by S A Monk
Hanna and Nick spent the night at Colleen’s house. By ten o’clock, Hanna had reached the end of her energy supply. She helped Nick as long as she could, then collapsed on the sofa and promptly fell asleep while he finished his planning and equipment tinkering.
At midnight, he came in to pick her up off the sofa and carry her up the stairs to her room. She was so soundly sleep, she didn’t stir, although she did utter a few slurred, sleep-drugged comments as he undressed her. Not bothering with her pajamas, he laid her on her bed naked, pulled up the covers, then stripped tiredly out of his own clothes. As soon as he joined her under the covers, she snuggled against his naked body. He turned to enfold her in his arms, then fell asleep as he mentally reviewed his preparations one last time.
WHILE NICK AND HANNA WAITED for Kurt Palmer to show up with the floatplane, they fixed breakfast. All the gear Hanna had assembled the day before had been checked, rechecked, packed securely, and stacked on the back porch. Inside the duffle bags, everything was packaged in waterproof plastic to ensure it stayed dry and useable. The sun had been up only a short while when Kurt came up the path from the beach and through the back door. Breakfast was waiting on the table for him, and the three ate in quiet discussion and review of the mission. Three cups of coffee later, they were ready to lock up the house and leave.
Kurt helped them carry their gear to the beach, where a Sleek Cessna 208 Caravan Amphibian floatplane was anchored to Colleen’s dock.
“Nice.” Hanna was impressed. “Where did you get this?”
“From a friend who runs a flight service out of SEATAC.”
“Pretty slick,” Nick commented as he walked down the wooden dock to the plane’s rear cargo door. “Here’s hoping we can get it back in one piece.”
Kurt caught Hanna’s look of alarm and chuckled. “We’ve been known to come back with less equipment than we went in with,” Kurt explained. “But replacing this baby would put us in the poor house, buddy, so let’s keep her out of harm’s way, shall we?”
Hanna handed her duffle bag to Nick, and he hoisted it inside the rear of the six passenger plane. After putting in the other two bags, he and Kurt went over the items the FBI agent had brought with him. Nick was more than pleased that Hanna had made sure everything on the list that he’d drawn up two days ago had been procured.
Quietly gratified by the praise, Hanna watched the two men check the weapons they’d be using. Both were dressed in military-style olive green pants, long-sleeved black t-shirts, combat boots, and all-weather black flight jackets. Underneath the jackets, they both wore a nylon mesh vest that seemed to have a host of pockets. Black gloves and black knit caps stuck out of their outer coat pockets.
Hanna was dressed for the expedition the way Nick had asked her to dress— in dark clothing. She was wearing black denim jeans, a black turtle neck sweater, a navy blue down-filled vest and her Gore Tex dark green hooded jacket. She also had a pair of leather gloves and a black stocking cap tucked into her coat pockets. On her feet, she was wearing her well broken-in hiking boots.
She looked ready for the mission, but she wasn’t entirely sure she felt ready. When Nick swiveled sideways, Hanna saw his Glock in the shoulder holster under his jacket. Earlier, she had seen him slip another handgun into a holster inside his lower pant leg. He was also armed with that wicked looking knife he always carried or had available. This time, it was sheathed on his belt. She assumed Kurt was carrying similar weapons. It seemed they were armed to the teeth, although she had no idea what a rescue mission usually required in the way of weapons.
But seeing all those guns, grenades, and explosives that Kurt had brought made it clear just how dangerous and potentially violent this rescue mission could turn out to be. She’d asked to go along, but she now realized that she wasn’t really prepared for this kind of thing. The thought of what could happen frightened her enough to make her wonder if she should stay behind.
Some of her trepidation must have shown on her face because when Nick was satisfied they had packed and loaded all the equipment he thought they would need, he turned to her and frowned.
“Are you having second thoughts?”
Yes, but she didn’t want to tell him so. He’d make her stay, and she didn’t want to sit here and worry about him, either.
