Charlie nodded. “As long as it’s an automatic.”
“It is.” They went out to the lot and the agent made sure everything was in order, then waved as Charlie drove out of the parking lot.
Charlie found himself wondering just how often human beings were willing to ignore common sense for the sake of profit. He shrugged, then pulled out onto Nova Scotia 101 and headed for Halifax.
* * *
Chapter 48
Friday Noon
Middleton, NS
Ginny located a café where she could get lunch and plan where to look next. The limiting factor was his leg.
She spread a map of Nova Scotia out on the table, trying to decide how far and how fast Charlie could go. Considering he was male and young and really pretty strong, it seemed likely he could do about half what an uninjured average human being could do. That meant a walking pace of less than two miles per hour, maybe as little as one, if you factored in the snow.
She took the elastic band off the end of her braid and put her finger in one end of it and set it on the coastline below Margaretsville. Then she set a pencil in the other end of the elastic, pulled it out to measure one mile, and marked the map in a semicircle around his starting point. She did the same for the two mile radius, then looked at her work.
Two hours. He’d been set down at about one p.m. yesterday and the snow had started around three. Which way would he have gone?
Everyone else might think him drowned, but would Charlie think Ginny would believe he was dead? Would he expect her to stay and look for him or drive to Halifax and wait for news?
Whatever he might think of her, he was a Navy SEAL. He would do his best to stay alive and, in a relatively civilized location like this, that would mean taking advantage of the available resources.
Ginny located the Middleton town library, found a table, and laid out her materials. With a bit of help from the librarian, she made a list of food, lodging, car hire, fuel, medical clinics, information sources, tech supplies, pawn shops, second hand shops, and churches in the area.
She longed to ask the librarian if anyone else had been requesting similar information, but didn’t dare. When done, she gathered up her research and went back to the car.
He needed money. Assuming the pirate hadn’t also taken the survival kit, who among that list of resources might be able to change a diamond into cash? There was only one possibility, a pawn shop in North Kingston, up the road a bit, and seven miles from the shore, but still a possibility for a determined man. She would ask there.
Before she left the library, however, there was one more thing she should consider doing. It offered free Wi-Fi and would be a pretty safe way to access the Internet since the IP address would not identify the user. She should consider looking up those social media websites and see if any of them had news of Charlie.
For this task Ginny pulled out her computer. She’d been lugging it around with her, unopened, but she had plugged it in last night so it had a full battery charge. She accessed the Internet and steered the browser to the first of the social media addresses. Here she paused.
She had used her own credit card for both the rental car and the night’s lodging, to distance herself from those ferry tickets. It would be better, though, if Ginny Forbes didn’t appear to be hanging around Middleton, researching Charlie. She created a series of new accounts, using Bonnie Jean’s identity, and had access to all five sites within ten minutes.
She called them up, one by one, and searched the entries. There were numerous ‘sightings’, but none credible. Of course, none of these people knew what she did about where Charlie had come ashore (assuming the pirate was telling the truth), or about his broken leg. She closed out of those accounts and considered what to do next.
Himself had told her to stay off the phone until Charlie had been delivered safely to the Halifax Homestead. Did that apply to e-mail as well? What if Jim had tried to reach her that way? She did NOT expect to hear from Charlie, even if he’d had access to the Internet. He was ‘off the grid’ until they could establish his new Canadian identity and no one had anticipated his needing a secure e-mail account before arriving in Halifax. Jim was another matter.
The police would be able to identify the IP address from which she connected to her e-mail account, but only if they knew to look and only if they had a warrant and even then it would take days. Besides, she was supposed to be on a vacation in Nova Scotia. There should be nothing suspicious in checking her e-mail.
She typed in her password and waited while the usual deluge of junk poured off the Internet and onto her laptop. She ignored it, looking for Jim’s name. Nothing. Well, that made sense. He would know her e-mail wasn’t secure. Neither was his.
There was a note from Reggie, however. Encrypted. Sent this morning. She stared at it for a full minute, wondering what sort of danger opening that e-mail might carry with it.
The FBI had endless resources for cracking e-mail encryption and seemed willing to do so without a court order. They might already know what was in the note. But why should they? Ginny was not a fugitive. Neither was Charlie, yet. He was a ‘person of interest’, not yet arrested or charged. The authorities seemed to think it worth their while to follow him, to try to catch him, but she was pretty sure they couldn’t charge her with a crime until they charged Charlie, and now he was dead. So, was the manhunt over?
Ginny’s palms were sweating as she touched the key that would open the file.
“Got word yesterday of the tragic loss of Charlie Monroe in the Bay of Fundy incident. Canadian police assure U.S. counterparts they will do everything possible to confirm the death, but the body will likely not be recovered because of the tides in the area and proximity to Atlantic Ocean. Detective Tran on her way to Halifax for your eyewitness account. Himself would like to know where you are. Reggie.”
The e-mail included instructions for replying in encrypted mode. Ginny read them carefully, then sent a reply.
“Thanks for the heads up. Am on the road to Halifax, but delayed by weather. G.”
