“What kind of lead—are we moving in on this guy’s location?”
“Our BC surveillance system pinged an IP from one of the smaller islands up the coast… A fishing town called Bella Bella. It appears that a few days ago, an email was sent to one of the kids from the Tián family—the college boy who’s still missing. It is an old address, but we’ve been monitoring it. This might be our guy, trying to reach out to his family. I want to head up there myself and dig around—like I said, I’ve got a hunch.”
“Why not run the operation from HighTower West? We can send up any number of assets. Heck, Mandy can provide you with whatever you need.”
“Hmm—no thanks, I want to do this my way. I’ll need to talk to anyone who might have seen or heard about this guy. And I’ve been wanting to get a feel for the mood up north for a while. Call it ‘taking the temperature,’ if you like. For some reason, we aren’t getting any help from the locals, it’s time to find out why that is.”
“Well alright—but you’re too valuable to lose. Take one of the pitbulls along for the trip.” Anticipating Trip’s reaction, Banks held up his hand. “This isn’t debatable, Ashfield. Call in one of the special ops, or I will.” Nelson looked down at the landing pad as the helo settled. The buzzing from the rotors caused their glasses to chatter on the console. “I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about this Ching-Chong ding-dong, but I need that case of slides he stole from the lab. I didn’t invest seventeen billion dollars into this project to wind up with nothing but a handful of dead refugees on two continents.”
“Understood, Nelson. That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”
“Best not to forget that, Trip.” Nelson unbuckled his harness and gestured for Amanda to exit the compartment first. She ducked out the doorway, walked several paces toward the elevator door and turned to wait for the other two. Nelson waved her on. “We’ll catch up in a minute.” Amanda nodded and turned to join the security team. Nelson watched her leave and muttered, “She’s a heartless cunt, but she’ll do right by the company.”
“She’s too bloodthirsty. I don’t trust her to keep the lines straight.”
“Now, don’t be so hard on her, son. She’s an operator, that’s all. Give her a long enough leash and she’ll find her way.”
“…or hang us all with it. But hey, it’s your operation, Kemosabe.”
“Alright, Tonto,” Nelson laughed as he exited the cabin. “Just bring me that gawddammed scientist with my samples and get rid of anyone else. Leave Amanda to me.”
29 The Paths Diverge
Yaculta, Quadra Island BC Aug 16 2033
50°01'21.2"N 125°11'50.0"W
Kim bent over his outstretched leg and concentrated on the serrated knife wedged between his shin bone and the dirty cast. Yaculta Island’s ancient dock wobbled and creaked as he rubbed the blade back and forth—his vigorous strokes sawing through the soft padding and into the fiberglass shell. Sweat formed across his forehead as he hacked away at the resilient encasement.
Dot sat beside him and repaired the bolt-rope in her Dyson sail. The whippings had torn during the crossing and the entire leach threatened to unravel. After three days of overcast skies and drizzle, it felt delicious to work in the sun again. The indigenous members of their fellowship had hiked into town earlier that morning—certain that no one would think twice about seeing Kai, Oolie or Táan wander through a First Nations’ village. Dot didn’t mind staying behind, she had developed a friendship with the quiet scientist, their mutual silence made comfortable rapport. She glanced up from her stitches to observe Kim’s progress and suddenly realized that his hair had grown quite long in the last couple months; the ends now curled all around the base of his neck. His arms and chest now bore the mark of a serious paddler, muscular and defined. With the return of his physical health, Kim’s mood had improved as well. Days upon end with nothing to do except reach for the next paddle stroke had healed his mind from habitual worry. There was only the open ocean and the ritual of breath and movement. It was proving to be restorative for them all.
Dot smiled inwardly as she watched Kim remove his cast. He certainly doesn’t look like that brainy scientist who used to sit behind a desk. She glanced at her own biceps, I am beginning to look a bit more like Reba and Oolie now—that is good. The relentless voyage across Queen Charlotte Sound and Johnstone Strait had been arduous, but had turned them into hardened, resilient travelers. The choppy waves and biting wind had tested everyone’s resolve, but as Dot reflected on the past weeks, she appreciated the transformation. The motion of the sea had become part of her—or she part of it. It pulsed through her veins in the same rhythmic motion. The fragile skin of the baidarka’s hull transmitted the songs of the ocean through Dot’s bones as she rowed upon its surface. The melodic calls of humpbacks and sonorous drumbeats of the greys; the staccato clicks of the orcas and porpoise, even the rustling sound of kelp forests… all were amplified through the baidarka’s covering. Dot recalled her most recent nights paddling under the crescent moon—the margin between sea and sky was undiscernible. Phosphorescent plankton burst into firecracker-like explosions every time her paddle touched the water and sparkling beads fell from her blade at each arc. Even at her weariest, those silent lightshows kept Dot awake and entranced. Happy as she was to be on land for a spell, Dot couldn’t wait to return to the baidarka and get underway.
