“You say he’s dangerous.” Walker looked dubious. “Looks like a skinny little guy to me.”
“Lunatics come in all shapes and this one is a particularly nasty brand of crazy. Okay. Let’s go.” Alex stopped halfway to the door and threw Hunt the keys to the ERT vehicle. “Pull the car around. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Everyone left the room. Alex waited until he heard them exit through the main door at the end of the hall.
“Just so we’re clear about communications. You’re still in contact with the Tanu on one of the bands?”
“Haven’t lost that yet,” said Stuart.
“And Brandeis and the ERT have their dedicated coms.”
“They do.”
“What about the ERT aboard the Tanu?
They must be within a certain radius for the inspector to be able to communicate with them. So far so good. Our cell and SAT phones are still down,” Kumari added, “and we don’t anticipate they’ll be up again until the storm’s over, so once you’re in the field, you’re on your own.”
“Copy that,” said Alex. He left the room and ducked into the room opposite, pulled out his burner and accessed the protonmail account. Nothing from wikem since he’d posted that Harvest had been spotted. He hoped that he wasn’t out on the water trying to chase it down. He was beginning to like the guy.
Alex left the motel and joined Hunt in the black SUV idling at the entrance. They left the parking lot and Hunt turned onto the street. The back end of the SUV slid sideways but he got it under control.
“It’s not far,” said Hunt. Famous last words around here, thought Alex.
Chapter 27
The lifeboat twisted back and forth, caught in a crevice between two rocks. Each time it heaved, the women without seats grabbed at whatever they could. If they didn’t, they were thrown through the air, colliding with each other or the nearest wall. Some were crying. Some were yelling at the hapless sailor who had steered the lifeboat onto the rocks. The ice pounding on the roof above their heads was a cacophonous din that fed their collective fear. Winds that now gusted at eighty to a hundred miles per hour whipped the water into a frenzy. The boat broke free and slid a short distance before crashing into a rock that jutted from the middle of the shoal. It shuddered with the impact and rolled over on its side.
If they hadn’t been before, every one of them was now terrified, the women now on the bottom of the boat trying desperately to help those hanging from their seatbelts at the top. There was a dull, scraping sound as the lifeboat, caught between the rock face and the wind-swept waves, slid back and forth on its side.
As soon as the two lifeboats were in the water, Captain Donaldson had given the order to retreat to the lea between Smith and De Horsey Islands where he intended to wait out the storm. Miles away now, he was oblivious to the trouble the second lifeboat was in.
The Tanu’s radar operator informed Meighan that Harvest was moving steadily west toward the mouth of the Skeena River, and seemed to be heading for the strait between Smith and De Horsey.
“Looks like he’s heading to a bay on the south shore of Smith Island.” He pointed to two other blips on his radar screen. I’ve got two smaller boats heading toward the shore; I think they’re the lifeboats.” He pointed to one blip: “that one stopped moving a few minutes ago, that one is almost to shore. Two small boats were moored in the direction they’re heading but now, one of them is on the move; it’s heading out to sea.”
“Take us closer to the one that stopped moving,” said Kwan. The captain gave the order.
Kwan radioed the ERT on the deck that they were moving on a stationary boat and be ready for trouble.
The Tanu was nearly on top of the captive lifeboat before they had eyes on it. They watched helplessly as the storm pummeled the boat back and forth across the barely submerged shoal. And then a miracle happened. There was a momentary lull in the wind and in the trough created by the last wave, the lifeboat slid off the rock shelf. It bobbed in front of the shoal now, still on its side. There were only a few seconds of calm before the next big wave sent the bottom of the boat crashing against the outer edge of the rocks.
“Now’s our chance,” said Captain Meighan. “Let’s get that boat out of there!” He leaned into his mic: “Launch both inflatables. Now!” To Kwan: “If we can attach a couple of guy wires to the lifeboat, we can pull it away of the rocks and try to get it upright. Once we do that, we can get those women to safety.
Kwan looked worried. “Just so I’m clear. You want the ERT to attach those wires?”
“No Sergeant. We’ll take care of that.”
