Claire watched Lansdowne deflate. He nodded, and that was the end of the dispute.
Whitby broke the tension. “Lieutenant Commander, what do you think was in that boat?”
Claire turned to face Whitby and to block Lansdowne’s leer. “Hard to say, sir. It must have been quite valuable. The crew took on a navy warship. They had serious firepower with an RPG, and they knew how to defend themselves.”
“Speculate.”
“Can I ask you all a question first? How many kilos of drugs could fit on a ship like that? A fishing boat.”
Mr. CBSA spoke first. “A few hundred at least.”
“What would that be worth?”
MacKinnon said, “Tens of millions of dollars on the street. An impressive catch for sure.”
Claire looked at MacKinnon. “Do you believe that a drug gang would fight to the death to protect a shipment worth tens of millions of dollars?”
“What’s your point?”
“Why wouldn’t they just give up, throw their cargo overboard, or abandon ship? Why fight? Ten million dollars may be a lot, but it seems to me that amount would be small potatoes for a multinational drug syndicate. They’d recover the loss somehow.”
“It was drugs. Homeland Security says so,” Lansdowne said.
Claire grinned. “Do you always let them do your thinking for you?”
She heard a few snickers. Lansdowne’s look implied that he’d like to commit some form of serious, maybe sexual, violence. “It was drugs. Case closed.”
“If not drugs, then what?” said MacKinnon.
Whitby answered with a serious look, “Something worth a lot more.”
“What’s worth dying for?” Hall added.
The answer came to Claire immediately. “A cause.” Her sociology class replayed in her mind.
“You mean like global warming or save the seal pups?” said Lansdowne.
“Maybe, but the more I think about it, the more it seems to me that they reacted not so much to save profits but to save their cause, their fight.”
“Eco-terrorists, then?” MacKinnon said.
Whitby was nodding. “Sounds plausible. It wouldn’t be the first time radical environmentalists took on a navy. I’ve read that they’ve tussled with the Japanese navy several times.”
“But never fired an RPG at them,” added Hall.
Lansdowne leaned forward. “You can’t be serious. What would their mission be? Take down a navy vessel to save seal pups?”
“No, I think they were just unlucky with the weather, unlucky running into you,” Whitby said.
Claire stiffened. “No, sir, they weren’t unlucky. They weren’t sailors at all. Any sailor would have known about the storm and how to avoid it. These people sailed deliberately into the storm. They did it on purpose.”
Lansdowne flung his arms high. “So they’re crazy and amateurish.”
“I think they were hiding.”
Arms in the air again. “Jesus, why would anyone take a boat into a winter storm?”
Whitby seemed to be at a loss. “Research?”
“It could have been part of lying low,” Claire said. “Maybe they didn’t want anyone checking in on them or following them. A storm makes that all the more difficult.”
Whitby leaned forward, both elbows on the table, head cradled in both hands. “So if they were hiding, what was their mission?”
“Delivery of something very time sensitive. Otherwise they could have waited until after the storm. They saw it coming, but they had no choice. Their cargo had to be delivered on time. And unobserved.”
“Definitely dodgy,” said Lansdowne, checking out her figure.
“If they were eco-terrorists, it could be explosives. Maybe they wanted to blow something up.” Whitby looked at MacKinnon. “But you said their destination wasn’t Halifax.”
“If it’s time sensitive,” Claire said, “when does the clock strike zero?”
Whitby grinned and turned to face her. “That, Lieutenant Commander, is the right question to ask.”
“So what’s the plan, then?” Claire said.
Captain Hall nodded. “If it’s a cause, as you say?”
“They will try again. And soon,” Whitby said.
“And they’ll be more desperate than before,” added Claire.
Hall said, “When they move, the navy boxes them in. RCMP or Border Services picks them up. If they’re found in HRM, you nab them.” He pointed at MacKinnon.
Nods all around. Lansdowne continued leering at her. She knew what he was thinking.
