Dark Moon Walking (39 page)

A stainless steel brewing machine with a confusing array of lights and spigots sat against the back wall. On the counter next to it was a basket of fresh fruit and a plate of muffins and cookies wrapped in plastic. The three men moved toward it in unison. None of them had eaten since the night before, and the prospect of coffee and food was irresistible.

The faint click of the door closing behind them was almost indistinguishable from the sound of their footsteps as they crossed the tiled floor. Fernandez glanced back, thinking perhaps the pilot had followed them in, but there was no one. Must have been the wind. It was only after he had made himself a cup of coffee that he noticed the desk clerk had disappeared. That must have been what he'd heard.

The other two took their drinks over to a cluster of armchairs grouped around a low table in the center of the room, but Fernandez moved back to the wide glass windows that overlooked the terminal. His mind would not let him relax. He had to figure out what was going on. They were so close to their deadline. He could not let something get in the way now. Everything had been going perfectly and then, suddenly, they had been sabotaged. And it had to have been sabotage. Nothing else made sense. But by whom? Harry? Not likely. He had been a willing party in the plan almost from the beginning and would have stood to lose a great deal of money. Besides, he couldn't have called in the coast guard. He was already dead.

The captain? Possibly, but he had no reason to sink his own ship and he had been with Fernandez from the time the propellers had been fouled until the men left in the dinghy. The coast guard had to have been called after that. That left his own men, and they would have already been over in Shoal Bay and wouldn't have known there was a problem on
Snow Queen
. Besides, only Alex and Gunter had had access to a radio. It didn't make sense. There was something he was missing and he needed to figure it out fast.

Movement caught his eye. A tanker truck was moving slowly across the tarmac in the direction of the helicopter, but there was no other sign of life. He scanned the view again, then came back and sat down. Another hour or so and they would be at the warehouse, preparing the weapons.

He was just reaching for his coffee when he heard another soft click, and the room was suddenly filled with the pounding of heavy boots and screaming voices yelling instructions to get down on the floor. It happened so fast, he had no chance to react. Within seconds the three men were surrounded by an emergency response team in full combat gear and heavily armed with MP5 submachine guns, all of which were trained on their targets. Fernandez closed his eyes as handcuffs were snapped around his wrists. The pain of failure was almost physical, but it was nothing compared to what he knew would happen when his boss found out.

“We got them.”

Mike's voice, distorted by distance and the speakers, still conveyed both relief and pride. “Picked them up at the heliport in Campbell River. Pilot said they were headed for Vancouver.”

“That's great news.” Dan was staring out the windshield, watching the marine-police catamaran nose carefully into the cove.

“Yeah,” said Mike. “Now I just have to figure out what the hell they were planning.”

“Gonna be hard for them to do anything now, without their people or their equipment.”

“I don't know. Still doesn't feel right. None of it makes any sense. Only two of the guys on the crew boat were armed, and that was just handguns. Nothing with any range or power. And one of the guys from the helicopter—the one with the ponytail—had a gun, but there isn't much else and most of it is not operational. There has to be something else. It was way too big an operation, way too much planning, for what we've got here. They wouldn't have had a chance of getting through security.”

“Maybe they weren't aiming for the conference.”

“Maybe.” Mike wasn't convinced. “But everything points to that and the timing's right. Shit! I'm not going to be able to sleep till the whole bloody thing is over. There're some pretty big targets there tomorrow.”

“Yeah. It does seem weird. Wish I could help you more, but I think we're done up here. Only thing left is I've got to go with Hargreaves and show him where we left Robbie.”

“Right. Poor bastard—Robbie, not you. You taking Walker with you?”

Dan laughed. “Thanks. And no, I think I'm going to try to keep Walker as far away from Hargreaves as I can. Don't think the two of them would be a good mix.”

“Sounds like an interesting guy.”

“Yeah,” said Dan, realizing as he said it the truth of that statement. “He is.”

