Everything had gone like clockwork . . . until now. They had to find the girl. They only had three days until the team arrived in Shoal Bay and they could not be delayed. The schedule was too tight. The first of the targets would arrive in Vancouver eight days from now. Two days after that they would all meet in the new convention center, and by then the weapons had to be assembled, the team trained and given their instructions and each of them put in place.
Silently he cursed Alex. Sinking the boat had been stupid. They should have waited for the girl to return and taken care of her before setting the boat adrift. If they had timed it right, the boat would have drifted out with the wind and current before it sank and the emergency radio beacon would have focused attention far away from Shoal Bay. As it was, they had to hope that no one would come across the wreck and set off an alarm. At least Alex had been smart enough to remove the beacon before he sank the boat, but they still needed the girl—or at least her corpse. A search for a possible survivor would threaten everything.
The sound of an outboard motor caught Fernandez’s attention and briefly stilled his tapping finger. He turned his head to glance at the barman and gave a faint inclination of his head. Minutes later he was joined on deck by two men, both wearing jeans and orange Floater coats.
Gunter Rachmann, blond hair cut short and blue eyes hidden behind dark glasses, dragged over a chair and sat down. His companion, a short, dark-skinned, dark-eyed man known only as Trip, remained standing.
“Nothing.” The dark man shook his head in disgust.
Fernandez turned his head and let his stare rest on Trip’s face. Trip shuffled his feet but did not flinch.
“We searched the whole island. There ain’t no sign of her.”
Fernandez moved his flat gaze to Gunter. The man remained silent for a few minutes, then spoke in careful, clipped words that held the trace of an accent.
“We have picked up no other boats on the radar, either here or on the dinghy. We have heard no other engines. There has been only a little local radio traffic.” He paused, then continued. “I think she has a small boat. Maybe a canoe or a kayak. There is some new paint on the float. Not much. Not regular paint. Maybe some kind of fiberglass coating. It forms a rough outline.”
“That’s nuts,” Trip interjected. “Why would she take a toy boat out in a storm? We arrived the day the storm quit and she wasn’t there then.” He shrugged. “Anyway, the paint ain’t that new.”
Fernandez ignored him, keeping his eyes fixed on the blond German.
“The paint is new,” Gunter reiterated. “And it is yellow. Her boat was old and it had no new paint. The dinghy was blue.” He shrugged. “I think she has a small boat.”
“Well, if she went out in a toy boat she’s probably dead by now,” Trip snorted. “The last two days have been good, and she ain’t back!”
The German still did not show any expression. “She could perhaps be with someone else. There are surely people who live around here somewhere.” He gave what might have been a shrug. “Or perhaps she is stranded, her ‘toy boat,’ as you call it, damaged or sunk.”
“So who cares?” Trip snorted derisively. “If she’s stranded, she’ll end up dead!”
“Enough!” The single word from Fernandez was enough to silence both men. “Get Alex and Marty.”
Trip left and returned minutes later with two other men.
Fernandez stood and beckoned to Harry, who was watching them from the wheelhouse, then turned back to address the men now gathered around him, keeping his voice low.
“Take the Whaler and the inflatable, two men per boat. Take fishing gear in case you meet up with anyone. It will give you a good cover. I want every beach and inlet searched. If you find cabins or boats, check them out. Make up a story. Say you are looking for the owner of the boat. Maybe say you are worried about her. Act friendly. But find the girl.” His eyes briefly met Gunter’s. “And lose her.”
He turned to greet Harry. “Time to move, my friend.”
SIX
Annie had the kettle boiling when Walker returned to the galley. “So?”
“I called a guy I know.” Walker knew he would have to tell Annie the whole story. She would not welcome a stranger into the bay, let alone allow him onto her boat.
“When I was a kid . . .” He stopped, not sure how to begin. “A while back, ten, twelve years ago, I got into trouble.” He hesitated again, then forced himself to continue. “I was down in the city. Got to drinking. Got into drugs.” He looked across at her, his face twisted with remembered pain. “I needed money, so I broke into a house. Stole some stuff.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Guess I was good at it. Didn’t get caught.”
