Rogue Justice (19 page)

Moments later, Jia-li felt a surge of bodies shouting out questions so fast, they became little more than gibberish. And judging from some of the accents, it was clear many foreign reporters had already staked their claims. As she waded through the noisy throng, she spotted her producer, Jan, standing in front of the boat launch area. She was huddled beside a perky, bottle-blonde woman and a burly chap with short hair and a Fu-Manchu mustache.

The Lagranges were in their early forties and appeared to be a bit shell-shocked by the hubbub. Jia-li had insisted on doing the interview on location. Her news director preferred the controlled atmosphere of the studio, but had reluctantly agreed.

Ned, she had to admit, was probably right for a change.

Jia-li flashed her ID to a fleshy sheriff's deputy who didn't look old enough to shave. He immediately led her into a cordoned-off area where she was warmly greeted by the star-struck couple. She chatted them up as the crew made last-minute camera and lighting adjustments. Stepping away for a moment, Jia-li applied a final dusting of powder to her forehead, acutely aware that the King 5 feed would be picked up by the other networks and beamed to the world.

Grand opera on a global stage. Truly it was.

Then, at precisely five o'clock PDT, the interview began. Within seconds, the incessant babble around them stopped, and the massive crowd went pin-drop quiet.

Jia-li first tossed a couple of softball questions at Ted before asking him to set the scene. His face blushed scarlet as he explained how he'd broken away from hundreds of other boaters to search out the immense creatures. "We were about half an hour out and—"

"You, Jenny, and your two kids, right—Michael and Molly?"

"Yeah, the whole crew. Anyway, that's when we ran into a pod of gray whales, probably migrating to their summer feeding grounds up north. There were a dozen of them, maybe more, including two calves." Ted paused, took a deep breath, cleared his throat. "One of the bulls—I guess he thought we were going after the 'babies'—suddenly charged the boat. We were toast, I mean seconds away from being completely annihilated. Then the rogue whales showed up... and all hell broke loose."

For the next five minutes, Ted rambled on about his version of purgatory.

Jia-li waited for the right moment, then wrested back control of the mike. "Amazing," she said, while thinking...

Ted, you idiot, you almost got your entire family killed
.

"Yet with all that going on," Jia-li added, calmly, "You somehow managed to keep your wits about you and capture some great shots on your cell phone."

Three of the pictures, in fact, turned out to be remarkably clear and in focus.

"Beginner's luck," Ted replied, avoiding Jenny's glare.

As the now-famous photos flashed on the screen, Ted recounted what happened next. He explained that the rogue whales had isolated the attacking gray, later estimated to weigh thirty-five tons, then closed in for the kill—first by delivering a series of thundering body blows; next by covering its blowhole to cut off air supply; and finally by ripping open the skin with a barrage of precision, ax-like cuts. Ted equated the blistering noise to the crack of a thousand rapid-fire gunshots.

"And the speed and power?" Jia-li asked.

"Mind-blowing," Ted said. "Those beasts were moving so fast they looked like huge streaking shadows, big as the freakin' space shuttle. I know, I saw one up close."

Jia-li remembered the same frightening sights and sounds as she replayed in her mind the gruesome attack on the pirates just three days earlier. And Ted was right about the space shuttle. She too had stood next to one of those complex machines, in 2011, while covering Endeavour's final mission into space. It was huge, weighing more than eighty tons. Yet even something that massive did not compare to the monster orcas.

Ted continued. "The kids were screaming, Jenny was screaming, hell,
I
was screaming."

Jia-li glanced over at Jenny who had remained silent the entire time, letting Ted do the talking. A sullen look in her deep, blue eyes told Jia-li that she still harbored deep-rooted fears. Still, when it was her turn to speak, she described the final, excruciating moments of their ordeal with surprising clarity.

"I remember reciting the words to the Twenty-Third Psalm," Jenny said. "The boat was getting tossed around like a toothpick in a tornado and I just kept saying those blessed words over and over, 'The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want... The Lord is my Shepherd...' Anyway, it all happened so fast. And when it was over, the seas suddenly went calm."

"Really. And then what happened?"

"A miracle," Jenny said, her eyes clouding up. "I absolutely believe that. One of the giant killer whales surfaced maybe twenty feet from the boat. I mean it was looking right through Ted and me. The kids too. It was terrifying... yet incredibly peaceful at the same time. I can't begin to..." Jenny paused, tears now streaming down her cheeks. She tried to continue, but couldn't find the words.

"I understand," Jia-li said, glancing down at the monitor. But did she really? As the picture cut to an extreme close-up of the whale's piercing black eye, she stared straight ahead unmoving. She knew she was fighting off her own emotional meltdown. After several anxious moments, she wrapped the interview, thanking the Lagranges for their courage and candor. Jia-li then tossed the feed back to the station. Her mind was reeling now and, despite the heat generated by the TV lights, she felt cold and clammy. She too had experienced an eerily similar encounter with the rogue whales, her own life up for grabs.

What did it all mean? What message were they trying to convey?

Chapter 21

31 March, 5:30 PM PDT

Sequim, Washington

A few miles east of the media circus, Zora arrived back at the Kincaid's lovely Victorian home after taking a long walk along the shore. She'd needed some time to clear her head and Katrina had happily given her the space. They sat down at a wicker table on the wrap-around back porch, their faces warmed by the soft afternoon sun slanting across the lawn. The sound of lazy waves lapping against the pebbled beach was almost hypnotic. Katrina poured two glasses of Chianti from a bottle labeled Ruffino Riserva Classico and offered a toast.

