Dark Moon Walking (20 page)

He let Claire guide him in, knowing she was familiar with these reef-infested waters. As he was coming to expect, there was no sign of Walker on the shore, and no sign of his canoe either. Dan assumed—and hoped—that the man was up in the trees somewhere, watching them. On the plus side, there was no sign of anyone else.

They skirted the reefs Claire must have paddled past just days before and idled toward the rocks where she had stashed her kayak. True to form, Walker appeared as they approached, moving quietly out of the trees where he had been hidden by the long shadows cast by the early-morning sun. He turned and pointed east along the shore to where the jumbled rocks became a low cliff overhung with hemlock trees.

“Go past those trees. There's a ledge where you can climb up. Good place to hide the dinghy.”

If it weren't for the black ship and those damn canisters, Dan thought as he scrambled up from the ledge after tying the dinghy to a low branch, this would be a great place to spend some time. The moss-covered ground was soft underfoot, and the sun filtering through the trees was warming the air and filling it with the rich scents of late summer: salmonberries and salal, hemlock and fir, bracken and fern. Claire had been right again. It was less nerve-wracking now that they were here.

He made his way back to Claire and Walker, keeping the water to his left as he threaded his way through the trees. He had let her out below where Walker was standing, and now the two of them were sitting side by side in companionable silence, watching him as he approached.

“You make that much noise when you were sneaking up on bank robbers, you wouldn't have caught many.” Walker's lopsided smile took the sting out of his words.

“Don't think I ever had to scramble over a bunch of rocks to catch any,” Dan replied with a grin, matching his tone to Walker's. “Those bank robbers tend to be city slickers.”

He looked at the two of them sitting there, Walker leaning back, relaxed, and Claire hunched forward, looking out over the water. They made an odd couple, the big, dark Native with his crippled legs and cynical smile and the slim, blond girl with her tousled hair and determined face. Claire's nervousness had all but disappeared and she and Walker looked like they could be out for a picnic instead of risking getting shot. And it wasn't just that she was now here on the island and committed to walking across that had relaxed her, he realized. It was Walker's presence. There was something about the man's calm confidence and quiet demeanor that was contagious. He felt it too.

Dan was still thinking about Walker as he and Claire started down the trail a few minutes later—although he was not sure it really could be called a trail. It was just another small dip in the land, no different from many others except for its course and direction, strewn with fir cones and leaves now that it was dry. He would never have noticed it if they hadn't pointed it out to him, but he was pretty sure Walker would not have missed it. And not just because of his familiarity with this watery maze of islands. The man's powers of observation were incredible. Not much would escape him. It was a skill Dan admired and had worked hard to acquire, but he had never approached Walker's expertise and he knew he never would.

Or Walker's ability to concentrate, for that matter, he thought wryly as he almost ran into Claire, who had stopped ahead of him.

“What's up?” he whispered, keeping his voice low as sudden tension sang along his nerves. He bent to peer through the trees. “Hear something?”

She shook her head. “No. I just wanted to stop and listen. See if I could. Hear something, I mean.” She gave him a quick apologetic look. “It's something I do on the boat. Helps me figure out what's happening.”

He nodded, chiding himself for letting his mind wander. He was supposed to be the pro, but Claire was handling this better than he was. This casual walk through the woods had lulled him into forgetting why he was here. He was used to rushing in, full of adrenalin, heart pumping, weapon drawn. This whole stealth thing was unfamiliar. It demanded the patience he had so little of, yet he needed to stay nothing less than fully alert. He owed that much to her and to Walker. And to himself. He could not afford to lapse into daydreaming now.

Almost an hour later, they stopped for perhaps the fifth time. The forest remained quiet except for the occasional flit of a bird and the faint sighing of the wind high above their heads.

“How much farther?” Dan whispered as he peered through the trees.

“Maybe half an hour. It opens up a bit as we get closer, so we'll have to slow down.”

Another twenty minutes passed before she reached out a hand and stopped him. A new sound rode on the air, low and rhythmic, pulsing gently through the earth. It was the wash of waves on a gravel beach. They were close.

They moved off the path and deeper into the forest, creeping down toward the edge of the meadow, working their way through the trees. They were slightly below the lodge and off to one side, almost directly across from the wharf where the crew boat was tied. It appeared empty, as were the three dinghies tied in a row behind it. Twelve canisters lay scattered across the heavy wooden planking, seven of them open and empty.

Dan pushed Claire gently to the ground and sank down beside her. He had been planning on sending her back as soon as they reached the lodge, but now he realized that until they knew where all the men from the crew boat were, it was safer not to move around. They would have to wait here and hope that Walker was okay on the other side of the island.