He paused to sip at his tea, his eyes staring unseeingly across the cabin. The words came a little easier now. “Did that for a long time. Houses, then a couple of stores. Got so it seemed easy. Got a reputation, I guess. The guys called me ‘The Ghost.’”
He looked back at Annie, searching for a reaction, but she sat calmly, her expression unchanged.
“Couple of guys asked me to help them rob a bank. Said it would be easy. Had it all planned out.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I was on the roof when the cops came. Tried to run but fell off instead. Ended up in the hospital, both legs busted.”
He stopped and looked down at his twisted legs, vividly remembering the pain and the long weeks in physio. Annie remained quiet.
“This cop. He kept coming in to see me. Had all these questions. Who else was there? What other stuff had I done? All that. Wouldn’t leave me alone. Every day, it seemed like. Same goddamn questions. Over and over. Made me mad.” He shook his head. “Finally told him to fuck off, but it didn’t make any difference.”
He pulled himself back to the present. “Pretty ugly story, huh?”
Annie shrugged easily. “I’ve heard worse—and a lot of them don’t end up as good as you.”
He stared at her. That wasn’t the reaction he had expected.
“So what happened when you got out of hospital?”
He shrugged. “Went to jail. Same cop—his name was Dan—came to court. Told the jury the whole fucking story. Knew a hell of a lot more than I’d told him. Ended up doing three years.”
They sat in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. Finally Annie reached out and poured them both another cup of tea.
“So it was the cop you called?”
“Yeah. Crazy, huh? But you know what? He came to see me in jail a few times. Not for more questions, just to see how I was doing. Gave me a couple of names, people to see when I got out.” He gave an odd, twisted smile. “I thought I hated that bastard, but he was the only one came to see me. He was even there the day I got out. Drove me to a shelter and wished me luck!”
Annie nodded. “So you stayed in touch.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “I left town. Went back home. Never saw him again till about three months ago. I was over at the floating store and this boat comes in. Nice boat. Wood. Converted fish packer but a real good job. This guy jumps off and comes into the store and it’s him. Couldn’t believe it at first. It was weird. I didn’t know whether to talk to him or not. Hell, it’s been eight years now. But he recognized me too. Asked how I was making out. Said he was going to be spending the summer up around here and if I ever felt like it to call him on the radio.” He shrugged.
“So he’s coming?”
“Yeah. Guess he’s already heading back south. Said he would be here later today.” He looked across at her. “I didn’t tell him what’s happened. Didn’t want anyone listening in.”
Annie thought about that for a moment. “Guess that was smart,” she answered slowly.
Dreamspeaker entered the bay at midafternoon, slowly nosing past the rocks that marked the entrance. Walker and Annie had been hauling crab traps on the foredeck and they stood and watched as she dropped anchor and backed down on her chain. It wasn’t till the anchor was set and the boat was sitting quietly, bow to the wind,
that they saw Dan step out on deck.
Annie grunted. “Knows what he’s doing,” she said.
Walker smiled. Coming from her, that was a huge compliment. “It would be easier if he came over here,” he said.
She shrugged and turned back to the crab traps. He knew the gesture was the only acknowledgment he was likely to get. He moved down the side deck and beckoned to Dan as he stepped out of the wheelhouse and looked across the water at him. Walker hoped the simple invitation would be accepted. The boats were too far apart to be able to shout a greeting, and he didn’t want to use the radio unless it was absolutely necessary.
He needn’t have worried. Within minutes Dreamspeaker’s dinghy was being pulled up to the swim grid that hung off her stern. As he watched Dan row toward Annie’s boat, Walker’s feelings alternated between a strange kind of dread and an odd excitement, tension humming through him like a plucked guitar string. A brief greeting at a dock was one thing. That had felt strange enough. But reaching out to this man after eight years and inviting him onto Annie’s boat was entirely another. Was he crazy? Had he made a mistake? If he had wasted this day, it was Claire who might pay the price.