"To friendship, in good times and not-so-good times," Katrina said.

They clinked glasses.

Then, with a sense of urgency, she added, "So talk to me, girl. What's going on?"

Zora fingered her wine glass, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "Okay, look. I don't mean to be melodramatic here, but I'm in a hell of a jam."

"No kidding," Katrina said. "It's written all over your face. What kind of jam?"

Zora paused for a long moment then repeated the entire convoluted story, leaving nothing out, virtually word for word as she'd told it to Tanner Lockhart the day before. After hearing her out, he'd immediately cancelled a lucrative charter into one of the remotest fishing outposts on the planet, agreeing to fly Zora south instead. And for that she would be forever grateful.

Katrina now responded much as Lockhart had, with shock and surprise. She hiked her eyebrows and cocked her head. "The killer whale, is it male or female?"

"Male."

"How big?"

"Five tons," Zora replied. The thought sent shivers up her spine. She had wrestled with plenty of ornery swordfish in her day, including a few four hundred pounders, but this was very different.

Katrina threw her a curious look. "Wow! That's a huge animal, Zora."

"Tell me about it."

"I don't suppose this guy gave you a name, told you who he worked for, why he wanted the whale?"

"No, no, and no."

"Did he say where you were to drop it off?"

Zora shook her head. "Nope, nothing about any of that. He gave me an untraceable number to call once I pull everything together. He said I'd be given the specifics then."

"Okay, what am I missing here, Zora? I know damn well you'd never do this for the money, so it's gotta be something else."

Zora reached into her back pocket, pulled out a sheet of paper, unfolded it, and held it up.

Katrina stared at the photo for a long moment, reacted with a start. "Jesus... your mother. Don't tell me these monsters kidnapped her?"

"No, but I was told if I didn't play along, I'd never see her alive again. Not in so many words, but that was clearly the message."

"I don't believe it. Who
are
these people, Zora?"

"No idea. They play for keeps, though, I can tell you that."

"I'll say. I take it you haven't called the cops?"

"No. There's not a damn thing they can do. It's like those domestic violence cases you read about. Some lunatic becomes obsessed with his ex, threatens to kill her if she doesn't take him back. She knows he's trouble with a capital T, but the police can't arrest him until he actually commits a crime. By then, it's usually too late." Zora cringed at the thought of her mother—confused, alone, and scared out of her mind—being hauled off in the night by a couple of heartless thugs. And who would be there to stop them? Certainly not the security guards at the nursing home. They earned ten bucks an hour, carried no weapons, and looked like a collection of floats in the Macy's Day Parade.

"Okay, makes sense," Katrina said. "What about a private eye, somebody like that? Maybe he could sneak your mother out of the home, take her somewhere safe until all this blows over?"

"I thought about that too, Katrina, but the place is being watched around the clock. The man said if I even so much as
contact
her there, they'll know. I believe him."

Silence.

Zora looked up a second later, maybe two. Katrina's face was so ashen she looked anemic. "What is it, what's wrong?"

More silence.

Finally, Katrina spoke. There was just the slightest hesitation in her voice. "You're not going to believe this, but I think I know what's going on here."

Zora leaned forward, both elbows on the table, her hands trembling. "You do?"

Katrina took another moment then explained all that had happened at KOS-Seattle beginning with Samson's illness, his all-but-certain fate, and finally the forty-eight hour window of time she'd reluctantly granted Colby Freeman.

"Holy shit!" Zora exclaimed, suddenly riding a wave of adrenaline. "That can only mean these greedy bastards—"

Katrina nodded. "Yeah, after Samson dies, they're planning to secretly dispose of the body and replace him with another orca. That's gotta be it—and it's
insane."

"But possible," Zora said.

"I don't know, I guess so. If it all happened at night. Listen, you mentioned the capture part, but did the guy up in Sitka say anything about dealing with a deceased whale?"

"No. Like I said, he told me I'd be given further instructions as soon as I made all the arrangements."

"When will that be?"

"Soon, I hope. My crew is flying down tonight, and I'm meeting another friend in an hour in Port Angeles. His seiner's in dry dock at the moment. If I can negotiate a short-term lease, we'll be good to go."

"You know you're playing with fire here, Zora," Katrina said, her voice barely above whisper. "These are incredibly powerful animals, like I have to tell
you
that."

"Believe me, I get it. But that creep I met the other night knew everything about me except for the goddamn brand of underwear I had on. And maybe he knew that too. So, no matter how you cut it, Katrina, it all comes back to one thing. These people are capable of anything, and that includes hurting my mother, maybe worse."

Katrina shook her head. "What about this? What if I call the reporter in Seattle? She could expose these monsters for who they are and—"

Zora cut in. "They, Katrina? Who are
they
? Right now there's no proof these two situations are related, none at all. So who exactly would we be exposing? Besides, that's a risk I just can't take. Would you if it were your mother?"

Katrina thought about that. "No, no I wouldn't."

They sat for several minutes without speaking. Then Zora slumped down in her chair, frustrated and angry. She drained the last of her wine and said, "You know something? Maybe this isn't such a good idea. I could be implicating you in a serious crime. It could ruin your career, everything you've worked for. Maybe I should—"