Hall looked across the table at Claire. “Now you know what to do.”
Keeping Lansdowne in her view, she said, “I certainly do.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
TOUESNARD LEAPED FROM the sofa and rushed to the door, past Daniel, scattering dozens of papers with notes about Forrestal’s curious background on the floor. “Someone’s out there.” He pointed to the door and warned Daniel to crouch low and behind the wall into the bedroom. Touesnard hugged the wall beside the door, pistol in hand.
“It’s me. I’ve got coffee.” Daniel recognized MacKinnon’s tired voice. Touesnard holstered his gun in relief then opened the door.
Daniel gathered the leaves of paper and stood from the table as MacKinnon lumbered into the room. “Now you come to see me?”
MacKinnon was looking quite pleased with himself. He held a coffee in one hand. “Busy morning. Perry is out of intensive care. We’ll get an update in a day or so.”
Relief washed over Daniel. He felt as if he owed Perry his life. “That’s wonderful news.” He noticed Touesnard’s muted response. “Did you know him?”
“Not really. Poor dude.”
MacKinnon pulled off his coat and dropped his notebook on the little table still covered with empty pizza boxes. “We have work to do. The best thing we can do for him is to find his assailant.” He let out a long sigh as he sat down in the chair. “In the meantime, you might find this interesting.” He opened his notebook. “Forensics believe that the gun that was used to shoot at your car was the same type as the one that killed the hotel manager.”
Daniel raised his eyebrows.
“So there is someone trying to kill any potential witnesses to the Forrestal murder,” said Touesnard.
MacKinnon nodded. “And we have our first lead in the case. Last night, I spoke on the phone with Forrestal’s lawyer and a woman named Gabrielle. She claims to be Mr. Forrestal’s ex-wife.”
“I thought Forrestal wasn’t married?” Daniel threw MacKinnon a quizzical look.
“They weren’t legally, but she said they’d been together for six years. Anyway, she was contacted by someone saying he was a cop looking for our Mr. Forrestal.”
Touesnard shook his head. “Not a cop?”
MacKinnon snorted. “Of course not. No record of this guy anywhere.”
Daniel said, “So someone was looking for him. To kill him?”
MacKinnon hunched his shoulders. “Whoever it was, he was a pro. Pretended to be a cop. Must have done serious research to find the ex-girlfriend.”
“So who was looking for him? A pissed-off business partner?”
“No idea. The lawyer didn’t say much except that the value of his assets had yet to be determined. He was very cagey and vague.”
“If we only knew what assets he had.”
“We’ll find a way. What have you found?”
“Nothing earlier than twelve years ago,” said Daniel. “There’s no trace of him before he started his company.”
Touesnard nodded. “Calgary Police are checking. They’ll let me know what they find.”
“So there is more to him than we thought.” MacKinnon crossed his arms.
Touesnard’s phone chimed. He read the message. “I had a constable do some more digging into that Cayman Island account of yours.”
Daniel glowered.
MacKinnon looked at Daniel as Touesnard said, “The money was wired from another account in the Caymans. But we can�
�t identify the owner. They have strict privacy laws down there to prevent us from finding out who the account is registered to.”
“It’s not mine.” Daniel crossed his arms. “So let’s see if I understand what’s going on. There is a killer out there trying to eliminate any witnesses to Forrestal’s murder, and I seem to be the last one alive. Forrestal might have been killed for a deal gone bad. A deal that we can’t find. He might have a family, at least one former girlfriend, but he just appeared out of nowhere twelve years ago. And someone wired ten thousand dollars from one Cayman Island bank account to another one with my name on it.”
MacKinnon rocked back and forth in his chair, keeping his gaze on Daniel. “I’ll contact our financial crimes unit to figure this out. But it will take a while to get an answer. They’re pretty overwhelmed with work.”
