“There’s no way to predict. They’re telling me that solving this encryption process could take a month or more. But from what I’ve seen so far, this guy’s clearly an amateur. He’ll be dealt with long before he could round up any buyers.”
“I need to hear from you that there will be no loose ends on any front.
“Relax Nelson, my advice for you is to handle things one crisis at a time. There will be no loose ends.”
“Alright then. Look, there’s a guy named Richard Cross—the director over in our west coast office—he’s up to speed as far as how things stand right now. I’m sending you his mobile number. Keep him in the loop from here on out—I may need a few more ‘buffers’, if you know what I mean.”
“Roger that.”
Trip ended the call, swiped his screen and glanced at the text. Swallowing the last of his coffee, he turned to the clerical robot seated next to his desk. “Did you catch all that?”
“Yes, Mr. Ashfield, the conversation has been transcribed in its entirety.”
“Great. That’ll be all then.”
9 The Fetchers Arrive
Haida Gwaii. July 12. 2033
54°00'19.6" N 131°41'06.5"W
“I can see their tlúus,” Táan shouted. “There are two of them over near the headland—do you see ‘em?”
Dot ran down to the water’s edge. She cupped her hands around her eyes and stared in the direction that Táan pointed. Two long shapes appeared in the distance. As the boats drew closer, Dot saw the paddlers’ oars dip in and out of the ocean with synchronized accuracy. She looked over at Táan with a big smile. The fetchers are coming to Old Massett!
“Hey Kijii, I’m going to run back to town and tell some folks that they’re almost here. I’ll be back before they arrive. You OK to hang here or do you want to come with me?”
Dot shook her head and sat down on the stony beach. She didn’t want to miss the arrival of the Greenwood’s fetchers. Monk fluttered down from one of the nearby cedars, landing on a large, barnacle-encrusted boulder. Táan grinned at Dot and said, “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d be too keen on leaving right now. I’ll be back in ten minutes or so.” With that, he tore off down the foot path toward the village. Dot adjusted her seat on the rocks, her cut-offs provided little protection from the porous basalt. She scooted closer to Monk and watched the boats draw near.
It was a rare occurrence to see fetchers this far away from the mainland coast. The 60-mile crossing was a daunting voyage—even for the skilled and conditioned paddlers of the Greenwood. The Haida people had been building canoes for hundreds of years, and were experts at using them to travel and hunt. However, navigating the often-treacherous conditions of Hecate Strait required longboats manned up to 20 people. The Greenwood fetchers preferred to use lighter canoes with only two or three oarsmen in each craft. They journeyed to the outer islands when the sea state permitted and, even then only out of necessity. Dot was grateful that the recent discovery of her castaway was of enough significance to warrant a visit.
She watched the paddlers hold their course despite six-foot ocean swells. The canoes approached the island, never varying their distance apart nor altering their speed. Eventually they were close enough that Dot could make out the features of the boats’ occupants and she studied them closely. The closest vessel bore a strong paddler, his brown dreadlocks were sun-bleached on the tips. His broad chest was bared and Dot saw the faint glint of a silver medallion that hung around his neck. In front of him sat a young woman with short chestnut hair, the sleeves of her plaid shirt had been removed, showing off her well-muscled arms. Paddling next to their canoe was a pale youth whose lean frame belied the strength of his strokes. His companion, a dark-skinned and powerfully built man, appeared to set the pace for all of them.
As the paddlers approached shore, the dark-skinned one gave a quick command and their boats turned in unison toward the rocks. Monk flew back to his tree as Dot jumped up, waving at the fetchers. She raced down to the water to greet them. The fetchers were just stepping ashore as Dot reached the first boat. The paddler with dreads slid a tee-shirt over his head and Dot noticed an intricate tattoo covering his shoulder blades. He smiled at her and said, “G’day, miss. We’re here to meet some folks from Old Massett. You must be our welcoming party then, ay?” Dot shook her head. She glanced over her shoulder for Táan, but he was nowhere to be found. Turning back to the fetcher she nodded a yes and extended her hand.
“Not much of a talker, huh?” the young woman walked forward as her partner shook Dot’s hand. “Man, my arms are killing me. Those last five hours were a real bitch.”
