The cave mouth was tucked away, completely invisible from the shoreline and just big enough for a small rowboat or dinghy to sail into unnoticed at high tide. The mouth was angled such that someone watching from the promenade would assume the boat had simply passed around to the other side of the peninsula; perfect for smugglers, thought Annie.

Annie looked back once and turned into the dark cave. The surface water ran down in rivulets, joining and pooling together like quicksilver, pulled by the call of the sea. The sharp echo of drips and constant tinkle of running water was loud in the small space, as though she were miles below ground, instead of toe-deep in a cave mouth.

She flicked on the torch. One side of the cave was chest high in rough warty limpets before it smoothed out into chalky undulations. The other side was formed of natural ledges, which ate into the cave: plenty high enough for a smuggler to hole up in, till low tide, without fear of being swept away. She shined the torch around as she made her way farther in. She couldn’t make out where the tunnel was meant to begin. Even with her torch, the way forward just seemed black. She looked back. The glimmer of daylight seemed small and far away; she must have walked in a curve. Her nerve was beginning to wane. If she should slip or get stuck in here, no one would know she was missing, and she didn’t know exactly how long low tide lasted or how quickly the sea would rush back in to claim the cave.

Reluctantly she turned back the way she had come. She would venture in again when she had a better understanding of the tides. The torchlight fell on something on one of the higher ledges. Annie moved toward it, keeping her light on the spot. It looked like a battered old rucksack, dirty with time but with snatches of fluorescent orange and blue still visible beneath the grime. Her heart kicked up a notch. Had she discovered a bag of jewels or a shipment of heroin? Was she likely to get shot if it was the latter? Maybe this tunnel was used by modern-day smugglers too! Unable to quell her inquisitiveness, she picked her way across the mossy rocks and began to scramble up the slippery ledges to the bag. She reached up, standing on tiptoes. Her fingertips had brushed one of the fabric straps that dangled over the edge when a voice snapped: “Leave it!”

Annie stopped dead. When her heart began to beat again, she gingerly brought her arm down.

“Okay,” she said in a voice that she hoped sounded calm, compliant, and nonconfrontational. “I’m going to go now. Please don’t kill me. I am not at all interested in whatever it is you’re doing here.”