Daniel picked up his phone. “Don’t bother. I know someone who can give us answers faster.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
GARTH FELL INTO HIS SEAT at the front of the bus, exhausted from the mounting pressure of the non-stop tour. He’d hardly slept, and he cursed the rising sun under his breath. The campaign would soon reach its climax at the sold-out spectacle at Rexall Place in Edmonton on Sunday night. The Saddledome speech last night had garnered all of the right headlines. “Premier Confident of Victory.” “Brewster Nation-Building Speech Caps Successful Campaign.” “What to Expect in an Independent Alberta.” “Americans Interested in New State.”
The key op-eds were now in and they were positive. Both the Calgary Herald and its sister paper, the Edmonton Journal, argued for a cautious Yes vote. Garth knew that this was a major victory for the premier. The media initially thought the referendum was political suicide. They called it unwinnable, especially when those advocating for independence were being confronted with the overwhelming power of the federal government, which would naturally argue for the No side. But Ottawa had been reassuringly silent on the key points in the campaign. The Feds didn’t argue about Alberta’s ability to go it alone. Nor did they question any of the economic arguments about diversification away from oil revenue dependency. The Conservative federal government wasn’t too happy about the referendum; as the ideological twin of the Alberta Conservatives, they seemed to participate only grudgingly, trying half-heartedly to support the No side and preserve the Confederation they were constitutionally bound to protect.
Ever the practical campaign manager, Garth couldn’t take chances, though. He had to plan for the worst possible scenario and, at least officially, hope it would never arise.
Alberta flashed by outside the bus window. They continued their way north toward the provincial capital. Each flash of light between the long periods of darkness drew him closer to the final goal, to final victory. Except that he knew that even this victory wouldn’t be the end of the struggle. It would be just the start of building a new country. His job would be to put in the foundation pieces of the nation.
What does every nation need? A government, laws, diplomatic recognition, maybe even a currency. Brewster had other people to arrange those parts. Garth had a special mission for a special piece of the puzzle of state. It was especially sensitive. Done correctly, the citizens of the newly independent Alberta would never even know about its existence, but if done incorrectly, he could see armed intervention from both Canada and the United States. The stakes were high, and he had to get it just right.
The premier stormed toward him from the back of the bus. “You’re not cleaning this up too well.”
“Wait for the headlines. The local ones are good. The No side is being blamed for the disturbance at the protest in Halifax.” He rubbed his eyes.
“Get over there and fix it.”
“The final loose end is being taken care of as we speak. And you need me here on the campaign trail.”
“If you don’t clean this up, there won’t be any campaign trail left.”
THIRTY-NINE
DANIEL SWIPED SEVERAL TIMES through his contacts until he saw the name Lu Xiao Ping. He smiled, remembering their special relationship — forged across numerous business deals, some very rewarding, others harrowing disasters — and his final mission where he crossed a personal Rubicon he thought was inviolable. He had vowed never to kill, a vow he had been forced to break.
Then he dialed and waited for a voice to answer in a time zone twelve hours ahead.
“Wei?” Her voice sounded tired and warmly familiar, even after so many years.
“Xiao Ping? It’s me, Daniel. Daniel Ritter.”
Several seconds passed. “Well, well, Daniel.” A long pause before she said, “In trouble again?”
He smiled. “Sorry for calling you so late. Yes, I need your special access once again.”
“Hmm. And what will it be this time?”
Daniel glanced at MacKinnon, who sported a surprised look. “Dinner at the Hyatt Beijing?”
“We did that already. How about Hong Kong? The Peninsula?”
“Good choice.”
“Who will be paying this time?”
“This one’s company-free.”
“So you’re still retired?”
He cracked another smile. “True. I’m a professor now. I’m respectable. I teach. I write academic papers.”
“Are you saying you’re harmless now?”
“I’m trying to be.”
A pause. “Is it working?”
“Until yesterday, yes.”
“What happened?”
He took a big breath. “It’s complicated. Let’s just say I’m under police protection now.”
“How ironic.”