“We’ll accompany your men.”
“I’ll be glad when this is over,” said the Captain to Kwan’s disappearing back.
Kwan had other worries. Whoever was piloting the lifeboat was probably armed, and there might be others on board, also armed. Hopefully, their predicament was keeping them too busy to notice the rescuers’ presence.
The ERT joined the crew aboard the inflatables. They launched into the raging sea and headed for the lifeboat in trouble. As per their plan, they approached the troubled boat from either end. Once they were close enough to board, crew from the Tanu, all attached to lifelines, transferred to the side of the lifeboat. Ice was building up fast. The men clung to whatever was handy and propelled themselves as best they could along its icy surface. Once they’d attached towing wire to the heavy gauge berthing loops, they transferred back to the rigid inflatables and gave the signal to pull the lifeboat to safety. The wind was against them and at first, it refused to budge. But they took both inflatables to full power and little by little the lifeboat, still on its side, was pulled clear of the shoal. Once clear, the inflatables manoeuvred the lifeboat so that the top of it was taking the direct wind. Then the front inflatable changed direction and started towing in the same direction as the wind. It worked and the lifeboat righted itself. Once it was upright, Kwan’s inflatable pulled up to the back end of the lifeboat and his team transferred to it. They opened the back hatch and entered—guns drawn.
The ERT, armed to the teeth, are a scary sight. It was a safe bet that not everyone knew they were police and that they were there to help. Kwan quickly assessed the situation. The inside of the lifeboat was a long, dome-shaped room. Women were crowded into the seating on both sides; some stood in the narrow aisle. There was only one man, facing front in the pilot seat at the far end. Kwan started down the centre aisle as quickly as he could. It wasn’t a clear path and the women without seating scrambled to make way for him. The guy in the pilot’s seat was trying to raise someone on his SAT phone. Sensing something was wrong he turned in his seat just as Kwan arrived at his back. He moved to reach for something at his feet, but Kwan’s Heckler & Koch convinced him otherwise. He raised his hands, one hand still clutching his phone. One of the ERT retrieved the AK on the floor beside him.
“I’ll take your phone,” said Kwan. He handed it over.
“Cuff him and put him here, behind the chair.” When Kwan turned back to the cabin to assess the situation, he was greeted with smiles, tears, and spontaneous clapping. He smiled briefly in return before turning and dropping into the pilot’s seat.
“How many women do we have on board?” Someone did a head count.
“Thirty-nine, sir,” said one of the officers.”
“You’re wasting your time,” said the cuffed man from the floor. “You won’t get it started.”
Kwan tried anyway but didn’t have any luck. He pulled up Brandeis on their dedicated two-way.
“Inspector, we’ve secured a lifeboat that was hung up on rocks. Thirty-nine women aboard. Person at the helm is in custody. Engine has stalled out so we’re going to tow the boat back to the Tanu.”
“Good work, Kwan. We’ve had no sign of the fishing boat that fired on Desocarras.”
“Copy that. We picked it up on radar, but we don’t have eyes on it yet.”
“Weather force
d my pilot to land. There are two boats at the shore, moored to the dock. The other lifeboat and a fishing boat that Desocarras spotted earlier. On our last sweep, we noted a car is now on site. Just a minute.” There was a distant crackle of voices, a brief exchange and Brandeis was back. “ERT report that two transport trucks just entered the driveway. We’re moving on the property now,” said Brandeis, signing off.
Kwan gave the inflatables the all clear to tow. “Let’s get these women out of here.”
Chapter 28
Jonas Cartwright stood in the wheelhouse of a small fishing boat with two of his men. They’d arrived a few minutes earlier and were moored at his friend’s dock.
“Here comes trouble,” joked one of the guys, indicating a sedan fishtailing down the driveway toward them. “Where they been?”
“Doing something for Kirigin,” said Cartwright. He watched as the driver parked and two men emerged. Doing their best to shield themselves against the icy rain, they slipped and slid their way to the dock and onto the moored boat. They joined the three men in the wheelhouse.
