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Ernest Hemingway wanted to live here. Have you visited his house?
It’s just opposite the hotel.’
    Bill shook his head. ‘Never been much of one for readin’ an’ books an’ the like. I guess with it bein’ on the doorstep an’ all, I just ain’t gotten
round to it.’
    ‘Oh, you should!’ she enthused. ‘It’s fascinating. Some superb trees in the gardens there too,’ she added with a chuckle.
    He laughed. ‘Usin’ my weak spot, eh? Just like a woman to do that!’ he told her.
    The main route into the town was stop-start all the way. Niamh hadn’t been into Key West for a while, but the street names were all familiar. As they turned into Duval Street, she gave a
start and began to scan through the faces of the many people strolling along the pavements. Most looked like tourists, but Niamh was looking for one face in particular and he was no sightseer.
    When she had run from the police the first time, she had befriended a brother and sister – Tony and Carrie Dale, who lived locally. They had listened to her story and despite knowing they
could get into trouble, they had helped her anyway. If she was going to successfully evade the police this time, she would need to enlist their help again. Tony had said he was coming here earlier;
maybe luck would stay on Niamh’s side and she’d spot him. Even the thought of seeing Tony again set her heart racing. She had only met him yesterday, but already he seemed to have got
inside her head. Was it really just this morning that he had rescued her from Monkey Island in his kayak? That seemed an age ago now.
    As if her thoughts had conjured him up, she saw Tony standing outside a corner shop, his blond hair tousled and his tan positively glowing in the afternoon sun. Niamh instinctively opened her
mouth to ask Bill to stop and let her out, but the words froze on her lips as the shop door opened and a dark-haired girl emerged. Niamh felt a cold chill run through her and her eyes narrowed as
she stared at the girl with feelings bordering on hatred. It was Tessa: the girl who had told the police where to find her.

CHAPTER THREE
    ‘It seems the raptors had human help developing that kite flyer,’ Claire announced as she swept into the communal area of the rebel HQ. ‘I’ve just got
word from our source in the Imperium labs. Flying must be one of those things that gets in the blood, because the young man who’s been helping them had a grandmother who was renowned for it.
Have either of you boys ever heard of Amelia Earhart?’
    ‘I vaguely remember her from some of the books and articles Dad read for his research,’ Sam said. ‘She was the first lady to fly solo across the Atlantic, but she disappeared
mysteriously while flying across the Pacific I think. . .’
    ‘Wait a minute,’ Callum interrupted. ‘Does that mean her disappearance is linked to the Devil’s Triangle too?’
    ‘That’s right,’ Claire confirmed. ‘Not all of the crossings happen in the Bermuda Triangle region, remember. They happen wherever there are particularly powerful storms
in this world. It just happens that the majority of those occur in a couple of regions. There have been a few famous folk turn up in various parts of this world over the years. Amelia was one. Lord
Lucan, Glenn Miller. . .’
    ‘What, the Glenn Miller?’ Callum exclaimed. ‘Chattanooga Choo Choo, Little Brown Jug Glenn Miller?’
    ‘That’s the one,’ Claire said, clearly amused by his reaction. ‘I’m surprised you’ve even heard of him. I’d have thought you’d be into more modern
music, Callum.’
    ‘I play trombone at school,’ he explained. ‘You can’t play trombone and not know about Glenn Miller! I love his music! It’s brilliant.’
    ‘I suppose. If you like that sort of thing.’
    ‘Don’t tell me Elvis is here too!’ Callum added, clearly at least halfway serious.
    Claire laughed. ‘I’m afraid not. As far as I know, the King is dead and buried in