“Yeah, me. I’ll take off my gun and gear just in case. Andy,” he called out, “ you’re our sharp-shooter. Watch that shoreline closely in case the perps are in there and ready to shoot at us. Ajay and I will try to handle the rescues alone.”
The Seaswirl and the chopper were downwind of the island and fairly close to shore, so the waves were more confused but not as rough as they were in open water. Anderson went for the boat first. It was still busy turning itself into a lump of molten plastic, but the two officers were clearly visible in their lifejackets about 150 feet downwind. “Stand by, crew, coming alongside to starboard. Put down the ladder, both men look okay to board.”
Well, not quite. One officer had a severely damaged left arm where a bullet had shattered his elbow and would have a problem with the ladder, but with help from his crewmate and the sergeant he was onboard and sitting on the bottom of the well deck in less than a minute, followed by the other officer. Anderson shoved the throttle forward and made for the helicopter.
As Anderson manoeuvred The Beaver along the downwind side of the upside-down machine, he fervently hoped there were no stray pieces of rotor blade close to the surface that could get caught up in the boat’s propeller. Both men were in lifejackets, but one was unconscious and the other looked exhausted. Sergeant MacLeod went into the water with the horseshoe and with the other officer’s help slipped it over the unconscious man’s head and under his arms. Anderson left the boat in neutral and ran back to help hand-over-hand the man up the side, across the gunwales and into the boat. By the time they had him settled in “rescue position” on the well deck floor, the other officer had made it up the ladder, followed by the sergeant.
The launch had drifted clear of the chopper so Anderson pulled a little further off the shore of the island and aimed into the wind at dead-slow speed until next steps could be decided. He called to Ajay to grab the blankets and pillows from the forward cabin to make the injured men more comfortable and keep them warm to guard against shock.
The sergeant flipped off the radio speaker and called in to Maple Falls: “Daniels? It’s MacLeod here. Good news, all four men rescued, bad news is we do need the medevac – one man is walking but has a smashed elbow, the other is still unconscious and we don’t know why yet. No, we’re over two hours from any landing so the medevac team will probably have to use the basket to get these guys off. The other two officers are tired but in good shape, so we can keep them onboard for now. Huh? Yes George we have lots of donuts... yeah, I know – it’s all about sugar, right? And the medevac is about thirty minutes out? Good, we’ll be ready. Do you need our coordinates? Okay, close enough. Tell me, we can see the other EC135 flying around up there – what is he seeing?”
The chopper pilot broke in: “I was staying quiet until you had the rescue and medevac stuff settled. We don’t see much at the moment, except two men picking up heavy sacks scattered around the east end of the island and taking them to their boat. From up here it looks like one guy is doing most of the work... the other one is just walking around close to the boat. He’s carrying something like an AR15 slung across his back. Not sure if he’s even seen us yet. And one more thing – there is a really fast pleasure boat approaching the west end of the island from the north – general direction of Spirit River village. We’re keeping an eye on him because he looks pretty determined to get here in a hurry. Most sport boaters wouldn’t bang themselves around so much, for so long. We’ll let you know what he does and where he goes.”
“Thanks officer. Good eye!” The sergeant handed Ajay his headset and told him to keep his ears on it. “I have a sort of uneasy feeling about this, Frank,” and he told him about the fast pleasure boat.
“So, the bottom feeders in Juan’s operation slither around in a big old hot-rod boat with machine guns picking up sacks full of pills. What kind of boat do you suppose Juan might choose to drive... the local version of a cigarette boat like they use off Florida Keys and the Baja... fast and fancy?”
“Kinda what I was thinking. Crap, I wish we still had a fast boat out here with armed officers.” The sergeant walked across the wheelhouse and brought back two cups of hot coffee and half a box of donuts. “Better stock up – we’re gonna get busy in ten minutes.”
In eleven minutes the medevac chopper came into sight, circled The Beaver once and called in: “Hold your position as best you can and we’ll send down a paramedic.”