“I only see one lifeboat. Where’s the other one?” asked one of the new arrivals.
“Not here yet. I sent Brad and Gunnar out to bring it in.”
“When?”
“Not long ago. Did you find the punks?”
“Oh yeah. We got ’em. We brought them to your place. They’re tied up in your back room.”
“Severall didn’t think they were a threat?” Cartwright was surprised.
“He wanted us to take care of them, but Kirigin wanted us here, to help you. Anyways, they were just a couple of scared punks looking for a place to crash.”
“Okay. Trucks will be here soon. Then we’ll get started.”
There was a muted knock against the hull of their boat. From one of the cabin windows, they caught glimpses of a fishing boat trying to dock beside them.
“Here’s Brad now.” Cartwright opened the cabin door to have a look and quickly shut it.
“I sent him out to bring in the rest of the bitches. Give him a hand docking his boat then get him the hell in here!”
That was easier said than done. Ice continued to form in layers and the dock was a sheet of ice. No one was dressed for the weather and everyone got thoroughly soaked.
“Where’s the lifeboat?” demanded Cartwright when everyone had joined him. “Tell me it’s right behind you.”
“Sorry boss,” said Brad. “Bad news. We couldn’t find the lifeboat. We zigzagged back and forth. Went out at least a mile. You said it was right behind the other one. It wasn’t.”
“Of course it was! They went into the water together. It must have got hung up somewhere!”
“The only place it would have run into trouble was the shoal about a mile out and we checked all around there. Nothing. I think someone else got the lifeboat.”
“What do you mean, someone else got it?”
“There was a chopper,” began Brad.
“Yes I know! SAR,” said Cartwright. “It circled around here a few times. We saw it too. Someone’s in trouble. No friggin’ surprise with this weather.”
“Gunnar fired on it,” said Brad.
An incredulous Cartwright whirled on Gunnar. “You did what?!”
“He come too close, boss! Just a few shots to scare him off. Didn’t want him to see the lifeboat.”
“Gunnar didn’t realize the chopper was government,” said Brad, scared.
“Sorry boss,” said Gunnar. “I din’t know.”
Cartwright was speechless. Rage and fear took turns playing out on his face. He pulled out his SAT phone but didn’t phone Kirigin. Still holding it, he looked around the room. He took the few steps to the wheelhouse door, yanked it open and looked at the bright orange lifeboat just out of reach. There was twenty thousand dollars in it for him; all he had to do was load them on the trucks. He looked at the sheets of rain cascading down, the ice that glistened on every surface. He turned to Brad.
“You’re sure if the missing lifeboat was out there you would’ve found it?”
“Course I’m sure. I’ve been fishing these waters for years. I’m telling you; someone has that lifeboat!”
“The cops have the lifeboat. And we’re fucked,” spat Cartwright.
“Kirigin is sure gonna be pissed,” said one of the guys.
“He’s the least of our worries,” said Cartwright, heading for the cabin door. “We’ve been made. We’re getting outta here now!”
“What about the bitches?”
“No longer my problem!” yelled the normally even-tempered Cartwright, already out the wheelhouse door, the other four right on his heels. Cursing and swearing, the five men scrabbled their way off the boat and along the dock to the icy shore and the cars.
Cartwright was ahead of the pack and reached the first car before everyone else. “We’ll take this car! No time to clean the ice off both,” he yelled to be heard over the din of the storm. He yanked on the front passenger door, but it was locked. “Unlock this fucking door now,” he yelled to the guy behind him.
“It’s not locked, boss. Must be the ice. Let me try.”
They had all reached the car by now except Gunnar and Brad. Just as he was coming off the dock and up a small embankment, Gunnar had slipped and fallen hard on both knees. Helpless, he slid into the icy water up to his thighs. When he saw Gunnar was in trouble, Brad stopped and pulled him out, nearly landing in the water himself. Gunnar was in rough shape. With Brad’s help he made it the last few feet to the car.
One of the guys had managed to get the back-left passenger door open. He was inside the car and had climbed over the driver seat to turn it on. Another guy had followed him into the car.