“I’m Kai” the fetcher said and, gesturing to his companion, added, “Her name’s Ooligan.” He motioned over to the other boat, “Those blokes are Pasha and Adili. I guess you know where we’re from then?”
Dot tilted her head toward the east and nodded, then pointed at the boats.
“Yeah, that’s right. Hey, we’ll need to pull these further up and cover ‘em. Care to gizza hand? Ta.” Kai pulled a canteen from the cockpit’s sole and emptied its contents into his mouth. Tossing the flask back into the boat, he sighed and said, “Ah, that water’s tastin’ pretty choice right about now.”
Dot helped them haul the heavy canoe to the tree line and stow the paddles. Returning to the beach, they began to push the other boat out of the shallows when Adili suddenly stopped. “Someone’s coming—over that way.”
Táan emerged from the woods, followed by Russel Guujaw and Marta. He waved, calling out, “Whoa, you made good time, I figured you wouldn’t get here for another half hour!” As he approached the group he turned to Dot and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t get back in time, Kijii.” He introduced himself to the fetchers, adding, “I guess you’ve already met Dot? She’s the one who found our guy when he washed up on the rocks last week.”
Adili stepped forward. “Nice to meet you—yes, Dot welcomed us ashore.” He tipped his head toward her and smiled, saying, “It is a pleasure to meet you Dot, I have heard about your rescue. Well done.”
The fetchers drug the remaining tlúu into its hiding space. As they covered both canoes with fallen branches, Russell and Marta walked over and said, “Welcome back Kai, it’s been a long time, I bet you folks would like a hot meal right about now.” Dot raised her eyebrows in surprise as Marta and Russell conversed with the Greenwood teams. She’d never heard Marta speak about the fetchers. In fact, there was little talk about the Greenwood at all in their household. And yet, here was her adoptive mother, trading familiarities with these strangers as if they were old friends. Dot looked at Táan with a quizzical expression, he simply shrugged. Marta said, “Come on you lot, let’s get back to town, there’s food and drink waiting for you. We’ll need to introduce you to our ‘guest’ as soon as possible. You brought a scanner, I hope?”
Pasha nodded and pulled a small scanning unit from out of his pack. “We can check first thing,” he said. “You can remove it, da?”
Russell took the scanner from Pasha and examined it. “Boy, Doc really needs one of these,” he said. “They’re getting harder to lay hands on as HSA cracks down.”
“Harder yeah, but not impossible… We’ll see what we can do for you,” Ooligan said as she walked beside the Haida elder. “Hey, are there still hot springs on the island? My back and neck could do with a long soak.”
“Ooligan, why are you so out of shape?” Pasha quipped. “You’re too soft for this.”
“Pipe down Pasha, or I’ll tell them how you whined all night long: ‘I’m cold… My shoulder hurts…’ Shall I go on?”
The group traipsed back through the woods toward Old Massett. Russell and Marta led way, chatting with Kai and the others while Táan and Dot followed behind. Dot absorbed every detail of their conversations. Noises from overhead caught Adili’s attention and he paused in his tracks as Monk swooped down from one of the lower hanging branches. Dot held out her arm and the bird landed on
her shoulder. Smiling, she made soft clicking sounds with the tip of her tongue while scratching Monk’s face. Táan took out a package of jerky from his pocket and unwrapped it, tearing off a small section, he held it out for the raven’s inspection. Monk snatched it from his fingers and swallowed the snack in one bite.
Kai glanced behind him at the girl and her bird. With a wide grin, he said, “Huh, you must be special to have Skaukw choose you for a companion, cuz.”
