Dark Moon Walking (41 page)

A few hours after Claire had left, Mike arrived, exhausted but exhilarated, his face pale and etched with fatigue but a broad smile lighting up the pallor. He had flown back from Vancouver earlier that morning and had come straight down to the wharf.

Dan stood up and reached out his hand. “Congratulations.”

“Wouldn't have got him without you. And even after we picked them up, I still figured we had everything covered—till you started rambling on about ‘there's gotta be more' and ‘something else.'”

“Hey! Anyway, it wasn't me. Walker's the one you gotta thank.”

“Yes, I'd like to meet him sometime. Sounds like quite a guy.”

“He is, but I'm not sure about the meeting part. He's hard to find. Keeps pretty much to himself.”

“Yeah, well, if you run into him again, tell him thanks. Could have been very nasty if we hadn't caught the guy.”

“Who was he? Anyone I know?”

“Could be. We think he's Nasiri.”

Dan inhaled a sharp breath. Nasiri had been at the top of their Red List for years, possibly one of the most wanted terrorists in the world and responsible for at least seven assassinations.

“Jesus!”

Mike grinned. “Yep. Mohammed ibn Saleh ibn Tariq al-Nasiri himself. He's got passports from Italy and Spain and Colombia, even Mexico, in every name you can think of—except Mohammed, of course—but we've got a guy from Interpol on his way here now and they're pretty sure it's him.”

“That's great. How the hell did you find him?”

“Like I said, I thought we had it all figured out, then you got me thinking. If they were planning to create a diversion, the real threat had to be somewhere else. The only thing that made sense was a sniper set up somewhere, but we had all the rooftops closed off, everything shut down—and then I saw those fucking opening windows up there on the top floor of the Fairmont, and they looked right out over the emergency exit. Exactly where we would be evacuating the
VIP
s. I still can't believe I hadn't noticed them before. Henshaw's gonna kick my ass when I get back to the office. And the goddamned thing is, I deserve it.”

“Mike, you're the one who figured it out. And you caught a bad guy that even Interpol hasn't been able to catch. Hell, half the forces in the world have been trying to catch him for years. Don't think you have too much to worry about. They'll probably give you a commendation.”

They spent a few more minutes bullshitting and then Mike brought Dan up to speed on exactly what had happened. He had called in a team to search the financial firm, and it had discovered a briefcase that had been left there the day before. Mike called in the crime-scene boys to check it out, and they found a rifle, carefully broken down and hidden under a stack of bearer bonds. There had been enough prints on it to fill an album. He figured those alone should be enough to nail Nasiri.

“I called Henshaw. Got him out of bed. He wanted me to take everything and shut the building down. Asshole! We never would have got the guy.” Mike shook his head. “Maybe sitting at a desk turns your brain to mush. Anyway, I told him I was going to have the boys remove the rifle and put everything else back in. Put a whole
SWAT
team into the offices on either side and have Henderson stand in for Bainbridge. Henshaw wasn't too happy about it, but he finally came round. The partners weren't too happy about it either, but they agreed. We had them tell the receptionist that Bainbridge was ill, but to keep it to herself. Not to say anything about it to Nasiri. The rest was easy. The son of a bitch just walked right in, exactly on schedule. The girl did real good. She knew our guys were there, but she just gave him his briefcase and the team took him down. They had him out of there in less than ten minutes.”

Mike's face had been lit up with animation as he relived the story, but as he came to the end, the pallor reappeared. The stress of the last few days was catching up with him and Dan cut him short.

“You're out on your feet, Mike. Go home. Get some sleep. I'm here for the winter. Come on over in a couple of days and we'll have a few beers.”

“Sounds good.” Mike stood up to go, then turned back. “That really was good work you did out there. You should think about coming back.”

Dan smiled and shook his head. “Like I told you, that wasn't me.”

“Yeah, well, I'm looking forward to hearing about Walker, but you think about it anyway. You're good. We need guys like you.”

Dan smiled and watched him stumble up the ramp to his car, then went back into the cabin. It was good to be talking to Mike again. Good to be back at the marina and good to have friends around. Certainly better than he would have believed possible a year ago. But it wasn't perfect—at least, not yet. There was still something missing.