If Dan had any of the same qualms, he didn’t show it, greeting Walker with an easy handshake and the small talk of an old acquaintance. The apprehension and nervousness Walker had been feeling began to disappear, and he soon found himself responding in the same vein. After a few minutes the two men moved into the cabin and sat down.
“Nice boat,” Dan said as he looked around. “This where you live?”
Walker inclined his head toward the bow, where Anne was still busying herself with the traps. “Nope. Belongs to Annie.”
“Huh. So you’re just visiting? Where’s home these days?”
“Got a place over east of here.”
Dan nodded. “Over east” could mean any one of a couple of hundred islands or several inlets that slashed their way deep into the mountainous shores of British Columbia. With over six thousand islands scattered along its shore, the western coast of the province was renowned for its tiny, far-flung communities and hidden coves, many of which harbored loners or losers or one of the new wave of hippies trying to survive off the land. It was a major headache for administrators and a nightmare for the coast guard and the marine police. “Over east” told him nothing, but he remembered Walker well enough to know that “over east” was the best he was going to get.
“You got the summer off?”
Walker’s question caught Dan off-guard. He hadn’t really addressed any of the issues that had brought him out here, hadn’t given a thought about his own situation. Certainly hadn’t talked about it with anyone. Even when he had seen Walker on the dock over there at the floating store and recognized him from years before, he had been operating on auto-pilot. He supposed the shrink the chief had wanted him to see would call it self-denial. He thought it was more likely self-preservation: thinking about what had brought him here meant remembering how he had found Susan that day, remembering how he had ignored the tips he had received, remembering how he had missed the warning signs of stalking. Those memories brought a pain that was simply too much to bear. But here he was, and Walker had obviously assumed he was still on the force, and that demanded some sort of explanation.
“Ahhh, no. Not exactly. I quit the force. Took retirement.”
The words sounded odd to his ears, as if someone else had spoken them, and he realized it was the first time he had said them out loud. Hearing them float across the cabin was disorienting, almost schizophrenic, as if he had somehow stepped out of his body and was looking back at it. He had been a cop for so long, the job had seeped into his soul. It had become his identity. It was who he was—or, at least, who he had been. Who the hell was he now? He suddenly remembered the words of a poem Susan had read to him. What was the name of it? “The Hollow Men,” that was it. By some guy called Eliot. He remembered her voice as she read the last lines to him, something about the world ending not with a bang, but a whimper. She had been whispering, almost, and the words had taken on an eerie quality that twisted in the air between them. Hearing them had given him an odd feeling, but he had laughed it off, teased her for selecting such a dreary piece for her students. Now they seemed like the perfect accompaniment for his life.
He fought down a wave of loss and loneliness and looked across at Walker. For the first time since he handed in his badge, Dan felt a conscious pull of regret—was it regret?—for his decision to quit the force. Another kind of loss. Or maybe it was just the uncomfortable feeling of being asked for help and knowing that he had only himself to offer and no resources to fall back on.
“Why? You in trouble?”
Dan’s statement that he had left the police force caught Walker by surprise, and as he watched the play of emotions on Dan’s face, he realized he had never thought of him as a man, only as a cop. And he had been a good one, as Walker knew only too well. A good man too, even if their association had been a difficult one. Something had happened that had changed the course of Dan’s life. Some kind of loss or trouble.
Trouble. That had been the story of Walker’s life the last time they met, but now, as he heard Dan’s question, he smiled as he shook his head. “Nope. Not me. But maybe someone else. A friend.”
He felt an odd tingle run through his brain as he said the word. He hadn’t called anyone a friend for a long time. Maybe never.
Annie chose that moment to join them. She acknowledged Dan with a brief grunt, ignored his outstretched hand, and slid heavily onto the bench across from him, her eyes fixed on Walker. “You tell him?”
