The zodiac’s engines roared, an officer at the helm yelled to “look sharp,” and then he yelled, “Incoming.”
Bernadette had never experienced artillery fire. It had never been part of RCMP training. Geysers of water erupted beside the boat. A wave of seawater sprayed them.
The zodiacs went from high speed to slow—then stopped. The engines still whined. The motor blades sounded like they were churning something heavy, a heaviness that was not water, like something in the water had become solid. The engines seized.
Bernadette immediately knew what happened. McAllen had lobbed polywater at them. The sea around them had become a heavy gel. Their boats and motors couldn’t move through it. Bernadette had been worried about the conventional weapons, and McAllen had used his own invention to defend himself.
The radios came to life. The three coastal boats were stuck a full mile out in the channel. They couldn’t get in close enough. Fog was now enveloping the zodiacs. They could barely see each other. The RCMP and navy personnel quietly talked amongst themselves.
Bernadette and Chris exchanged looks. There was nothing they could do. The fog deepened. There was quiet. No waves slapped on the shore in front of them. The sea was now a gelatinous mass under their boat. One navy man tried to get out of the boat. The polywater was like Jell-O. His leg punched into the mass, and his fellow officers had to pull him up before he sunk into it.
The sound was faint at first. Bernadette wasn’t sure if her ears were playing tricks on her in the fog. There it was again. Paddles—paddles in unison, coming towards them.
Out of the fog, at first the prow was visible, then a figure at the prow. A large lady stood. She had a bowl, and from the bowl she shook a cedar branch. The prow moved. As it came into view, Bernadette could see it was a Haida war canoe. It was coming straight for them. They couldn’t move. A chorus of machine guns and side arms were slung off shoulders and taken out of holsters in the zodiac. Gun safeties came off, filling the air with a metallic clatter.
The war canoe moved closer and closer and then moved off to the left and proceeded to plow its way between the zodiacs. The words “hold your fire” came from both zodiacs. The helmsman of the war canoe knew what he was doing. By coming between the zodiacs, the canoe put itself in the line of fire, but the RCMP and navy were in the line of fire as well.
Bernadette could only watch the war canoe slide past. The woman in the prow shook what was obviously the polywater antidote into the water and they moved forward. The war canoe was long, and at its paddles, Bernadette could make out, from what she knew from a picture from long ago, were Percy Stronach, Sebastian Germaine, and Theo Martin. There were several other paddlers, probably Haida, or Natives from Grace’s band. There was a lady with red hair as well, but she was not very visible as she was on the far side of the canoe.
Bernadette knew it was Grace Fairchild at the prow. She was much larger than in the photo, but the face was the same, a face set in focus, almost serene. As the boat slipped by, she saw a tall figure at the helm with a large dog by his side.
It was McAllen. The boat moved slowly by, and McAllen looked over in Bernadette’s direction. He smiled, took one hand off the tiller, and waved.
They disappeared into the fog.
Epilogue
Bernadette Was On The Last leg of her evening run along a Red Deer city pathway in late June, just after 8:00 p.m. A nice 7.5 kilometers suited her in the evenings, helped her unwind. Her two-year-old German Shepherd, Sprocket, was keeping pace, tongue hanging out, eying her and the road ahead.
The dog was from the RCMP canine training unit in Innisfail, Alberta, a town not more than a half hour south of Red Deer. He was a dropout from the RCMP training Program—he couldn’t complete the seventeen-week basic training course and needed a home. Bernadette didn’t need a dog for protection—she could protect the dog—but as a running companion, the dog was great. He was lop-eared and ran with a long, easy gait, never seeming to tire.
Bernadette thought of the past few months as she settled into an easy stride for the homeward stretch. The dog looked up at her and matched her pace. The disappointment of watching McAllen slip by her and all of the force that had been sent to capture him was finally starting to fade. Almost five months had passed since the incident.
The disappointment had been felt throughout the RCMP and the Canadian navy and air forces. They hadn’t been prepared for McAllen to spread a virus and shut down the Canadian Forces radar, they hadn’t been prepared for McAllen’s polywater, and, well, when they faced it, they simply hadn’t been prepared.
The blame was laid on the RCMP brass, naval and air force commanders. Everyone forgot to mention the politicians who had wanted McAllen captured so badly that they neglected to allow the joint task force to prepare properly. The politicians created the sound bites on the news channels—they knew whom to blame.
The polywater was no longer a major threat to the world. Chemical engineers had found a concoction of what they called biocides, which were essentially biological detergents that destroyed the polywater and dissolved it. McAllen was no longer a threat to the world—but he was still at large—somewhere on the planet.
Bernadette could see her house come into view as she rounded the corner of the street. She had been able to purchase a comfortable half of a duplex with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a garage, a backyard, and a deck. The backyard was for the dog. One day she might even learn to BBQ on the deck.
She thought about her relationship with Constable Chris. They had been spending considerable time together: a weekend in a houseboat just south of Vancouver had been followed by another weekend at a bed and breakfast on Vancouver Island and then a full-blown Easter week in Seattle. Things were heating up. They had mutual fondness for food and making love. Conversation was great, and the man could cook—an art that still escaped Bernadette. But she was scared as hell—commitment to one man was daunting.
Chris wanted to take things to the next level, with a visit to Toronto so Bernadette could meet his mother and sister, the very people Bernadette had found scary on Facebook. She was hesitant. Bernadette knew that Greeks called all non-Greeks Xenos, the word for “stranger.”
She was part Dene, part Irish Catholic and wondered what the Greek word for that would be.
