“Dr. Ritter, what offshore financial accounts do you have?” MacKinnon began.
Daniel felt his mouth open wide in surprise.
Touesnard continued, “We found an account linked to you.”
MacKinnon crossed his arms. “In the Cayman Islands.” They were tag-teaming, like Abbott and Costello. But with guns in their holsters.
“With your name on it.”
“And a recent deposit of ten thousand dollars.” Touesnard dropped a thin folder on the table.
“Can you help us understand what this all means?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Daniel opened the folder and saw a deposit receipt in his name. MacKinnon and Touesnard stood near the door, arms crossed. Daniel knew he would not be allowed to leave the room without a satisfactory answer.
“Tell us about your finances, professor.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“Apparently there is,” Touesnard said.
“I’ve got a chequing account at Scotiabank. Probably have about two paycheques’ worth in it at any time.”
“How much?” MacKinnon consulted his notepad.
“About five thousand. Unless the rent has gone through. Then it’s fifteen hundred less.”
“Anything else? Anything offshore?”
“GICs and some mutual funds all locked in. My pension. About four million. The accounts are all in Hong Kong.”
MacKinnon nodded. “So your answer is yes, you do have offshore accounts.”
“That’s where my bank account was when I lived and worked in China.”
“Why there?”
“There were tax reasons, of course. But more importantly, there were political reasons.”
“Political reasons?” said MacKinnon.
“The Communist government’s policies changed unpredictably. It depended on which faction in the government was in power. One minute you were fine; the next, your money could be seized, or you could be arrested, facing a life sentence for moral corruption. It happened to two people I knew over there. The police just took them away, sending a clear message, in a very public way, to everybody. After that, it was company policy to use non-Chinese banks for business transactions and for their employees.”
“You had an exceedingly well-paying job there. Followed by no income at all for seven years.”
“I lived on my savings when I went back to school. I told you, it was China. Back then, there was so much money and very few controls on what you could do. It was the Wild West.”
“With so few rules, was that when you set up the account in the Cayman Islands?”
Daniel smiled. “Nice try. I don’t have an account there. Only in Hong Kong. You can check with the company.”
“We will.”
Touesnard smiled back. “So tell us again, how did you get the one in the Caymans?”
Won’t anyone believe me?
THIRTY-FOUR
THIS WAS THE MOMENT she had dreaded. It was frigid in the captain’s room, the result of a typical military snafu at work: mid-winter and the air conditioning was at full blast. But she was still sweating under her uniform. Rowe had shook her hand and wished her good luck before disappearing back into the bureaucracy the day before. Captain Hall had revoked her command, effectively accusing her of misconduct, of panicking, and of sabotaging any chance at the career she longed for. The board reinstated her, against the wishes of her boss. And now to get back her ship, she had to report back to him. She hoped he took orders as well as she did.
More than her career was at stake. Since childhood, she had been laser-focused on not becoming one of “those” girls. She would not be dependent on someone else for her identity. She wasn’t just someone’s blonde from Montreal, a francophone in an anglophone’s world. Sitting in the captain’s chair of the Kingston for the first time, she had finally understood what she wanted to be, instead of what not to be. While stripped of her command, she hadn’t known who she was.
Hall burst into the room, swinging the door wide open. She sprang to attention. The door slammed shut. He plonked a stack of reports on the only table in the cramped room and dropped into the chair behind it.
“At ease, Lieutenant Commander.” His growl remained frozen on his face. “You are reassigned to the Kingston,” he seemed to slow down for effect, “as captain.” Another pause. “Congratulations.”
She tried to read his face, to see any emotion: anger, frustration, anything. But he knew how to hide his feelings well. Maybe that was another skill she would have to develop.
“Sir?”
He shot her a look full of — well, she wasn’t sure what it was. It seemed perfectly balanced between rage and relief. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Permission to speak freely.”
He glanced behind her at the closed door. “What’s on your mind?”
“I’m not sure that I have your trust, sir. Now that I’m the captain again, you’ve made me responsible for the Kingston’s crew; I feel I need to know where I stand with you.”
He stood up, startling her. He folded his hands behind his back. “Lieutenant Commander, I have my orders, too.”
“Did you want to replace me as captain? I know that I’m young and inexperienced, and that the situation was not one that either of us expected. But I did my best. And, if confronted again, I would do the same thing.”
She saw a smile start to form on her boss’s mouth. Maybe not much of a smile, but a perceptible rising of the right side of his face. Or perhaps he was holding in his frustration.
“I appreciate that. You need to know where you stand? All right. You’re not just young. You’re much, much younger than the other captains in my squadron. You’re not just inexperienced, you have no experience. You are also the only female captain under my command. So, you see, you stand out quite a bit. You need to understand that.”
She gulped. Of course she knew that.
“The review was a necessary step. To protect you. To show my impartiality toward you. You don’t know what’s going on. And I hoped to shield you from it for a while longer. But circumstances have changed.”
He’s glad? “Sir?”
“I have received orders from the commodore to implement a surprise readiness exercise for the entire Atlantic Fleet.”
