They stepped outside. It was a beautiful evening, with the late light gleaming on the bay. Water lapped at the dock and the seaplane rode the gentle swell. After the stink of cigarettes inside, the air smelled sweet and clean.
“Look at this,” said Harrison. “All this once belonged to our people, before you stole it from us.” He looked at Doc and Flowers. “And now we’re going to take it back. But first we need to do some clearing. Clear away all you white people who are cluttering up the landscape.” He smiled and waved his hands towards the water, the Walther in one, a fresh cigarette in the other. “And not just here on the island. The next phase is on the mainland. Just think of it, Vancouver a ghost town.”
“You’re going to murder all those innocent people?” said Doc.
Harrison turned and gave him a thoughtful look. “Well, let’s just break that down, okay? First of all it isn’t murder. It’s war. Secondly, those people aren’t innocent. They’re the descendants of those who slaughtered the rightful owners of this land, and they’ve inherited the guilt.” His face went hard. “And, when you think of it, is it any worse than passing out blankets infected with smallpox? That’s what your people did to our people, and they seemed to think it was a pretty clever trick.”
“Harrison,” said Dr Flowers. “Please think about what you’re doing. I beg you.”
“We have thought about it. Very carefully. And it’s the perfect solution. We get our lands back and the invader is driven off. We don’t have the guns or missiles or armies to do it, but thanks to Professor Rondivallo, we have a better weapon. And it only affects humans. That’s the beauty of it. No collateral damage. It won’t harm wildlife, which is important. We’ll be wanting our income from eco tourism once our new nation is established.”
Doc’s phone started to ring in his pocket. Doc made no move to answer it. The hockey player still had the gun pressed firmly to the side of his head. Harrison came over and took the phone from Doc’s pocket. He inspected it. “A text from someone called Benadir. Says she’ll see you soon. She could be wrong about that. Excuse me a moment.”
Harrison went into the veranda and returned a few minutes later, carrying several lengths of chain. He came to Doc and said in a low voice, “Look Englishman, I know you’re a warrior and I know you’re thinking of trying something. But if it even looks like you’re going to make a move, we will shoot Dr Flowers through the head. Whatever happens after that, whatever you manage to achieve, she’ll be dead. So just relax, all right?
Doc and Flowers were led down towards the water at gunpoint. They were told to stop beside a large tree stump. Then Doc and Dr Flowers had to sit down with their backs to the stump, on either side of it. They were fastened there with the chains, which were padlocked. It was a very thorough and professional job.
Doc kept looking for an opening, for the opportunity to do anything. But in his mind there was always the awareness that Eva Flowers would be the first casualty. And once he was chained to the stump, there was no longer anything he could do.
Then Harrison went away again. When he came back he wasn’t smoking a cigarette, and Doc saw why.
He was carrying four bright orange sticks of dynamite wrapped together with black tape. “I always planned to dynamite this stump,” said Harrison.
Doc started struggling against the chains, but by now it was far too late. Harrison fastened the cluster of dynamite to the stump halfway between Doc and Flowers. Then he uncoiled a long fuse, several metres of it. Finally he came back and stood beside the stump.
“I’m really sorry that you were here today, Dr Flowers. But at least I left you with a nice view of the bay. You can’t see the dynamite from where you are, so I suggest you just put it from your mind and pretend it isn’t there. Enjoy the view. Goodbye.”
He turned and walked away with the other men.
They were gone a minute or two and when they came back Green Baseball Cap wasn’t with them. Harrison took out a phone — not Doc’s — and listened on it. “Okay,” he said. “Time to get started.” He lit a cigarette and then walked to the end of the fuse. Doc locked eyes with him. Harrison held out something in his hand. It glinted in the evening light. Doc saw that it was the key for the padlock that secured the chains.
Harrison gave a mocking smile then dropped the key on the ground. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and held the burning tip of it to the end of the fuse.
The fuse started spitting and sparking. It burned in a surprisingly leisurely fashion. By the time Harrison and the hockey player had untied the seaplane and climbed into it, the fuse had only burned about a quarter of its length. The engine of the plane coughed and came to life. It skimmed across the surface of the green water and rose gracefully into the air. It became a distant dot, and then it vanished.
Doc turned away and looked at the fuse again
Perhaps two thirds of it was left.
He heard Eva Flowers speaking in a low voice. He realised she was praying. Doc remained silent, not wanting to disturb her. His body was still but his mind was writhing furiously, searching through possibilities, look for a way out.
He could find none.
There was half the fuse left now.
Doc stared inland, at the treetops over Harrison’s house. He could see the watchtower by the main gate. There was a gleam of light from it. Then nothing. He tried not to look at the fuse. But his eyes strayed to it.
Two thirds burned now.
Doc heard the sharp buzzing of a mosquito in his ear. And he couldn’t help laughing out now. That was one thing he didn’t have to worry about now! Then he heard something else. The engine of a car.
The fuse was three quarters burned.
The car stopped, somewhere beyond the house. Doc heard a door slam. And he started shouting. Loudly, almost maniacally. Dr Flowers joined in. Their two frantic voices twinned in hysteria.