At the last block, she picked up her pace and started sprinting, her legs firing like pistons; the dog easily matched her speed. Her chest was almost exploding as she slowed down by her street-side mailbox to pick up her mail. There were the usual bills, flyers for pizza and carpet cleaning, and one white five-by-seven envelope. The stamp was from Mexico—no return address—and the letter was addressed to Detective Bernadette Mary Callahan. Very few people knew her middle name.
Bernadette walked into her house, gave her dog some water that he sloppily inhaled, and poured herself some water from the fridge. She opened the envelope. It was a picture made into a postcard with cute graphics and a border.
There was no mistaking the photo. Alistair McAllen, Sebastian Germaine, Percy Stronach, Theo Martin, and Grace Fairchild all looked happy. And there was another woman beside Grace—who is she? They were on a beach, tanned, happy, with their hands on drinks that sprouted those silly little umbrellas. Underneath was printed, “Wish you were here.”
She turned the postcard around and read the handwritten note: Detective Callahan, I understand you were in one of the boats we passed on our way off the island. Sorry we didn’t get a chance to meet. Maybe next time.
Alistair McAllen, PHD.
Bernadette took the photo and a magnet from her fridge and slammed the photo onto the refrigerator door. “You son of a bitch— you’ve just made it personal!”
The series
Dear Reader
If you enjoyed the first book in the Bernadette Callahan series, perhaps you’ll want to read the next two in the series as Bernadette searches for the mysterious Alistair McAllen.
In the next two books, Pipeline Killers and Climat
e Killers, Bernadette takes on criminals with her own brand of justice and methods. She’s not always popular with her superiors but hated by criminals.
I’ve written these books in the form of a trilogy, as I’ve always been a star wars fan, and love to see where a story goes. I’ve made an eReader box set and set it at special price of $6.99 USD for your enjoyment.
Click this link to get this set, http://mybook.to/CallahnBoxSet
Treading Darkness
GET YOUR FREE STORY
One day that changed everything for officer Bernadette Callahan
A chase of a stolen car in a small town in western Canada leads her into a dilemma. The suspect escapes into an abandoned mine. She hates the dark.
Her overriding duty to catch the suspect and keep him safe from danger pushes her forward.
What happens next will push her to the edge. What she finds is as surprising to her as it is to the reader.
Click this link to get your free story: http://www.lylenicholson.com
Other Books by Lyle Nicholson
You can view Lyle Nicholson’s entire catalogue of books at, amazon.com/author/lylenicholson
BERNADETTE CALLAHAN SERIES
Book 1 Polar Bear Dawn
Book 2 Pipeline Killers
Book 3 Climate Killers
Book 4 Caught in the Crossfire
Book 5 Deadly Ancestors
Book 0 Prequel, Black Wolf Rising
Short Story Treading Darkness
OTHER BOOKS
Dolphin Dreams, (fantasy)
Misdiagnosis Murder
Half Brother Blues (memoir)
About the Author
Lyle Nicholson
Lyle Nicholson is the author of seven novels, two novellas and a short story, as well a contributor of freelance articles to several newspapers and magazines in Canada.
In his former life, he was a bad actor in a Johnny Cash movie, Gospel Road, a disobedient monk in a monastery and a failure in working for others.
He would start his own successful sales agency and retire to write full time in 2011. The many characters and stories that have resided inside his head for years are glad he did.
He lives in Kelowna, British Columbia, Canada with his lovely wife of many years where he indulges in his passion for writing, cooking and fine wines.
Acknowledgments
I Want To Thank My faithful readers who have been with me on my journey on this, my first novel. This has been an amazing experience for me, and one that I’ve always wanted to have.
Sometimes what kept me going was knowing that five readers were waiting to see what concoction I would come up with or wondering if I had lost my nerve and gone off to watch daytime television instead of writing.
So to my Tessa, who every Friday evening would read, and correct, and discuss—thank you. To Ada Loving, your enthusiasm and the love of my character Bernadette Callahan was always refreshing—you made me fall in love with her character as well. To Rhody Launders, I thank you for the time on the phone and for giving me insights about the Arctic I missed. To David Krygier, the time spent over coffee as you dissected my work was invaluable. And to John Robb, you were the teacher onboard. You provided insights in pace, character development, and story, which was like having an exam almost every two weeks.
Further acknowledgements include Steve Redmond, Bob Torstensen, Joe Nahman, Jacqueline Bourque, Geoff Bourque, Jane Nudo, Ian Nicholson, Murray Semchuck, Bill Loving, and Scott Morrison.
All of these people gave of their knowledge in their areas of expertise to help this book ride the edges of fact and fiction that a writer must tread in order to keep the reader from losing faith.
Copyright
Polar Bear Dawn by Lyle Nicholson
Copyright© 2013 by Lyle Nicholson
All rights reserved
No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to real people or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
www.lylenicholson.com
Edited by Rachel Small
www.faultlessfinishediting.com
Cover designed by www.damonza.com
ISBN-13: 978-0988154810
ISBN-10: 0988154811
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Nicholson, Lyle, 1952-, author
Polar bear dawn / Lyle Nicholson.
ISBN 978-0-9881548-1-0 (pbk.)
I. Title.
PS8627.I2395P64 2013 C813'.6 C2013-907252-7
* * *
Red Cuillin Publishing
Kelowna, BC
Canada
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my lovely wife Tessa.
Every Friday night for a year, Tessa would sit there and read the pages of this book while I made us dinner. She would painstakingly correct punctuation, and make comments where she thought things weren’t flowing. What a lucky man I am.
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Also by Lyle Nicholson
Bernadette Callahan Detective Series
Polar Bear Dawn
Standalone
Dolphin Dreams
MisDiagnosis Murder
Half Brother Blues
Watch for more at Lyle Nicholson’s site.
Polar Bear Dawn Page 27
