"Damn!" Vanessa looked around desperately. The pall of smoke was descending around them from above, while confusion spread along the dock. A fire truck was stopped behind the van at the top of the access road, lights flashing, blaring to get past. Two more fire trucks appeared behind the parked cars, hoists, and slipways in an adjoining yard, while figures ran ahead to open a gate connecting through to the quay behind the Shoals building. A fire tender launch was also moving out farther along the shore of the lake.
On the far side of the Dolores from the dock was a floating pier connected to the quay by a wooden bridge. Beneath the bridge, a narrow channel led through to the next basin, which fronted the adjacent yard that the fire trucks were moving through. Vanessa pointed.
"Never mind the motor. Just get us through there. There'll be a way out somewhere in all that."
"What then?"
"I don't know. One thing at a time, Martin."
With Payne paddling canoe fashion, they moved away from the stern through the smoke, under the bridge. Looking back, it seemed that the whole aft section of the Dolores was ablaze. Lines had been thrown from the quay to stop it drifting farther. More figures were jumping to join those in the water. As the inflatable came out behind the boats moored at the next dock, the sounds of approaching police sirens added to the whooping of fire trucks and wailing of the dock siren. As far as they could tell, their getaway had not been detected. Other small craft were putting out here and in the basin they had left, and nobody seemed to have singled them out.
Payne brought the craft to a wooden jetty leading to steps going up, and steadied it while Vanessa got out. He threw a turn of line around one of the mooring stanchions and followed her up. At the top, Vanessa stopped dead, too stunned to say anything for several seconds.
Eric had arrived. Not fifty yards away, the maroon Jaguar was screeching to a stop among the other parked vehicles, trailing a procession of police cruisers flashing red and blue lights and making noise like a sabbath of banshees. Eric jumped out, and without waiting or even turning his head, strode through the gate that had been opened for the fire trucks, toward the commotion taking place at the back of the Shoals building, around the burning vessel. The police cars halted in disarray, doors flying open, uniformed figures leaping out and chasing after him.
"My God! What's happening?" Payne breathed. "How did he get here?"
Vanessa didn't answer as she took in the situation, her mind racing feverishly. Everyone was focusing on the burning boat and the crowd on the quayside in front of it. The Jaguar was in the next yard, outside that periphery of attention. She felt in her coat pocket. Her keys were there. She showed them to Payne and indicated the Jaguar with her eyes. He followed her glance, understood, returned a nod.
They walked across quickly to the car. Vanessa climbed into the driver's seat, closed the door, and started the motor. Payne dropped down in the passenger seat moments later, dripping and squelching. She backed up and turned, conscious of the risk that somebody left in one of the police cars might notice and intervene—but there was no other choice.
Nobody noticed, however. Vanessa kept her speed down as they left the dock area, then accelerated along Westlake not minding the direction, anything to get away from the general area.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Taki thought it was "sen-super-sational."
"Decidedly memorable," Kevin agreed.
Neither of them had seen a large ship afire before. Orange flames were consuming the stern and midships section, and a tower of smoke writhed upward and spread into the gray overcast of the sky. The rain farther south hadn't reached the north side of the city yet. Kevin could feel the heat beating at his face, even from the van, now down on the quay. Hoses were being directed into the blaze and over the as-yet untouched forward half from several fire launches on the far side as well as from trucks drawn up on the quay, but even so, every now and again something inside the boat would flare up or explode with a muffled concussion and cause a fresh outbreak.
Corfe was sitting on the tailboard of the van, looking exhausted, his bearded features suggesting something out of Hades in the flickering red glow from the police cars parked haphazardly around. The officer in charge had talked to Eric and was now supervising the questioning and note-taking going on among the yacht's bedraggled company, some wrapped in blankets, others being tended for scrapes and bruises by crew from the ambulances that had arrived in the wake of the police cars. Two other officers were talking to Ohira. Michelle was standing to one side with Eric. She had seemed confused and disoriented when Kevin first emerged from the van, but was recovering rapidly. Kevin, preoccupied with the visual feast of the burning vessel, only partly heard what they were saying.