“It’s finally off!” Kim separated the halves of his cast and rubbed the pale, wrinkled skin of his lower leg. “Oh, that feels so good,” he muttered while massaging the exposed limb. Rising to his feet, he exclaimed, “Look at how much thinner it is than my other leg.” He shook the fiberglass crumbs from his leg and tested its strength, slowly placing weight on his foot. “All is well,” he smiled, hobbling down the dock.
Dot returned to her needle. She pulled the length of waxed twine through the canvas and then stopped—a glint from the water caught her eye. She leaned forward and looked below. Ripples formed in collective rings as three-inch anchovies revealed themselves. Diminutive splashes occurred randomly as the fish jumped for food. Dot set aside the sail and laid down on her stomach—her chin resting on the back of her hands. She spotted the school of tiny fish as they swam several feet below the water’s surface. There must be hundreds—if not thousand—of them! The fingerlings condensed, moving as one body, then instantly shifted in another direction. The sunlight glistened off of their silvery sides as they turned. Dot waved Kim over and pointed at the swiftly moving school. He sat on the edge of the dock, dangling his feet over the side as he watched them feed. The swarm of fish suddenly compacted—swimming together in an undulating orb. Kim leaned forward to get a better look at the shape-shifting anchovies. Dot’s attention was drawn to a slow moving shape in the background. She watched as an oblong head glided stealthily toward the school of panicked fish. Its sleek fur was dotted with brown and white spots, its dark eyes skimmed along the water’s surface, intent on its prey. “What is that?” Kim asked, pointing toward the harbor seal as it approached. Dot held her finger to her lips, indicating not to spook the animal. They observed the seal as it herded the school of fish, drawing them into a constricting noose. Kim was entranced by the seal’s tactics, however a subtle movement in the distance prompted Dot to look up. She caught a glimpse of Saka’s dorsal fin near the entrance of Mudge Bay. Anchovies aren’t the only item on this morning’s menu, she mused. Dot nudged Kim and gestured toward the fin, now only eight-inches above the waterline and moving swiftly. Kim looked back toward the unwitting seal as it prepared to dive into the ball of fish. He flashed her a concerned look. Shrugging, Dot shook her head; she’d grown accustomed to seeing Saka’s hunts. For a moment, she considered sparing Kim the shock of witnessing the kill, but held back. He’s a scientist, he can be objective… Besides, one can’t be companions with a predator and not acknowledge its nature. Saka’s dorsal fin submerged completely. Dot knew exactly what was about to occur: The whale had increased his speed to strike
the distracted seal from behind and below. She rolled over onto her back and closed her eyes. Kim’s sharp intake of breath informed her that Saka had found his target. She didn’t need to turn around to picture what transpired—the orca most likely shot out of the water with the injured seal in his teeth… If he was feeling particularly playful, he would perhaps let it go, giving the mortally wounded creature a chance to escape. Dot had seen this tactic many times: Saka would allow the seal to swim some distance and then grab it again, rattling it in his strong jaws until the bones were pulled from the meat. Occasionally she’d observed him tossing his catch into the air—like a cat teasing its mouse before the final kill. Dot loved Saka with all her heart, but preferred not to watch the orca play with his food. Kim shook his head, tapping Dot’s arm. She opened her eyes and rolled over to face him. His voice trembled with adrenaline, “Now I see why they are called ‘Killer whales.’ That was intense.” He looked back to where the kill had transpired, the scene appeared undisturbed, save for a red tinge in the water. The anchovy school spread out once again and resumed their plankton feast.
Ooligan strode down the length of the dock, dropping a bag of produce next to Dot. Her short hair was damp and twisted into tiny ringlets. “Heya’ how goes the needlepoint?” Dot signaled that all was A-OK. She handed the sail to Oolie, pulled a ripe pear out of the bag and tossed it to Kim. Ooligan dropped onto the dock and took a carrot. “Y’know, this is a pretty nice place. We met one of the code speakers today, she invited us to her house and turned us loose in the garden. Kai and Táan are on their way back with two more bags." Oolie waved the carrot in her hand as she spoke. “She even let us use her shower, Dot... Goddamn, can you even remember what hot water feels like?" She flopped back onto the sail and flung her arms across the canvas. "I'm in the best mood ever!"
