“Half a mile. But we’d never make it in these conditions. We’re on the edge of Gabriola Passage which is running eight knots right now. The storm’ll ease off, and then we’ll be able to make way. The water gets wild even at the edges of the passage and, depending on the tide, can be impassable. But I know these waters. I can get around it.”
None of this was news to her. “A small skiff?”
“I can’t take this big boat into the shallow bay. We’d hit bottom. The small boat with a small motor will run us ashore at the point, then you’ll lead the way to the gold.”
“You could go alone.”
“No. You said you know the details. We’ll find it together.”
“But Sasha?”
“She stays here.”
“Oh.” She didn’t like the sound of that at all. Small boat, fast current, a child left alone. . .
Sasha started crying. “I want my daddy.” She gave Gilbert a fierce look. “He’s . . . he’s going to kill you for being so mean. He’s bigger than you.
Gilbert laughed, and then laughed harder. Deep ugly laughs that rolled through the room like a battering ram, knocking down what little hope Maggy had been trying to build. No doubt about it. He thought he had them cold.
Sasha cried harder and Maggy stroked her head wet with sweat. There had to be some way out of this.
Gilbert stopped laughing. “Shut her up.” He stomped over to the cabin door. Sasha began to sob. He turned back towards them. “If you don’t shut her up, I will.” The door slammed behind him.
The storm raged all night. Tucked behind the island they could hear the waves pounding the shores, but they were safe. The fisherman didn’t return. He must have chosen to stay up in his pilot room away from his next victims. With Sasha snuggled against her, Maggy wondered if anyone back home got her message, and what they would do if they did.
51
I always sang. My first memories are of me singing with my mom. Maggy Malone
One of the motors sputtered. Hunter yelled over the roar of the weather, “Check the gas.”
Hanging on to the hull with one hand, Logan opened the aft locker. The gauge on the gas tank neared zero. He opened the cap. He couldn’t see anything in it. Hunter looked back at him and Logan shook his head.
He searched the lockers for an extra fuel tank. None. Hunter looked back at him again and shook his head. A greenie on the port side slammed the boat and the door of the locker shut.
Logan moved forward, as the boat rolled down the side of another dark, frothy swell. The engines groaned under the strain. Hunter looked back, and gave him a thumb down sign.
He turned the boat starboard heading into Silva Bay. They couldn’t make Drumbeg Park without gas. They were in trouble. Taking a boat into a storm is dangerous; taking a boat without fuel into a storm is suicidal. There were no boats out on the water to see them. They had no radio. They would soon be at the mercy of the wind and the waves. They did have two paddles, but they would be as useful as toothpicks in these conditions.
The waters calmed as they drew closer to the marina. Logan held his breath hoping they could make it. The gas lasted until they saw the docks, 500 meters away. Then they paddled.
Logan jumped onto the dock and secured the boat. Hunter leaped out.
The docks were about half full, with boats bobbing up and down in the storm. There weren’t many live-aboards at this marina. Most of the boats belonged to people who were warm in their homes. There were no lights. A power outage?
Where the docks ended, an old hotel stood. There were no lights on there either. The storm must have cut their power.
Logan yelled through the noise of the storm, “It’s going to take time to get gas.”
“Sooner we start, the sooner we get it.” Hunter yelled back and started running.
Logan caught up. “It’s not that far on land to Drumbeg Park. Maybe six miles.”
“You want to hike in this?” The docks beneath their feet pitched with the waves
Logan caught Hunter’s arm. “I have to.”
Hunter’s jaw clenched.
“Our best chance,” Logan said, panting, “is to split up. You find someone to get some gas, phone the police and head out on the water. I’ll go by land. One of us will make it.” He left out, “hopefully in time.”
“How? No, don’t tell me. Just do it.” Hunter punched Logan’s arm lightly, then he was off at a full sprint on the slick, wet, wooden dock towards the hotel.
