Black Tide Rising

by R. J. McMillen

  “You got it.” A female voice drifted out along with the kitchen smells.

  Bob led the way down to a metal shed that sat in the middle of the cleared site. “Gonna have to build a bigger office if we keep getting visitors. We had another guy here yesterday. Said he was looking for his buddy.”

  Dan looked at him. “Another guy? He give you his name?”

  “Yeah. Said he was Dave … something. Can’t remember now. He was supposed to meet up with some other guy to go fishing, but his friend didn’t show. He figured the friend might have had some kind of problem and come here.”

  “You remember what he looked like?”

  “Didn’t really look that hard, but he had dark hair, I remember that. Not skinny but slight, you know what I mean? Looked kinda like a city guy to me. Wouldn’t make it as a logger, that’s for sure.” Bob paused. “You think he might be one of these guys you’re looking for?”

  “Maybe. You know how he got here?”

  Bob shrugged. “I asked him that. He said he had a boat.”

  “You see it?” Dan asked.

  “No. I just figured it was down at the skid. It’s the only place to tie up.”

  Dan nodded. “I’m tied up there myself right now. Am I going to be okay there for a couple more hours? And my guys will come in by boat too. They’ll need to tie up somewhere.”

  Bob frowned. “You can stay there till the trucks start coming down, but once they start dumping, you’re going to have to be someplace else. I can have the boom boats pull you out to one of the booms and tie you up there. They can bring your boat back when you’re ready to go. That work?”

  “Yeah, sure. And thanks. I’d better make that phone call.”

  Bob pointed to the radio phone on his desk. “No problem. I’ll go and get that sandwich while you make your call.” He turned to go, then turned back. “Oh, I don’t know if it helps, but I do remember the name of the guy he was asking about. It was Jerry. Jerry Coffman.”

  Dan was in the process of picking up the phone, but as he heard Bob’s words, he carefully replaced the receiver in its holder.

  “Jerry Coffman?” he asked. “You’re sure about that?”

  “Yeah,” Bob answered. “I guess the name stuck in my mind because I used to go to school with a guy called Jerry Hoffman. Weird, huh?” He looked at Dan. “You know this guy? Coffman?”

  “Yeah,” Dan answered. “At least, I know of him. He’s one of the ones we’re looking for. He’s not someone you want to mess with.”

  He reached for the receiver again, then stopped as another thought crossed his mind.

  “You get a call from the RCMP to watch out for a blue boat—probably with a couple of guys in it?”

  Bob shook his head. “Nope. Call probably went to head office, and those jerk-offs never bother to tell us anything. They probably figured we don’t have a wharf or a float anyway, so what are we going to see?” He paused. “You thinking that guy that was here might have been in that boat?”

  Dan shrugged. It was too late to worry about it now. “Maybe. You might want to tell your guys to watch out for anyone on the road. Tell them if they see someone not to pick him up but to call it in right away.”

  “They’d do that anyway, but I’ll tell them. Back in a minute.”

  —

  Gary Markleson was still in bed. “This better be damn important,” he said in a voice still clouded with sleep.

  “Found Nielson’s boat,” Dan answered. “It’s tied to some trees just north of the log dump in Kendrick Arm. Those two guys you had in custody were in it.”

  “Who? Sleeman and Rainer?” Sleep had left Markleson’s voice.

  “The very same.”

  “So we’ve got them for attempted murder?”

  “Maybe. If they’re smart, they could say they found the boat somewhere—at least, they could if Nielson doesn’t make it. But we’ve got enough to pick them up—especially as one of them came to the logging camp yesterday looking for Jerry Coffman.”

  “You’re shitting me! So they’re in this jewelry heist with Coffman?”

  “Yeah, but I can’t figure out where the woman fits in. You hear anything on her yet?”

  “Not a trace so far. It’s like she vanished into thin air. We’ve got the search and rescue guys out checking the beaches, but they haven’t found a damn thing, and the chopper people say the heavy bush and that rain a few days ago make it almost impossible to get a heat signature, let alone find anyone. They got one hit yesterday, but it turned out to be a bear.”