"Michelle, you should have told me! Do you think I couldn't have dealt with it, for heaven's sake?"
"We were going to. But we just wanted this final piece of evidence to show you, to clinch it. It wasn't exactly the kind of thing I'm used to springing on people every day."
"You make it sound as if I need some kind of . . . of support team to manage my life."
"But Eric, you do. You're in a different reality for most of the time. You need people around you to handle this one for you. Don't get me wrong—it's not a criticism. That's what lets you be what you are. But look at us even right now . . ." Michelle swept an arm, "standing here philosophizing, in the middle of what looks like an air-raid. Doesn't that underline what I'm saying?"
There was a short pause. Then Eric looked her up and down and asked, "Are you sure you're all right? You look as if you've been in an air-raid, anyway."
"I'll be fine." Michelle sighed. "Doesn't anybody around here have any coffee?"
Ohira turned from the open door of his car, a few yards away. "Just coming up." He produced a flask and some Styrofoam cups.
"I didn't know you read minds too."
Ohira grinned craggily. "Ancient Japanese custom."
"Eric?" Michelle inquired. He nodded gratefully. She took two of the cups, and held them while Ohira filled them.
Corfe accepted a mug of something from an ambulance man and shook his head in answer to some question. He seemed to be regathering his wits and showing more interest in what was going on. Kevin went over to him.
"Hi, Doug. Are you okay?"
"Aw, I figure I'll make it." Corfe took a long swallow from the mug, wiped his mouth with a knuckle, and looked at Kevin curiously. "So what happened to you down at the lab? When we couldn't get any answer on the phone, I was starting to get really worried."
"Oh, there was trouble. It's really been one of those days that you hear about."
"I thought some of Payne's people might have gone there."
"They did. But the Tacoma cops have got them now."
"Why were you stuck there? How come you couldn't decouple?"
"I'm not sure."
"Hell. . . . So tell me what happened."
Kevin frowned and tried to think back, but before he could go into it, Eric joined them.
"You're looking better, Doug. I think I'm just beginning to get an idea of how much I owe you. I—"
Corfe raised a hand tiredly. "Not now, Eric. There'll be plenty of other times for all that." He looked around them and shook his head. "I don't know. . . . How did you do it? I was trying all day to get the police to take it seriously, and they wouldn't even talk to me. You show up with a posse of them in tow. What's the trick? Scientific intellect? German charisma?" He frowned. "Come to that, when did you even talk to them? You couldn't have had time."
Eric grinned and accepted a cup of coffee from Michelle as she rejoined them. "I didn't have to. It's amazing what happens when you come up the Interstate at a hundred and ten. They appear from everywhere. You know that as well as I do, Doug. It works every time."
Corfe stared at him in astonishment. "You—" Then he caught sight of another figure close by. "Ah, Lieutenant Shelvy, I do believe. Lieutenant, let me introduce Ms. Michelle Lang—real and in the flesh
. Alive and well too, thanks to these guys."
The lieutenant held up both hands. "Okay, okay. All I can say is that situations like today aren't exactly part of the manual. What else can I tell you?" He looked away as another officer approached. "Excuse me. What is it, Des?"
"Everyone seems to be accounted for except two: the owner, Mr. Payne; and one of the guests, a Mrs. Heber."
"None of the boats picked anyone up on the other side?"
"No. I just checked."
Eric lowered the cup from his mouth and turned to stare at the inferno. "Oh, my God!" he whispered, genuinely horrified, despite the circumstances.
Shelvy's eyes flickered over him uncertainly for a second. "I take it she is your wife, Mr. Heber?" he said. His voice was professional, detached, but in an appropriately lowered tone. Eric nodded, his eyes invisible behind the flames reflecting off his spectacles.
