Means To An End

by Carol McPhee

  Rand gritted his teeth upon thinking of the risk Lori had taken with her snooping; she could have been detected and hurt. She also could have ruined their setup. Damn. He tried to calm his irritation. “There's nothing illegal about anchoring in a cove and exploring."

  "I'm only reporting what I saw. It looked strange to me that a guy with a shady reputation was tramping about on the beach with a group of men for such a short time. If you don't want to look into it, no sweat."

  Rand flinched. No sweat, indeed. His hands were filmed with the stuff. He was about to argue the point when she opened up with a volley of sparks. “I didn't really expect the RCMP to be interested, but a friend, who knows about drug smuggling and the criminal element in Nova Scotia, said I should call. I'm not surprised you people only catch the crooks on the lower end of the scale without more interest than what you've shown. Sorry for wasting your time, as well as mine."

  "Hey ... Wait a minute! Don't hang up! I'm listening, aren't I? You have a valid point. I need to ask a few questions.” He heard her gasp; she hadn't left, and he breathed a sigh of relief. But what she'd said cut to the quick. His throat tightened, not only from trying to maintain a disguised voice, but from an urge to retaliate to justify himself and the RCMP. He'd almost slipped to his natural tone in his desperation to keep her on the line.

  "Tell me about the men with Mr. Warner."

  "I don't know any of them except the captain of the yacht, and to be honest, I don't know him well. I'd better go."

  "No! Ma'am? Please, answer just a few more questions.” She held on and once again he expelled the breath straining his lungs.

  "What can you tell me about this captain?"

  He heard her suck in her breath. “His name is Rand McDougall. I played chess with him and I can tell you he's cunning and careful not to give out much information about himself.” She paused, and he was on the verge of prodding further when she went on. “He's extremely wealthy, but if he's dealing in drugs, then I expect that's where he got his fortune—it's blood money."

  Her bitterness wreaked havoc in his stomach. He felt the sickening urge to throw up, and it wasn't from being tossed about on the waves.

  Obviously disgusted with him, her outraged fury pierced his armor of self-respect. He'd been too successful at duping her. She was doing what the RCMP wanted good citizens to do ... Why then did he feel betrayed?

  Perhaps it was because a small part of him thought it would be easy to charm her to the point she might overlook his indiscretions. She had also proven that he hadn't begun to penetrate her defensive shell. He had to think of something quickly before he lost contact with her.

  "I'm going to ask you to do something for me and I want you to consider it carefully.” He paused for a dramatic effect. “Would you be willing to maintain your acquaintance with the captain and report to me if you learn anything useful? It's asking a lot and could be dangerous, but if we learn they are doing things that aren't legal, we have a chance to stop them.” Would she take the bait?

  "Then you believe what I told you is worth investigating?"

  "Yes, ma'am, I do.” Come on, Lori. Go for it!

  She hesitated, and in a few moments of fretful silence, his admiration grew. The courage and self-restraint it must have taken her to play chess with someone she thought was a crook tossed out any misconception that she was weak. He'd make a point of praising the qualities to her when this job ended. He knew she needed encouragement in her life.

  Unknowingly, Lori rose to the challenge. “Should I decide to do this, can I reach you at this same number?"

  "If I'm not here, they'll be able to contact me by cell phone.” The long hesitation indicated reluctance on her part. She felt something for the captain, maybe? They were both in conflict with themselves. What a mess, and knowing he caused her more distress made it that much harder for him to feel he'd accomplished anything. Suddenly, he didn't care whether she became part of the game or not. He wanted to know her, have her on his side. Her silence defeated him and his dishonesty struck home. He wanted to admit the truth and try to win her cooperation with nothing subversive involved. “Would you like to go to headquarters to have this planned out?"

  "No. I have to do this my way. And I have to think about it more. I didn't want to be involved with anything the police did ever again."

  Her scorn cut deep; he wanted to soothe her, take her in his arms and shatter myths that kept her forever set on a path that would resolve nothing. “Work with me. I'll see to it personally that you get a better impression of the RCMP."