Claire restrained a smile. Another chance to prove myself. “Where to this time, sir?”
“Grand Banks. I have ordered the Charlottetown and the Montréal to rendezvous with the Ville de Québec there.”
“And what about the Kingston?”
“I have a special assignment for you, Lieutenant Commander. It’s low profile, but important. I hope I can count on you.”
THIRTY-FIVE
DANIEL FELT TOUESNARD’S suspicious gaze all the way back to the hotel. He sensed that MacKinnon might just believe his story, but not Touesnard. Who would send ten thousand dollars to an account with his name and not tell him? He hadn’t done any consulting work worth that much. And any job he did do was strictly above board and official. He had seen too much corruption and had vowed not to turn to that dark side. Looking at the detective, Daniel didn’t know if Touesnard thought he was a victim to be protected or a con man who had convincingly duped the authorities.
Daniel’s cellphone chirped with a call from Vanessa. Finally!
Daniel’s words, pent up for so long, burst through, as though he were continuing their last conversation without a pause. “Won’t be long now. This police stuff should settle down in a day or so. Then I’ll be right over to help with Emily.”
She let out a sigh that seemed to empty the pain she had accumulated in one go. “I’m sorry.” He tensed. Her voice sounded different. Not angry, more resigned to a destiny not of her choosing. “Sorry? For what? What’s happened? Is Emily all right?”
“Yes, she’s fine. She’s with me.”
“As I said, I think this police stuff will finish soon —”
“Don’t bother.”
; “What do you mean?”
“Don’t bother coming back.”
Daniel stopped. “Of course I’m coming back. This is only temporary.”
“For you, maybe. But I’ve had a lot of time to think.”
Oh no.
“I don’t want to stay here anymore. I’m lonely. I hate this fucking winter. You’re never around. You said you’d retire from that fucking job that you could never talk about. But it’s clear that it’s back. It’s time for this to stop.”
“What are you saying?”
“It’s time to end this, Daniel. To end this perpetual state of waiting. We started out so well, but there’s only Emily left between us. And I have to live my life. I’ve waited for you for years. And I’ve got nothing to show for it.”
“I’ll talk to the police and come right now. I’ll ask for an escort back to Montreal.”
“We won’t be there.”
His heart almost stopped. “Where are you?”
She let out a big sigh. “Vancouver. We’re about to catch our flight to Auckland. It’s boarding now. I’m taking Emily to stay with my parents until I can figure out what to do next.”
His mouth felt dry. “When are you coming back?”
“We’re not.”
He felt the world melt. “You can’t do that. I need Emily, too. You can’t take her all for yourself.”
“I have her passport and travel document that you signed, by the way.” He heard a muffled announcement in the background. “They’re making the final boarding call. I have to go.”
You can’t take her away! “Can I talk with her?”
A pause. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“I want to talk with her.”
“Daniel, she’s scared and confused. And your voice will only stress her out.”
“Please.”
“This is so typical. You can’t just disappear doing God-knows-what and then parachute back and assume that our lives have been on pause since the last time you were here.”
“But you left me.” He felt his voice crack.
“You left me first.” The line went dead.
His scream startled Touesnard, who called the Vancouver RCMP, but by the time the court injunction came, the plane had already taken off. Without it, the RCMP had no legal reason to prevent Vanessa from taking Emily to Auckland.
Emily. On his cellphone, Daniel scrolled through the few photos of them together, always with goofy smiles. Maybe over the Pacific, she would ask where her father was, and why he didn’t come with them. He wanted to scream again.
He needed to talk to someone, needed to hear a sympathetic voice telling him it would all be okay and that he’d see his daughter again. His mind sifted through the people he could call. It was a short list. No one. Then her face came into view. Claire. He barely knew her but …
He went to his phone, checked the number that she had written on his card, and sent her a short text message to call him.
“We’ll get this sorted out, and then you can see your daughter,” Touesnard promised. “But it’s just too dangerous for you to leave right now.”
Emily is gone.
THIRTY-SIX
POWERED BY TWO STRONG COFFEES, Claire strode into a room buzzing with overlapping conversations, chirping cellphones, and keyboards being tapped. An array of large TV screens covered one wall. The operations room in CFB Halifax was full of activity. It was the nexus of the effort to track down the smugglers, whoever they were. She recognized multiple uniforms: navy, of course — but also Halifax Police and RCMP. She was also the only woman in the room.
Her phone buzzed. She turned it off without checking to see who had texted or when.
A civilian stood beside Captain Hall.
“Sir,” she said, saluting, “you wanted to speak with me?”
Hall turned, returned the salute. “This is Cliff Whitby. Detective Inspector. RCMP.” Whitby, dressed in a grey uniform, looked like a retired park warden with dark secrets behind his eyes. Claire thought of Deliverance, which she had seen in film class.
Whitby smiled. “I’ve heard a lot about your encounter, Lieutenant Commander.”
Hall seemed to be waiting for her to respond. When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “I want you to sit in on the briefing. We’re coordinating all of the information we can gather, and then we’ll decide what our next step should be.”