There was a moment of heavy silence. Then Shelvy said, "Look, there's really nothing more you can do here. I understand what you people have been through, but we will be needing full statements and some other details cleared up back at headquarters. If there's any further news, you'll be informed right away."
Eric looked away, then nodded again. "Yes, of course. I understand. Will it be all right to use my car?"
"Sure. I don't think we need worry about that. You can follow one of our guys. Des, can you find someone to go back with Mr. Heber?"
"Sure." The other officer called to somewhere past the van. "Hey, Stan, can you get over here?"
"Kevin, Doug, Michelle, you can ride with me." Eric looked inquiringly at Shelvy. "I assume that's all right, Lieutenant?" Shelvy nodded, and then was called away to take a radio call. "Maybe you'd better stay with your uncle," Eric told Taki. Taki nodded. The officer called Des turned back to them.
"Which is your car, Mr. Heber?"
"Oh, it's back that way in the other yard—a maroon Jaguar." Eric indicated with an arm. They began walking in a group toward the gate. "What about the others?" he asked Des.
"Oh, they'll all show up there too in good time. It's gonna be a busy evening." He laid a hand lightly on Kevin's shoulder in a way that was intended to be comforting. "Sorry about your mom, son. But it's not all over yet. Give it a bit more time. You can never be too sure of these things."
"She's my stepmother," Kevin said.
"Oh. . . . Okay."
"Which way?" Michelle halted, then looked back at Eric.
Eric pointed, then stopped and looked about as if he might have made a mistake. He shook his head bemusedly.
"What?" Corfe said.
"It's gone."
Michelle looked around. "It can't be, surely not."
Eric pointed. "It was there. I'm certain of it."
Kevin walked forward and stared down at the space that Eric had indicated. A trail of puddles and wetness on the concrete led toward the edge of the quay. He followed it to the top of steps leading down, then turned and waved for the others to come over. At the bottom of the steps was a jetty with an inflatable outboard tied up loosely to a stanchion. Painted along the front was the name Princess Dolores.
Eric gazed at it, then back at where the car had been. He dipped his hand in his pocket and produced his keys. The others stared at them. Eric waited silently, inviting them to form their own conclusion.
If he still had his keys, it could only mean . . .
Vanessa clipped a red light at the west end of Nickerson Street, prompting a blast on the horn from a pickup that had been just moving off. "Ease up, for God's sake," Payne rasped at her irritably. "We're clear enough now. All we need is to get hauled up for a speeding ticket after all this."
"Who's left to give us one?" Vanessa shot back. "Every cop in Seattle is at the boat."
"That's still no reason to go asking for trouble."
She had headed westward on the south side of the Ship Canal not with any particular destination in mind, but simply to put distance between them and the Lake Union area. In fact, they would more likely want to end up going the other way, either to get on the Interstate or carry on across to Bellevue or Redmond. Not wishing to retrace her route now, she got into the lane for the Ballard Bridge in order to circle back on the north side. She drummed her fingers impatiently on the wheel while a Volvo dawdled in the approach ramp ahead of them, finally putting her foot down and cutting around it.
"For Christ's sake ease up!" Payne snapped.
"Martin, why don't you try thinking about what we're going to do, instead of carping at me all the time? If those fools of yours had known how to run a security business, none of this would have happened."
"My people? Hey, don't you go blaming them. You're the one who told them to bring her back to the firm."
"Did you expect me to wait until she threw a fit out on the street? There was no problem with that. What on earth possessed Phil to bring those things back with him to the boat?"
"That wouldn't have been a problem either, if you hadn't made them a present of the van."
"How was I supposed to know they'd just let Corfe walk in and take it? God, Martin, you call that security?"
"You were there; you were supposed to know what they were doing. If I was there, I would have known."
Vanessa gripped the wheel tight and released a long, exasperated sigh as she strove to control herself. They came off 15th onto Market, going east.
"Martin, this isn't doing any good," she said curtly. "We need to decide where we're going. What do you want me to do?"