  "I doubt that's possible, but in any case, I'll think about it. I have to go."

  He could tell she wasn't angry by the way she gently hung up the phone. He felt a twinge of her sadness. She hadn't said goodbye. George noticed his silence. “Who was that?"

  "Lori ... Telling me where we went with the yacht today."

  "You're kidding!"

  "It seems she was spying while we were at anchor. She saw us go ashore."

  "That's asking for trouble, Rand. If those guys find out she's snooping around, they'll snuff her out in a minute."

  "I know. I told her to spy on the captain, so she'll keep in contact. I can prevent them from learning about her if I keep her busy concentrating on me."

  "You can't be everywhere at once, and you need to keep your mind on what we're doing, not on her. Speaking of Miss Wheeler, we haven't had a chance to discuss what happened when she was on board last night. Did you find out if she recognized you?"

  "I thought for sure she didn't. Now, I don't know. I didn't credit her with being so sneaky."

  "And you weren't? I warned you it wasn't a good idea to bring her here, but you wouldn't listen. If she gets friendly with those guys, especially Warner, she could make him suspicious of you."

  "She's not apt to get cozy with him knowing he's a criminal. But she's in the chalet next to his. They could meet, and being the sly fox he is, he could charm her suspicions away."

  "Luckily, she didn't find anything on the yacht ... I cleaned up pretty good."

  "Ah, that's not exactly true, George."

  "What do you mean? The damn place was spotless."

  "You didn't clean my cabin,” Rand stated.

  "Why should I? That's your turf."

  "The damn chart was on the dresser."

  "The real one?” George looked uneasy.

  "The very same. Remember, we were going over it before we left Halifax and you were going to hide it while I started the engine."

  "Damn. The engine didn't sound right so I went up to check. I forgot to go back and get it. So ... What're you gonna do?"

  "The way it stands, if she suspects anything, she'll report to me as Sergeant McCormick. I think I already handled it."

  "Don't be too sure. You'll probably get mixed up in your characters and make a mistake. I know women, Rand; you can't ever be sure what's in their minds, but they're usually quick to pick up on things that don't ring true. Trust me on this one. It's a good thing the guys stayed out of here and didn't catch you talking police business. Those sons-of-bitches are trouble."

  "And we're going to stop them from carrying out their ugly business for a long time."

  Rand's mind flashed back to the hour-long conversation he'd had with the men as they headed out to sea—before it got so rough they couldn't take it and had to lay low in the crew's quarters. He'd known that his situation with them would be tenuous at best, and it had shown.

  "Rand, we're impressed with the skill you showed getting the boat out from Lochaber.” Warner's beady eyes scanned the dials of the electronic equipment. “Can you monitor radio activity of other boats in the area?"

  "Sure can. I can probably tell you what each captain on a boat is eating. This baby knows everything."

  "No danger of breaking down is there? I'm not the best sea traveler."

  "This yacht is as safe as they make ‘em.” Rand glanced at George and asked, “How far out will the freighter be waiting?"r />
  "About ten miles. No problem is it?"

  "Shouldn't be. When's the pick up, day or night?"

  "We'll let you know, just be ready at any time. That's why I'm paying you so much.” Warner's eyes glistened.

  "And to keep us quiet about avoiding customs, no doubt."

  "That, too."

  Warner wasn't giving much information to work with. Rand had to appear only mildly interested. He needed them to accept him into their little club as a trusted member, and as such, he could expose all of the others involved.

  "I'm going below,” Warner said, his face losing its natural high color. “It's getting too rough out here. Let me know when you reach the coordinates I set for you."

  The group stayed below most of the way to the designated spot, but joined him topside when the Destiny entered the small cove's calmer water. Then he accompanied them to the landing spot. On the way back to Lochaber, they had retreated below again. Now Rand prided himself on his planning. With information gleaned from the operation, the RCMP could not only nab the gang, but also destroy their corrupt connections.

  Warner's necessity for the large yacht turned the tide in Rand's direction, but it didn't make it sweep in over the sandbar. Rand needed to show the crooks he wanted adventure and yet, at the same time, display stability and trustworthiness. Back to his original plan to use Lori as camouflage, this time he'd forego guilt over the woman who would turn him in as quickly as she had.