  “Okay, well, we’ll have to figure that out, but right now I need you to send me some backup. I overheard Sleeman and Rainer talking a while ago, and they’re expecting someone called Stephanson to show up, so if Coffman arrives too, we’ll have four guys here, and there’s only one of me.”

  “Stephanson? Who the hell’s Stephanson?”

  “Beats me. Guess we’ll find out when he gets here. Meanwhile, I’ve got a bunch of loggers moving around, one guy who we know has already killed someone, another two who tried to kill Nielson, and all I’ve got is a goddamn service revolver. I need some help here.”

  “Jesus. The Tahsis boat’s up in Kyuquot—went up yesterday. I can get somebody out from Gold River, but it’s probably going to take a couple of hours for them to get there.”

  “Well, get it started, and tell them to move it. Have them come to the log dump. I’ll have the manager here tell them where to go.”

  “You got a radio?”

  “Just a handheld VHF. Call the logging camp if you need me. I’ll check with them if I can.”

  Dan hung up just as Bob returned carrying a sandwich in a plastic bag.

  “Thanks. I’m going to head out again. Keep the traffic normal, but don’t have anybody wandering around on the road on foot. There’s going to be an RCMP boat with a couple of guys coming from Gold River in a couple of hours. I told them to wait here till I come and get them, but if you hear any shooting, tell them to get to the corner down there as fast as they can.”

  “Damn. This is really weird. Kinda like a movie or something, but it’s real.” Bob looked out the window as the harsh sound of a logging truck starting its engine assaulted the quiet of the morning. “Can’t say I’m too comfortable about sending the guys out.”

  “They’ll be fine in the trucks. Just make sure they don’t stop for anybody or anything.”

  • TWENTY-SIX •

  Dan’s return to the corner was a good deal easier than his walk to the camp had been. The sun was higher, making it easier to see the roots and branches that lay in wait for the unwary, and the sandwich the cookhouse had sent over had given him some much-needed nourishment. He kept to the brush on the high side of the road, not because he was worried about being seen crossing the open area of the camp—there was plenty of normal activity happening there now anyway—but because he wanted to be able to move higher up the road if he had to without having to risk exposing his presence by crossing the lower section. He had no way of knowing whether Sleeman and Rainer had returned to the same place they had been during the night, but it seemed likely. Dan hadn’t heard the sound of a boat engine, and from the little he had overheard, it was unlikely that Sleeman would trust Rainer to do anything on his own. So. Both of them, probably in much the same place as they were before, waiting to see if Jerry Coffman would appear.

  A logging truck rumbled past, sending a spray of rocks and dried mud into the trees near the verge as it made the sharp turn and geared down for the climb up the mountain. The engine noise faded briefly as the transmission disengaged, then surged again as the gears meshed and the driver accelerated. Dan used the noise to clear a comfortable space for himself in the middle of a clump of low bushes and settled himself down into the hollow. Just by turning his head he had a good view of both the forest across from him and the road stretching up the mountain. With no load, the truck’s ascent was quick, and the engine sound diminished as the big vehicle moved up into the trees. It
was replaced with the familiar sounds of nature: birds calling, gulls screaming, insects droning. They were interspersed with the occasional clang of metal or whine of a power tool at the logging camp.

  “This is bullshit, man. How long we going to stay here?”

  It was the same voice he had heard the previous night, and it was coming from the other side of the road and a little closer to the water. Dan peered through the bushes, trying to locate the source, but couldn’t see anything other than trees and brush.

  “Keep your voice down, goddamn it. He’ll hear you.”

  Dan figured that was probably Sleeman talking. The other voice fit the profile of Rainer: not too bright but good with a blunt instrument.

  “He ain’t coming.” Rainer again. “I already told you that. And we’re screwed anyway. We don’t even know where the stuff is anymore. What the hell are we going to tell that guy when he shows up?”

  “I’ll deal with that if it happens.” Sleeman’s voice sounded tense and angry. “All you have to do is watch that fucking road and let me handle the rest.”

