Dark Moon Walking (36 page)

“Get him inside.” Gunter's voice was low and strained. “Get him out of sight—and let the men know. They will need to come out to see what is happening, otherwise it will look suspicious, but make sure there is no loose equipment left in there for these assholes to see.”

Marty grabbed the captain's arm and pulled him close, ramming the gun up against his chest. “Come, my friend,” he said. “Perhaps your luck has changed, but please don't think of doing anything stupid. I could shoot you before you took a single step.” He pushed the dazed man ahead of him into the lodge.

Behind them, Gunter's footsteps crunched along the gravel path as he went down to greet the unwelcome visitors.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. This is a surprise. How can I help you?”

Two of the coast guard crew were already heading down to the beach, where the small dinghy and the inflatable that had brought Fernandez and the captain rested side by side on the shingles. Neither boat carried the name of the ship they belonged to, but Gunter knew that was only a temporary reprieve: the big yacht tender he had used to bring the men over was still tied to the wharf, and while it also had no name, it did have a registration number.

“We're responding to a Mayday call.” The man who replied was obviously the leader. His eyes met Gunter's briefly and then continued to scan the area. “We're looking for a man called Harry Coombs. He said he was abandoning his boat and planned to head this way.” His voice held a question, and his gaze returned to Gunter as he waited for an answer. Behind him, two more men climbed out of the helicopter and headed toward the wharf.

“No one has come here.” Gunter schooled his face to give no indication of surprise and fought to keep any trace of name recognition out of his voice. Fernandez had been very clear when he'd told him that Harry had been “taken care of permanently,” so what the hell was going on here?

Thinking fast, Gunter improvised a story as he spoke. “We are just packing up our equipment. We have a crew boat coming to pick up some of the men.” Gunter turned and gestured toward the lodge just as three of his men stepped out onto the deck and stood watching them. Marty had followed his orders, and the timing couldn't have been better. “It should be here very soon.”

“Is that your boat at the wharf?”

It was a question Gunter had been hoping he wouldn't have to answer, but now he had no choice. “Yes.”

“But you still need a crew boat?”

“We are sending some of the men to check out a possible site.”

“So you're part of a logging outfit?”

Gunter shook his head. “Mining.”

The man grunted an acknowledgment, then nodded down at the dinghies. “And those? Are they yours too?”

“Yes. We have them to get to shore, and the men use them for fishing also.”

“Huh. And what exactly are you looking for again?”

Gunter was saved from having to answer by the swelling roar of an approaching motor, and the two men turned to look out at the channel just as the aluminum hull of a crew boat appeared around the point and made its way toward the wharf. The distraction provided him with a perfect opportunity to terminate the interrogation.

“I will leave you to your search, officer. I must get the men and equipment loaded. We are on a tight schedule and we do not have much time.”

The man looked at him for a moment, then nodded. “Please keep a lookout. If you see any small boat out there, radio it in. Use channel twenty-six. We'll be monitoring it at all times.”

Gunter nodded. “I wish you luck.” He started back up the path, but not before he saw the officer turn toward the wharf and lift his radio to his mouth. He knew the man would check with the crew boat, but that was not a concern. The crew-boat captain knew nothing other than the fact that he was picking up a group of men. His arrival had helped to confirm Gunter's story, but they needed to move fast, before the coast guard decided to check out that registration number.

The canisters were lined up against the wall, closed and locked. The metal surfaces had a dull gleam, probably from their immersion in salt water, and a network of scratches showed as lighter glints. It made them appear old and well-used, and as he looked at them, Gunter realized they were going to provide reinforcement for his story and be a benefit rather than a risk as the men loaded them onto the crew boat. They were exactly what would be expected from a group of research personnel who would have to have some highly technical and very sensitive equipment with them.

The men had followed him inside, and he beckoned to Alex and Marty. “Is all the equipment in there?”

Alex answered. “Yeah, but it ain't pretty. We just shoved it in wherever it would fit.”

“That is not important. We can correct it later. Now we have to leave.” He explained the story he had given to the coast guard. “Have the men carry the containers down to the crew boat and load them on. Tell them what I have told you. They are exploring for metal deposits. You go with them. Marty stays with me, but we will be only a few minutes.”