Dot and Kim stared at Ooligan. Kim cleared his throat, "Ah... Do you think we might also take advantage of these shower facilities?”
“Oh yeah, I probably should’ve mentioned that, huh? Don’t worry—you stinky sods have been invited over for a shower too, and then the village is having a potlatch for us this evening.”
A shower—a hot shower! Dot closed her eyes and smiled. I can’t think of anything that would feel better right now—unless of course, it was a hot meal. A fragment of images entered her thoughts: She recognized Nomad’s tattered swivel-chair and smelled the spicy, salty aroma of her father’s jacket; aftershave mingled with seawater. She heard the voice of a girl, six… maybe seven-years-old. “Why wait until we get home for dinner—I’m hungry right now—please, just a snack?” She heard the low timber of her father’s voice, “Evie, your mom has supper almost ready for us. All we have to do is wait until our fish-count is done. After that, we can eat together at home—around the table for a change.” “But Dad, I’m starving right now!” Dot could imagine a weightless sensation as she envisioned Brock lifting Evie onto Nomad’s dash. Her father flashing his usual lopsided grin as he said, “Just imagine how good your dinner will be—because the hungrier you are, the better the food tastes—it’s a scientific fact.” Dot’s memory darted forward—to their old dining room: The smell of pot-roast and vegetables… Clinking sounds of her mother’s iced tea in the glass. Dot heard her younger self exclaim, “Dad, you sure are right. Mom’s food does taste better when you’re starving!” She pictured her mother’s expression of amusement and heard her father chuckle. “Hey Evie, do you know why cowboys always wear those pointed-toe boots all day long? …Because it feels so dang good to take ‘em off at night!” The sound of laughter and silverware against porcelain receded. Dot was in the present once more. The dock’s weathered boards had replaced the polished Cherrywood dinette, Kim and Oolie’s chatter supplanted her parent’s laughter. She sighed and looked across the bay, wishing she could linger in her memory a bit longer. Gradually, she became aware of Kai and Táan’s arrival.
The dock’s pilings wobbled as the two men walked down the pier. Dot noticed that, despite the persistent clouds, August’s sun had deepened both of their complexions to an even, tawny brown. Kai wore a khaki cargo vest and had pulled his dreadlocks back with a faded bandana. He carried two bags of food and a tube of charts under each arm. Táan’s wet hair was behind his ears, the strands still clung to his neck and dripped down his white tee shirt. He balanced a long pole over one shoulder—no doubt a replacement for the mast that had snapped on their crossing. Bags of clothing and supplies dangled from each end of the pole. What a difference a bar of soap can make! she noted, feeling self-conscious in her dingy shirt, freckled skin and unwashed hair. Coming up beside her, Táan slid the bags off each end, laying the pole on the dock. Leaning over her, he shook his hair, showering Dot with drops of cool water. She waved her hands and shooed him away, using a corner of the canvas sail to dry her face. “Doesn’t that feel just great?” Táan asked, falling onto the dock and crossing his legs. He pulled one of the bags closer, rifling through the all items until he found what he was looking for. Holding up a seafoam-green blouse covered in dainty flowers, he said, “I found this at the community center and thought it would look good with your hair… or, your eyes… I dunno. Anyways, I figured maybe you’d like it.”
Dot spread the blouse out across her lap. The fabric was lightweight and delicate, its buttons resembled small pearls. It didn’t look very practical for paddling, but she had to admit, she liked it—a lot. I’ll wear this for dinner, but only after I shower. Hugging the blouse under her chin, she smiled and nodded thank you.
Ooligan lay on her side, nibbling on the last of her carrot and watching their interaction. Kai sat down next to her and spread out the paper charts. With a yawn, Ooligan sat up and examined the charts. “What are these all about?”
“I borrowed them from one of the K’omoks fishermen—reckon we could do with a bit of looksee. They’re old nav charts for the Gulf Islands and San Juans.’ And right here,” he pointed to a section of water southwest of Lasqueti Island, “is a dodgy little place called ‘Whiskey Golf’—they’ll want to steer well clear of that spot.”
“What’s so important about ‘whiskey gulf?”