  * * * *

  Lori's contact with the RCMP, even by phone, carried a price that was almost too high for her to manage. Visions of the hostile interrogation she'd undergone, while trying to deal with pain and worry about walking again, loomed front and center in her mind. Guilt had frequently arisen after the sessions and had sent her spiraling into depression. Resenting it all as she did, she'd almost hung up waiting for the transfer through to Sergeant McCormick. Yet Sam had left little choice with his clear-cut assessment of her obligation.

  The low, hesitant voice on the other end gave her the idea her information would be taken with skepticism. Of course, that was what she'd expected in the first place. Once she threatened to leave, the officer took her seriously and became more amenable. She expected the result would be the same, however, with nothing accomplished. At least she'd persevered, and he had finally listened. Now that the RCMP was duly warned and her duty complete she could forget her suspicions and concentrate on improving her life.

  Lori spent the next few hours painting the stream as it cascaded past the front of the chalets. The profuse autumn colors of her surroundings worked their magic and she captured the beauty in her backdrop. With her spirits lifting, the thoughts of the man who had spent the previous night in her chalet, disappeared.

  It was almost one o'clock before she packed up her easel and supplies. As she carried her gear past Rand's chalet, a sudden drop in her exhilaration caught her by surprise. What had Rand thought of her not putting up more of a protest against his intrusion last night? On the other hand, what had he thought about her not inviting him into her bed, a logical step for two single, free-thinking adults? Well, no matter to her. She'd never been promiscuous.

  When she entered her retreat, the emptiness preyed on her nerves. The chalet accented her loneliness and the reasons for it. She needed to escape to a place with no recriminations wagging their invisible fingers at her. Perhaps lunch in the dining room would calm her upheaval. She could eat there now and make a toasted cheese sandwich for supper.

  A leisurely stroll to the main building put her in a better frame of mind. The freedom to do as she pleased and make her own decisions with no one watching her every move, not only lightened her mood, but gave her hope for the future. Nothing could be allowed to interfere with her progress. She smiled at the hostess who greeted her. “A table for one please."

  "We're busy today as you can see,” the lady replied as she stood on tiptoes, scanning the room. “There's a convention of Forestry workers, but wait, I see a vacant table."

  The hostess led her to the same table where she had enjoyed dinner with Rand. Seated in the spot where she'd first laid eyes on him didn't bode well for dismissing his image from her mind. Guilt from turning him in returned and lay heavy on her heart. If she had any luck at all, Rand would never come back here.

  Seated, she patiently waited as the waitress brushed off the few crumbs and reset the table. When she looked out of the window, peacefully bobbing up and down lay the Destiny, berthed as it had been earlier. Partly fearful she would see him again, yet strangely excited as well, she focused on the yacht.

  The waitress appeared at her shoulder. “Our special today is seafood chowder with a small caesar salad."

  "Could I look at the menu first, please?” The waitress passed it to her, then left her to thumb through it in peace. At least the woman was not the chatty one who had gone gaga over Rand. She didn't want to talk with any female who found him attractive. Reworking the folds, she clung mercilessly to her napkin and scrutinized the boat. There was no movement on board. Where were the occupants?

  "Hello, there."

  Lori jumped. Rand's formidable stare shot straight to the place in her heart where her guilt resided. A maddening flush raced up her neck, heating her face.

  "H-Hello. I-I thought you'd left for good."

  "No.” He towered above and appeared in no hurry to leave. “We cruised out to see how high the waves were since the storm turned east instead of north. I've finished my lunch, but I could use more coffee. May I have it with you?"

  She wished she could think of some way of refusing without being rude. Then she could forget the plea from Sergeant McCormick to watch him. If he kept company with her, he'd be walking straight into a trap. Her eyes faltered as she considered her answer. “Please do."