Nick took her hand in his and rubbed the back of it with his long fingers. “You don’t have to go. Kurt and I can handle this, and he’s arranged to have Web Montel and some other DEA agents waiting off shore on a Coast Guard cutter. The Canadian authorities will be nearby, too.”
“Won’t all that law enforcement spook Chen and his men?”
“They’re going to keep a low profile until we call them in.”
She nodded and looked from their entwined hands to his face. “I want to go. I guess seeing all those weapons just made me a little nervous. Will my going put you in more danger?” She didn’t want that to happen, either.
“No.” He sent her a reassuring, crooked smile. “I’ll make sure I stash you somewhere safe before any firefight starts.” His grin faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “I’m going to do my best to avoid any confrontation, though. We’re just going in to get Lance out. The DEA and Canadians can take care of putting Chen and his operation out of business. This isn’t a drug raid. This is an extraction. Different tactics.”
The FBI agent came up to stand beside them. “An extraction is a sneak and snatch mission, not a gun battle. If we all go in quick and silent, we shouldn’t have any trouble.”
“What if Chen is expecting you?”
“I’m sure he is expecting us,” Nick told her. “In fact, I’m planning on it, but he doesn’t know exactly when or from where.”
“Hey, and a bunch of drug thugs are no match for a couple of Force Recon Marines,” Kurt added. “So, what do you say, folks? Shall we get this show on the road? I’ll bet Lance is more than ready to come home after a month of Triad hospitality.”
That thought strengthened Hanna’s resolve. Lance had stuck his neck out for her, suffered a lot because of it, and now she needed to make sure that he got back home safely to his son.
“What is it you guys say when you’re ready to go?” she asked, squaring her shoulders.
“Hooyah,” Kurt supplied.
“Okay then. Hooyah!” she echoed with enthusiasm. “Let’s do it!”
CHAPTER 23
QUATSINO SOUND, near the northwestern end of Vancouver Island, British Columbia, was over three hundred miles from Port George, Washington, but by air, it didn’t seem that far. The flight up the western coast of the long island was non-eventful. Although they were flying too high to sightsee, every once in the while, Hanna caught glimpses of the rugged, inlet-riddled land below them. This side of the Canadian island was more remote than the eastern side. Much of the interior was unpopulated, except for those communities that sat on the fractured edges of the great Pacific. Isolated, but wildly beautiful, they stood alone against thousands of miles of ocean.
Hanna sat in the rear seat of the Cessna, while Nick sat in front of her, in the co-pilot’s seat, and Kurt piloted the sleek six passenger amphibian. For most of the flight, both men discussed and studied the satellite photos that Kurt had procured of Chen’s compound and the surrounding area.
Every once in the while, Nick swiveled around to check on her. Each time he did so, he smiled at her reassuringly. He was undoubtedly worried about her. She was determined, though, not to be a hindrance or burden. She didn’t want to be a distraction, either. He had enough to worry about. She didn’t want to add to it. Except for the weapons, she was physically capable of doing this, and she wanted to help.
By the time they reached their destination, the weather had turned overcast and gray. Rain clouds were chasing away what had begun as a sunny day, and the temperature was rapidly dropping. It would begin raining within the hour.
Past the wide mouth of Quatsino Sound, Kurt flew northeast to the tiny coastal village where they were going to
land. At the lower knuckle of a finger-shaped inlet of water, Stormy Harbour was an outpost community of about twenty people. From the air, it looked like there were less than a dozen homes along the waterfront.
This far north, it was true wilderness territory. Thick, nearly impenetrable forests grew to the water’s edge. Cape Scott Wilderness Park lay to the north of them, and beyond that, the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. They were nearly at the northern most end of Vancouver Island. The locals called it the End of the Road. There were no highways or cities, and very few residents— just publicly accessible logging roads, old growth rain forest, and tiny communities, dependent on forestry, fishing, and the eco-tourists who enjoyed hiking, camping, and boating in the region. It was rugged land, and trekking through it was not for the novice adventurer. The only access to the area was by boat or seaplane or in some locales, four-wheeled drive vehicles. It was an ideal place to seek solitude or conceal a drug operation.
