"Hi, remember me, that crazy Englishwoman staying in the San Juans?"
"You sure timed that right. I've just walked through the door. Obviously you got to Seattle in one piece. Did you manage the drive okay?"
"I took time to reacquaint myself with the Market and the Space Needle while in Seattle. And despite having to drive on the wrong side of the road, the journey to Anacortes was fine."
Debbie laughed. "Okay, so you're a better driver than me, but then that's because I don't drive very often—"
"Just often enough to remember how!" they said in unison and then dissolved into fits of laughter at their private joke.
"No one in San Francisco with any sense owns a car."
"Admit it," said Skye, "I am just more coordinated than you when it comes to things mechanical."
Debbie laughed again. "How’s the cabin? Let me guess, you've paid nearly $2,000 for a wood shack, with no hot or cold running water, just an open fire to cook on and the bathroom's a hut at the end of the garden."
Skye smiled. Debbie could always make her laugh. "It’s beautiful, and very well equipped. It stands in two acres of woodland, and has a view to die for."
"Met any of the locals yet?"
"Only one and he was damned rude too. ‘Mr. Damn Your Eyes’ appeared out of nowhere and then promptly gave me a lecture on how cold the water was at this time of year."
"My, he certainly got your hackles up. What did he look like?"
Skye closed her eyes and described the stranger. "He’s about six feet four, dark hair, unshaven, and wearing a real nasty expression."
"He sounds interesting. Planning on seeing him again?"
"Not if I can avoid the bastard. Besides, he's got a fishy friend to keep him company on long lonely nights, while I have—"
"While you have a computer and your music, I know. I'm not sure that either is a substitute for a real man and from the description of…what did you call him? Oh yeah, ‘Mr. Damn Your Eyes,’ he could be just that. Perhaps I should try and get up for a long weekend and look him over for you."
"Debbie, the last thing I want is an affair. You of all people know that."
"Just teasing. Apart from your encounter with the natives, have you settled in?"
"Yes. I'll call you again in a few days, okay?"
"Sure, speak to you soon. Oh, and Skye—"
"Yes?"
"Behave yourself with the tall hairy guy," Debbie said. She broke the connection before Skye could utter a suitable response.
Trust Debbie, to have the last word. Ever since Skye had complied with Debbie's quest to have her photograph taken with a ‘real Highlander’ resplendent in full Highland dress, with kilt, skean dhu, and sporran, they'd played this game. When Skye visited Debbie in San Francisco, she responded by getting Skye's photograph taken with every cop they encountered. Now, regardless of which city in the world they met, they each tried to get the other photographed with the biggest and ugliest of the locals.
Skye calculated it was a little after midnight in London, so her call to John ran into his voicemail. She assured him she had arrived safely and all was well, then cut the connection. From now on, if she needed to contact him, she would use the payphone in Friday Harbor. She knew John would be too eager to use his new software to its full potential in an attempt to find out exactly where she was staying.
Chapter Three
For the first time in days Skye felt truly relaxed. All in all, she'd been travelling for the best part of forty-eight hours and now, with the firelight flickering around the room and the mellow sound of the saxophone on the CD player, her thoughts drifted back to Michael.
His letter inviting her to visit arrived just after Christmas. A whole month in his company was more than she had ever hoped for. They’d continued to write and talk on the phone until finally the day arrived for them to meet.
From the moment she had been assigned her seat in first class, the flight had been fantastic. She recalled being nervous, as the plane touched down at SeaTac Airport. The arrival hall was relatively empty with only one or two people waiting to meet the arriving passengers. She’d anxiously scanned the faces for Michael and was a little worried when he didn't appear to be there, but as she walked towards baggage reclaim, he came running briskly off the escalator. Before she knew what was happening, he had pulled her into his arms and spun her round and round, and covered her face in soft kisses.
They had collected her luggage and walked out to the car. Michael kept his arm around her all the time, holding her close. The smiles he gave her set her pulse racing. It wasn't until they reached the car, that he drew her into his arms once more. One hand traced the line of her cheek while the other caressed her back. He’d lowered his head to hers and kissed her.
Skye would remember that first true kiss in the weeks to come. It had been soft, and sensuous. Michael's tongue gently probed until she opened her mouth to him, and allowed the kiss to deepen. At that moment she knew she wanted him with every fibre of her being.
The drive from the airport to Seattle had taken just over an hour, the traffic on that late sunny Sunday afternoon in May being relatively light. They'd parked, and then walked along the waterfront before finding somewhere to eat. Skye had no recollection of the meal. The only images that filled her mind were those of sitting opposite Michael, holding his hand now and again and watching his face intently. She had memorized each line, each expression, the way one eyebrow raised at a question, and the way his face lit up when he smiled, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners.
