First Avenue (43 page)

Sam sat down on one of the benches and leaned back against the cabin’s quivering metal wall. He braced his body against the rolling of the boat and stared at the others who remained standing around the wheel.
Katherine
thought about joining him but decided to remain standing with the others. On the police radio, disturbances, irritations, and violations in the city were announced, and cops went to do what they could. It seemed far away, and yet she could see the city’s lights through the rain-spattered windows. Occasionally there was chatter on the marine radio—more informal and undisciplined—mostly concerning the weather and getting from one place to another.

“I hate stakeouts,”
Sam
said and stared at the ceiling of the cabin. “Wait and wait for nothing. My old man would have been good at it. He could wait for the world to end.”

Maybe he was right,
Katherine
thought. All the waiting in the world would not make any difference if
Captain
Russell
had picked up a single suspicion. Nothing would happen if the boy had decided to talk to someone else. Nothing would happen if they had any sensible alternative. Nothing would happen.

There’s a boat out there with its lights off,”
Turner
said in an urgent voice that brought
Sam
to his feet. He joined the others gathered in front of the windshield in the dark cabin.

“Looks like about twenty-five feet,”
Turner
said as he peered through the rain and darkness with his binoculars. “Might be a Bayliner. It’s moving to the stern of the
De la Cruz
.“

Sam stood behind
Katherine
and leaned toward the windshield as if another few inches would make a difference. He still couldn’t see it.

“What about radar?”
Sam
asked. “I just see a bunch of junk.”

“Right there,” the sergeant said, pointing to a spot on the screen. “It’ll show up better if it moves away from shore. Too much background here.”

“All right, baby, move in there,”
Turner
said.

“Can you see anybody topside on the
De la Cruz
?“ Markowitz asked.

“No. The Bayliner’s moving away. Ten to one, they picked up something.”

“We won’t move till she gets farther out,” the sergeant said.

“Shall we alert
Harbor 2
?“ Johnson asked.

“Not yet,” the sergeant replied. “I don’t want to do anything that might spook them.”

“It’s headed northwest,”
Turner
said. “Speed’s increasing.”

The boat turned on its running lights, and everyone in the cabin saw the flash of colors.

“Lit like a Christmas tree,”
Turner
said as he peered through the binoculars. “There’s a step on the stern. That’ll help us.”

“You need more help than that,” the sergeant said. “Wright, can you get that kayak unlashed in a hurry?”

“About ten seconds,”
Sam
said. It was difficult to keep his voice steady.

“That should do. Let’s raise the anchor.”

Turner handed the binoculars to
Markowitz
and hurried out to the deck to bring up the anchor.

“All right,
Johnson
,” the sergeant said, “ease her out.”

As
Johnson
pushed the throttle forward,
Sam
felt his body quivering beyond the vibrations of the engine. He tried to take deep breaths without making noise. It wasn’t fear as much as excitement, he thought. Then again, maybe it was fear. Whatever it was, he was not alone with it. Next to him,
Turner
was rising and dropping on his toes, pumping himself up like a flat tire.

“Stay to the west,” the sergeant told
Johnson
. “Circle wide. Give them plenty of room.”

They headed northwest.
Elliott
Bay
seemed to have become smaller. The city to the east was like a million flashlights, all pointing at them. They tried to shrink from view by staying close to the shore.

“
Gloria Rose
to
Olivia Rose
. You still awake, Mick?” the sergeant asked, imitating the easy style used on the marine radio.

“
Roger
,” came the static reply. “Wide awake.”

“We’re heading out to meet the
Nippon Blue
. She should be ready for escort in twenty minutes or so.”

“
Roger
. Over and out.”

“
Roger
, my ass,” Turner said, and a low gut laugh rumbled out of him. “Did you hear that? That son of a bitch has been wanting to talk like that his whole life.”

“She’s showing up good,” the sergeant said. He continued to study the perpetually changing radar screen. “Let’s hope we don’t show up like that. Keep close to shore,
Johnson
. We don’t want to look like we’re following her.”

“We’re going to lose sight of her soon if we don’t change course,” Johnson said.

“I know that. We have to take that chance. You guys agree?”

The sergeant looked from Markowitz to Katherine to Sam.

“It’s your boat,” Sam told the sergeant. “Just get us there when the time comes.”

The lights of the
Nippon Blue
faded into the dark as the distance between the two boats increased. After a few minutes it was pointless to look for it through the windshield.

“She knows where she’s going,” the sergeant said. “Steady, west northwest. Center of the Sound. Just like the advertisement.”

They followed the shoreline along West Seattle. Under normal conditions, the water would be as flat as Lake Washington, but the storm was making quite a show as the swells broke into waves as they rolled on shore. When they reached the Duwamish Head on the west side of Elliott Bay, the sergeant pointed to another moving dot on the radar screen.

“What do you think, Johnson?” the sergeant asked.

“Hard to say. Moving in the right direction.”

“Damn right it is. Give me the charts, Turner.”

Turner spread the chart atlas across the instrument panel. The sergeant flicked on the light from an adjustable-arm lamp. He found the right page and then traced a route with his finger as he glanced repeatedly toward the radar screen. The two dots were converging.

“Here,” he said. His thick forefinger marked a spot on the chart page. “What’s the reading here?”