  Rand retrieved his mug, making his apologies to his companions. He signaled the waitress for more coffee, then joined Lori at her table. She ignored the goose bumps that speckled her arms as he pulled out a chair and sat opposite. Lori glanced around the room. His friends, sitting at a table in the center, stared straight at her. She smiled politely, determined not to let their gawking bother her.

  "Thank you for staying with me last night.” Had he bragged of a conquest to those men?

  "I was glad to keep you company, even if it was against your will. You're a bit hard-headed, you know.” His half-smile gave her the impression he had been more than slightly annoyed.

  She laughed, in spite of herself. Her “hard-headedness” had helped her to walk again. “Are you planning to leave soon? You never said how long you'd be staying here."

  "I think we'll hang around for a few more days."

  She nodded, trying to appear only casually interested in his comings and goings. Snooping for information wasn't what she wanted to do. She'd pried into his life, and he'd rewarded her brazenness by shooing her horror away in the night. Now she was plagued with more guilt. Would there ever come a time she didn't feel anguish over something she'd done?

  If Rand was going to be under investigation because of her, perhaps she should leave rather than get caught up in a current of underworld activity. Still, he might be completely innocent of anything other than providing a cruise for his new friends. Her “hard-headedness” kicked in and she decided to burrow in for a bit longer.

  "Rand, you did a good job at keeping the dragons away last night. Thank you. I slept well after you ... ah..."

  "My pleasure.” His boyish grin flashed at her, uprooting a flurry of stomach butterflies that rose up to her throat and stuck there. The waitress interrupted at an opportune moment. Without perusing the menu again, Lori ordered the special. She hoped it would settle her nerves and allow her to just enjoy a last meal with him. From now on, she'd eat in the chalet and be free of the embarrassment of his gaze making her toasty warm and shaky at the same time.

  "So what have you been up to today?” His eyes drilled through to her conscience.

  "I started a painting of the rapi
ds.” After unfolding the napkin, she spread it on her lap. The honest answer liberated her mind. “How was the water offshore?"

  "A bit rough, but not as turbulent as it might have been."

  "I would have liked to see the Destiny pull out. It must have been difficult."

  "We had help this time."

  "Oh?” She vowed not to ask more questions. What he did was none of her business.

  "My lunch companions were anxious for a trip out. At least they thought they were.” He laughed a deep throaty sound.

  "Did they get sick?"

  "They aren't feeling that great right now. That's why they're having soup with a healthy dose of Pepto-Bismol."

  "Are your friends from Halifax?” There went her damn vow. What possessed her to be so nosy? She never used to be. Then again, a lot of things had changed in her life.

  "Two are from Montreal."

  "Are they here on vacation?” She hoped that he thought she was only making conversation.

  Rand toyed with his spoon before he answered. “Maybe. I guess so. Why else would they be here?"

  "They could be here for a conference.” The way he gripped the spoon's handle and stopped moving it indicated she had pressed too far. Lori wished she could tell what was going on behind his deep scrutiny. She weighed her words carefully. “I know who one of them is, and he's not the sort I'd expect to be here or for you to keep company with."

  So much for nonchalant chatter. The words were out; she wished she'd kept her mouth S-H-U-T. This spy game was not for her. She'd never been devious in her life, and if she had any sense at all, she wouldn't be now. Sergeant McCormick could do his own investigating. She'd done what Sam wanted, now was the time to fold and run.

  "Which one do you know?"

  "Malcolm Warner ... He's always running ahead of the law. I've seen him around the courthouse."

  "Well, I just met him; he's not a friend.” The tension in his tone was clear as he defended himself. She didn't like this kind of pressure for her or for him.

  Luckily, the waitress brought the bowl of chowder and poured Rand's coffee. Her presence gave them enough of a breather to calm their prickly natures. She expected a barrage of questions about Mr. Warner and what she knew, but after an immediate swallow of coffee, he remained quiet. And thoughtful. Balancing his chin on his clasped hands, he watched the arrival of a small sailboat. If he wasn't going to question her, maybe it was because he already knew about Mr. Warner's questionable activity. Possibly, he was deeply involved himself. She knew nothing for a fact about Rand, other than he was a fairly decent host and could turn on the charm when he wanted.