Dark Moon Walking (30 page)

“Who's trying to control the weather?”

Claire appeared in the doorway of the salon. She was dressed in yesterday's clothes, her face flushed with sleep and her hair tousled.

“Ask him.” Annie flipped her thumb toward Dan. “Says he's going to head back to his boat.”

Claire frowned and bent to look through the porthole. “In this?” Her voice was incredulous.

Dan sighed. Never mind a theme. This was a litany. “Hey, gimme a break here. You both know how important it is that I get back to my boat. How else are we going to stop these guys?”

Claire's face softened as she took in his concern. “This will slow them down too, you know. The crew boat might be able to make a bit of headway, but it would be slow going and a very rough ride.”

Dan inclined his head, acknowledging her logic. “Yeah. I guess it might even be enough to disrupt their plans.”

That was if Walker and his friends hadn't already disrupted them. And where was Walker, anyway? When he'd disappeared last night, he had said he would see Dan this morning, but he wouldn't be able to fight this weather either. Dan could only hope that he and his group had made it back to safety.

As if she had read his thoughts, Claire asked, “Where's Walker? He didn't come back with you last night.”

Dan shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine—actually, probably a lot better. He took off last night. Said he'd see me today.” He didn't want to tell her about Walker and his friends going to the black ship. It would be too hard to explain and it would probably upset her. Hell, thinking about it upset him. There were so many things that could have gone wrong. “Hope he's okay.”

“He probably went back home. He'll be fine.” She turned away from him and looked out at the slanting lines of rain. “Did you . . . have you . . .” Her voice faltered.

“Robbie is buried back a bit along the shore. We wrapped him up so he's protected from the weather and we covered him with rocks to protect him from animals. He's fine there, and once I can get hold of someone—police or coast guard—then they'll come and get him.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “They'll look after him properly. Take him back down to Victoria. Contact his family.”

She nodded but didn't speak.

“Walker sang a chant for him.” He wasn't sure why it was important to tell her that, but somehow he thought it was.

Her eyes welled with tears, and she gave him a tremulous smile. “That was kind. Robbie would have liked that.”

TWENTY-FIVE

Fernandez woke early. He seldom slept more than five hours, and the rising wind had pulled him from his bed earlier than usual. The ship was restless, bucking hard against its anchor, but inside it was quiet and dark, the rest of the men asleep in their berths and the weather blocking out even the faint glimmer starlight might have provided.

He dressed quickly in his normal attire of black trousers and black polo shirt, slid his feet into a pair of canvas deck shoes, and made his way toward the salon. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee caught his attention as he passed the door to the galley and he stopped. Someone else was awake. He checked the gold Rolex that circled his wrist: 3:50
AM
. Alex would have gone on watch at 2:00
AM
. The man had been with him for four years now and he had complete trust in him. He would not leave the bridge until his watch was over at 6:00
AM
, certainly not for coffee. The other men were thugs hand-picked for the job and had spent most of their time over in Shoal Bay. They were unfamiliar with both the
Snow Queen
's layout and the onboard equipment and were unlikely to be doing anything in the galley. Gunter did not drink coffee, so that left Harry and his captain, neither of whom Fernandez trusted.

He opened the galley door. Harry was standing at the counter, wrapped in a black silk, monogrammed robe, a carafe of coffee in one hand as he reached for a cup with the other.

“Jesus! You scared the hell out of me. Thought everyone was sound asleep.” Harry lifted the carafe. “Want some coffee? I just made it. Took me twenty minutes to figure out how this thing works and another ten to find the bloody coffee.”

Fernandez shook his head in refusal and watched as Harry rooted through the cupboards, searching for sugar. Harry's thinly veiled complaints about the absence of his crew were becoming increasingly annoying.

“You are up early.”

“Yeah. Couldn't sleep. Must be this damn wind.” Harry leaned over and peered blindly out of a porthole. “Need to get back to the city. Should have left days ago. All this time cooped up on the boat is driving me crazy.” He turned back to Fernandez. “We're leaving today, right?”

Fernandez watched him, but did not speak. His silence made Harry nervous, and that made him more talkative.

“Been here too long, man. I've got stuff I need to be doing, people I need to see. We should have been back already. People will start wondering where I am.” He paused as another thought came to mind. “This weather isn't going to be a problem, is it? The guys are going to be able to get down there all right? There isn't much time to spare with this thing.”