“Forty-seven-52 north, 122-48 west,” Turner said, finding the numbers at the edge of the page.

“Write them down.”

Turner wrote the numbers in his pocket notebook and handed it to the sergeant. The sergeant looked at the numbers for a moment as though they might convince him on their own.

“I’ll bet next week’s pay that’s the meeting place,” he said. “Anybody got a different idea?”

Sam watched the dots another moment and then leaned forward toward the chart book. Turner gave him more room, and he traced the horizontal and vertical lines himself.

“A mile west of the grain terminals,” Sam said. “Just out of the shipping lanes.” He looked at Katherine, who stood transfixed watching the green radar screen. She cocked her head in response but offered no opinion. After one last glance at the radar screen, he accepted the location for all of them. “Looks good.”

The sergeant handed the notebook back to Turner. “Change them to letters,” he said.

Turner began to scribble onto the pad and mumbled letters aloud as he wrote.

“Look here,” the sergeant said as he pointed to a large dot on the radar screen. “We got a big ship coming down about three miles north. We’ll use her as our target. Take us north, Johnson. Stay on the west side like we planned. Ten knots ought to get us in the area about the same time. How close you want to get, Wright, before we dump you off?” the sergeant asked.

“No more than a couple hundred yards. Can you get us that close about the time they meet?”

“We can try, provided they don’t change their minds. They’re not going to be able to lash together very long in these swells.”

“We’re not going to have an easy time getting to them either.”

“We’ll make it three hundred yards,” the sergeant said, “and hope like hell we don’t spook them.”

The sergeant picked up the marine radio microphone and called the
Olivia Rose
. Again he settled into the easy lingo of a tugboat captain. Sam appreciated his ability to make that voice. His own sounded like someone had grabbed him by the throat.

Turner handed the sergeant the notebook. Before releasing it he reminded him, “Make sure you use the marine alphabet. Don’t say Adam and Boy. If we have cops listening, they might pick up something.”

“Good point,” the sergeant said.

“Alpha and Bravo,” Turner reminded him.

“
Gloria Rose
to
Olivia Rose
,“ the sergeant said as he held Turner’s notebook in front of him. “We have two cargoes on line today. David, George, dash, Edward, Bravo and Alpha, Bravo, Bravo, dash, David, Henry. How did you read that?”

“Five by five,” came the reply over their radio.

“We’re underway now. Should have the
Nippon Blue
in sight in another ten minutes.”

“Roger. See you there.”

The boat struggled through the swells as it followed the
Nippon Blue
at an oblique angle. All lights, except those on the instrument panel, were again shut off. The six cops braced themselves around the wheel and constantly watched the radar screen. There were many blips on the screen, despite the foul weather. They watched only two with interest. Then the sergeant directed them to a third.

“There’s
Harbor 2
,“ he said and pointed to a dot on the right of the screen.

“How far away is it?” Markowitz asked.

“We have the screen set at twelve miles,” the sergeant replied. “We’re about two miles apart now. I hope those fellas don’t start feeling the squeeze.”

Focused again on the radar screen, Sam watched the four dots closing. Only two were headed directly toward each other, but the distance separating the four was constantly shrinking. It seemed that their common interest would appear obvious to anyone watching the screen, but he reminded himself that those in the
Nippon Blue
and its approaching accomplice had something else on their minds.

Harbor 2
stopped when it reached the main sea-lanes. There was another boat waiting in the lane about a half-mile north of it. Farther north still, southbound, was the slow-moving blip of the much larger ship headed toward Elliott Bay.

“By god,” the sergeant said, “this might actually work.”

Sam searched through the windows for sight of the
Nippon Blue
. A new wave of rain passed over them, and the wind was increasing again. The lights on the Seattle shore became indistinct, and there were none visible on the west side of the Sound. In front of them, there was only blackness. He picked up a light that flickered on and off like a dying light bulb.

“That must be them,” he said, pointing ahead and to the right. “Do you see their lights?”

It took a moment for the others’ eyes to adjust after leaving the radar screen, but one by one they confirmed the image.

“How far away are we?” Sam asked.

“Less than five hundred yards,” the sergeant said.

“I think the other boat has stopped,” Johnson said. “They both stopped.”

“Probably sniffing each other like a couple of dogs,” Markowitz said. “I see the lights now from the other boat.”

“Slow it down easy,” the sergeant said. “We don’t want to blow by them if they decide to go somewhere else.”

“We can’t change direction now,” Sam said. “They’d make us for sure.”

“I know that. But they’re just sitting there.”

“Look,” Johnson said, “they just shut down their lights. Now they’re on again.”

“Must be a signal,” Markowitz said. “Let’s hope it’s the right one.”

“We’re going in now,” Sam said. “Keep us moving until we’re ready to drop and then pick it up easy when we’re free. Don’t change direction. Stop when you’re north of them a mile or so. Line up with the others.”

“You’re still pretty far away,” the sergeant said.

“I know. You ready, Turner?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Kat?”

“I’m ready.”

Sam led the way out to the deck. Johnson stayed at the wheel and eased the throttle back while Sam unleashed the kayak. Turner held the back of the kayak and Katherine the front. Sam pulled the waist skirt off the rim of the kayak and strapped it around him.