Dark Moon Walking (21 page)

As soon as the lookout disappeared, Dan tapped Claire on the shoulder and beckoned her back into the trees. There was nothing more to gain by staying here, and there might be a lot to lose if the meeting broke up and the men started wandering.

Claire and Dan moved quickly, stepping back out from the trees and onto the relatively easy ground of the path as soon as they had lost the sound of the ocean. They recrossed the island in less than half the time they had taken on the outward trip and found Walker sitting where they had first seen him several hours earlier.

“Must be nice, sitting out here in the sun,” Dan said. “You fight off any bad guys while we were gone?”

Walker smiled. “Nope. Figure they were all out there following you. Sounded like an elephant coming back along that path.”

“Yeah, right.” Dan dropped down onto the ground beside him and watched as Claire moved past them to scan the water beyond the trees. “You see or hear anything?”

“Nope. Could be they've called off the search. It's been a few days now. Maybe they figure there's nothing left to search for.”

“Yeah. Or maybe they've got a deadline and they need to concentrate on preparing for whatever it is they're planning.” Dan hitched his shoulder back toward Shoal Bay. “There's nine or ten of them over there, a couple of lookouts and the rest of that crew boat, plus White Hair. Looks like they're rehearsing for something.”

“Huh. You see any weapons?”

“Just with the lookouts. Nothing bigger than a handgun. But there was something happening inside the lodge that sounded like they might have been assembling weapons of some kind.”

“So they'll probably be ready pretty soon.”

“Yeah. I gotta get Hargreaves back down here.”

Dan retrieved the dinghy from its hiding place and pulled it back along the rocks. As soon as Claire was aboard, he turned to Walker, wanting to convince the man to come back with them but not sure if there was any chance he would succeed. Walker did his own thing, and even though he had been the one who had reached out for help when Claire was missing, he kept his own counsel. On the other hand, Dan knew he needed a sounding board, someone to run his ideas by, and Walker would be perfect. It was worth a try.

“You want to come with us? No point in hanging around here.”

“No point in hanging around your place either.” Walker was still comfortably relaxed on the grass.

“I could really use your help figuring this out.”

As he said the words, Dan felt a start of surprise, and he realized they were a first for him. He had never asked for help before, not on the job, not from his friends, not even at home with Susan. Had he changed that much or was there something about Walker that invited trust? And how could that be when the man was an ex-con?

Walker was looking at him, the dark eyes suddenly intent. A long moment later, he twisted to his feet. “Yeah. See you over there.”

“Hey, you can come with us. Leave the canoe here. I can bring you back whenever you want. It'll be faster and safer that way.”

“That's okay. I'll be fine. I can make it in an hour or so.”

He was already making his way down to the shore, and Dan was pretty sure arguing would be useless. Besides, Walker was probably right: he would be fine.

In fact, he arrived at
Dreamspeaker
little more than an hour after Dan and Claire. The three of them gathered in the salon to eat a pizza that Dan had dug out of the freezer and heated in the microwave. It was the first time Walker had been on Dan's boat, and he shook his head as he took in the array of appliances in the galley, the flat-screen
TV
hanging on the bulkhead, and the combined washer/dryer that sat behind the open door of the laundry locker.

“Tough way to live,” he said as he made himself comfortable on a leather swivel chair. “Not sure you should be consorting with the lower class.”

Dan smiled. It did look pretty fancy, even to him, but at the time he outfitted the boat, he had simply agreed unquestioningly to every suggestion Mike or the guys had made. It was as if he had been on autopilot. A robot. Maybe it was the funk he had been in. Maybe depression had taken away his ability to make his own decisions. Maybe his unconscious was trying to recreate the domesticity of the life he had lived with Susan. In any case,
Dreamspeaker
was now equipped with every appliance he could possibly think of and a few he hadn't known existed.

“Yeah,” he nodded, keeping his face serious. “Got to watch who you associate with.” He chewed the last of his pizza and let his eyes wander around the cabin. “Haven't used half of this stuff, but I guess it might come in handy someday.” He slid his plate onto the side table and reached for his glass. “So,” he said. “Where do we go from here?”

“What do you think they're doing?” Claire asked, her face suddenly tight.

He took his time answering. It was a question he had been asking himself ever since he had responded to Walker's call and met up with him over at Annie's boat, and the answer had been slow in coming. Now, for the first time, he put it into words. “I think they're rehearsing for some kind of attack.”

The statement was greeted with utter silence.

