Dark Moon Walking (34 page)

He carefully pushed the grasses aside to get a better view. “It sounds like it, but that little inflatable is still in the water, and there's something odd about the hull. She's sitting too low in the water.”

“Someone's coming out of the wheelhouse,” Claire said.

“Yeah. That's probably the captain.”

“There's another man too. I think it's the guy with the ponytail.”

Dan caught a glint of metal as the second man followed the captain through the door. “Yeah. And he's got a gun, so I guess we know who shot Harry.”

“Harry?” Claire was looking at him in astonishment. “You know these people?”

He shook his head, chiding himself for not keeping his mouth shut. Now he would have to explain. “No, but remember when I came to pick you and Walker up off that island and I took a look at the black ship?” She nodded. “I saw the guy who just got shot. He was walking along the deck, and I knew I'd seen him somewhere before. I just couldn't remember where. Then yesterday I figured it out. It was when I was on the job. His name is—was—Harry Coombs. He's a crook. A bad guy. We figured we knew what he was up to, but we could never get anything on him that would hold up in court.”

Claire was silent, and he glanced at her. She was looking back at the water, maybe watching the ship, maybe searching for some sign of the man they were talking about, but mostly she seemed to be lost in thought. He watched her for a moment, wanting to find a way to reassure her and also turn that look of reproach into something closer to warmth and . . . was it her approval he wanted? He pulled his attention back to the black ship.

There was still no sign of Harry in the water, and the two men from the wheelhouse disappeared from view as they moved aft along the side deck. With the anchor up,
Snow Queen
was swinging her bow slowly out into the wind. As her stern swung around toward them, Dan saw two more men standing on the aft deck and recognized them as the ones he had seen earlier in the inflatable. Now they looked relaxed and unconcerned, like they were simply waiting for someone; they had made no move to go to see what was happening in the wheelhouse, even though it was impossible to believe they hadn't heard the shots. Which made them part of the gunman's team, Dan thought to himself. How many more were there or had everybody else left with the crew boat? A moment later the captain, still followed by the gunman, appeared from the side deck, and after a brief conversation that he couldn't make out, Dan watched the two men move to the stern and pull both the dinghy and the inflatable up to the grid.

“Are they all leaving?” Claire whispered the same question he had been asking himself.

“Looks like it,” he replied.

“But that doesn't make sense. Wouldn't they leave someone behind on the ship? They've hauled the anchor. She'll just drift away.”

Dan nodded. He was as confused as she was, but even as they watched, the captain was urged into the dinghy, the gunman followed, and the other two men clambered into the inflatable. Both boats roared to life and motored out into the channel together before turning west and disappearing around a point. Moments later, silence returned.

Dan turned his attention back to the black ship. He couldn't see any sign of life aboard her and couldn't hear the sound of any engine or equipment running. Suddenly his mind slipped back to the night he'd been anchored up north and he had seen the furrowed wake of a passing boat but had heard nothing. He hadn't linked that with the black ship up to now—hadn't had a reason to. He had never seen it under way, but now that he thought about it, he figured this was almost certainly the same ship. It must have some new engine and prop design, one he had never heard of that made no sound. But that boat had been under way and traveling at speed, judging by the wake it had left.
Snow Queen
looked like she was just drifting.

He and Claire lay side by side for a few minutes, staring out at the drifting ship, thinking their own thoughts, feeling the sun warm their backs when it dodged out of the clouds. The wind had veered and was still dropping and
Snow Queen
swung aimlessly as each gust caught her, but she was inexorably drifting out into the deep water of the channel and the current was starting to catch her, pushing her west.

“She looks like she might be sinking and they've abandoned her.” Once again, Claire had put his thoughts into words.

He looked at her. “It certainly looks that way, but I guess there's only one way to find out for sure.” He pushed himself back from the ridge, stood up, and turned to head down to where the dinghy still sat on the shore below them.

“You planning on just leaving me here?”

He turned to find her still sitting on the grass, her face so indignant that even though her question had caught him off guard, he had to struggle not to laugh.

“Claire, we don't know for sure there's nobody there. You saw what happened to Harry. These guys are dangerous.”

“And? What are you going to do if there is someone there? Hit him on the head with your paddle?”