That question finally provoked a response, and Fernandez pushed past Harry to peer out the same porthole the little man had just vacated. Even in the darkness, the white foam that surged along the wave crests was visible as it caught the faint glow from the masthead lights. His mouth tightened, and he turned and walked out the door without saying a word, leaving Harry staring after him. Halfway down the hall, Harry's voice caught up to him.

“Arrogant bastard.”

The words registered, but Fernandez barely noticed them. Harry meant nothing to him. He had been a means to an end, useful for a while but now no longer needed. Once this was over, he would have to be dealt with.

Moving swiftly back through the boat, Fernandez knocked on the door to the bridge. It opened almost immediately and Alex stood back to let him in, clicking on the safety of the big Zamorana 9mm handgun he always carried as he returned it to the holster that rode under his arm.

“Any trouble?” Fernandez took in the faint glow from the array of instruments stretching right across the navigation station. No blips showed on either of the two radar screens as they painted the contours of the bay with an eerie green brush. No alarms were sounding on the
GPS
and no hazards or anomalies showed on the depth sounder.

Alex shook his head. “Quiet as a church. Ain't anyone around. Even if there was, they wouldn't be out in this shit.”

“How bad is it? Will it be a problem?”

“What, the wind?” Alex knew exactly what he was talking about, and he reached over and pressed some keys on the computer, then waited till a new screen appeared. “Wind's northwest. Might be a bit rough going over to the lodge, but it'll be behind them when they head down south.” He shrugged. “Should be okay for loading. That wharf gives a bit of protection and it's in behind the point.”

He reached up and switched on the weather station. “The last update was an hour ago. Said it should ease up by late morning, early afternoon.” The two men stood quietly and listened as the bored voice of a weather forecaster confirmed Alex's report.

When it was finished, Fernandez clapped him on the shoulder. “
Bueno
,” he said and left the bridge as abruptly as he had arrived. He would wake the men early. They were going to need to gain time in any way they could, and from the sound of it, leaving early was going to be about the only way they could do it. He didn't return to the salon. He had no wish to run into Harry again and he preferred the solitude of his own cabin anyway.

At 5:00 Fernandez once again opened his cabin door and moved down the passageway. This time his destination was Gunter's cabin, just two down from his own. The door was opened so quickly in answer to his knock that he knew the German had already been awake.

“
Buenos dias.
” Gunter's accent lent a harsh, guttural quality to the Spanish greeting, making it almost unrecognizable.

Fernandez acknowledged it with a slight inclination of his head. He had no time for pleasantries. “Wake the men early. This weather will slow them down. Wake Carlos now and the rest in half an hour. Tell Carlos to pack up some food. They can eat when they get over there.”

Gunter nodded an acknowledgment.

The men gathered in the salon. There was no chatter. One look outside had told them that the hard day ahead had become harder, but their goal was in sight. They would do what they had been trained to do, what they had been preparing for, what they were paid for. Gunter joined them, followed by Carlos and Alex, who had just come off watch. All of them would be on board the crew boat for this trip.

Gunter did a brief head count. All were accounted for. Satisfied, he gave a quick nod and watched as Carlos led them outside, where the wind and rain caught them with a hissing, malevolent fury, shocking them out of their morning comfort and driving them across the heaving deck. The transfer to the crew boat slowed them down as the men staggered to the railing and waited with hands clenched and muscles tensed, poised to leap the gap between the two rolling hulls whenever they came close enough together to make bridging the distance possible. The rain made the metal decking of the crew boat slick, and more than one man slid heavily into the side of the deckhouse as he landed, adding his curses to the howl of the weather.

Back in his cabin, Fernandez listened to the muted sounds of the struggle taking place outside and mentally rehearsed the plan yet again, searching for any weakness and finding none. Nasiri was in place, his credentials ensuring he had the ability to move freely through the city. The target was already in Vancouver, his arrival confirmed by an informer who worked in a hangar at the south terminal of the airport. Another informer had confirmed that both American and Canadian security forces had checked the venue and had given it their approval. The same forces had tested the emergency evacuation plan and a trial run had been conducted. This too had been confirmed by the informant and was exactly as expected. The men who had just left were trained and would be well equipped, and Fernandez had no doubts regarding either their ability to perform their tasks or their dedication; they had been specifically chosen because of those exact traits. It was unfortunate that they would be sacrificed in this operation, but it was for a good cause, and in any case, they were expendable and easy to replace.