For Dan, the idea had been growing over the last few days, coalescing as he wove the pieces together but never becoming totally coherent. Now, as he said it out loud, it finally took form and became real. It made sense of a lot of things. The sunken canisters would have contained equipment or, more likely, components that had to be assembled. The crew boat would have brought the team that was to do the assembly or make the hit or both. The logger disguise might even have been a last-minute idea in case someone came looking for Claire—although it was a good way to move around in these waters anyway. And that odd chanting they had heard? That would have been part of the planning, maybe counting out the sequence of events or the timing of the action. All of that would fit with the men running out of the lodge, and with White Hair and his stopwatch.

But what kind of attack? And where? He had been away from things for too long to know what was happening back in the city—or in the world, for that matter. And he still wasn't sure how the cooking oil and the spray bottles fit in—although he had an idea about that too. One he really didn't like.

On the other hand, he suddenly realized, the event didn't matter. He had to keep reminding himself that he was no longer on the force. The where and when were someone else's problem. All he could do was let them know what was happening. The rest would be up to them.

“We have to get the marine guys back,” he said. “We've got to stop this.” He pushed himself up from the chair and headed forward to the wheelhouse.

The
Lindsay
didn't respond to Dan's call, which didn't really surprise him. Even though he had a good antenna mounted on a mast that reached high above the cabin roof, the
SSB
had a pretty limited range. And it was maybe a good thing in some ways, he told himself as he returned the microphone to its cradle, because now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure Hargreaves would kiss him off. He still had nothing but a hunch to go on, and he didn't think Hargreaves was the kind of guy who gave much credence to hunches—especially from a civilian.

That left Mike, and he hoped he had made it back to his office. It meant using a phone, which was not as secure as he would like, but he could work around that. He and Mike were close enough that they could read between the lines, and they had developed their own shorthand over the years.

Dan picked up the handset and punched in the number. It was answered on the first ring, and he heard Rosemary's cultured voice float out of the speaker. It had the odd metallic quality that always seemed to go with recorded messages.
You have reached the voice mail of Detective Mike Bryant. Please leave your name, number, and a brief message and your call will be returned as soon as possible. If you wish your call to be redirected, please press zero now.
Shit!

Dan slammed the handset back onto its holder. Now what? Where the hell was Mike? Or Rosemary, for that matter? And what fucking good was all this fancy radio equipment if he couldn't reach anyone? He looked at the electronics shelf of the navigation station:
SSB
, satellite radio, radio telephone,
VHF
,
GPS
, radar, depth sounder, computer, electronic chart display—the list went on. The place looked like a techie's wet dream. And none of it was of the slightest use in this situation. Maybe he should stop being so picky and just try to reach one of the guys in the squad instead.

His phone book was in with the rest of his papers, packed into a metal box that he kept in a storage bin under the floor boards. He ran back, pulled up the hatch, dragged it out, and lifted it onto the counter. This could take a while. The stuff wasn't sorted into files; he had just thrown it all in before he left.

“
Dreamspeaker. Dreamspeaker.
You there?”

The unexpected sound of the radio caught him by surprise, and he turned so fast his elbow caught a corner of the box. It tumbled off the counter and dumped its contents on the floor behind him as he raced back to the wheelhouse.

“This is
Dreamspeaker
. Over.”

Who the hell was this? The voice sounded husky, and although it was distorted by static, he thought it sounded female. It certainly wasn't Rosemary and he knew there were no females in the crew of the
Lindsay
. In any case, the call was coming over the
VHF
, so it had to be someone fairly close. The only woman he had met around here was Annie, but why would she call him?

“About time you answered. I've been trying to reach you all morning. You under way or anchored?”

That was a strange question, and he wondered what difference it could possibly make.

“Anchored,” he replied, his voice cautious. “Why?”

“I got a problem here. Old Tom's hurt bad.”

“Old Tom?” Who the hell was Old Tom? Could there be another boat called
Dreamspeaker
?

Walker suddenly appeared beside him and grabbed the microphone from his hand.

“Annie?”

“Hey, Walker. That you?”

“Yeah. What's up?”

“Need some help here. I ain't no doctor.”

“Jesus! What happened?”

“Don't know. You know how Tom is. He won't say.”

“How'd you find him?”

“He found me. Rowed himself over, but he looked damn near dead by the time he got here.”

“Shit! Look, I'll call you back. I gotta talk to Dan. Stay by the radio, okay?”

“Okay, but don't take too long. He ain't lookin' too good.”

Walker handed the microphone back to Dan. “We gotta go, man.”

“Yeah. But we've got this other problem and it isn't going to wait. I've got to get hold of Mike, get some help in here.” He looked at Walker. “Why don't you take the dinghy? I can give you a first-aid kit—”