“Doc!” It was Benadir’s voice.
“Hurry!” bellowed Doc.
Benadir came running around the side of the house.
When she cut the fuse with a pocket knife there was perhaps enough of it left to run from Doc’s shoulder to the tip of his fingers.
*
Benadir used the key Harrison had discarded to unlock the chains. As soon as he was free, Doc ran into the veranda. He selected one of the deer rifles and loaded it with ammunition from the shelf. Benadir was staring at him as he came back out, holding the rifle. “What are you doing?” she said.
“I saw a reflection from binoculars in that watchtower,” said Doc. “I think one of them is still here.”
While Benadir stayed with Eva Flowers, Doc sprinted to the main gate of the compound. He could see even before he got there that the watchtower was empty now. He heard a car starting out in the road. Doc got to the gate just in time to see an old station wagon streak away.
In the rear window he caught a glimpse of a green baseball cap.
Doc walked back to Harrison’s house, taking his time. Benadir was waiting for him impatiently. “Come on Doc, we’ve got to get out of here.”
“Not yet,” said Doc.
The women watched him as if he’d gone out of his mind as he searched the house for a plastic bag, and then went into the veranda and emptied the contents of the ashtray into it.
Doc sealed the bag.
“Okay, we can go now,” he said.
14: Adrenaline
“Adrenaline?” said Doc.
“It’s a naturally occurring hormone in the human body,” said Dr Flowers, “generated by the fight-or-flight reflex.”
“I know what it is,” said Doc. He didn’t say it impatiently. Dr Flowers had been through a lot lately, including that near-death experience at the tree stump, and no one would have blamed her if she’d disappeared for a few weeks to hide under her bed covers. But instead she had immediately returned to work at the medical centre.
“And that was all that was in Joeri’s syringe?” said Doc.
Dr Flowers nodded. “An
d I’m glad you mentioned Joeri. Because I think you should have him released from jail.”
“What?” said Doc. “Why?”
“Because you only had him locked up because you thought he’d been inoculated against the disease. Which implied that he’d been working with those spreading the disease.” Dr Flowers’ eyes were locked on his. “But now there is another explanation. He said that he’d been in a fight just before he was stung.”
“I’d hardly call it a fight,” said Doc. He remembered how Joeri had disabled the mountainous Bobby with a taser.
“But it would have been sufficient to provide him with a jolt of adrenaline. Which would have immunised Joeri when he was infected by the mosquito.”
“Oh, come on,” said Doc. “We don’t even know that adrenaline really is a cure for the condition.”
“Actually, we do,” said Professor Flowers. “We tried it on one of the coma patients, Edgar Honnington, and he responded immediately.”
Doc stared at her. “He’s cured?”
“He soon will be.”
Doc shook his head, thinking fast. “Have you given the adrenaline to the other coma patients yet?”
“We’re just about to start.”
“Well, don’t give it to Chan-juan Zeng yet,” said Doc.
“Why not?”
Doc explained.
*
Doc and Benadir sat in one of the offices at the medical centre. Not Dr Flower’s office — that was still sealed off with yellow and black crime scene tape. This one belonged to an administrator who was on holiday and who had the world’s largest collection of cute puppy posters. But neither Doc nor Benadir were looking at those.
Their eyes were fastened to the computer screen which was displaying a live feed from another part of the hospital. The consulting room where Dr Flowers was talking to Mr Zemin Sun.
Mr Sun was nodding gravely while Dr Flowers said, “Her condition has deteriorated dramatically and she’s in a critical condition. We’re doing everything we can for her and we feel she doesn’t have long to live.”
“So I understood from your phone call,” said Mr Sun. He reached into his pocket and took out a small blue bottle. It had a white label on it, written in Chinese script. “This is a traditional remedy from our homeland. I would like for you to try it on Miss Zeng. It should be administered intravenously.”
Dr Flowers took the bottle hesitantly. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I wouldn’t feel right…”
“She’s a great little actress,” said Doc. “Who would have suspected?”
“Shh!” said Benadir, her eyes fixed on the screen.
Mr Sun was saying, “At this late stage, surely there is nothing to lose?” And Dr Flowers was reluctantly being convinced.
“Perhaps we can try it,” she said.
Doc and Benadir waited impatiently in the little office, drinking coffee after coffee, until Dr Flowers came in with the little blue bottle. “We’ve analysed it,” she said.
“Adrenaline?” said Benadir.
“And nothing but,” said Dr Flowers.
*
“Your colleague is pointing a gun at me,” said Mr Sun.
“Meet Benadir Abhilasha,” said Doc.
“Is that strictly necessary?” Mr Sun looked offended.
“Define necessary,” said Benadir.
Mr Sun was sitting in the waiting room at the hospital. Doc sat opposite, with Benadir standing behind him. “The good news,” said Doc, “is that Miss Zeng is going to be fine. Here’s the bad news.” He took out a plastic evidence bag containing a cigarette stub. It was an unusual cigarette, with a gold foil filter and lavender paper.