As the plane dipped toward Stormy Harbour, Nick pointed towards the inlet branching off to the right. “Before we land and unload, let’s fly over Chen’s compound.” Hanna knew from studying the map that the compound was midway up the inlet, a few miles east of the village.
Nick checked the map he’d been studying and gave his ex-recon buddy some headings. “Fly low enough to get a good overview, but not so low as to be suspicious. We don’t want to get shot at.”
Past the fishing village, they flew along the coastline of the sheltered inlet that was one of many that flanked Quatsino Sound. At a bend in the body of deep blue water, they veered inland. Almost immediately, they spotted a complex of buildings that sat atop a high, fractured headland that overlooked the second knuckle of the inlet. The sides of the promontory were carved out of sheer rock, bare of any foliage. At the bottom, the waves crashed against a boulder-strewn coastline. But around the eastern curve of the bluff, there was a small sheltered bay where the water was calmer. A long wooden dock had been constructed in the cove and a half dozen motor boats were anchored to its sides. At one end of the dock, nestled against the cliff wall, there was a large guardhouse. Four guards patrolled the length of the dock, and two more sat inside behind a big picture window.
Kurt flew over them, and a couple of the men briefly glanced upwards. The plane swung wide and high.
“How do they get down there?” Hanna asked, peering out the window. “I don’t see any steps down from the top.”
“That’s something we’ll definitely have to discover,” Nick answered her. “It might be a quick way off the compound if we need it. Getting back to Stormy Harbour by boat would be faster than backtracking out of the compound, then driving out on our ATV’s.”
At the top of the bluff, the ground had been leveled, cleared, and landscaped, pushing back the dense forests that surrounded three sides of the complex. The headland was fractured into three sections, each connected to the other by artfully constructed bridges between the rock fissures.
A large two-story cedar-planked house stood at the edge of the forest, at the far end of the bluff, overlooking the inlet below. Three smaller houses formed a half-circle beside the mansion.
“The main house and probably guest houses,” Kurt commented from his pilot’s seat. “Seth Haru tells me Chen enjoys showing his operation off to his clients.”
“Is he still undercover?” Nick asked, referring to the DEA agent they’d met a few weeks ago in Kurt’s office.
“Yeah,” Kurt responded. “But he’s stuck in Vancouver, at that end of the operation. He didn’t have any luck getting sent out here. We’ll be on our own down there, until you give the okay to call in the task force waiting offshore.”
“After we get my brother out safely.”
On the middle section of the bluff, there was a long metal building resembling a very large Quonset hut. Hanna heard Nick and Kurt take special note of it, and assumed from their comments that it might be a laboratory and storage facility.
“Chen had a lab that looked like that in Thailand,” Nick commented. “They refined and cut their heroin in it.”
Finally, on the last section of bluff, there were several barrack type buildings, each connected to the other by cement walkways. Vehicles, mostly four-wheeled drive SUV’s were parked between the buildings and off to one side.
“Staff quarters,” Kurt speculated.
Hanna recorded all of it to memory.
The plane banked and made a high wide turn so they could get a better view of the entire complex. A dozen guards with automatic rifles slung over their shoulders patrolled the area. They walked from building to building and around the perimeter. They crossed the wide wooden footbridges, and watched an area to the rear of the compound, where more vehicles were parked. The entire complex was surrounded by a high chain link fence, topped with rolled barbed wire, no doubt electrified, the men decided. Amid the trees that covered the rest of the headland, a wide swath had been cleared for a private landing strip. A Cessna twin engine airplane sat on the runway. A small helicopter was parked farther away, but there was no sign of the Lear jet they had seen the other day. There wasn’t a fence around the little airport, but there were six guards patrolling the tarmac.
