At The Edge

32

Maria dialed the sheriff's office directly on the run to Dan's truck, angry that Dan had left without her but understanding that he was trying to keep her out of harm's way.

"There has been an explosion at the Hutchin law firm, probably a bomb. It might have been detonated by one Corey Schneider. There is one man critically wounded. An ambulance has been called."

"We're already responding," said the dispatcher. "What is your name, please?"

She started the truck and followed Shohei's Lincoln. ''Maria Fischer. And Dan Young and another man are trying to find the person responsible."

"Where are you?"

"Right behind them."

"Please remain at the scene, ma'am."

Maria disconnected. Then she saw the van. It was coming in the opposite direction, moving slowly, and it looked exactly like the one parked at the barn, the one they had abducted her in. Whipping the truck around in a U-turn, she planned to pull up behind it when it jerked forward, accelerating rapidly. Maria followed. It turned right, then left, then over a bridge that intersected a long peninsula. On the inland side of the peninsula lay Palmer Bay with its boat harbors and yacht basins. Seaward was the vast Pacific.

Quickly she got back on the phone.

"This is Maria Fischer again. May I speak with Sheriff McNiel, please?"

"He's not in."

"I know he's not in. It's the middle of the night. Look, I'm following a van that may have been involved."

"Ma'am, I asked you to stay at the scene."

"Well, I'm not at the scene; I'm pulling into the Grayson Island Marina behind the van."

"We'll send a squad car, but don't follow a suspect's vehicle."

"Give me the sheriff."

''OK, OK, I'll try. But please get away from that vehicle."

Maria watched as the van pulled into a large parking lot. She stayed back on the road leading to the lot, trying to see in the heavy shadows. Large lights illuminated the area, but budget-conscious bureaucrats had designed the lighting for minimal coverage. It was especially dark near the rest room and laundry facilities where the van had parked.

She coasted forward a little farther, straining to see. Someone had gotten out of the van and walked toward the docks behind the rest room.

Mist hung in the air, haloing the lights in the fog. Her fear made the eerie night chilling. Slowly she rolled the truck forward. If Corey Schneider was departing in a boat, she needed to identify it. At the edge of the parking lot, she climbed out, her shoes clicking on the asphalt, certain that any moment she would see a boat leaving the marina.

Where were the police?

She continued around the washroom facility, keeping clear of the shadows to the back and sides of the structure. Facing the marina stood a well-lit bulletin board that served as the local trading post. It was covered with little cards advertising boats and all their various parts and gadgets. Along the steeply inclining ramps that led to the various docks ran a wide asphalt sidewalk used by roller bladers and strolling lovers. She had no clue which of the numerous piers Corey, or whoever it was, had chosen. Most boats were dark. Some had a single light at the pilot's station. A few had cabin lights luminescent against the window coverings. She counted twelve separate gangways accessing twelve separate floating piers, each pier with slips running down either side. There were perhaps eighty boats per pier. Only a few berths were empty.

Her eyes scanned the marina for some sign of movement. In her right hand she clutched her cell phone, ready to push the call button to the sheriff's department. Approaching the second washroom, she began a systematic search of the floats.

A shadow startled her. She turned.

Her next thought was that her head hurt terribly. Strangely, her cheek now rested on a wooden deck, and the sound of a motor throbbed through the planks. Her hands and feet were bound. With a shudder she realized she would be thrown into the black deep. She imagined it would be a slow drowning.

It took only minutes before they found themselves behind a familiar black Chevy, following precisely the same route as before, only this time the driver was seemingly oblivious to the tail. And this time Dan had a cell phone.

"We should call the police," Dan said.

Shohei didn't take his eyes away from the road. "I can get a lot of information before the police arrive. I won't have to break a single bone or do anything permanent."

"What will you do?"

"You don't want to know, and I don't want to tell you."

"I've got to call the police." Dan dialed the phone. "This is Dan Young, attorney. A bomb just went off at my law firm. We're following a suspect."

"We know. Get the license number. Don't follow."

"They'll be stolen plates. They were last time. Besides we haven't gotten close enough to observe them."

"What's your location?"

''Old Mountain Road, just past the fork to Browns Point.''

"You're in the mountains."