Payne dropped the sodden handkerchief that he had been using to mop his hair and neck down onto the floor. "Get far away, of course. We'll need papers, some cash. . . . I need a change of clothes." He took his phone from his coat pocket, looked at it oozing water, and threw that on the floor too. "Take 520," he said as he reached to unhook the vehicle's phone. "We'll go to Bellevue and do it now, while everything's still up in the air. We'll probably have to get your papers and things too."
"Harriet will probably be there—the housekeeper."
"Well, it's not as if you need to ask her permission, Vanessa. Just take what you need and go. In fact, you could mention something about having to go up to Canada at short notice—that's what everyone will be expecting. Instead, we get an evening flight to El Paso, pick up a rental, cross into Mexico. Or we could make it Miami, hire a boat, and head for the islands." He looked over at her. She didn't speak. "Well, got any better ideas?" he challenged. Vanessa shrugged, shook her head. Payne punched in a number.
"Oh, Vogl, it's me. I'm on my way now, and I'll be needing some things in a hurry. First, a change of casual clothes and a weekend bag packed. Passport, personal documents, and ten thousand in cash. Spare pocket phone and the laptop. Got all that? . . . Yes. . . . No, I don't know how long for. And if anybody calls, you haven't heard from me, okay? . . . Ten minutes at most. . . . Fine." He hung up.
"I still don't understand how he—the boy—got out of that coupler," Vanessa said. "I had it locked out. There's no way he could have decoupled from the inside."
Payne made a face. "Why ask me? That's your department. Those Japanese must have gone there and gotten him out."
"The same question applies. How could they have known he was there? He had no way of communicating."
"All I know is that somebody must have got in the way of the two guys that Andy sent down there." Payne waved a hand. "What were they looking for in Phil's office? If it was the codicil, how did they know about it? How does Eric show up here instead of where he was supposed to be? There's a whole lot been going on that we don't know about, Vanessa."
They were now going south on Roosevelt, approaching University Bridge. The road immediately in front was clear, but the cars farther ahead were slowing to a halt before the warning barrier, which was down and flashing red lights. To the left, a schooner was moving out along the channel, sails furled, running on its auxiliary engine. Beyond the barrier, the hinged center sections of the bridge had begun rising.
Vane
ssa emitted a vexed sigh and eased up on the gas.
"What's this?" Payne picked up a small object off the top of the dashpanel. For a moment, before touching it, he'd thought it was a wasp. It was about the same size and had yellow and black tiger stripes.
At the sight of it, Vanessa lost the control that she had been fighting to preserve. She had forgotten the mec. They were here too, in the car. In an instant, all her recollections of grappling with it and being cut to pieces came pouring back. She stabbed at the button to open the passenger-side window. "Throw it out," she shuddered.
"What? I don't—"
"Just get rid of it, Martin!"
And then something else, with wings, rose up from behind the seats and brushed her shoulder. Vanessa screamed and swatted at it with her hand.
Limenitis Lorquini, or Lorquin's Admiral, a common butterfly of western North America and Canada, dark blue and brown with white markings. Stirred by the rush of air, it fluttered, confused for a moment, and then vanished out the window. Payne laughed. "Just a bug, Vanessa. What's this? You're getting too jumpy. It's not like—"
He broke off as he saw her eyes widening in shock, her mouth open in a silent shout of protest, the look of horror spreading across her face. "What? . . ."
Vanessa raised her hand from the utility shelf between the front-seat armrests. Something was sticking to her palm—something black, long and pointed like an insect, sinister- looking. Most of its legs were missing or reduced to stumps. It was fastened to her skin by a sharp, needlelike sting attached to its partly severed head.
Payne shook his head. He knew, but his mind refused to accept. "No! Pull over. Stop the car. . . ."
Vanessa tried to speak but could only gurgle. The toxin was already taking effect. As the muscles in her leg contracted, straightening it against the gas pedal, her last voluntary act was to jog the wheel and avoid the line of stationary traffic. The windshield iced as they crashed through the barrier, accelerating hard.
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