“Yeah nah, ‘Whiskey Golf. It’s some restricted weapons-test range for the military; they fire torpedo rounds and test sonar systems. When the area’s active, it’s bugger-all dangerous to be anywhere nearby.” Kai paced off the distance on his fingers as he continued. “The blokes in town told me that HSA’s been using it to test their Mossies.”
Kim walked in front of the fetchers and bowed formally. “Do you notice anything different?”
“Whoa—Wouldya’ take a look at that toothpick!” Ooligan exclaimed.
Kai examined Kim’s leg. “Skux, cuz! Can you put your full weight on it—you think it’s strong enough then?”
“It feels good—I feel good, for the first time in a long while!”
“Looks as if you’re an all-terrain traveler again, mate.” Rolling the charts back into the tube, Kai rose and slapped Kim on the back saying, “Whatsay we get you and Dottie Rose some hot showers and then heaps of feed on, ay?”
The gathering at the Yaculta Nuyumbalees center lasted until well past midnight. Members from all the Native communities attended. Although several code speakers from each na'mima were aware of the travelers’ mission, it was not discussed—nor was the curious presence of an Asian man dressed in Haida clothing. The evening was spent in good spirits, with plenty of food, drink and storytelling.
The companions arrived back at camp around one-o’clock in the morning. As they assembled the sail-tents, their conversations revolved around the evening’s main topic—Raj Kaleka’s recent press conference condemning HighTower. One of the locals played the video for them after dinner. They all watched with great interest, however Kim’s excitement over the news could hardly be contained. “This means that there is hope!” Kim repeated as he unrolled his sleeping bag and stuffed it through the tent opening. He continued, “Don’t you see? ATHENS is the only organiza
tion who can face up to HighTower… If anyone can make a difference, it’s them! I have to find a way to get Mr. Kaleka this proof as soon as possible.”
“OK, slow down,” Oolie yawned as she spoke. “First, you’ve got to get down there without getting yourself killed by HSA, then you can worry about securing an audience with his Royal Majesty, the Grand Vizier… whoever.”
Kim paced back and forth in front of the tents, oblivious to Ooligan’s remark. “If I could just find a source… Get some news about how they’ve covered up the Huang Biotech incident, I could form a plan.”
Kai poked his head out from the tent, “Oy! We’ve got two more days until Oolie and I head back and I’m keen to get some sleep. We’ll get an early start in the morning and then suss out how to get your skinny ass across the border.”
Dot brushed past Kim on her way to the tent. He was mumbling to himself in Mandarin, unaware of her presence. Shaking her head, Dot squeezed into the tent where Ooligan lay under her blankets. Oolie opened one eye and mumbled, “Science-guy’s going to be your problem soon and you’ll have your hands full with him, the closer you get him to civilization.” She rolled over, faced the tent wall, adding, “Good luck.” Dot crawled into her bedding and pulled the covers over her chin, staring at the circle of sky visible through the peak of their tent. I’m not ready for this. She lay awake for several hours, agonizing over the journey ahead while Ooligan snored softly in the background.
The group made great headway for the next two days. By the time they’d reached the mid-way point of Texada Island, they were well into the Strait of Georgia, the gateway to Vancouver and all points south. Dot’s apprehension grew with every paddle stroke. Childhood memories returned unbidden each time a ship crossed the distant horizon. She tried to push them away as they edged their way into her dreams—visions of a giant wave swallowing everything in its path… churning water and crumbling hillsides… She tried to concentrate on the task in front of her, but Oolie’s warning about the scientist still rang in her ears. Kim had grown increasingly anxious about ATHENS and how to locate a source to help him reach Raj Kaleka. And although he never mentioned it, Dot suspected that part of Kim’s desire to tap into the network had to do with Kim’s missing family. She strategized how she could prevent him from getting hold of technology. Fortunately, she’d learned that Lasqueti Island was a haven for Luddites, about as close to living in the Greenwood as one could get this near to civilization. At least, while the group remained on Lasqueti, Kim would be safe from temptation. And yet, Dot dreaded reaching that island, for it meant that they would have to say good-bye to Oolie and Kai and set out on their own. Dot’s reluctance to separate from the fetchers was shared by Táan. His friendship with Kai had developed into a brotherly bond—even Oolie’s sense of humor had grown on him; Táan enjoyed matching wits with her while they paddled. Dot recognized Táan’s long silences and the heaviness in his movements and sensed his deepening mood. They’d grown close, dependent upon each other for guidance and friendship, and very soon their company would soon part. By the final day’s approach into Sabine Channel, the group’s mood was at its lowest ebb.
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