She followed the two men to a separate room with glass walls. There was a long table with eight chairs, a projector on one wall, and a whiteboard on the other. Two seats were already taken. Hall and Whitby took places next to each other. She sat opposite Hall, feeling that, although she was the most junior, she was the one everyone most wanted to talk to.
Hall called the meeting to order. “Thank you for coming at such short notice. Let’s begin with a round-the-table update. I’ve asked the captain of the Kingston to join us to answer any questions you might have.” He motioned to Claire. “Lieutenant Commander Marcoux.”
Nods all around, but no one said anything.
Hall grabbed a marker and started writing on the whiteboard. “Let’s summarize what we know so far. The Atlantic Mariner is seen leaving Boston early Sunday morning. It’s identified by a coastal patrol flight from Greenwood Monday evening. It doesn’t respond to radio requests. The Kingston encounters it. It fires on a search-and-rescue helicopter. The Kingston is forced to sink her.” Hall glanced at Claire. “No debris was recovered. That’s what the navy knows. Cliff?”
Whitby stood and watched Claire as he spoke. She didn’t like the way his eyes bored down on her, a suggestion of violence behind the stare. “The FBI sent us what they know. The ship was owned by a shell company listed in Barbados. IRS can link the account to a former Blackwater operator who’s serving ten years for manslaughter. He was a private military contractor who killed a local family while on duty in Iraq. He disappeared after that. But the account is still active. We think it belongs to someone higher up in the company. Probably used it to cover operational expenses. It suggests there’s an operation underway right now. But we don’t know for whom. The company owns another ship still in port. Boston Police are watching for anyone to show up. That’s all we’ve got.”
Whitby sat down and Hall read from a piece of paper in his hand. “Thanks, Cliff. Mr. MacKinnon?”
The next man stood up, the police detective she had met with Daniel, after the demonstration. He was early forties, with dark hair and alert eyes. He turned toward Claire and nodded in acknowledgement. “Matt MacKinnon. HRM Police.” Then he swung toward the others. “We’ve detected nothing suspicious in either the Halifax or Bedford docks. Wherever that ship was going, it wasn’t to Halifax. We’ve added patrols along the coastline within city limits, just in case it was going to Sambro or one of the other outports. So far, nothing of interest.” He took his seat.
Hall tried to keep the momentum going. He motioned to a trim, dark-haired man in his late thirties, sitting at Claire’s right. “Brett?”
Brett stood up. “Brett Lansdowne, CBSA.” Claire nodded at the Canadian Border Services Agency agent. Lansdowne didn’t acknowledge her nod. He talked to the others as if she weren’t present. Maybe he thought she should get them all coffee.
“We have a Zodiac on standby in case we need to intercept,” he said. “Homeland Security suspects drug smuggling. The cartels have restricted supply for the last few months; now they’re trying to feed the demand, raise prices, and ship a lot of product north. We think that Halifax was only a transit station, and that most of it was to be shipped west to bigger cities,” he concluded. He returned to his seat.
Hall stood. “Thank you, gentlemen,” he said. “Now I would like to ask Lieutenant Commander Marcoux to tell us what happened out there.” He looked directly at Claire. “You’re the only one who has had direct experience with these people.”
She stood, trying to calm her nerves and not let her nervousness show. She knew she would be doubly judged — onc
e as an officer, once as a woman. She tried to blur the men around the table, but Lansdowne stood out. There was something familiar but unsettling in the way he looked at her. She sensed dual messages from him, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what the second message was. She took a breath. “Well, it was a brief encounter. They tried to hide. They didn’t acknowledge our hails.”
Lansdowne waved his hand. “So you obviously provoked them.”
“No, sir. I gave them time to respond.”
“You lost your cool, perhaps?”
“They fired at us first. Then they tried to ram us. It wasn’t me who lost their cool.”
“You could have given them a chance to surrender.”
“I did. But I don’t think that they wanted to be rescued at all.”
Lansdowne turned to face the other end of the table. “I think we need someone cool at the helm if there’s going to be a next encounter. We lost a critical opportunity to gather intelligence.” He turned to Claire. “All we have from you is a story. No boat. No suspects in custody. No evidence. Just a story.”
Claire controlled her anger. “I was cool, Mr. Lansdowne. And we have more than just a story. Have you ever commanded —”
Hall cut her off. “Brett, I am satisfied that navy protocols were followed. Lieutenant Commander Marcoux took appropriate action.”
Lansdowne pressed on. “So you won’t assign another officer? Someone more seasoned? Now is not the time to have someone prone to emotion.”
Claire glared. What an asshole. He knew virtually nothing about her, but he felt qualified enough to judge her actions? She opened her mouth, prepared to launch into an impassioned rebuttal, but then she looked at her commanding officer at the far end of the table. His eyes could have shot twin laser beams at Mr. CBSA.
“Brett, this is not your call. I don’t tell you how to do your work. Don’t tell me how to do mine.”
True Patriots Page 13