“Tell him roger that, Ajay. I’ll just hang tight here.” The helicopter settled into place right overhead with open doors and lowered a man to the deck, where Andy and the uninjured officer from the Seaswirl steadied him and released the line.
The paramedic took a brief look at the other boat officer’s arm, said “we’ll bind that tight across your chest and send you up in harness after I see to the other guy. I’m going to give you a shot to ease the pain a little,” After administering the pain-killer, he went and kneeled down beside the unconscious officer – the pilot apparently – and examined him quickly. After a minute or so he stood up and spoke into his headset, asking for the basket. “This guy’s lost a lot of blood, I expect from a wound in his upper thigh but he’s been in the water for over an hour and it’s hard to tell. Let’s get him onboard.” The basket arrived, swirling around over the deck until the sergeant and Andy were able to get it under control and set it down in the well deck. The paramedic unhooked the line and let the chopper crew take it up out of danger while they manoeuvred the injured man into the basket and strapped him in. The paramedic called for the line once again and hooked it to the basket ring and guided the basket off the boat and into the sky, where it seemed to dangle for an agonisingly long time before being safely taken onboard the helicopter. After less than half a minute, the line reappeared with a harness for the other officer, who winced as he was strapped in and was unceremoniously hauled into the sky and fished in through the chopper door. One last time the line appeared, the paramedic hooked on and gave a thumbs up... and it was over.
“Those pilots are something else,” Anderson remarked to no one in particular.
“They are. Didn’t hurt that you managed to keep this outfit so steady in place, however. Let’s head east toward the mainland and try to learn what’s going on at the other side of the island. Ajay, are you getting anything from the cheap seats up there?”
Ajay called the pilot and flipped open the speaker. “That speedboat, the pilot answered, looks like the mother of all wakeboard boats. It’s just approaching the other boat along the shore and it looks like he’s landing on the beach right beside the other boat. The two gentlemen who were loading sacks seemed to have finished about five minutes ago, because they’re both at the beach now, maybe talking to the guys who just arrived. Looks like there are two onboard the wakeboard boat as well, but one is just sitting there. Can’t tell from here – small – might be a woman. Incidentally, Command, I will need to re-fuel in about 40 minutes.”
“Let’s hope they get done what they’re gonna do before too long then,” said the sergeant. “Where do you fuel up?”
“We’re set up at the landing strip at Spirit River – that’s about fifteen minutes from here... hold it, this is interesting... Genette – my observer – says they are now transferring all those sacks from the old boat to the new one, and they seem to be in a hurry. The guy from the new boat, I think, keeps looking up. Holy crap, he must have just shot the other two, ‘cause now they’re down on the ground. He’s taken a something else from their boat – maybe a gas can. He just threw it in the boat and is getting back into the wakeboard boat in a hurry. He’s backing out and... shit, he just lit the old boat and those two guys on fire!”
“This is MacLeod – head out for fuel right away, but on your way maybe swoop down over that wakeboard boat – not too close – just to let him know he has an audience. I’m sure that’s the boss and we want to keep him nervous and not thinking clearly.”
“Roger that.
Now Anderson could see whisps of
black smoke blowing off the far side of the island. I think this must be what people call surreal, he thought. In a couple of minutes he saw the wakeboard boat come out from behind the island, headed straight for the east shore of the lake, throwing up huge curtains of spray as it charged the following waves, which had not diminished.
“Frank, follow that boat, with attitude,” the sergeant chuckled. “I realize you ain’t gonna catch him, but it’s the attitude that counts, and we’ll get to see just where he goes. Can you stick this outfit on autopilot so we can talk?”
“Not really. In a following sea like this, she just yaws all over the place and the autohelm over-corrects and it ain’t pretty. Actually potentially hard on gear and maybe even dangerous.”
“Officer McMichael, can you take the wheel from Sergeant Anderson for a little while?
“Certainly sir. I’ve gotten over the shakes. This is a great boat, it’ll be my pleasure!”