  There was silence for a couple of minutes, and then Rainer started up again.

  “So what you want me to do if he does come? You want me to take him out?”

  “Jesus! No, I don’t want you to take him out. We need him to tell us what he did with the stuff. He can’t do that if he’s dead, can he?”

  Silence fell again, although now it carried within it a brooding resentment that coiled through the air like something palpable. Dan gazed back and forth between the trees across from him and the bare slash of road spearing up the mountainside, but still nothing moved, and after half an hour he found his attention straying. He had always hated stakeouts—had never been able to deal with the boredom they brought. Patience had never been his strong point, and while the dark of night had helped him pass the time by looking at the stars and rehearsing his katas, the light of day offered both too much distraction and too little to hold his interest.

  As he looked out at the endless greenery that lined the road, he wished, not for the first time, that he had Walker’s knowledge of nature. Walker would know the names and uses of each tree, while Dan could only recognize the cedar and hemlock for sure; the others he was not certain about. Tamarack, maybe, and perhaps some fir or spruce. No pine, that was for sure. He’d read somewhere that pine didn’t grow where there was a lot of rain. And most of the bushes looked like wild roses—there were still some rose hips on the branches—and some other kind of berry bush, probably salmonberry or huckleberry. He remembered both of those from when he was a kid. And those low, big-leafed ones would be blackberries. They always seemed to grow at the edge of something—a road, a fence, a forest—where they could be easily seen by a kid passing by, and where the huge, lush berries could tempt him to try to reach them even as the sharp thorns kept him out.

  “What time is it, man? I’m hungry. Them stale crackers we found weren’t worth shit.”

  Again a voice called him back, and again it was Rainer, and this time the petulance was loud and clear, even if the volume was a little lower than before.

  “It’s nearly nine.” Sleeman spoke in a hiss that was barely more than a whisper but which carried clearly across to Dan where he sat in his hiding place. “Keep your eyes open. He’ll be here any time now.”

  “Yeah, right.” The words were an aside, barely loud enough to hear, but Dan heard them and wondered how much longer Sleeman was going to be able to keep his partner in check. If the two men decided to leave, Dan would have to decide quickly whether to follow them or continue to wait for Coffman to appear.

  The snap of a twig somewhere in the trees a little higher on the mountain caught his attention, and he turned his head toward it. Walker had tried to teach him to reach out with all of his senses, but that still didn’t work for him. He had to rely on logic and deduction.

  It was certainly not uncommon for a tree, or even a single branch, to fall without apparent cause, but then there would be the telltale scrape of its passage down to the ground and at least a quiet thud as it hit the ground. He hadn’t heard either of those sounds.

  It could be an animal—a deer, perhaps, or even a bear—but it didn’t seem likely. Deer moved through the forest in complete silence, and bears caused much more noise and disturbance than a single branch snapping. There were no cougars on the island, but Dan had heard there were wolves. He hadn’t seen any, but if there were, they also moved silently, and they would never come so close to an active logging camp. That left raccoons and minks and otters, which were all too small to have broken a branch, and humans, who were notoriously careless. Humans often stepped on branches and broke them, but what human would be out here in the bush? No logger would be wandering around, and no tourist. That left Jared and his team, Margrethe, and Jerry Coffman.

  According to Walker, Jared’s men were like the deer and the wolves. They moved silently. They were also on the other side of the island—or, at least, well away from Kendrick Arm. The possibility that Margrethe had not only survived but also found her way to this particular location was so slight as to be miraculous—and Dan didn’t believe in miracles any more than he believed in coincidence, although it would be one miracle he’d be very willing to pray for. That left Jerry Coffman. Things were heating up. It could get interesting.

  The sound of a boat engine swelled from the south, came closer, and then stopped. It was the right direction for someone coming from Gold River. Dan risked a glance up at the sky. Had it been two hours? Yes, it had. He had left the logging camp just before seven, so the boat was probably bringing the backup he had asked for. The knowledge was reassuring. If he was right about Coffman having arrived, then there were already three men to deal with, and there might still be a fourth. Stephanson had yet to make an appearance.