“Claire . . .”

“And what about me? What am I supposed to do here without the dinghy if you get into trouble? I assume you were going to take the dinghy, or were you planning on swimming?”

The indignation had disappeared, and he could see her anger building with every word.

“Claire . . .”

“Men! You're all so damn stubborn.” She twisted to her feet, ignoring the hand he extended to help her up. “I'm coming with you.”

She brushed past him and he watched as she stalked down the bank to the water and pushed the dinghy out. What the hell? Where had that come from? It was a side of her he hadn't seen before, and oddly enough, he thought he liked it, although now was neither the time nor the place to try to figure out why. He gave himself a mental shake and went down to join her. She was sitting in the bow, facing forward with her back rigid, her shoulders straight, and her gaze firmly fixed ahead, as he pushed out into deeper water and started the motor.

Snow Queen
was deserted. She was also sinking. Claire had been right on both counts. Her stern was getting low in the water, and she wallowed with each wave that washed past her. Dan made sure Claire stayed with him as he checked the cabins and the living quarters, and once he was sure there was no one left aboard, he left her in the wheelhouse while he made his way down to the engine room.

Even without a light, he could make out the dull glint of water. He reached his hand around the side of the door, feeling for a switch or a panel in case there was still power, and his fingers brushed across a round tube. A flashlight. Even better. He pulled it free from its mount and switched it on. The water was more than halfway up the two engines—if that's what they were. They looked more like big generators, but it didn't matter what they were because they weren't going to be starting again. Neither was a third, smaller engine that sat in the center of the floor and was almost completely underwater, only the top of the engine block still showing. He shone the beam around the walls. Electrical cables and pipes snaked along both sides, and above them heavy shelves with high lips held spare parts and tools. At the front, on a wide ledge and strapped in with heavy steel bands, sat two smaller generators and a bank of batteries.

He turned the beam of the flashlight back to the side of the doorway and located the electrical panel. The switches were all off. He checked the labels till he found a switch labeled Auxiliary Generators and switched it on. Ahead in the gloom he saw twin green lights appear, but nothing else happened. He figured the starter switch was probably up forward, beside the generators, but he had no desire to climb down into that darkness and wade through murky water that was probably knee high in order to find out.

He shone the flashlight down again. The water was higher, but not a lot. Wherever the leak was, it wasn't huge. Why hadn't they tried to fix it? Surely there were pumps. This ship was some rich guy's toy. It would have every possible piece of equipment, all of it top of the line. Suddenly, his brain conjured an image of Harry, tumbling forward, dropping down past the wide side deck, past the shining black hull. This would have been Harry's ship, he realized. It was exactly the kind of toy Harry Coombs liked to have, and it was registered in Vancouver, where Harry had his sprawling mansion overlooking Horseshoe Bay. Dan had been there once as part of a raid that had yet again come to nothing. And the captain was almost certainly Harry's captain, which meant he would have wanted to save the ship. Probably wanted to call the coast guard, and that would not have suited the fellow with the ponytail. Not if he was the guy behind the Shoal Bay stuff.

“Shit!” Dan flung himself backward and raced to the wheelhouse, ignoring the alarmed look Claire gave him as he blew past her.

“What's happening? Is something else wrong?” Her voice followed him as he scanned the console for the switch he was looking for.

“Only with my brain.” He moved to the starboard controls. “If we can get the radio working, we can call the coast guard.”

TWENTY-NINE

“But why not just shoot him too? Why force him into the dinghy?”

Claire was straddling the center thwart and scanning the water and shoreline that lay ahead and to starboard of them as she spoke. They were running at less than half speed, partly because they were near the shore themselves and needed to see any rocks or reefs that lay in their path and partly because they wanted to hear any other motor before whoever was using it had a chance to hear them.

“Yeah, I've been thinking about that,” Dan replied, his focus on what was happening on the port side. “I think he was the only one who knew how to get to where they were going. Probably Shoal Bay.” He hoped he was right. He had pointed the coast guard in that direction.

“Makes sense, I guess,” Claire said. She was quiet for a few moments, then asked, “Do you think they'll shoot him too? Once they get there?”

He looked at her. The worry in her eyes made him want to reach out and reassure her, but he didn't know how.