“This was found at the Black Creek First Nation settlement. It exactly matches one we retrieved from outside this medical centre. We haven’t got the results of the DNA tests yet, but they’ll be back soon enough and we believe they’ll confirm that you smoked both of them.”
Mr Sun sighed with disgust. “For heaven’s sake, you’d think that moron could occasionally empty an ashtray. We’re paying him enough.”
“Which moron is that?” said Benadir.
“Harrison at the Black Creek settlement, of course.” Mr Sun looked at her calmly.
“You’re not going to deny it?” said Doc.
“Is there any point? By now I imagine your other colleagues will have entered the cottages where my party have been staying.”
Doc nodded. “That’s right. And we’ve found a fairly sophisticated biological weapons laboratory, considering the size of the set up.”
“Thank you,” said Mr Sun, as if he’d been given a compliment.
“Are you willing to tell us why you did it?”
“What does it say on my business card?” said Mr Sun.
“Real estate?” said Benadir.
Mr Sun nodded. “If you thought the Vancouver property boom of the early years of this century was dramatic, it is nothing compared to what is coming. So naturally anyone who could drive the value of property down, buy at the bottom of the market, and then re-sell at the top would be in a position to make a substantial killing.”
“A killing,” said Doc.
“I see that you are making a moral judgement. In fact, not that many people would have had to die. Just the threat of the disease would be enough to destroy property prices. No one wants to buy a condominium built on a malarial swamp, and this is much worse than malaria.”
Benadir took a deep breath. “Unbelievable.”
“No, my dear,” said Mr Sun. “Just business. Business on a grand scale.” He blinked, looking politely from Doc to Benadir. “Surely you have some other questions?”
“Why the whole charade with Harrison and the Black Creek First Nation people?”
“Well, that is exactly what is was. A charade. To give you someone to blame and pursue. So you wouldn’t look in my direction. Not until it was much too late, and perhaps never. When I bought up the prime real estate, both on the mainland and on this island, I would merely be a clever businessman taking advantage of the situation.”
“So we were never supposed to be blown up with dynamite?” said Doc.
“No, of course not. How could you have passed on Harrison’s wonderful speech about native rights if you’d been blown up? It was all timed very carefully so that Miss Abhilasha would arrive in time to rescue you. They even left a man in the watchtower to make sure she got there. If she hadn’t, he would have put out the fuse himself and pretended to be a turncoat.”
“Very clever,” said Benadir bitterly.
“One question,” said Doc. “When that man broke in here with a syringe and was trying to inject Miss Zeng…”
“The syringe contained adrenaline.” Mr Sun looked amused. “It would have been a miracle recovery, if you hadn’t interfered.”
Doc repressed an absurd impulse to apologise.
“Anything else?” Mr Sun smiled benignly.
“We’ve found Professor Rondivallo’s lab,” said Doc. “But where is the Professor?”
Mr Zemin Sun grinned broadly at that. “Does the following phrase ring any bells? ‘Want some deer meat?’.”
*
It was late that night when Doc and Inspector Hestings reached the Black Creek settlement. The deserted place seemed emphatically eerie in the darkness, and the call of a loon from out on the water was chilling. They went to Harrison’s house, entered the veranda, and put the lights on.
Both of them stood looking at the big chest freezers that lined the wall.
“Be my guest,” said Hestings.
Doc started opening the freezers. They found him in the third one.
Professor Rondivallo lay curled up, looking shrunken and ancient. His face was a pale bluish white, with a rime of frost on his lips and his eyelashes. “Did they say why they killed him?” said Hestings.
“It seems there was some uncertainty over that. Either the professor was growing dangerously erratic because of his drug addiction, or he was demanding too
much money, or he chased the wrong woman — it seems the First Nation people can be touchy about the attention of outsiders to their female members.” Doc looked at the policeman. “Take your pick.”
“Or maybe it was combination of all three.”
“Maybe it was.”
Hestings stayed with the body until his crime scene team arrived and Doc drove back into Nanaimo where he went to the Police Operations Building. There he conducted a final interview with Zemin Sun, who was in the same cell which had once housed Joeri. Mr Sun complained about not being able to use his phone, but otherwise was polite and accommodating.
When he met Benadir in the parking lot, Doc said, “He seems very relaxed.”
Benadir nodded, taking his arm. They walked side by side towards their car. “The Chinese are already applying diplomatic pressure to extradite him to China for trial there.”
“That won’t be much of a trial.”
“I imagine not,” said Benadir.
“Do you think the Canadians will hand him over?”
“I don’t think they’ll have a lot of choice.”
Doc sighed. “Then what have we accomplished?”
Benadir stopped walking and took his face in her hands. “A great deal,” she said, and kissed him for a long moment. She let him go and said, “Anyway, there’s a more important matter for us to worry about.”
“All those mosquitoes who are still out there, carrying the disease,” said Doc.
Benadir nodded. “Even though we have a cure in hand, some people are still likely to be fatally struck down, until all the infected mosquitoes have died out. I’ve tried to convince the authorities to do mass spraying with insecticides, but apparently there are insurmountable obstacles to that.”
Hard Targets: A Doc Palfrey Omnibus Page 23