She chewed her lower lip. Tran’s presence complicated things. Any further delay in arriving at the Halifax Homestead would look suspicious.
What’s more, when she got to Halifax, she would need to convince everyone she believed Charlie was dead. A month ago she would have said that was impossible, that she could not fool Detective Tran with such a huge lie. But now? With Charlie’s life and her freedom hanging in the balance?
There were no other e-mails that mattered. She closed the computer, put the car in gear, and headed for the highway.
* * *
Friday Afternoon
Hwy 8, Nova Scotia
Jim’s phone rang and he grabbed it off the seat beside him.
“Hello?”
“Jim? Jim! Where are ye, lad?”
“On Nova Scotia Trunk 8, approaching Digby from the south.”
“We’ve heard fra’ Ginny!”
“What? Where is she? Is she all right?” Jim steered the car one-handedly onto the shoulder of the road.
“Aye, lad. As near as we can tell. She’s on her way tae th’ Homestead. Ye need tae get back there as fast as ye can.”
“Okay. Why?” Jim was already turning the car around.
“Detective Tran is flyin’ in tae talk tae her and I’d rather ye were there when that happens.”
“I’m on my way. Did she say when she was going to be there?”
“Tran?”
“No, Ginny.”
“Nae, lad, just that she was on the road headed that direction.”
Jim nodded into the phone. “Let me know if you hear anything else.”
“Aye, lad. Now go!”
* * *
Chapter 49
Friday Afternoon
Halifax, NS
Charlie pulled out onto the highway, being sure to notice the speed limit (110 kilometers per hour) and the speedometer (also in kilometers) so he wouldn’t attract any unwanted a
ttention. The trip would only take an hour or two, but then he had to find his way first to the airport and then to the Homestead.
The weather held off and the traffic was light until he got close to Halifax. He had no trouble following the signs to NS 102, then the airport.
The attendant clearly had his doubts about Charlie’s respectability. He went over the car with a fine toothed comb, but Charlie had been careful to leave nothing behind and had filled the tank just outside the airport. He was allowed to walk away with a grudging nod and the promised two hundred dollars, Canadian.
In the airport he picked up a hot meal and bought himself a hat with ear flaps, to replace the one lost in the Bay of Fundy, and a souvenir sweat suit with Halifax, Nova Scotia printed on it. He would have preferred something heavier, but the top had a hood and it fit under the coat the smuggler had given him, and the second pair of pants fit over the ones he was currently wearing. As a result, he found himself on the edge of the Homestead paying off the taxi driver, reasonably warm, and with a full belly. He hadn’t been able to replace his watch yet, but he’d checked the clock on the taxi before he got out. It was just before five p.m.
“And it’s a good thing the snow hasn’t started. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you up to the gate? I’ve never stayed there, but I understand they take in visitors. Should be comfortable enough.”
Charlie thanked the driver and waved as he pulled away. As soon as the cab was out of sight, he slipped into the woods and started to reconnoiter. There was still half an hour of daylight and he didn’t have winter camo, but the rough coat was a dark brown and his sweats were olive green so he blended in with the winter vegetation.
He had been astounded to find Nova Scotia covered in evergreens. There were sections of land cleared for farming, but the majority of the island was hills (some of them quite steep), covered in conifers. Very different from the wide open spaces of Texas.
He took his time, making sure he knew exactly where all the other movement in the area was and what it meant. Going slow and being very careful, he made it to within sight of the front doors just as the sky came down, blocking the sunset and bringing the first flakes of snow with it.
Charlie stared at the front of the complex. His sixth sense was on high alert and he wasn’t sure why. Was it just that he’d been in hiding for so long? Or was his guilty conscience pricking him? Or was it the fact that he’d misplaced Ginny and didn’t have anyone to vouch for him?
He sank to the ground and peered at the lighted windows, wanting to get out of the weather. His leg was beginning to worry him. He was pretty sure it shouldn’t be hurting this much.
He watched as a car drove in through the gates, then up to the front door. He couldn’t see who was driving and he didn’t recognize the car, but then, he wouldn’t. They’d left the hatchback in New Brunswick.
The figure that got out was bundled up, which meant he couldn’t tell if it was male or female. In the dim light he could see the coat was a light color, but nothing else. It could have been Ginny, but he couldn’t be sure. If it was her, she’d find a way to let him know.
If he presented himself at the front door and she was there, she could vouch for him. If she was gone already, or hadn’t arrived, he would have to explain who he was and, probably, offer some form of proof. They were expecting him, but they wouldn’t want to admit an imposter. Would Laredo Pete’s ID do?
He stiffened suddenly. Someone was coming out.
He watched the front door open and a uniformed police officer emerge. He turned and shook hands with someone Charlie couldn’t see, then trudged off across the parking lot, got into an unmarked car and started it up.
Charlie crouched closer to the earth as the car drove past him and out onto the access road. He watched it turn south, heading for Halifax, then looked back at the Homestead. The front door had closed and there was no further movement on the ground floor, but someone had turned on a light on the second floor. The window overlooked the front drive. As he watched, it opened and a flash of yellow appeared. No, yellow and black. A flag.