Dot slowly mouthed the unfamiliar word Skaukw? She had never heard that name used before to describe a raven. Russell spotted her confusion and dropped back, walking beside her as he explained, “Kai’s married to the Greenwood’s chief and the name their people gave to her is ‘Skaukw.’ Y’see Dot, that’s the Squamish people’s word for raven—the same as our word ‘yáahl.’ There are a great many names among the First Nation tribes for your clever trickster, Monk.” Russell laughed, wagging his finger at the bird. “But then, you know them all, don’t you, Húuyee?” As Russell went forward and rejoined his conversation with the fetchers, Monk remained on Dot’s shoulder, occasionally reaching over to peck at Táan’s pocket for morsels. Dot thought about the countless songs and legends she’d learned—stories that centered around the raven. Prior to living among the Haidas, Dot had considered ravens to be just big crows, yet here among the First People, Monk and his kind held a place of honor. She wondered about Kai’s last comment—that she must be something special. Could that be true—am I special? Something brushed her ear and she jumped, causing Monk to flap skyward. Táan had picked a long stem of reedgrass and attempted to tickle Dot’s ear with it. She giggled and snatched a sturdy stem of her own to defend herself. The group walked together in this manner for the rest of the journey home.
“Aah!” Kim Chen grimaced as he stiffly held himself upright on the exam table while Doc Gravin prepared to remove his chip. The bruises on Kim’s face and neck were healing nicely, but the scrapes on his arm were still red and swollen. The bandages around Kim’s ribcage concealed his broken ribs and made breathing difficult.
Doc inspected the scanner unit with a covetous gleam in his eye. “This must be one of the newer HSA models. What’s its range, I wonder?” He passed the scanner over Kim’s shoulders and upper arms. “Most times, we’ll see chips embedded in the patient’s deltoid or triceps region… that is, when we’re looking at Western populations. The Asian placements seem to be all over the place—I found one under a woman’s clavicle once. I bet you that would’ve hurt like hell when they placed it.”
Ooligan sat near the window, her feet propped on Doc’s stepstool. “Yup, they put ‘em where they’re not as likely to get chopped off—know what I mean?”
Doc looked up momentarily. “Dismemberment?”
Ooligan took a bite of the apple she was holding and continued. “Yeah, they crop up more with the Russians, but I hear the Chinese and Koreans do it too. I’m sure their rationale is that the more difficult they make it to remove…Well, y’know, the less likely people are to try.” She tossed the apple into the waste basket and then walked over to the exam table. “Find anything yet?”
Kim followed the laser’s path as it roamed across his limbs. The cumbersome cast caused his toes to turn blue the longer his feet hung off the table. “If I might suggest, my left arm?” Kim offered. The readers usually pick it up on that side fastest.” Grimacing, he slowly raised his arm while Doc ran the unit over the inside of his brachium. The green light blinked and the unit made a small beep. “Gotcha!”
Dot stood near the doorway as Doc worked on his patient. When the scanner beeped, she moved closer to see what was going on; memories of her own procedure eleven years ago, flooded back to her. Dot remembered the cold sting of the lidocaine spreading through her arm prior to Doc’s incision. She pictured the bloody microchip as it was extracted, remembered the fright of a seven-year old girl. Glancing down at the old scar on her arm, she shivered. The tinny smell of iodine made her stomach churn. “Hey—you OK?” Ooligan asked.
Dot blinked several times and nodded, determined not to pass out in front of this formidable young woman. She took a deep breath, walked around the table and stood next to the patient. As Dot placed her hand in his, Kim looked over and smiled.
The incision ran horizontally along Kim’s inner bicep and measured less than an inch. Doc removed the chip with his tweezers and held it up for all to see. Kim pressed the gauze pad firmly to his inner arm as Doc took the chip over to the sink, lit a small torch and ran the flame underneath the tweezers until the chip glowed. Setting the torch back on the counter, he ran water over the melted processor. “You want to keep it—any sentimentality for this thing?”
Kim shook his head and replied, “No. I do not wish to keep any part of it. But I thank you for asking.”
“Well Mr. Chen, providing there aren’t any more implants hidden where I can’t spot ‘em, I reckon that you’re incognito now. Welcome to the club.” Doc removed the gauze and stitched the incision closed.
“I ‘m honored and relieved to be part of this club.” Kim said, struggling to slip his arms into the short-sleeved shirt Doc had loaned him. As he fumbled with the buttons, he looked across at Ooligan, the light in his expression fading. “Excuse me—but I really must speak with your leader—the one they tell me would know what to do about my situation. It is of great importance.”