“Not yet.” He turned back to Dan, who was looking quizzically from one to the other. “I thought maybe you might be able to help find her.”
“Her? Huh. Well, I’m certainly willing to do what I can, but it’s going to be just me. Like I said, I’m off the force.” He lifted his hands, palms up. “So tell me about it.”
The conversation moved to Island Girl and the black ship. Dan listened quietly as Walker told him how he had met Claire and explained what little he knew about what had happened. And it was that quietness, that willingness to listen, that convinced Walker he had done the right thing. Until that moment, he had not been sure. Even so, once he was finished, he waited for the questions that he was sure would come. He was not used to putting so much into words. Spoken out loud his reasoning sounded flimsy, even to his own ears. Surely someone like Dan, trained as a cop to follow fact and logic rather than instinct and hunch, would dismiss it as crazy. The ramblings of a crazy Aboriginal ex-con who spent too much time alone.
He didn’t.
“So you think this girl escaped in the kayak?”
Walker nodded.
“Any thoughts on where she might go?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Walker replied. “She might have gone to the other side of the island she’s on—Spider Island, it’s called on the charts.”
He described the channel and how it filled during spring tides. He and Claire had talked about how easy it made it for her to use her kayak to visit the southern side of the island.
Dan nodded. “Makes sense. Worth a look, anyway.” He checked his watch. “Want to run over there in the dinghy? I can put the motor on and we can be there and back before dark.”
Walker nodded and felt some of the tension drain out of him. For the first time in two days, he felt a small surge of optimism. He pushed himself up from the table and followed Dan toward the door. The sound of an approaching outboard engine stopped him before he got there.
It slowed to an idle, and although he couldn’t see the boat, Walker watched and listened as Dan, out on deck, lifted a hand in greeting.
“Hi,” Dan called. “You folks are a long way from anywhere. Help you with something?”
Walker could barely hear the reply, but as the words registered, he felt his body stiffen.
“We came to visit a friend, but she is not on her boat,” said the u
nfamiliar voice. “It is over in Shoal Bay. We wondered if you might have seen her?” The accent was oddly clipped and the words precise.
Walker started to warn Dan against replying, but Dan’s voice stopped him.
“Sorry. Can’t help you. Just stopped here for the night on my way back south, but let me check with the captain.” He stepped back into the cabin. “Looks like we are not the only ones looking for the girl,” he said quietly to Walker. “You see enough of anyone at Shoal Bay to be able to recognize either of these two?”
Walker shook his head. “Couldn’t see anything. Too dark.”
Dan nodded. “Wait till I’m back outside, then both of you take a good look. They won’t be able to see you through the porthole, but you both need to be able to recognize them if you see them again.” He moved back out to the deck.
Walker leaned over the table and peered out at the big inflatable floating just feet away. The two men in it both had their eyes hidden by dark glasses, but he could sense them checking out every inch of Annie’s boat. One had long, dark hair and a heavy build. The other was tall and slim with short hair so white it seemed to glow.
Dan’s voice drifted back to the cabin. “Nope. Hasn’t been anyone here for weeks. Is there a problem?”
The reply was almost drowned out by the rising pitch of the outboard. “No. She is probably just out exploring. We will go back and wait.”
Walker straightened and was about to move when the outboard quieted again.
“That is a nice canoe. Do you like to use it here?”
“It’s not mine. My friend uses it to paddle around a bit.”
The outboard sped up again, and its whine diminished as the men left the bay.
Dan stepped back inside. “I think our plans have just changed.”
SEVEN
For the first time in a week, the morning sun burst through the clouds and set the water dancing. Gliding past the familiar shoreline, Walker felt a growing anger replacing the dread of the past two days. This was his land. Gigame' Kana'l, the Creator, had chosen this place for his people. Thunderbird ruled these skies. U'melth, the Raven, had placed the sun and the moon here, and Raven had given them the salmon, the namesake of his clan and sustainer of his village.
Dark Moon Walking Page 4