Charlie’s mouth settled into a grim, straight line. He recognized the flag. The Yellow Jack was a maritime signal used internationally to indicate quarantine. All the SEALS had learned to read ships flags as a matter of course. Clever of her to recognize that. So Ginny was inside and telling him it wasn’t safe for him to enter the building.
He glanced at the sky. It wouldn’t be a good night to be out in the elements. If she was as smart as he thought she was, she’d let him know when it was safe to approach. He slithered off to go find a spot to hole up in for the night.
* * *
Friday Afternoon
Halifax Airport
Detective Tran collected her bag from the carousel and glanced at her watch. Three-thirty, local time. She considered a cup of coffee before locating a cab, but decided against it. The sooner she got to the Homestead, the better.
She stood on the edge of the street, waiting for her taxi, her eyes scanning the inhabitants. Remarkable how familiar they seemed. That one could easily be Miss Forbes’ grandmother. The man on the bench resembled Mr. Mackenzie, and the tall, scruffy young man in the dark coat and green sweats, the one with the limp, could be any of the dozen or so she had seen in and about the Lonach Homestead, except for the fur cap pulled down over his ears. No one in Texas ever needed that sort of headgear. She glanced at her watch again. No telling what she would find at the Halifax Homestead. She would need to be alert. Maybe she should have opted for that coffee after all.
* * *
Chapter 50
Friday Afternoon
Kingston, NS
Ginny drove the fifteen minutes up the road to North Kingston, then located the pawn shop. The proprietor would never believe two strangers with loose gemstones would show up on the same day by accident. And, if he had given Charlie money, he would have no cash for her. So she decided not to try to sell one of the gems. Instead, she would try to buy Charlie’s diamond. She opened the door and entered the shop.
The proprietor greeted her and asked if she was looking for anything in particular. Ginny smiled, her eyes ranging the shelves.
“Yes, please. Jewelry.”
He nodded, leading her over to a glass case. “What would you like to look at?”
Ginny made ‘ooo’ and ‘ahhh’ noises, letting her face indicate delight at the baubles she saw displayed there. In truth, none of them attracted her, but she didn’t let that stop her. She tried on the rings, admired the earrings and necklaces, then sighed heavily.
“I don’t suppose you have what I really need.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve lost a diamond out of a ring and I’m looking for a replacement. Do you handle loose stones?”
The proprietor hesitated. “Well, we don’t see many.”
Ginny waited, looking hopeful.
He frowned, then made a small deprecating gesture. “I have a few.”
Ginny turned on the charm. “May I see them, please?”
He nodded, then pulled an envelope out of the safe, laying the individual stones out on the velvet tray for her inspection.
“This is what we have for sale at the moment.”
Ginny looked them over carefully. No joy. “What’s in the other envelope?”
The proprietor opened it and showed her the gem. “It came in this morning. We can’t sell it until it’s been to the appraiser.”
Ginny smiled. She knew that stone. “That’s okay. It’s too big for my needs.” She picked up the smallest stone and set it on the back of her hand. “How much for this one?”
He named a reasonable price and she happily handed over her credit card. She tucked her purchase away in her purse and wondered if there was any way she could find out more.
“How long does it take to get a stone appraised?”
“Usually a week. Are you interested in that big one?”
“I might be. I often pick up loose s
tones and have pieces made to order with them.”
“Funny you should come in today,” The proprietor volunteered. “It just goes to show.”
“Show what?”
“I was telling the man who brought it in that I probably shouldn’t take it, since we get no call for loose stones, just readymade jewelry.”
She laughed. “And here I show up, looking for a loose diamond! I guess this is my lucky day. Did he say why he was selling?”
“He said he’d decided the woman he bought it for wasn’t worth it and he’d rather have a motorcycle. We had a good laugh over that.”
Ginny’s smile broadened. “Thank you so much for your help! I hope this one fits my ring, but even if it doesn’t I’ll make sure it gets a good home. ‘Bye!”
A motorcycle! Ginny drove out of sight, then found a spot to pull over and examine her list. Sure enough, there was a purveyor of motorcycles in North Kingston. She hurried over to the lot. When questioned, the salesman clearly recalled Charlie.
This time Ginny said she was looking for a wayward brother who had been talking about buying a motorcycle for months, but hadn’t been given permission to do so by his loved ones, an overbearing widowed mother and the mother’s choice of a fiancée. This salesman was less gregarious and said only that men ought to be allowed to live their own lives. Ginny apologized for the intrusion, wrung her hands and added, “I don’t suppose you know which way he went?”
“No, miss. Not my business.”
“No, of course not. It’s just that I wanted to give him something before he disappears.”
The salesman screwed up his face, clearly not wanting to get embroiled in a family argument. Ginny opened her eyes as wide as they would go and blinked rapidly, then swallowed, then gave him a brave little smile. “Thank you for your help.”
The salesman nodded, then, “Halifax, he said.”
“Oh! How very kind of you! Can you tell me when he left?”
“I dropped him at the car rental agency at eleven-thirty.”
“Thank you! God bless you!” Ginny followed his directions to the rental agency.
Viking Vengeance Page 31