Mike remained at his desk for a while after Dan had hung up, thinking, allowing his mind to wander, letting all the pieces float. It was something he had learned from Dan and he needed it to work now. Needed to get Dan back on the force too, but that was a whole other story, and he could deal with it later. Right now there was a piece of this puzzle he was missing. Had to be. But what the hell was it?

He got up and wandered onto the concourse. The lights were coming on in the buildings that lined Burrard and West Cordova Streets, and he could feel the mood of the city changing as night descended. The last cruise ship of the season had departed a couple of weeks ago, and the restaurants and bars around the walkway there were filled with the end-of-workday rush. They would all be closed tomorrow morning and the walkway would be shut down with solid barricades to prevent access.

He turned away and walked back toward the ocean. The ferries that connected the north and south shores threw dancing shards of yellow light on the water as they moved across the inlet. They were too far away to be a serious concern, and each one would have its own security detail anyway. Closer in, there were a few pleasure boats out on the water, stragglers heading back into Coal Harbour marina after a day out on the water, but by tomorrow morning the marina would be closed off, all the would-be sailors kept at the dock by a flotilla of police boats.

To the west, Harbour Green Park was dark, only the leaves of the trees along the pathways visible in the yellow light of the lamp standards. It too would be sealed off in the morning, and although the traffic on Lions Gate Bridge would continue to thunder across the narrow span that linked the cities of the north and south shores, there could be no threat from there. Not only was the distance wrong, but pedestrian access would be closed and the traffic moving too fast. If there was any interruption there, helicopter patrols would be there in an instant.

That left the streets and buildings, and the streets would all be sealed off, traffic diverted well before it reached the area. So what was left? Only the buildings, and except for the cruise-ship terminal, which was closed down, the rest were five-star hotels, and few were positioned in such a way that windows overlooked the entrance to the conference center. Those that were had either locked off the rooms or were hosting the
VIP
s themselves, and all were subject to intense security. What did that leave?

Damn it! He was missing something. He had to be. He tried to picture the street as it would look the following day. There would be crowds of onlookers clustered behind the barricades that had been set up. Some would be protesters: loud, restless, quick to react, and easy to provoke. It would be easy to get something going there, but why? Some kind of diversion? That would mean something happening somewhere else. A kidnap attempt? That would need a car, and it couldn't get in. A marksman? But where would a sniper set up?

Mike ran through the drill again as he circled the convention center for a third time. He was walking south toward the emergency exit when his eyes drifted over to the Fairmont Pacific Rim, one of those five-star hotels surrounding the convention center. It had no windows overlooking the entrance, but it was the only one that had a direct view to the east side and the emergency exit. His gaze drifted upward. Twelve stories of luxury suites, all thoroughly checked and the guests cleared, and all the rooms with heavy, sealed glass windows. Above them, the offices of the top financial firm in the city. He had thought about closing it down for the day, but pressure from the local politicos and the big-money boys had finally convinced him to let it stay open. He opted instead to scrutinize the appointments list and implement security screening.

The windows of the building faced west, and the lights had been turned off. As night fell, row upon row of dark glass reflected the glittering lights of the North Shore and the traffic on Lions Gate Bridge, each row a perfect replica of the one below it. Except for the top floor. Three of the windows there showed a sharp break in the pattern that created a distortion. Mike stared at them, his heart picking up speed as adrenalin surged into his bloodstream. Those would be the partner's suites, large and impressive and with a stunning view overlooking the water. Each had a tracery of ornate wrought iron in front of it where the occupant could step out onto a miniscule balcony and take in that view, maybe impress his clients with it. And that meant that the windows opened. That was why there was break in the reflections. It was caused by the frame. Shit!

Mike pulled out his phone and pressed a button, his eyes still fixed on those high windows. “Get a team together and meet me over at the Fairmont Pacific Rim. And get one of the partners of that financial firm down here, I don't care which one. We need to go in now.”

THIRTY-FOUR

Dan and Walker sat together in the cockpit, watching the police boat approach. It rode high in the water, its twin hulls carving identical wakes that streamed out behind in a ribbon of foam.