Logan followed him up to the land, and then veered over to the parking lot. Without street lights, darkness flooded the area. The cars were large black shadows within the darkness, like smudges in a film. He found a pickup first. No keys. He could try out each car or take the time to hot-wire this one. It looked sturdy—decision made.
With a pocket knife he started on the wires and the engine caught within minutes. The old truck rattled up the bumpy, sodden dirt lane to the main road. Wind whistled through the hundred-foot fir trees. Broken branches littered the ground. No one was in sight.
He turned left onto the road and headed for the Drumbeg Park road, which he knew lay five minutes away in a car. Finally he had hope. He could make it. He had to make it. Sasha and Maggy needed him. The normally smooth pavement, had become riddled with broken branches. Widow makers, the loggers called them, large enough to take your life if they fell on your head. The truck took bump after bump as he floored the gas pedal.
Shit. Logan slammed on the brakes and stopped within an inch of a five-foot-wide tree trunk lying across the road. The truck skidded to the right and hit the tree on its passenger side. He slammed his fist on the steering wheel. So close.
The adrenaline surging through his body made him want to run. He got out of the car and walked the length of the tree both ways. There was no way to drive around it.
Now half-way to Drumbeg Park, he’d have to hike the rest of the way. His eye caught a shape in the back of the truck. No. Could it be? Hell yeah. It was a bicycle.
He grabbed the bike and pulled it over the trunk of the tree. Once on the other side he hopped on and peddled with all his energy, and then some, feeling the clock ticking against his heart.
Driving over the branches had been hard, but cycling proved harder. He zig-zagged as best he could around the broken branches with a strong wind hitting him at the side. The bike veered left and right as it took the bumps. Sweat poured from his body. His muscles tensed under the pressure. He pushed forward.
***
Hunter banged on the wharfinger’s office door. He was just about ready to break in and search for gas-pump keys when the light of a flashlight appeared from behind him.
“What the fuck you up to?” said a gruff voice.
Turning he saw a man dressed in rain gear from head to foot. Under his sou’ester his face looked weathered. “I’m chasing a murderer who’s kidnapped a little girl. I need help,” said Hunter. “Gas and cops for starters.”
52
Give me water, food and a guitar and I’ll survive anything. Well maybe coffee too. Maggy Malone
In the fishing boat, Maggy gave up trying to sleep. Thoughts and memories flowed through her mind. So many things she wanted to do in her life. This couldn’t be the end.
Still, morbid thoughts bit into her like rats feasting on dead meat. She swallowed. It was not the time to let herself wallow in darkness. She had others to think about. So she thought about Logan. Together with Joe they could manage the Black Cat and she could really get her singing career going. Good friends and an on-going gig—what more could she want? There was Hunter. . .
Her body shivered, her adrenaline rush still pumped on high.
Sasha had cried herself into a restless sleep. She’d cough every so often, a horrible throaty cough.
The night refused to end.
But then she wasn’t sure she wanted it to.
It was still dark, but the water had calmed a little. Gilbert entered the cabin with ropes in his hands.
/> “What are you going to do?” asked Maggy.
“Relax. I don’t kill girls.” He flashed a wicked smile. “Unless I have to.” He moved over to Sasha. “I’m going to tie her up and then you and I are going to go get the gold.”
No time left. No cavalry. No luck. A metallic taste filled her mouth and her heart raced. “What then?” she asked.
“Then we bring the gold back to the boat and I drop the two of you off somewhere safe.”
That sounded way better than anything she had imagined. But could she trust a murderer? It would be so much easier for him to kill them. And he was good at killing.
Sasha woke up. Her eyes filled with tears. She hadn’t missed a word. He wrapped a rope around her tiny waist and tied her to the chair. Then he secured her hands. “I don’t kill women,” he muttered. “Or children. It’s not right.” Sweat poured down his face, its acrid smell saturated the air.
“What if I refuse to help you?” said Maggy.
“Then I’ll make an exception this time. I’ll kill you.” He looked at her with empty eyes. “And the wee one.”