“Like I said, I’m really trying. Can we change the subject?”
“Get to the point.”
“Do you still have access to banking information for private clients?”
“For official use only, Daniel.” He could hear her stir in her seat as she thought. “Are you retired, or aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m retired. But I need to understand all of the banking details for a Canadian dealmaker. Patrick Forrestal.” He spelled out the name.
“Who is this person?”
“Was. He’s dead, and I need to find out why.”
“Not because of you, I hope.”
“Of course not.”
“Another case of financial foul play?”
“I don’t know.”
“An unhappy customer?”
“That’s our working hypothesis.”
“‘Our?’ Is it connected to your police protection?”
“Oh, most definitely.”
“I’m intrigued.”
“I’ll tell you more when you call back with the goodies.”
“Nice to work with you again, Daniel. I hope it’s as productive as our last assignment in Hong Kong.”
A smile spread across his face. That assignment involved helping a Canadian auto parts assembler that suspected their Chinese supplier of embezzling, skimming at least 20 percent off the top of any contract. Calls to the Chinese authorities went nowhere. So the Canadian company’s CEO called around for someone who could manage the labyrinth that was the Chinese business world. They hired Daniel, through his consulting firm, to hunt down who was doing the embezzling. He and Xiao Ping caught the executive vice-president of the Canadian company receiving fat envelopes of U.S. hundred-dollar bills from the owner of the Chinese firm. It turned out that the VP had also sold company technology secrets to the Chinese.
“He was so surprised to see us,” said Xiao Ping. “Just another case of corporate and security espionage, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Daniel, “we finally got to do both of our jobs at the same time.”
“A very satisfying case, Daniel.”
“Can’t hide from us.”
The man was serving twelve years in a federal prison in Manitoba, Daniel recalled. “Can’t hide from you.” They even got a special commendation for their work from the minister.
“Ready for another one?”
She paused. “It has been a bit quiet recently. Maybe I have a bit of free time.”
“Can you also check a bank transfer between two banks in the Caymans? I’ve got the SWIFT code of the receiving account. It’s apparently in my name.”
“You getting greedy?”
“Believe me, it’s not mine. But someone set it up to make it look like mine. I want to know why and who is responsible.”
“No problem.”
He emailed her all the information MacKinnon had.
“Call me when you have something.”
“Will you be in town anytime soon?”
“Not for a while, unfortunately. You coming back home for a visit?”
“My posting is for another year.”
“It would be nice to see you again. The Peninsula, Hong Kong, when I’m back?”
“Or at the Château Laurier when I get back.”
“Either way, I’ll look forward to it.”
He remembered her smile, confidence, and curves. They made a great team. Both on and off duty. Of course, that was before Vanessa. Before he knew why he was doing what he did. And before Emily, who was now thousands of kilometres away.
FORTY
CLAIRE SWIVELLED IN HER captain’s chair and swore under her breath as Brett Lansdowne lectured her again on the radio. “Just keep them from escaping. We’ll keep them on our side of the border. They won’t be breaking any U.S. laws, just ours.”
With her command reinstated, she had crash-sailed the Kingston overnight, only to putter off the east side of Grand Manan Island at the entrance to the Bay of Fundy, the shortest sea path between Maine and Canada. She wanted to be closer to shore, but Lansdowne valued concealment and the chance to surprise the suspects. The Kingston had to remain invisible.
She had blown a gasket when Captain Hall ordered her to support a CBSA mission to capture the smugglers. Her superiors had wind of a second attempt, somewhere in southern New Brunswick. Of course, that would put her too close to the blowhard Lansdowne, who said, “Your orders are to stay put and let the professionals deal with the smugglers. Right?”
“Yes.” She crushed her teeth as she said it. Idiot. Border Services should let the RCMP take the lead. The Mounties had more resources in the area. Lansdowne would be too slow to catch the smugglers in their little dinghy, but he was too arrogant to see it. She was sure he would never let a woman tell him what to do.
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