the white caftan flowed and flapped in the wind.

Isaac and Ishmael lowered their weapons. Frank lifted the oars from the water, letting the skiff float in place.

“Rebecca?” Isaac called out. “Is that you?”

Chrissy stood in the bow, saying nothing.

Isaac and Ishmael stared at Chrissy, and Frank realized they were trying to determine if they were being visited by the fabled ghost of Rebecca. The plan was going well, but Frank knew the two men would not be fooled much longer.

Then, behind Isaac and Ishmael, Joe and Jamal climbed onto the
Destiny
. After removing their fins, they each pulled a length of rope from their weight belt. As Isaac and Ishmael whispered to each other, Joe and Jamal crept up behind them.

Jamal grabbed the arms of Isaac, and Joe grabbed Ishmael's. Before the men could resist, the boys were lashing the ropes around their wrists.

“What is this?” Isaac snarled. “Who are you?”

“What's the matter, guys?” Jamal said. “You two look like you've seen a ghost.”

Moving quickly, Joe and Jamal tied their ropes to lashing knobs on the gunwale, binding the islanders to the side of the boat. Then Joe tossed the two
rifles into the water. “You can never tell when a gun will be used against you,” he told Jamal.

As the men yanked furiously at their ropes, Frank rowed hurriedly toward the
Destiny
. After lashing the skiff to the boat, Frank and Chrissy climbed aboard it. Chrissy ran up to the bridge and started the engine.

Frank, Joe, and Jamal each ran to an anchor point and activated the motors that hauled up the anchors. “Go!” Frank called when the anchors were clear of the water. Chrissy piloted the boat forward a short distance.