Maggy gritted her teeth. No way in hell would she let that happen.
53
I think in notes and beats and harmonies. Maggy Malone
Logan made it to the Drumbeg Provincial Park turnoff and headed down the hill to the beach. Almost there. He followed the one clue Maggy had left him, and only that. There were fewer branches on this road. He gained speed. He was almost there.
***
Hunter was back in the Zodiac with the engines topped up. The storm had eased, and his route to the park was protected by the flat top islands. It would be rough, but nothing like what he’d come through already. With luck he’d be there in thirty minutes. The police were coming by road from the other end of the island and should be there about the same time. He shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was working with the RCMP. The fucking Mounties! He turned the ignition key.
“Hang on, Maggy, hang on.” The wind took his words, as the boat flew through the three-foot chop. Could he make it in time?
54
When the music plays the din of the world fades. Hey, I rhymed that one. Maggy Malone
Logan ditched his bicycle at the beach and started running. As he broke through the trees, the anchor light at the top of the mast of the fish boat in the distance came into view bobbing with the action of the waves. They made it. But had they made land? The flashing light from the buoy marking Rygars Reef, lit the black sky in an eerie staccato of darkness and light.
He ran forward, scanning the area. As he passed the last of the Garry oaks on the path he could see the open beach and a meadow. Two figures stood close together over a hole. The larger figure held a shovel.
Logan crept closer. The man was focused on digging. Maggy stood beside him with her arms folded across her chest. No sign of Sasha. The air in his lungs escaped. No Sasha.
Picking up a big branch, a real widow-maker, he said his last silent prayer. Coming up from behind the fisherman, he narrowed the distance between them. The sounds of the violent storm in the distance hid his approach.
The man couldn’t see him unless he turned. Please don’t turn. He lifted the branch high over his head. It must weigh twenty, fucking pounds. He brought it down slicing the air. But just before it made contact, the asshole turned and jumped out of range. The murderer’s eyes flashed in the night, so cold they made Logan hesitate.
Then he swung the branch like a baseball bat at the man’s midsection with all the hatred his heart held. The man stepped out of the way and pulled on the branch as it missed him. It fell to the ground. Logan lunged at him. No fucking mercy.
They tumbled onto the ground.
***
Maggy’s heart logdged in her throat. Logan looked younger and more agile than Gilbert, but Gilbert was meaner than a grizzly with an abscessed tooth. She screamed, but her voice disappeared in the wind. Lot of good that was going to do. She looked at Logan’s branch, hesitated, then picked it up.
The men pummeled each other, pounding, groaning and swearing. Nasty. They were fighting to the death and they both knew it. Desperation and rage filled the air around them.
She wanted to swing the branch and connect with Gilbert’s head, but they were moving around so much she could hit Logan by mistake. She waited for her chance.
Maggy gasped for air. She could do this. Concentrate. Wait for the right moment.Focus. She’d hit that bastard as hard as she could. Now. No. Logan rolled on top. Shit.
A shot rang out. Turning she saw Hunter coming along the beach with a gun in his hand.
The noise startled the men on the ground, and for an instant they fell apart. Just long enough. Maggy brought the stick down on Gilbert’s head and heard a loud crack as it met the bones of his skull.
Gilbert at the last moment saw it coming, but it was too late. He tried to move out of its way, but the wood caught the right side of his head. A horrible crunching echoed in her ears. Blood spurted in all directions. She screamed.
Sirens blared in the distance. The cavalry was on its way. But too late for her. She’d already killed him.
Hunter came to her but she prevented him from holding her. She had to take it all in. Logan slowly got up. The wind howled. A confusion of images and sounds enveloped her. Her mind stayed focused on the blood pouring from the fisherman’s head. She’d killed him.
Hunter bent down and checked Gilbert’s pulse. Logan tried to put his arm around her, but she pushed him away. Her body started shaking uncontrollably.
Hunter shook his head, no. As in no pulse. But she knew that already. Deep down in her soul, she knew that. She had killed him.