Alex gave him a thin smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Gotcha.” He moved over to the group of men standing near the door. “Okay, boys, let's lock and load.”

Gunter turned to Marty. “Where is he?”

Marty nodded at a door that led off the main room. “He's in there. I tied him up so he couldn't make a noise.”

“Do you have a silencer?”

Marty shook his head. “Not on me. It's packed with the other stuff.”

Another thing gone wrong. Gunter thought for a moment. “We can not risk a gunshot, but we must stop him from getting their attention. Knock him out. Hit him hard. Make sure he stays out long enough for us to get away from here. After that, it will not matter. And be quick!”

Marty nodded and opened the door. There came the brief sound of his voice, followed by a sharp crack and the heavy thud of a body hitting the floor, and then he came back out, closing the door behind him. He looked at Gunter and shrugged. “He should be out for a long time. Maybe forever, if we're lucky.”

Gunter nodded. “Good. Now we leave.”

The coast guard lieutenant watched them go as he waited for his team to finish its search of the bay. “Those guys look okay to you?” He was using his radio to talk to the pilot waiting in the chopper.

“Pretty standard bunch of loggers.”

“Yeah, but they're not loggers. That white-haired guy said they were miners, some kind of researchers, looking for mineral deposits.”

“Huh. Pretty late in the season to be out looking in this area. That stuff takes months.”

“Yeah, that's what I'm thinking. And that white-haired guy was a bit odd. Cold. Sort of automatic. He was sure in a hurry to leave. Maybe too much of a hurry. Had an accent of some kind, maybe German or Austrian or something.”

“Want me to call the ship and have them check them out?”

The lieutenant thought about it. What was it about the men that bothered him? He looked around the bay again and his eyes settled on the big tender that was still sitting at the wharf.

“Whitey told me they were sending some of the guys out, not all of them. It's odd they would leave the tender there and all take off in that crew boat. Can you read the registration on that tender? Might help to know who it belongs to.”

“You got it.”

The lieutenant caught the glint of sunlight on binocular lenses as the pilot leaned out to scan the lettering on the bow of the tender.

“Let me know when you have it. I'm going to go check out the building. Maybe there's something up there that can tell us a bit more.”

THIRTY-ONE

“Let's get out of here.”

Dan pushed the dinghy out from the rocks and started the motor. He and Claire had watched the coast guard helicopter disappear over the top of Spider Island and the crew boat vanish around the bend of the channel that led to Shoal Bay, and now everything had fallen silent again.

“I figure even if Ponytail and White Hair both took off in that first chopper, the rest of them should be tied up there for quite a while. They couldn't take all those canisters with them. I wouldn't mind being over there myself to see what's happening with that crew boat.” Dan was shouting over the sound of the motor, and Claire leaned toward him in an effort to hear what he was saying.

“Can you monitor the coast guard radio from your boat?” she yelled.

Dan shook his head. “No. They're on a different frequency.”

His words were drowned in the rush of water and the howl of the motor, but the meaning was clear. She shook her head and touched her ear to show she couldn't hear him, then turned away to look out over the bow, watching the shore slip past and the channels open up as they ran south toward
Dreamspeaker
.

The cove he had anchored her in opened up, and they saw Walker even before they saw his canoe. He was sitting on the swim grid, his feet dangling above the water, watching their approach.

“Thought you must have got lost.” He took the line Dan passed him and tied it off to the cleat.

“Nice to see you too, Walker.” Dan pulled himself up onto the grid, then reached for Claire's hand and helped her out. “Did the boys all make it back home safe and sound?”

“Yep. They were all eating breakfast when I left. Percy sent some along for you.” He lifted up what looked like a piece of cedar bark and passed it to Dan.

“What, you want me to eat trees now?”

Walker shook his head. “You've got to learn to look a little closer, white man. Look inside.”

“Inside?” Dan turned the square of cedar in his hands and found the opening. It was a bag, made of thin strips of cedar bark, folded and woven with exquisite care. He slid his hand into the opening and brought out two strips of dried salmon. He passed a strip to Claire, who promptly chewed a piece off and said around a mouthful, “This is fantastic. Thanks, Walker.”

“Yeah, thanks, man.” Dan was enjoying his own mouthful. “And thank Percy for me.”

“Will do, but it might be a while before I see him again.” Walker smiled.