Michael had reserved a suite in one of the large hotels near the naval base. That way he would be close to the ship should he be required onboard. His gaze had never left hers as he told her that as much as he wanted to lie with her in his arms, he also didn't want her to feel under any pressure. How, if it didn't feel right for her, he would understand and book her into another room. Skye had blushed at his hesitant words, and had reached across the table to take both his hands in hers. With faltering words, she softly said that she wanted nothing more than to be completely loved by him.
They left the restaurant arm in arm, and walked back to the car to join the queue for the ferry. While most passengers left their vehicles on the car deck and climbed the stairs to the lounge, Michael and Skye had sat in the circle of each other's arms, neither of them really able to believe that finally being together could feel so good, so right.
That first night, Michael made love to her with such tenderness that Skye thought her heart would burst. He'd whispered his thoughts to her, igniting the fire inside her. With one smouldering look Michael could make her body ache for the touch of his.
The first two weeks passed in a blur. They spent the days exploring the Kitsap Peninsula and the nights making love. Once or twice, Michael was recalled to the ship, leaving Skye to explore on her own. On those occasions, she caught the ferry to Seattle or Port Orchard and visited the usual tourist venues—Pioneer Square, Pike Place Market, and the Space Needle. While she'd hoped these where places they would have explored together, she understood that the Navy had first call on his time.
Michael also showed her around the ‘mothballed fleet’, the resting ground of some of the US Navy's most famous battleships and destroyers. He painstakingly explained the names of the various parts of the ship and how a sailor's bunk was called a ‘rack.’ Skye found it hard to comprehend how five thousand men and women could cram together on an aircraft carrier and call it ‘home’ for six months. Her admiration for Michael, and what he did for his country, grew by the hour. Although he never introduced her to his fellow officers, Skye hadn't thought it particularly strange, at least not at the time. It was only much later, when the sorry category of events finally unfolded, that she understood why.
Skye awoke from the dream with a start. The cabin was completely dark save for the glow of the embers from the dying fire. Brushing her hair from her face, she felt tears. Crying again. Would she never learn to forget him? Would Mic
hael always be in her thoughts, her dreams?
Blindly, she searched for the switch for the lamp on the table behind the sofa. She turned it on, and blinked frantically as the room was suddenly bathed in light. Looking around the unfamiliar room, she couldn't see anything that would have wakened her, other than the final log disintegrating into ashes in the grate.
One window was slightly ajar, but not enough to cause anything to fall. She crossed the room and closed it, then reached to draw the drapes. She had the strange feeling that she was being watched. Don't be stupid and paranoid, you're a country girl at heart, remember? It's probably just the breeze in the trees, or maybe a neighborhood cat out on a nightly prowl. She walked over to the fire and placed the safety guard in front of it, making it safe for the night.
***
From his hiding place deep within the wood, Walker heard the sound of an engine backfiring. By the time he reached the track, the vehicle responsible for the noise had vanished into the black of the night. The woman in the cabin had heard it too, for one moment the cabin was in darkness and then suddenly it was a blaze of light. Walker watched the slim figure come to the window and look out before closing the drapes. He stepped back into the shadows afforded by the trees, his ears straining for the slightest sound. An owl hooted nearby, no doubt in protest at having its nightly hunting raid disrupted.
Somewhere out on the water he could hear the throb of a ship's engine as it made its way through the strait. He had heard the same vessel earlier that evening as it rounded the headland a few miles south of where he now stood. But the ship hadn't been what caught his attention. It had been the sound of a heavy vehicle moving down the track towards the cabin and beach. If he'd left the lodge earlier and hidden in the woods, he would have seen the vehicle and more importantly, he would have known why it was using the track at this time of night.
A light in the cabin bedroom flicked on, then off. His tenant was preparing to go to bed. Walker decided to give it another thirty minutes before he trekked down to the shore to see if the vehicle had left any tracks. He was quite sure that whoever was using the cove would leave little or no trace of their visit. He hoped for once he was wrong, and that his tenant had spooked whoever it was, just as she had spooked him earlier that day. Sufficient perhaps to make them find alternative access to the shore, but he rather doubted it. The bastards didn't have any thoughts other than for the large bundle of untraceable bills, which undoubtedly would be pressed into their eager grubby hands.
Two hours later, after a fruitless and frustrating search, Walker had found nothing. Whoever had used the track had been careful to cover their movements. Apart from a few broken twigs and the odd footprint, there was little to show that a vehicle, other than his tenant's rental car, had driven down the track. Yet Walker was sure that someone was using the dock to offload cargo onto a small boat. He just needed one breakthrough—something that would help him to identify either the vehicle or the goods being transported. And if those goods turned out to be the chemicals he’d found in the fish, then he could trace them back to the plant that produced them.