“Shall we circle and take another look?”
Nick shook his head. “No. It’s too risky. They might notice this time. I don’t imagine they get too many fly overs.”
“There’s bound to be some, though,” Hanna commented. “Cape Scott Provincial Park is just north of here, and there are a lot of outfitters who fly tourists in for the day or night.”
“That’s probably why we didn’t attract their attention. Let’s head for Stormy Harbour now and pick up those ATV’s. Didn’t you tell the outfitter who brought them over from Port Hardy that we’d pick them up around 1400 hours?”
“Yeah.”
Stormy Harbour got its name from the shelter it offered mariners from the storms in the Pacific. Besides a refuge for boaters, it was primarily a fishing village and a starting point for those adventuring into the northern interior of Vancouver Island. It had served as a seaport haven since the 1800's, and yet had never grown much past its current size. There was a rustic campground at one end of the harbour, but the populace it added was strictly seasonal and transitory.
Like many of the coastal settlements, it was a boardwalk community. The houses that lined the waterfront were built on stilts, linked by a boardwalk over the water and silt.
Kurt landed the floatplane in the bay, then steered it toward the government wharf, Hanna gazed out the front window of the plane, her chin resting on Nick’s left shoulder.
“I can’t believe I’ve never stopped in here when I sailed by. It’s so picturesque.”
“And remote.” he reminded her, swiveling to plant a kiss on her forehead.
Rising up from the free-floating wharf, there was a second, permanently anchored dock ten feet above it. The Harbor Master’s house sat at the farthest end like a control tower at an airport. It was named the Maritime Center, a lofty name for the cedar house with big glass windows. A sign on the building indicated it also served as the post office.
After lining the floatplane up with the dock, Kurt and Nick climbed out to tie it off, then Kurt left for the Harbour Master’s to secure two days’ anchorage for the seaplane and pay whatever fees were required. While he made those arrangements, Nick and Hanna unloaded their gear and managed to lug it up the steps to the upper dock. Once Kurt returned, he and Nick walked to the end of the marina, where the outfitter Kurt had contracted was waiting with three all-terrain vehicles.
The sky was growing darker by the minute, and it was getting colder, windier. Low, thick clouds of gun-metal gray were threatening to drop their load of rain. Hanna pulled on her stocking cap and yanked the hood of her waterproof jacket up over her head, then dug out her gloves, and put them on. By tonight, there would be pea-soup fog blanketing this end of the island. She certainly hoped they managed to find somewhere dry to camp for the night.
Despite the drizzle that had begun, they rode through beautiful country. Narrow knotty trails wound sinuously through the heavily wooded terrain. As they climbed higher to grassy wind-swept hilltops, Hanna caught glimpses of the rocky shoreline along the white-capped Pacific Ocean to the west.
They were headed away from the rocky, driftwood-strewn coastline, though. Old growth forests of cedar, hemlock, fir, and pine surrounded them on all sides as they ventured deeper into the interior. Trails were not always available, and Hanna saw Nick use his GPS frequently. The sound of the ocean breaking against a jagged coastline was replaced by the hushed quiet of the rainforest. Thick undergrowth carpeted the ground and absorbed the sound of the vehicles. The unpopulated wilderness that surrounded them was hauntingly beautiful.
They had been riding under the canopy, protected from the drizzle. When they at last emerged into a large clearing, Hanna finally felt how hard it had actually begun to rain. The wind, which had been non-existent in the groves of trees, blew the rain into their faces. Nick quickly led them into the shelter of a thick stand of ancient Sitkas. Kurt and Hanna pulled up next to his ATV. While he checked his map and compass, Kurt studied his own GPS device. They conferred with one another, swapping location data, and Hanna took the opportunity to check her clothing. Her jeans were damp, but not soaked. She hoped they stayed that way since she hadn’t brought a change of clothing. Damp would dry. Soaked― not so much in this humidity.