"That's affirmative."

"We'll have a squad car catch up with you. Don't approach the vehicle. We have a report from Maria Fischer, who advises that she is also following a suspicious van."

"Van?"

"That's affirmative."

"Where is she?"

"Last we heard she was at the marina. She is not answering her cell phone. We have a patrol car there now."

"Understand," Dan said. "We'll wait for a squad car." Dan turned to the bodyguard. "We gotta run that car off the road now. If that's not Cory Schneider, that means Maria followed her to the marina, and that means this is the wrong car."

"I thought you were against taking the law into your own hands."

The big sedan surged forward, quickly hitting eighty miles per hour. It took only a few seconds to pull alongside the Chevy. It tried to accelerate but Shohei adroitly pulled ahead. Once in front, Shohei slowed, checking the Chevy's movements so that it couldn't pass. When they were down to forty and the Chevy driver was laying on the horn, the Chevy swerved, turning off onto a logging road. Instantly the big sedan did a sliding reversal and was laying rubber. Again they quickly caught the Chevy. The car twisted and turned rounding corners.

"I can't pass," Shohei said.

"Something will happen."

The Chevy took a corner too fast and careened into a tree. They jumped out, and Shohei tackled the young woman in the bushes. Dan could hear choking sounds and ran to them.

"Stop."

The bodyguard ignored him. "Tell me about the van and I will let you breathe. Where was it going?" He released and she spit in his face. Again he choked her. "You killed a man tonight. You don't have to die."

Dan watched in sick fascination.

"I don't want to die." The woman choked out her answer when Shohei let her breathe.

"Tell me."

There was silence, horrible choking, then a gurgled scream. "Corey was in the van. She was going out to sea in a trawler. That's all I know."

Dan called the dispatcher. "Did they find Maria?"

"Haven't heard. I'll check."

"Let's go," said Dan. "Take her with us."

Dan sat beside her in the backseat while Shohei drove at full speed.

"They haven't found Maria Fischer. They're still looking," the dispatcher said.

"Look for a boat. The suspect she was following was leaving on a trawler," Dan said.

"I'll pass it along."

"Call the coast guard. Look for any trawler exiting the jetties in the last hour," Dan continued. "What were they doing with the trawler?'' he asked the woman next to him.

"I got no idea."

"Right. What did it look like?"

"A big fishing boat, that's all I know. It was dark."

They pulled up into the parking lot. Two empty police cruisers had their lights flashing. At the far end they found an officer on foot.

"We're looking for Maria Fischer," Dan said.

"So are we. She's disappeared."

''What about the coast guard? I told the police dispatcher to look for a fishing trawler."

"There are dozens of boats out this early. Cruisers, shrimpers, crabbers, long liners, draggers, and trawlers. They need a description."

"This woman was at the scene of the crime. She knows about the boat."

"Ma'am, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to an attorney."

"I want to exercise my right to remain silent. That man choked me."

"It was to apprehend her, I expect?" the officer said.

"That bastard got me on the ground and choked me unless I talked."

Dan left them for the piers.

"Where you going?" the cop called.

"Look for Maria," Dan said, with Shohei just behind.

They trotted down the gangway. A friend of Dan's, who also happened to be his doctor, owned a fast sportfishing boat that was docked in the harbor. By virtue of a few salmon fishing trips, Dan had learned where his friend hid the key.

Dan started the boat. A quick study, Shohei had the lines free in seconds. And then they were boiling up the bay to the jetties and the ocean bar.

The night was thick with fog and salt. Dan didn't know what he was searching for, but he had to try. He turned on the GPS navigator and the radar along with a bright searchlight on the bow.

On an electronic display Dan found their boat shown superimposed on a chart, its location heading and speed over the ocean bottom plainly visible. He accelerated to eighteen knots but suspected he didn't have the visibility for that speed. Frustrated, he slowed to sixteen knots and watched the radar. Crossing over the sandbar at the entrance to the bay, he saw three targets moving away from the jetties.

He took a bearing on the closest target, which appeared at the six-nautical-mile ring, also traveling out to sea at about ten knots. He could chase them down in less than forty minutes if he maintained his current speed. The fog could get no thicker, though, or he would have to slow even more.