Dark Moon Walking (35 page)

“I don't know. It probably depends on what they plan to do. They may need him to help them.”

She nodded, but he knew she wasn't convinced. Neither was he.

“How long do you think it will take the coast guard to come?”

He shrugged. “Depends on where they were. I called it in as a Mayday, made it clear we were abandoning ship. That will make it a top priority. That hovercraft they've got makes pretty good speed, but if they can't get here in good time, they might send out a helicopter.” He thought for a minute. “That might even work better for us. They would locate the ship faster, see it was abandoned and sinking, and then head over to Shoal Bay to pick us up.”

“Except we won't be there.”

“That's true. But the arrival of a coast guard helicopter will certainly screw up whatever they're doing over there, and the fact that they'll be asking for someone called Harry Coombs should really create a problem. Might give the captain an opportunity to get away from the bad guys while they're trying to explain things.”

They sat quiet for a while as the water chuckled along the hull and the shoreline slid past. Then she turned to look at him again.

“What if they shoot at the helicopter? Or at the coast guard guys when they get off it?”

He shook his head. “I don't think they'll do that. They don't want witnesses, remember? And the helicopter is going to be in constant radio communication with the coast guard boat, and that won't be far behind.” He twisted the tiller to port to avoid a large log floating upright in the water. “Besides, those things carry a pretty big crew, and they're very well armed.”

The shore curved south and he turned the dinghy to follow it. It was a little rougher now that they were out of the channel, but the change in wind direction had flattened the waves and the dinghy rode easily. Gulls soared overhead in the clear air, their calls easily heard above the sound of the motor, and occasionally the sun came out to sparkle off the water and warm them. Dan wished he could pretend this was just another lazy day out on the water, but the knowledge of what had happened on the black ship kept intruding.

It was Claire who heard the helicopter first. She searched the air ahead and located it, a tiny speck in the distance, barely bigger than a bird, angling across the wide sky, heading a little east of north.

“There,” she said, pointing. “Looks like it's heading in the right direction.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Came pretty quick, too. We need to get out of sight. Don't want them thinking we're the ones they're looking for.” He angled the dinghy in toward the shore and nosed it in under some overhanging cedar branches.

They turned the motor off and sat and watched as the dot grew larger and slowly turned from the generic black created by distance to a fuselage that was deep blue on the top half and silver on the bottom, with turquoise striping in between. As the helicopter turned, they could make out some kind of lettering above its call sign.

“That doesn't look like a coast guard chopper.” Claire was staring at it in confusion.

“No. But it sure looks like it's heading for Shoal Bay. They must have called in their own transportation before they left the ship.”

“So he'll get away with killing that man. And I bet he killed Robbie too.” Her voice was quiet and filled with regret.

“Not necessarily. We can find out where that chopper came from pretty easily. Those have to be company markings, and there can't be too many operating up here. When we track down the company, we can find out where they took them. Maybe get a name. That gives us—well, gives the police—a good lead.”

She nodded but didn't look like she really believed his words.

“Look,” he continued, “we have to wait here until they leave, but then we'll get to
Dreamspeaker
and call the police. They may even be able to find out where these guys are going and get there before they land.”

She nodded again and they both sat quietly, waiting to hear the chopper leave. They didn't have to wait long. The whine of the rotors and the chop of the blades biting into the air as it lifted off reverberated along the rocky shores and echoed off the cliffs. Minutes later, it appeared above the treeline of the island to the north, hovered for a moment, then turned south. Dan waited until it was completely out of sight, then reached for an oar to push the dinghy into open water.

“Wait.” Claire reached a hand back to stop him. “I can hear something.”

“Just the chopper. All these channels and islands make it sound like it's coming from another direction. It can trick you.”

“No, it's different. Listen.”

He put the oar down and turned his head, listening for whatever she had heard, trying to pinpoint its direction.

“Hear that?” There was a sudden surge of sound. “It's not the chopper. I think it's a boat.”

Dan swung round and stared at the channel behind them, from where the sound seemed to be coming. It did sound like a boat, and a fairly big one at that.

“That's gotta be the coast guard. Too bad they'll be too late to catch that helicopter, but maybe the captain got left behind.” He grabbed one of the overhanging branches and pulled the dinghy farther into the shadows. The coast guard was good at surveillance and would be on the lookout for a dinghy.