“Thanks,” said the sergeant. “Frank, Officer McMichael was skipper on that Seaswirl but has also operated our biggest boats, so he can spell you off. Let’s go have a smoke and a chat about the rest of our otherwise perfectly normal day. You might even get a sandwich!”
Anderson relinquished the wheel with pleasure... he was getting a bit stiff and sore, and a sandwich and a smoke sounded like a perfect solution. He watched for a moment as McMichael settled in, checked out the controls and instruments, and settled back, focused on following the wakeboard boat. “So, sergeant... now what?”
“Couple of things. It’s now after 14:00, and now that the Robertson Logistics airplane has been detained and the personnel arrested, the Mounties have a clear role to play. We set it up that they would descend on Robertson Mines about an hour before shift change, block the roads and their main gate, and check over everyone at the facility. Everyone, executives and all. I think the RCMP planned to have ten personnel and five vehicles in place for that, so it should just be starting to happen. If that wakeboard boat over there is headed for the dock inside Robertson’s chain link fence, all the better – he’s effectively running into a trap.
“Is anyone checking into Robertson’s Canadian head office in Toronto?”
“That’s another thing, sort of coincidentally. Yes, at 16:00, two hours from now, a team of investigators – mostly forensic accountants – will move into Robertson’s Toronto office and shut it down. The RCMP has reason to believe that they are juggling funds – sort of corporate money laundering – between Toronto and a series of offshore accounts. They – the RCMP – were planning this for months – the drug thing is simply an add-on and provided a good opportunity to go even wider. We got lucky with that!”
“Wow. When that hits the news poor Wendy will be pretty shaken. I just hope she and Marjorie are on the highway to Spirit River by now.”
“Yes, I sure do hope so, or at least that she didn’t go back to her old office and former colleagues this afternoon to ask more questions. I guess you could call Marjorie and put our minds at rest.”
“Not from here. That cell booster just doesn’t cut it out here. The tower is in Maple Falls and the signal barely makes it to the lake at all. Reminds me, if that wakeboard boat gets back offshore and heads southeast, I need to tell Marion or Willy to radio his FBI crew that is guarding Anita.
“Huh? There’s something you’re not telling me?”
“Well, yeah. My turn to say “need to know” and I apologize. Willy, and also Marion indirectly, use ham radio to connect, through Willy’s old reserve down south. And he has Anita hidden as you know, but she is being guarded by two strapping big men and one tough broad, all of whom are well-armed and they all come from that same reserve. Not even sure if that’s something even I wanted to know, except that Anita has been safe.”
“Who calls them ‘FBI’ ?”
“Willy.”
“Figures,” he chuckled. “Well, you’re right, and it’s likely that Anita is the only person left alive around here who could connect Juan to the local distribution network, so if he has put two and two together and there is any chance he’s headed up there, we have to get word to the FBI so they get her well back into the bush.”
“Maybe not. Maybe we get them to bring her out in their boat – it’s a big fast jetboat - and we could take her to the Marjorie’s and Wendy’s little island – and the FBI could guard her there until we shut down Juan.”
“Worth a try. You need to get to Willy and Marion, ASAP. Say, I expect the second EC135 will be back out here any time now – wanna chopper ride? McMichael can take care of your pet beaver.”
“Sure, put in a call. Let’s do it. I’ll grab my cellphone.”
Twenty minutes later, Anderson had been hoisted out of the boat and into the helicopter and was flying back to Spirit River.
***
Once he figured he was in cell range, Anderson called Arnold: “Hey Arnold, need to come to your place and talk with Willy and Marion, ASAP. Nope, I’m actually in a helicopter. I’ll be landing in about five minutes at the landing strip. Huh? yeah it will take many beers to tell you about today, and it ain’t over yet. Things are kinda tight. Good, see you soon.”
Sure enough, the chopper was landing when Arnold skidded off the road and onto the landing strip. The pilot asked Anderson if he wanted him to wait, but he said no, the Sergeant wanted him right back there between Robertson Mines and the island. He jumped down, scuttled off to the side and waved the pilot off before jogging over to Arnold’s truck.
