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Authors: Victoria Howard

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BOOK: Three Weeks Last Spring
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"Don't be to sure about that," she spat.
"I've still got a bruised wrist, remember.
Want to see it?"

 

Walker let
her go and strode to the doo
r, slamming it shut behind him.

 
Chapter Twenty
 

 

 

 

 

Skye
was
too startled by her response to Walker's kiss to move.
He

d caught her completely off guard.
It wasn't anger that made her body shake, but
a familiar shiver of awareness
.
A soft gasp escaped her lips as
her knees buckled, and
she collapsed
o
nto the sofa.

 

John stared at Skye and tried to judge her reaction.
Although her beautiful face was pale, there was a slight flush to her cheeks and her eyes sparkled.
Outwardly she appeared composed despite lashing out at Walker.
But he knew that insi
de she was seething with anger
or a far more primitive emotion
.

 

"What's this about your wrist?"
He rested a reassuring hand on each should
er, then took her hands in his.

 

Skye looked up.
"I'm fine."

 

"You don't look it and you haven’t answered my question."
He crossed the room and took up a position next to the fireplace.
"I can't believe the nerve of the bastard.
He keeps you holed up here for three days against your will, hurts you and then has the audacity to kiss you!
He hasn't touched you in any other way has he?
Because if he has—"

 

"John, don't even go there!
I'm fine.
I've got a slight bruise, that's all."

 

"The man should be locked up for the way he's treated you.
I hope you're not going to sit here and let him get away with this outrageous
behavio
u
r
.
You ought to have him arrested for kidnap and assault.
He can't go around treating people as
if he
i
s a law unto himself."

 

Skye looked away.
"John, forget it.
It was nothing.
No harm's been done."

 

"But—"

 

"I said forget it."

 

For a moment or two the silence between them hung heavily in the air. John gave Skye a sidelong glance.

 

"You're attracted to him, aren't you?
Look, Sweet Pea, it's nothing to be ashamed of.
Captives often become attracted to their captors.
Once the reality of the situation kicks in, you'll see that he means nothing to you.
I’m sure I don't need to remind you what happened last time you got involved with a Yank!"

 

"Stop before you say something you'll regret.
If anything happened, it's between Walker and me.
And if I choose to forget this ever occurred, that's my decision to make.
Besides, you don't know what you're talking about.
This situation isn't remotely similar to what happened with Michael.
And no matter how much you try to persuade me otherwise, I will not be repor
ting the matter to the police."

 

"If that'
s the way you want to play it."

 

"It is.
We have more important things to discuss—"

 

"Such as?"

 

"Such as whether we grant his request, and when was the last time you had a decent meal?"

 

"I ate in Seattle before I caught the connecting plane.
Stop trying to change the subject."

 

"John, the matter is closed."
Skye rose fluidly from the sofa and placed a hand on his arm.
"I know you have my best interest at heart, but we're both tired.
It's been a long day and I don't know about you, but I could do with a good night's sleep"

 

A smile crossed his face.
"Yeah, i
t has been a long strange day."

 

"What do you expect?
You're still on London time.
Let’s
call it a night and talk about whether or not we're going to help Walker in the morning?"

 

"Perhaps you're right, Sweet Pea.
Eight hours sleep wouldn't do either of us any harm.
We'll discuss things tomorrow, but I still say y
ou ought to report the matter."

 

***

 

A subdued Walker arrived at the cabin at noon
the next day
.
He knocked at the door, and was taken aback when Skye opened it.
Despite the tension of the previous days she looked as if she
ha
d
slept well
, which was more than he could say for himself.
He stood and stared, a slow smile spread across his face as he
took a frank and admiring look.

 

Unsmiling, Skye
stepped aside to let him enter.

 

"Do you want a coffee or should
we get straight to the point?"

 

"Coffee would be fine if there's some in the pot
, but d
on't go to any trouble just for me."

 

Moments later, Skye thrust a steaming cup into his hand
and
then sat down
opposite
him
.
Ridge
crossed the room
and
rested his thigh
on the arm of her chair.
He put his arm about her shoulder.
His message to Walker was loud and clear.
Hands off!