That something arrived a week later. He was sitting out on the stern deck, watching the constant movement of boats and people, letting the noise and bustle of the city wash over him. There had been a pretty constant stream of visitors since his return and he hadn't had much time to relax. People on the dock had dropped in to welcome him. Mike had been back several times, and most of the guys from the squad had dropped by to say hello. They had all made it clear they would love to have him come back, but he still wasn't ready to think about that. Didn't know if he ever would be.

The docks were crowded, and for the first time in a week, the clouds lifted and sunlight gilded the water. It reflected off the rigging and shone along the railings, bringing the marina to life. It warmed the flowers that filled the planter boxes on the houseboat moored in front of him and danced across the lawns that edged the waterfront. It shone on Claire's hair as she walked down the ramp, and as he watched her walk along the float toward him he felt a smile growing from somewhere deep inside.

“Hi,” she said, looking up at him. “Any openings for a deckhand?”

“Nope,” he answered, the smile now encompassing his whole being. “But I do happen to have another position open if you're interested, and I think you might be perfect for it.”

She laughed. “Oh yes, I'm interested,” she said as she reached out her hand and let him help her aboard.

Special thanks to Bruce, Vivien, Michael, Pearl, Barb, and the wonderful people of Alert Bay, Klemtu, and Bella Coola, all of whom have taught me more than they could ever imagine.

Thanks also to Lynne, Virginia, Gale, Margie, Marci, and Ada for their gentle prodding.

And to all my relations:
gilakas'la
.

R.J. MCMILLEN
has written for various publications, including
Pacific Yachting
,
Greyzine
, and
Season Magazine
. She is a traveler: a nomad of sorts. Born in England and raised in Australia, she spent three years working in Greece before meeting her Irish Canadian husband and moving to Canada. Three children and seven grand-children later, she now divides her time between British Columbia and Mexico, where she shares a house with four dogs, several noisy parakeets, and an ever-increasing number of fish.

The Corpse with the Emerald Thumb
by Cathy Ace

A dream vacation at a Mexican beach resort swiftly dissolves into a nightmare for criminologist and foodie Cait Morgan when her significant other, Bud Anderson, is wrongly arrested for the murder of the local florist, a gifted plantswoman.

With Bud's freedom, and maybe even his life, at stake, Cait has to fight the clock to work out which member of the small Mexican community might have killed the respected florist, and why. Investigating under the watchful gaze of the local police, Cait has to keep her relationship with Bud a secret, and she soon discovers she's not the only one with something to hide. Peeling back layers of deceit to reveal even more puzzles, Cait struggles with a creeping sense of unreality as she desperately tries to save Bud . . . and, ultimately, herself.

The third book of the beloved Cait Morgan Mysteries,
The Corpse with the Emerald Thumb
travels to the idyllic Mexican countryside and a tequila plantation as Cait races to clear her partner of murder.

A Quiet Kill
by Janet Brons

The head of the Canadian High Commission's trade section is found brutally clubbed and stabbed to death in the Official Residence in London, England. Scotland Yard's Detective Chief Inspector Stephen Hay is called in to investigate, while Royal Canadian Mounted Police Inspector Liz Forsyth is dispatched from Ottawa. There are a number of suspects from the diplomatic community: the High Commissioner and his beautiful wife, the smarmy head of the political section, the charming military attaché, the high-strung Deputy High Commissioner, and a deeply troubled engagements secretary. After a second murder, the case takes a turn and radical environmentalist Dr. Julian Cox becomes a suspect.

A Quiet Kill
is the first in a new mystery series featuring Forsyth and Hay. Paired up for the first time, the two investigators must overcome insecurities and suspicions as they find themselves wading into the murky waters of the diplomatic community and navigating through a melee of international conspiracy, nationalism, and murder.

The Glacier Gallows
by Stephen Legault

Tragedy strikes during an expedition through Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park. At the base of a windswept ridge that forms the border between Canada and the United States, Cole Blackwater finds the body of his business partner and former rival Brian Marriott, a bullet hole in his head. Cole's long history of violence and his antagonistic past with the deceased put him in the spotlight of the murder investigation.

The fourth Cole Blackwater Mystery,
The Glacier Gallows
is a gritty, fast-paced mystery that will catapult the reader across North America, from Canada's Parliament Hill to Alberta's Porcupine Hills to Montana's Blackfeet Indian Reservation. Cole, his brother, Walter, and reporter Nancy Webber must race against time to learn who really wanted Brian Marriott dead and why, before Cole himself ends up in the gallows.