“Man, you look like you’ve been rode hard and put away wet! You okay?”
“Oh yeah, just lots of stuff going on. Most of the day felt a little like there was a war going on, and there was a pretty good wind and some wave action going on that’s always kind of tiring. Gotta get to Willy and Marion though, we’ll talk later.”
“They’re safe at home, so here we go. I can’t speed though ‘cause I’m surrounded by cop cars all day and night.”
“Well, I don’t mean to scare the crap outta you, but that chopper pilot there just watched this Juan guy execute two of his slaves and then burn them and their boat. Happened across the island from us... he be one mean son of a bitch! And that was a half hour after those same two slaves shot down a chopper like the one that dropped me here, and burned up a police boat.”
Willy and Marion were sitting in her garden, and both stood up when he stepped around the house corner to join them. “Sit down, for heaven’s sake. Arnold tells me I look like hell but actually I’m fine.”
“You are doing a lot for my granddaughter and for my family. And I know you need to say something urgent, so please, let’s talk.”
“Yes. This morning we watched two of Juan’s workers shoot down a helicopter with AR15s, then shoot up and burn a police launch. Just after noon, Juan – we are almost 100% sure it’s Juan, executed and burned those two workers after they loaded his drugs into his new speedboat. As we are talking here, Juan has taken his drugs in toward Robertson Mines, but if he realizes it’s a trap (because the RCMP are now all over that place) he will leave in his boat. He knows he can’t come this way, and he knows he can outrun anything we have out there. We also know that the one person who could testify against him is Anita, and I expect he now knows where she is. I want to ask you, Willy, to get in touch with your FBI and their fast boat, tuck Anita under the seat, and come down the river into the lake like a bat out of hell and head for the Webster sisters’ island, where you, the FBI, two police forces and I can take care of her. And give me a smoke.”
Marion flipped him her pack, and just stared at him. Willy looked at the garden for almost a minute, then asked Marion for her cellphone. He dialled a call, and began talking in Ojibwe. There were obvious pauses as messages were relayed back and forth, and after ten minutes he hung up.
“Okay Frank, they’ll be headed downriver in twenty minutes. They know to talk to no one except Willy or Captain Frank on the marine radio, and they have my cell number. I will take my skiff to the island in h
alf an hour and wait.”
Anderson fished in his pocket, pulled out the key Marjorie had given him, and handed it to Willy: “I’ll see you there.” He turned to Marion: “The girls know to come straight here when they get to the village. Please feed them and care for them and by now you can tell them everything you know. Marjorie will be pissed off because when I talked to her yesterday I left out some of the details from the last couple of days.”
Arnold grinned at him: “Airport, sir?”
“Yep. Please.”
16:15 JULY 26
While Arnold was driving to the landing strip, Anderson called the Maple Falls detachment and asked for Superintendent Daniels. “I’m back at the landing strip in Spirit River and Sergeant John told me to let him know when I’ve made my contacts and am ready to be picked up and delivered back to the boat. I’m ready, and please relay to John that Plan A will be in motion in about 10 minutes.”
“Is there just one of you?”
“Yes.”
“I have another chopper on the way with two officers to spell off your crew and to remove the two drowned rats you pulled out of the lake, who must be really feeling their day by now. John, of course, will remain onboard. Okay if I have them stop by the landing strip and pick you up?
“Works for me.”
“They should be there in about fifteen. How are you doing, Frank?”
“When the clock strikes midnight, I have every intention of turning into a pumpkin, but I’ll be fine until then.
“I’ll make a note of that, just in case,” he chuckled. “Thank you, Frank,” and he clicked off.
“Chopper coming?” asked Arnold.
“Different one, I guess, but yes. Geez, it’s been a day of firsts, one of which was the first time I ever got lifted off a boat by a chopper. This time I get to be lowered down to the boat. That somehow seems slightly more unnerving! Willy’s quite a guy, isn’t he!
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