 

"Have you decided
if you're willing to help?"

 

"Assuming this software exists, and we're not admitting it does, give us three reasons why we should
,
" Ridge answered.

 

Walker took a sip of his coffee and gathered his thoughts.
"People who dump chemicals illegally not only risk their own lives, but those of others.
As I told you last night, luck has been on our side, and no one has gotten sick.
But it's only a matter of time.
Do you know what
a
high concentration of PCBs—?”

 

Skye interrupted.
"PCBs?
Could you put that into plain English for the
benefit of us computer geeks?"

 

"PCBs
or
polychlorinated biphenyls
,

are a family of chemicals for which there are no natural sources.
We no longer commercially produc
e them here in the US, but they a
re still out there.
They don't degrade readily and once released into the environment, they can easily enter the food chain.
They tend to accumulate in the fatty tissues of animals because they are stable in nature.
These accumulations increase as the animal moves through the food chain."

 

Ridge concentrated hard and did his best to absorb the information.
"Let me get this straight," he
sai
d.
"If
a seal
eat
s
fish that's been polluted, then
it
become
s
contaminated
too
.
The more fish
it digests
, the higher the concentration of PCBs in
its
body."

 

"Basically, that's correct."

 

"And what effect do these PCBs
have on the human population."

 

Walker inclined his head towards Skye.
"I'm glad you asked that question.
PCBs are highly toxic.
Acute exposure can cause tissue irritation.
High exposure can damage the liver, and possibly the nervous system and chronic exposure may result in reproductive problems and even cancers.
This is one group of chemicals you don't want to mess with.
Most companies behave responsibly when it comes to their disposal.
But now and again you come across a company which is less conscientious and which is not averse to a little illegal dumping.
Various countries have names for this.
I think you use the term ‘fly tipping’ in the UK."

 

"I've read about that," remarked John.
"But this still doesn't
explain why you want our help."

 

"My first task when asked to head up this investigation was to carry out autopsies on the fish.
From the chemicals found in their systems I was able to narrow the list of
companies
handling
them
down to seven.
All are licensed to dispose of PCBs.
One of them, a consortium headquartered here in the US, I ran into previously under very unpleasant circumstances.
At the time I was working in South America and, to cut a long story short, I had its operation there shut down for eighteen months while working practices and disposal methods were improved.
The company was heavily fined for illegally disposing of chemical waste and nearly ended up in the bankruptcy courts.
As a consequence, I'm not exactly very popular with their board of directors or shareholders.
Recently they've—"

 

"How do you know the same company is involved?" Skye asked.

 

The lines of concentration deepened along Walker's brow.
"I don't, for sure.
But ten months ago the directors applied for a permit to build a new plant in Anacortes, but it was refused.
I know, because I was the one who recommended the application be turned down on the grounds of previous poor management and disposal methods."

 

"But that still isn't proof they’re responsible," Skye insisted.

 

"You have to admit it's a pretty strong coincidence.
Shortly after permission was refused, contaminated fish started washing up on the mainland and here on the islands.
The chemicals are being dumped at sea.
Despite an extensive search, I've been unable to establish exactly where."

 

"Something like that wouldn't go unnoticed surely?
"
John said.
"I mean a vessel dropping cargo overboard would be bound to attract attention, especially in somewhere like Puget Sound where t
he shipping lanes are so busy."

 

"You
woul
d think so.
It's a huge area to cover and the coastguard is stretched as it is."

 

Skye's mind drifted back to the afternoon of John's telephone call.
An icy chill crawled down her spine.
The boat she’d seen had dropped containers of some description
overboard
.
What if they had contained chemicals?

 

"What sort of v
essel do y
ou think they
use?"

 

Walker thought for a moment or two.
"Certainly nothing that would look out of the ordinary.
Possibly a
fishing boat or a small
inter-island
cargo boat."

 

Skye cleared her throat.
"I saw a boat a few days ago.
I thought it a little strange, because I'd never seen a fishing boat
there
before.
It was a little way offshore, too far away for me to see clearly.
I assumed they were putting out some form of fishing equipment."

