Dark Moon Walking (17 page)

More than two hundred miles to the south, a float plane banked hard over Lulu Island, and Mike Bryant looked down as the city of Richmond and the great sprawl of Vancouver slid beneath the wings, glass-fronted towers and condos glittering in the sun. He caught a brief glimpse of joggers and bicyclists on the dyke below him and then the pontoons kissed the surface and skimmed across the choppy water of the Fraser River toward the Riverport Seaplane Terminal.

He stepped out into bright sunshine and was greeted by a uniformed
RCMP
officer, who led the way to a black
SUV
sitting in the parking lot.

“Thought you might not make it.” The uniform had driven him to a previous meeting, but Mike couldn't remember his name.

“Yeah. I was starting to get a little worried myself. It was like pea soup in downtown Victoria. They were just about to cancel when the fog lifted.” He peered out the window at the sparkling river. “You've got a nice one going over here.”

The drive from the seaplane terminal to Vancouver International Airport took less than ten minutes, and as they drove along the Sea Island dyke, Mike watched the traffic on the river. The intricate ballet of watercraft plying the silty waters never failed to fascinate him. Everything from freighters to ferries to kayaks used the river to access the heart of the city, and, like the city, it never slept. One boat, an old seiner that had seen better days, made him think of Dan, maybe three hundred miles north. They hadn't spoken since Dan called with that wild story about a black ship and an Indian guy and some girl who was being hunted. If it had been anyone but Dan, Mike would have dismissed it all as the crazy ramblings of some dope-smoking hippie, but Dan was one of the sanest and most logical people he knew. If he thought there was something going on, there probably was. Mike had phoned a friend over in the West Coast Marine Division and pulled in every marker he could think of, plus a few he had made up but that sounded good, and as a result had received a promise that Dan would be contacted by one of the big patrol boats. Dan owed him big for that, and Mike was going to enjoy making him pay up. Maybe he could even use it to get him back on the force. He made a mental note to contact him to follow up on the story once he was back at the office.

The car turned onto Russ Baker Way and the river gave way to the warehouses and hangers that skirted the edge of the airport. Mike looked for the increased security he knew was in place. It would be much more obvious in a few days, but even now he could see unmarked police cars in many of the designated police parking spaces, relegating the marked cars to curbside, and there were more security vehicles driving the perimeter. There were even a couple of
RCMP
cars parked beside the bridge leading over the river from Richmond, although without their lights on they looked more like traffic detail than security.

They passed the glass-fronted airport terminal, where transit police patrolled the crosswalk and the overhead walkway to the Canada Line station, and drove on to the nondescript
RCMP
sub-detachment building a few hundred yards farther down the road. The rest of Mike's group was gathered in the lobby. They greeted the late arrival with a round of applause.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Very funny.” Mike pushed past them. “I may strive for perfection, but even I can't control the weather.”

He ignored the good-natured rejoinders and moved into the meeting room, where more than a dozen men and a couple of women were already seated around the table. Mike took his place, nodding a greeting at familiar faces. He knew all of them professionally and was socially acquainted with more than a few, but this was not the time for chit-chat, and they quickly settled down to business. This was the final session of the security planning group, and there was no room for error. The leaders of many of the world's largest organizations, including the United Nations,
UNESCO
, and the World Bank, would be arriving in Vancouver in less than a week. They would be joined by a former
US
president, the
US
Secretary of State, a handful of envoys, and several senior Canadian ministers. Following close on their heels, a handful of celebrities slated to perform at the benefit concert that was the only public event of the international conference would descend on the city. The protesters had already started arriving. Most of the bureaucrats and civil servants were already in place. The security requirements were not quite as complex as those required for the G8 summit that Mike had been involved in a few years back, but they were close. And the risks were greater now. It wasn't only the protestors and the lunatic fringe. Terrorism was a very real threat.

FOURTEEN

“I want to see her.”

“What?”

The comment surprised Dan. He and Claire had moved back into the salon, where they had been sharing memories of growing up as fishermen's kids. It had stirred up recollections of days spent on net floats, catching shiners and poking at sea anemones as his father and the other fishermen spun yarns and mended nets while they listened to the company radio for news on the returning schools of salmon. It had also kept Claire from thinking too much about the fate of her boat. At least, he had thought it did.

“I want to see my boat. She can't be completely underwater or Walker wouldn't have found her.”

“Claire, that's impossible. You know those guys are still out there. They're the ones who sank your boat. You know they're armed. If they see you there, do you think they will hesitate to shoot you?”

She shrugged, her mouth set in a stubborn line. “They could find us here just as easily.”

Dan's eyes narrowed. “That's different. If they see
Dreamspeaker
here, it's just me on my way down south—and there is no ‘us' because ‘we' are not going. Not until this is all over.”

She glared at him. “And when will that be? We don't know what's happening out there. It might already be ‘all over.' They might be gone.”

He shrugged. “The answer is still no—and before you ask, no, you can't take the dinghy.” Damn. He was losing his touch. First Walker and now Claire. Maybe it was something in the air up here on the mid-coast.

She looked at him with exasperation. “I wasn't going to ask for the dinghy. I'm not an idiot. But we have to leave here sometime, and when we do, I would like to go via Half Moon Cove and check her out.” Her voice faltered. “It's not just memories they took. All my research is on that boat. Maybe I can save some of it.”

Dan's frustration evaporated at her words and was replaced by growing admiration mixed with sympathy. Of course she would want to see her boat. In her position, he would want the same, and although she was still battling the effects of shock and confusion, he realized that this girl was tough. She faced life head-on and didn't let it get her down. A wry thought crossed his mind: a few lessons from her might do him good. He smiled and reached out to shake her hand.

“Deal. Look, I know waiting is hard, but right now that's all we can do. If I can't get hold of Walker in the next couple of hours, I'll call the police boat again. Maybe between the lot of us we can figure something out. Okay?”

An apologetic smile quirked the corners of her mouth. “I'm sorry. I'm being a bitch. You've already done more than I could possibly have expected, and here I am plotting your course and arranging your life.”

“Hey! No problem. We'll plot that course as soon as we know what's happening and where everyone is.” He stood up and scanned the bay through the portholes. “I'll go and check on Walker. How about I show you the laundry on the way and you can get your clothes fixed up. I can't imagine you want to wear that T-shirt for the rest of the day.”

It took almost an hour to get a response from Walker, and Dan had almost given up when the quiet voice floated out of the radio.

“Yeah.”

“Where the hell are you? I've been trying to reach you since last night.”

“Been busy.”

“Doing what? You can't still be in Shoal Bay.”

“Nope.”

Dan sighed. “Walker, this is getting tiresome. I have Claire with me and I have no idea what's happening or where anybody is. At least let me know you're okay.”

There was a pause, and he could almost hear Walker thinking before he said, “I'm fine. I'm on the other side of the island. Where Claire took her kayak.”

Dan felt a little of the tension go out of his shoulders, although the thought of Walker still being on the same island as the guys from the crew boat bothered him. “You get any sleep?”

“Yeah, a couple hours. Enough.”

“So you coming here?”

The silence grew as he waited for Walker to answer.

“Walker?”

“How about you come here?”

“What?” The tension rushed back, a hundred-fold stronger than it had been. Dan could feel it throbbing in the veins in his neck and surging into his skull. “Why the hell would I come there? Are you in trouble?”

“Bring Claire with you.”

“Bring . . .” Dan clicked off the transmitter and stared blindly out through the windshield. The sun had risen above the trees and was reflecting off the leaves and the water, turning the tiny cove into a glittering world of light. It was surreal, and it matched this conversation perfectly.