Ooligan’s cheeks hollowed as she sucked on her teeth, choosing her words carefully. “Look here, Mr. Chen, right now the others are outside discussing this thing that you’ve brought with you—your little science project thing—and until we hear back from the council, I can’t let you get anywhere near our chief. It is just, well, it isn’t our way. I’m very sorry, but you’ll just have to wait here for now.”
Kim shifted toward the end of the exam bench, he winced in pain from the effort. “Miss… Miss Ooligan, please! Please understand, it is vitally urgent for me to speak to someone. There is no time. Could you call him? Perhaps, I might talk to him over a radio?”
Dot held onto Kim’s shoulders for fear that he would slide onto the floor, she felt his arms shaking as he spoke and wondered if it was from pain or distress. Doc pushed the wheelchair over to the table and they lowered the scientist back into his seat. Ooligan leaned forward on its armrests and looked Kim straight in the eyes. “Here’s the deal science-man: First off, our chief isn’t a he, but a she—and her name is Skaukw. Secondly, you can’t use a cell phone or a radio—not unless you’d like to meet the trackers from HighTower face to face. And lastly, nobody comes into the Greenwood unless they’re naked as the day they were born, so to speak. We don’t have too many ways to protect ourselves, but we can at least keep people from bringing bad things in with them.” She nodded toward Kim’s briefcase, “and mister—that looks to me like a bad thing.”
Kai’s face appeared at the open window. He tapped on the sill to get Ooligan’s attention. “Hey Oolie, join us out here, will ya’?”
Ooligan shot a quick look at Dot before she left. Dot could hear Marta’s voice outside as Ooligan opened the door. She sighed and took the handles of his wheelchair, backing it into Doc’s kitchen. Kim buried his forehead in the palm of his hand and whispered to himself in Mandarin, unconcerned with where she was taking him. Dot parked his wheelchair near the table and pulled a stool over, she took a seat next to Kim and waited.
They sat together in Doc Gravin’s kitchen for almost an hour until the slam of a screen door heralded the group’s reappearance. Dot looked up as Marta, Táan and the four fetchers filed into the kitchen. Russell and Doc brought up the rear, carrying Kim’s briefcase and a portable microscope from the clinic room.
Russell slid a chair out and sat down at the head of the table. He cleared his throat and said, “Dot, we’re going to need some privacy as we talk with Mr. Chen…”
Táan interrupted, “Let her stay—she’s part of this now. She’ll be eighteen in a couple days—I say Dot has earned a place here at
the table.”
The fetchers found chairs around Doc’s table and made themselves comfortable while Táan spoke. Russell looked toward Marta, his eyebrows raised in an inquisitive fashion.
Marta sighed and shrugged. “Well, Táan’s correct about that, Dot is nearly of age now. I suppose I’d say yahgwdáng ñ'uhlda Çaw Ýaat'áay.”
Ooligan leaned over to the other fetchers and translated, “Marta’s telling them that the girl is worthy of being considered Haida—that she should learn our secrets.”
Dot sat next to Kim’s wheelchair and listened to the discussion. She’d grown long accustomed to being the “outsider” when certain matters arose. When she’d first arrived in Old Massett, they allowed her to be present while the elders spoke with Marta or Ol’ Pa, but as Dot grew older and began to comprehend more of the Haida language, she was asked to “give them a little privacy.” Dot had simply accepted this as part of her role within the tribe—after all, she was Wáasdan Ýaat'áay—one of the white people.
“Dot?” Marta turned to her daughter. “Do you wish to stay and hear what will be spoken of today?” She pulled out a chair and stood behind it. “If you take a seat at the table, you’ll be growing up very fast. What do you think, daughter?”
Dot looked across the table at Táan. He gave her a quick wink and looked down at his hands. She realized that the decision was hers alone to make. Squaring her shoulders, she drew a breath, then nodded yes.
“Very well, “Russell said, “'láada Dot. Dáa kwáagadaa, k'adanggáay yahk'íi.”
Táan, Doc and Marta bowed their heads. Ooligan started to bow as well, but noticed the blank expressions on her teammates faces. She turned to Kai and explained, “The elder just gave his approval. He says that Dot is brave and clever and that she’s worthy of knowing the truths. Get it?”
Smiling, Kai whispered, “Aye, chur.”
Sea of a Thousand Words Page 7