“Where’s Sasha?” yelled Logan.
Maggy pointed towards the fishing boat, and then her world went black. As she sank into the comforting darkness, the image of Brother XII greeted her. Lifting one brow, he nodded his head, as if welcoming her to another world. A world she didn’t ask to enter. Gentle hands guided her body carefully to the ground.
55
Love. . . Sing. . . Live. Maggy Malone
Logan’s heart raced. Sasha?
The police and ambulance sirens stopped close to them. They’d be down in a couple minutes with a million questions. Logan looked at Hunter. He nodded towards the chuck.
Logan looked towards Kendrick Island. The light of the mast of Gilbert’s boat bobbed in the waves. It was moving. “Oh fuck.”
“Take the Zodiac. I’ll handle things here,” said Hunter.
“Sa—sha.” Logan’s chest tightened.
“The light’s moving, man. The fishing boat’s anchor isn’t holding.”
The storm had released the anchor’s grip. The wind was pushing the boat towards. . . Oh shit. He knew that area. It couldn’t be worse. Dark swirling water created by the strong current. He had to get to the boat before the eight-knot current from the Gabriola Passage sucked it into its narrow rocky strait.
Logan didn’t need to say any of that out loud. They both knew how dangerous these waters were and what was at stake.
He looked at Maggy, lying semi-conscious on the ground.
“Go,” said Hunter.
He leaned over Maggy. She babbled about “the brother.” Paramedics were heading their way with a stretcher. He’d have to trust that they would take care of her. Logan turned and ran for the Zodiac.
The shouts from the police were lost in the wind. He didn’t have time to explain his actions. Hunter would take care of that, and Maggy. He had to get Sasha.
As he turned the key, the Zodiac’s motors came to life and he pulled out into the bay. The storm waves were running at three feet and the boat bounced between them. It didn’t matter how wet or cold he got. All that mattered was Sasha. His gut clenched.
As he approached Kendrick Island, the fishing boat blew closer and closer to the strait. It took ten minutes to get within a few feet of it and by that time it was out in the open being pulled towards the Gabriola Pa
ssage by the eight knot current.
He brought the Zodiac alongside and cut the motor. He jumped on board the vessel with a tow rope in his hand. Once aboard he secured the rope. The wind howled through the rigging, and the deck pitched on the waves. He edged along to the cabin door. It was locked.
He kicked it open. Sasha was tied up and crying. Her eyes wide. Her body trembling. He ran to her, and undid the ropes. The boat sped up on the current. It rose out of the water and gained momentum, as if the motor was running. Throwing the ropes aside he pulled Sasha towards him for a big hug.
“Daddy,” she cried.
“Hang onto my hand. We’ve got to get out of here.” He would not chance starting the diesel motor. Fishing boats motors were notorious for their idiosyncrasies. They’d have to get back to the Zodiac.
Above deck the wind had picked up. He hadn’t made it in time. They had entered the passage. The water was running fast.
“Hang on to the side of the boat here.” He placed her hands where he thought she’d be most secure. “Hang on honey. With all your might.” He spoke into her ear. “I’ll slip into the boat, and when I motion to you, I want you to jump into my arms.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to.”
“Daddy, I’m scared.”
“I’m scared too honey. But that’s what we have to do.”
“No,” she cried. “Can’t we just stay in this boat? It’s bigger.”
The current was speeding them along. They couldn’t wait any longer. Logan slid into the Zodiac.
“I can’t.” yelled Sasha.
He motioned again and with every fiber in his body willed her to jump.
She stood trembling and for a moment he thought she’d never find the courage to take the leap. Then her quivering jaw firmed and she jumped. He almost fell over when she arrived in his arms.
Sitting her in the passenger seat, he released the rope tying them to the fishing boat and started the motors. At first it was as if they weren’t working. The boat didn’t seem to move. The current held them. The fishing boat sped away into the depths of the passage. He prayed his engines would keep them out.
Black Cat Blues Page 22