They only had to wait a few minutes. It was very quiet in the bay, no sound except for the whisper of waves surging up onto the gravel, but gradually Dan became aware of a low noise coming from the lodge. It was almost a buzz, and he thought at first that it could be bees deep within a hive, although there was an odd, rhythmic, chanting quality to it. More like kids in a kindergarten class, reciting lines, though the sound was pitched too low. He looked at Claire to see if she had heard it. She had, but judging by the look on her face, she too was puzzled.

He checked behind them, then indicated to Claire that she was to stay where she was. If he could work his way back behind the lodge, maybe he would be able to see what was causing the sound. He had only gone a few yards when a sudden screech of wood against wood tore through the silence, and then came the pounding of running feet as a group of seven men burst through the door and raced out onto the deck. Dan froze as they spread out, then watched helplessly as two of them headed straight toward where Claire was crouched in the sparse undergrowth. There was no time to react, no way to give her a warning—and nothing either of them could do. Mentally he willed her lower to the ground, pushed deeper into the tangled salal.

Seconds later, before he could force himself to take a breath, the two men stopped, turned, and dropped into a crouch. Looking around the meadow, Dan could see that the others were doing the same. What the hell was going on? They were all well-dressed, mostly in slacks with shirts and sweaters, although two wore tailored suits. Definitely not a logging crew.

“Again!” The voice was sharp and oddly abrupt.

Dan swung his head back toward the lodge, where White Hair was now standing on the edge of the deck, a stopwatch in his hand. He didn't wait to see if the men had heard him, but turned away and walked back inside. The men followed.

It could have been a rehearsal for a play. It was certainly a rehearsal; that much was clear. But a rehearsal for what? As soon as the last man had disappeared, Dan carefully made his way back to where Claire was crouching and dropped down beside her.

“Is that the man you saw?” he asked.

She nodded. “I think so. I really only saw his hair, but he was tall—and he sounded odd when he spoke. Not an accent, exactly, but sort of clipped.”

Dan nodded. “It's the same guy who came to Annie's boat when Walker and I were there. He had a buddy with him, but the buddy wasn't one of those guys who came out of the lodge. Maybe they left him behind today.”

He hoped that wasn't true. If the other man wasn't here, he could be out somewhere looking for Claire and that would put Walker at risk.

“There was a second man on the deck of the lodge that night,” Claire said. “I heard him talking, but I never saw him.”

“Probably the same guy. They seem to stick together.”

There were three more of the “rehearsals” over the next half hour or so, then they stopped and were replaced by the odd murmuring Dan and Claire had heard earlier, broken by the occasional scraping of chairs and the sound of footsteps. There were also metallic sounds that Dan thought might be from weapons being assembled, although he didn't mention that to Claire.

It was frustrating to be so close and yet have no way of seeing what was happening, and it was obvious they weren't going to learn much more staying where they were. Not only was it unproductive, but the risk of being discovered was too great. Dan had just reached out a hand to touch Claire's shoulder and urge her to leave when he saw movement, and one of the men emerged from the lodge. He was dressed in gray slacks and a light sweater, and he stood on the deck for a couple of minutes, scanning the bay as he lit a cigarette. Then he stepped down onto the path and started toward the wharf, turning left just before he reached it to head out around the far side of the bay. In minutes they had lost him in the trees.

“Anything out that way?” Dan leaned close to Claire, keeping his voice to a bare whisper.

She shook her head. “There's a bit of a trail—probably a deer trail—that goes out to the point.” She was silent for a few minutes as they watched to see if the figure reappeared, and then she turned toward him. “You get a really good view of the channel from out there. I used to walk out there once in a while just to see what was happening. You can see right out to Hecate Strait to the west and, if you look south, way down to Goose Island. Maybe he's checking for someone. They could be expecting a new arrival.”

He nodded. It was possible, although he couldn't see it. Whatever this was, it seemed like a pretty well-planned operation. It didn't seem likely they would want to add anyone new to the mix. It was hard enough to organize and control even a small group, and there were already at least nine men here.

Claire's sudden intake of breath alerted him to new activity.

“There's a different guy coming back,” she whispered.

Dan nodded in agreement. The newcomer was clearly visible as he emerged from the trees. He was taller and heavier than the first man, and he was wearing chinos and a dark-green polo shirt. As he came closer, Dan saw that the polo shirt had ridden up where it had caught on a belt holster. There was a gleam of dark metal that winked with every swing of the man's arm as he took the steps two at a time, crossed the deck, and disappeared into the lodge.

So they had mounted a lookout, they didn't want visitors, and they were armed. Now Dan surely had more than enough to get the full attention of his former fellow officers. Sergeant Hargreaves would have to make a return trip—and quickly.

SEVENTEEN