  —

  “Hey, Pat! Carl! You boys waiting for me?”

  The voice rang out from farther up the mountain, piercing the morning air, startling the birds into silence. There was still no one visible on the road, and Dan couldn’t see or hear any movement or disturbance in the forest, but it had to be Coffman, and the guy obviously knew how to handle himself in the bush: Dan hadn’t heard or seen a thing since that one twig snapping, and he’d thought it had come from a different direction.

  “Hey, guys, I know you’re there. Aren’t you going to talk to me? It’s your old friend Jerry. The guy you left behind in Gold River for the cops to pick up.”

  The voice was loud, nasal, taunting. And Coffman had just confirmed that he was involved with Sleeman and Rainer, although it seemed there had been a falling-out among thieves. Too bad he didn’t have some way to record this, Dan thought. It would be nice to have it all on tape.

  “You boys been over to the cove lately?” The words were followed by a high-pitched giggle. Coffman sounded like he might be more than a little crazy—not a good thing when he was also known to be quick with a knife. Dan fought the urge to pull out his weapon. He didn’t want to make any movement that might cause Coffman to mistake him for Sleeman or Rainer, both of whom had so far remained completely silent. That suddenly changed.

  “Jerry?” Sleeman stepped out onto the road almost directly across from where Dan was hidden. “Damn, it’s good to hear your voice. We were worried about you. Those damn cops were right there when we left the house. We had to move real fast or they would’ve caught us.”

  “Right there, huh?” It was Coffman, and he had moved again. “Funny; they weren’t around when I left.”

  Sleeman shrugged and spread his hands. “Guess they must have been following us. Carl and I lost them down near the old mill site. Guess they didn’t know you were there with us. Where the hell are you anyway? What are you hiding for?”

  “Never mind where I am. Where’s Carl? He waiting around somewhere to bash my head in?” The voice had turned sulky, the inflection oddly childlike.

  “What? That’s nuts. You’re our partner, Jerry. Carl’s down at the boat,
waiting for Stephanson to show up. Come on down and join us.”

  The reports had been right, Dan thought as he listened to Sleeman talk. The man was smooth, and quick on his feet. No doubt he was the brains behind any plan this group had come up with.

  There was no answer from Coffman, and for a minute Dan wondered if he had moved again, perhaps trying to get nearer to the boat to see if Rainer was really down there, but suddenly the man stepped out onto the road. He was maybe thirty feet above where Dan was hiding, a small, dark figure on the pale gravel.

  “You ain’t got a boat, Pat. Don’t pull that bullshit with me. Carl ain’t down at no boat. He’s right there in the bush with you.”

  Sleeman smiled and shook his head. “Come on, Jerry. We’re partners, for chrissake. We’re in this together. We’ve got a boat. How the hell you think we got here? We took it from some old geezer in Tahsis who doesn’t need it anymore. It’s right down there, if you want to take a look.” He turned and pointed to the water, then started walking back into the trees. “I’m going to go back down and join Carl. I need to be there when Stephanson arrives. You’re welcome to join us.”

  Dan watched Coffman as he watched Sleeman disappear into the bush. The man seemed to be talking to himself—at least, his lips were moving, although Dan couldn’t hear any sound. He was also jerking his head from side to side as he patted his thigh with his right hand. Crazy for sure. And dangerous.

  After a few minutes Coffman started down the road, stopping every couple of steps to peer into the forest. Sleeman was still moving down the bank, making no attempt to be quiet. In fact, Dan thought he might be working hard to ensure he made enough noise for Coffman to easily follow him. He was also moving slowly, wandering openly between the tree trunks so that Dan, still hidden in his rough blind, had no problem seeing him.

  Coffman paused briefly when he reached the point where Sleeman had left the road, then stepped in after him. He was obviously nervous, his head swiveling back and forth as he crept cautiously from tree to tree. Looking for Rainer, Dan figured, as well he should. There had been no sign of Rainer since Coffman announced his presence. Either he had gone down to the boat while Sleeman and Coffman were talking, or he was still out there, waiting.