The sound swelled to a crescendo, and a bright-silver aluminum boat surged out of the channel and curved north, water foaming on its bow. Inexplicably, it was a crew boat—but was it the same one they had seen in Shoal Bay? Were the “loggers” aboard? It was heading in the right direction, but it was too far away to see how many people were in it. He glanced at Claire. She looked as puzzled as he felt.

“Think it's the same one?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Could be. I really can't tell. They all look pretty much the same.”

“Can't be that many crew boats out at this time of year. Not up here. Everything's shut down.”

“Maybe they were going to meet up with the people on the black ship and found it deserted and sinking. They would probably figure those guys would head to Shoal Bay and go check it out.”

“Yeah, but where the hell have they been? There's nothing else around here. No towns, and the marinas are all closed down. Same with the fishing resorts, and all the logging operations are shut down for the season . . .”

He let his words trail off with the fading of the crew boat's engine. He had thought he had it pretty well figured out, but now he felt hopelessly confused. There was simply too much going on, and most of it seemed focused on Shoal Bay.

The clatter of rotors cut him off as yet another helicopter, this one bright red and with the distinctive white stripe of the coast guard, soared over the crest of the island and swept over the trees above them. The wash from the rotors sent the trees into frenzied motion and rocked the dinghy so violently that he had to grab hold of a branch as it whipped above his head.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Claire had been thrown against the side of the dinghy and had slipped down into the bilge. He reached down and helped her back up onto the thwart.

“I'm fine. Maybe a bruise or two, but nothing major.” She nodded toward the disappearing chopper. “It must be getting pretty crowded over there if they're all heading to the same place.”

Dan snorted. “Yeah, but my guess is the bad guy has already left the scene.”

THIRTY

Gunter Rachmann trained his gun on the man walking ahead of him as they followed the path up to the lodge. He seldom allowed himself to lose control, no matter what the provocation, but today was proving to be a true test of his will. It had started out badly, and it was rapidly getting worse. The trip over had been a nightmare, with most of the men becoming so seasick they were useless, the four containers they had left on the wharf had disappeared without a trace and without the guards seeing or hearing anything, and now Fernandez expected him to get rid of this asshole. He slammed his fist against the door and ordered the startled man who opened it to send Alex out to him.

Alex was quick to answer the summons.

“What the hell is
he
doing here?” he asked as he took in the scene in front of him.

“He came with Fernandez.”

“So what are we supposed to do with him?” Alex's voice held a note of contempt. “We don't have time to babysit.”

“You will do exactly what I tell you to do!” Gunter snapped, his patience already worn dangerously thin. “And only that. Is everything ready to go?”

Alex shrugged the warning aside. “Maybe two more boxes. They have to dismantle everything before they can get it to fit.”

“They must hurry. A crew boat is coming. They must be finished and ready to load when it arrives. Where is Marty?”

“In there. He's helping them.” Alex indicated the open door behind him.

“Go back and finish,” Gunter said. “And send Marty out here.”

“Ah, so that's it.” Alex glanced at the captain and grinned. “I will say goodbye to you, then, Captain. I do not think we will be meeting again.”

He disappeared back inside and seconds later a small, hatchet-faced man stepped out onto the deck.

“You wanted me?”

“I have a job for you.” Gunter nodded toward the man who stood rigid with fear in front of him. “Please take the captain and show him how beautiful the forest is here.” The coldness of his voice belied the pleasantness of his words.

Marty nodded in acquiescence and removed a gun that had been hidden in the waistband of his jeans. “As you wish. After you, Captain.” He stepped forward and pressed the muzzle into the man's ribcage, pushing him away from the door and along the deck.

“And do not take too long,” Gunter snapped. “We do not have much time.”

The harsh clatter of rotors slammed into the quiet bay for a second time, beating the air and the rocks and the ground into a frenzy of sound that soared and faded as the chopper negotiated the twisting approach channels. Gunter whirled toward the water, holding his hand out to stop Marty. If this was Fernandez returning, it could mean he had changed his plans yet again and Gunter preferred to be in a position to accommodate him rather than be on the receiving end of his displeasure. Seconds later a helicopter swept around the point, flying close to the water. It lifted as it approached the head of the bay, then hovered over the grassy slope in front of the lodge before gently setting down, red paint and white lettering clearly visible against the dark water. Even before the rotors had come to rest, the doors slid open and four men wearing the insignia of the coast guard emerged.