 

Walker barely managed to conceal his annoyance.
"This is private land and that extends to the fishing.
No one should be fishing in the cove—not even for lobster.
Was this before or after you found the fish washed up on the beach?"

 

"Before.
As I said, it was too far away for me to see clearly, but
t
he men on board seemed to be struggling to get whatever it was overboard."

 

"For Christ's sake!
Why didn’t you tell me?"

 

Skye lowered her eyes and studied her hands.
"You didn’t give me a chance to say anything.
And, as I said, I t
hought they were just fishing."

 

"You do
realize
that if you'd told me about this sooner that we might have been able to trace the vessel?
Of all the stupid, irresponsible—"

 

"Let's not get into a slanging match about who should have told who what," John interrupted.
"Assuming the stuff's being dumped at sea as you suspect, then surely it's a matter for the coastguard and the navy to sort out.
It certainly doesn't acco
unt for why you need our help."

 

Walker leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
"About the same time fish starting washing up on the island, I encountered problems with my computer systems.
At first, I thought it was purely coincidental, but now I'm convinced it's not.
Last week my offices were broken into, hence my hasty departure.
Among other things, slides I had taken as evidence were destroyed along with the relevant documentation.
Someone also accessed the computers.
What they didn't manage to destroy or delete, they infected with a virus."

 

Skye and John exchanged glances.
"Computers get infected with viruses all the time, mainly from attachments contained in e-mail.
It's possible
someone
downloaded an attachment which was infected
,
" John said.

 

"It's possible, but unlikely as the system is protected by anti-virus software.
And it doesn't explain why my offices were broken into.
"

 

"Supposing this consortium you mentioned earlier is responsible, why don't you just go and inspect their
plant and check their records?"

 

"Legally we have a duty to notify them of an inspection.
By the time all the paperwork has been issued they
woul
d have cleaned up their act
,
" Walker told them.
"I'm sure that whoever is
behind
the dumping knows of my involvement in the investigation and that they

re also responsible for the attacks on my company, which is why
I’d like
your help."

 

Skye thought back to something Walker had said earlier.
"The consortium, surely that isn't the only company you'v
e investigated over the years?"

 

A muscle flicked angrily at Walker's jaw.
"T
here are more than a few
companies
around the world
that
have me at the top of their hate list.
But this happens to be the only one in Washington State licensed to dispose of PCBs."

 

When Skye didn't respond, Walker stood and thrust his hands deep into his pockets.
He'd blown it.
It was obvious that Skye and her partner weren't going to help and yet he couldn't just give up, he had to find a way to persuade them.
As the minutes ticked by the tension in the room stretched ever tighter.

 

"You're welcome to review what's left of the evidence I've gathered, if it will help you
reach a decision
, but time isn't on our side.
If I'm going to stand a chance of catching these bastards, I need y
our help today, not next week."

 

When neither of them said anything he concluded that his final request for help was being denied, and deciding he had nothing to lose, he appealed directly to Skye for support.

 

"I owe you an apology," he began awkwardly.
"You turned up at the cabin just as things took a turn for the worse.
You seemed so antagonistic towards me that I assumed you'd been sent to watch me.
When I got to know you better I
realize
d
that I was wrong and you were simply here on vacation.
When I saw the computer code on your laptop, I'm afraid I put two and two together and didn't come up with four.
I can't
apologiz
e
enough for holding you here against your will, but you must understand that I felt I had no other choice.
Can fi
nd forgive me?
Will you help?"

 

Once again Walker managed to surprise her.
An apology was the last thing
Skye
expected, and from the expression on
Walker’s
face he was sincere.
S
h
e leaned back in her chair and looked at John questioningly.
She didn't know what to do.
On a professional note, helping Walker seemed the right decision.
Not only would it prevent an environmental disaster, but
it
could also save lives.
And there was no doubt that it would be good publicity for Dunbar and Associates.
However,
sh
e wasn't sure she could put her personal issues with him to on
e side.

BOOK: Three Weeks Last Spring
6.83Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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