“Who has the fucking key?” yelled the guy in the driver’s seat. Brad had just made it to the back of the car. He followed the other two in and handed the key to the guy up front. The car turned over and started. He got the defroster going and tried the wipers. They wouldn’t budge; the windshield and the wipers were coated with a layer of ice.
“We don’t have time for this!” yelled Cartwright. “We have to get out of here now!” He slipped and slid his way around the back of the car to the open door. “One of you get in the passenger seat,” he yelled at Brad, who’d taken the back-corner seat and the fourth man, who’d taken the middle seat. He pointed at Brad. “You. You’re smaller.” The big man in the middle moved over to make room for Brad who was having trouble navigating the bulky consul. The big guy all but pushed him the rest of the way.
“Move over,” yelled Cartwright at the guy in the back seat, then jumped in. In his haste he nearly shut the door on Gunnar’s hand.
“Please boss,” begged Gunnar. Cartwright would have loved to leave him here in the rain, but he was a liability and he wasn’t leaving him here for the cops to find.
“Get in.”
Gunnar sat on the edge of the seat and lifted his right leg into the car, then pulled the rest of his body in before slamming the door.
“Now get us out of here!” yelled Cartwright.
“But, boss, the wipers aren’t working, and I can’t see!” The driver tried in vain to open his door.
“Let me out,” said Cartwright. Gunnar opened the door and pulled himself up and out of the car as fast as he could. Cartwright, right behind him, pushed him aside as he got out and slipped and slid his way to the front of the car. There was a repeat performance from Gunnar as he gingerly got back into the car and moved to the middle of the seat.
Cartwright leaned over the windshield and pulled out a set of keys. He positioned them so they poked out a little between his fingers and started pounding on the windshield on the driver’s side with the key ends. The windshield had started to warm enough that the ice gave under the pressure. Cartwright wasn’t wearing gloves and his hands were turning blue with the cold. He pulled his jacket sleeve down over one hand, then using the end of one of the keys, he pried small ch
unks of ice up until he’d created a hole for the driver to look through. He did the same to free the wipers at their base, then motioned to the driver to put them on. They flopped uselessly over the ice, but Cartwright reasoned that once the windshield was warm enough, the rain wouldn’t freeze when it hit. He pocketed his keys, slipped and slid his way around to the back door and jumped back in.
“Now get us the hell out of here!”
The driver put the car in reverse and tried to back up the grade and away from the dock. The wheels spun in place.
“What the hell’s going on? Do you want someone else to drive?”
“Car’s got no traction with the ice,” mumbled the driver. “Need studs.” He put the car in drive and just short of the dock he tried for a U-turn, hoping the downhill slope would give him a chance to get some speed up, but it was a useless gambit. After only a few feet, the car slid sideways, and the right-back wheel lodged into the dock. The driver tried rocking the car, but the wheels spun in place.
“Car won’t budge. I’m gonna need a push.”
“Like fish in a bowl,” said one of the ERT that had moved in quickly to surround the trapped vehicle, two to a side.
There was a knock at the driver’s window. The windows were glazed over with ice but four burly guys in full combat gear are hard to miss, even through a glaze of ice. He stared down the muzzle of a Heckler & Koch.
“Shit,” said the driver.
“We’re surrounded,” said Brad. “What the fuck!”
Another knock. On the passenger side this time.
“What do I do, boss?” Brad reached for the AK at his feet.
“Don’t be an idiot,” said Cartwright. “We’re surrounded. And outgunned.”
Cartwright cracked the door. “If you could just give me a moment to explain,” he started, but was quickly interrupted.
“Everybody out now!”
“This is the only door that opens,” said Cartwright.
“Out! Now!” said the officer. Cartwright emerged first. He was shuffled to the end of the car. While he was being frisked and handcuffed, another officer leaned in, his gun trained on the remaining perps while Gunnar made a slow and painful exit. Gunnar was shunted to the back and while the remaining three got out of the car, could be heard loudly complaining that he’d hurt his knees and wouldn’t be able to walk if he was cuffed from behind.
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