He shivered slightly in the cool breeze as he returned to the lodge. Not only was he tired and frustrated by this latest case, but he was also angry with himself for renting out the cabin. It was too late now to change things. He’d just have to work round the situation. He'd been in tighter spots than this over the years, so why was this beginning to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up? Part of it, he knew, was the feeling that this latest case of illegal dumping was personal—someone getting back at him. That didn't surprise him. He had trodden on enough toes over the years, so he guessed it was payback time. But the question was who and why?
The other part of the problem was the woman, that small vulnerable figure who brought out the protector in him, even if she did have the temper of a wildcat. He didn't know her, and had no particular wish to. He wasn't one for short vacation affairs, the love them and leave them attitude of the beach lothario was definitely not his style, even if he had the time or inclination. Besides, he preferred his companions to be less fiery and opinionated, although he had to admit that she did have a certain appeal.
He shook his head in disgust at the direction his thoughts were headed. He let himself into the lodge, and flicked on the percolator in the kitchen on his way to the study. He sat down at his desk and waited for his computer to boot up. Although it was after midnight he wasn't ready to sleep. He intended making a list of every company, corporation and individual who might be interested in nailing his hide to the mast for closing down their operations, even for one day.
While his PC hummed and whirred into life, Walker poured himself a mug of black coffee. He had a feeling he would need it, and a stronger feeling that the list he was about to make was going to be long, very long. Twenty minutes later, he took a swallow of his now-cold coffee and reviewed the list. There were seven names on it.
He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and tried to cast his mind back two years, to a particularly difficult and unpleasant case. He was working in South America at the time, he recalled. But was sure the corporation involved was headquartered here in America. The name was in the far recesses of his mind, if only he could remember what it was. He rubbed his temples to relieve the stress. There was nothing for it; he would have to access his files on the main computer in the company office in Seattle.
Walker pointed his mouse at an icon on the screen and opened up his Internet software. The modem clicked and hummed as the software dialled into the server. His password accepted, he accessed his firm's vast database. Finally, he located the files he wanted and started to download them only for the screen to become corrupted. Damn it, not again. He quickly tore phone line out of his laptop.
The latest anti-virus software had been installed on his machine only a few weeks earlier and the passwords changed. The mainframe and server were also protected, yet someone had managed to hack into the system once more. Only two people had the access codes to the main database, his IT specialist and himself. Everyone else within company had limited access. He hoped that whatever had corrupted his screen hadn't destroyed any other files.
Locating and stopping the hacker was beyond his capabilities, and he suspected the police would be no help either. He needed to call in a specialist firm, but who could he trust? Perhaps Joe would have a contact he could use. If not, then it was time to call in a few overdue favours. He checked his watch, and decided he could afford himself the luxury of a few hours sleep before contacting his friend.
After a long hot shower and breakfast the next morning, Walker put through his call to Joe.
"Hey, McCabe?"
"I knew it had to be you, Walker. Only you could call me at this ungodly hour. Okay, spill—more bad news I assume?"
"Yeah, someone was using the cove again last night, only I missed them. If—"
"What d’you mean you missed them? I thought you were out there all hours, playing the Navy SEAL."
"I was, but I got distracted. I forgot I’d let the cabin, and got the surprise of my life when I saw my new tenant sitting on the dock dangling her feet in the water."
"Her? You're telling me you're seeing water nymphs now, is that it? You're hallucinating. When was the last time you slept?"
"Joe, I’m serious. My tenant arrived yesterday. I met her on my way back to the lodge. When I was camped out in the woods last night, I heard a truck and went to investigate. But whoever it was also disturbed my tenant's beauty sleep, so I had to wait until I could get a chance to look around."
"She’s not a water nymph, but Sleeping Beauty. Make your mind up; this isn’t a fairy tale, you know. Why don’t you admit you fell asleep on the job?"
"Okay, buddy, have it your way. Something else happened last night which makes me think this is aimed right at me."
"Go on."
"Let's face it, over the last ten years I’ve trodden on enough toes and shut down enough corporations to upset a
few folks. I sat down and made a list of who would want to see Walker Environmental Research and me, go to the wall. So far there are seven names on the list. As soon as I tried to download the relevant information on each of them from my company's database, my PC crashed."
"Nothing unusual in that my friend, mine does it all the time."
"Yeah, but you’re just plain ham fisted and computer illiterate."
"Give me a tablet of stone and a chisel any time. So, what makes this unusual?"
"Joe, I spent a small fortune installing the latest security and anti-virus software. I can't be sure until I get into the office later today, but I’m certain someone has hacked into the mainframe and not for the first time either. I just hope they haven't deleted any files, or corrupted them in some way. This is way out of my area of expertise. I'll have to talk to someone who can give me an insight into exactly what damage hackers can do and what I can do about it. Not to mention whether it’s possible to trace them, although I don't know if that's even theoretically possible. Do you know of anyone who might be able to help me?"
Three Weeks Last Spring Page 3
