Gale Force

100

Nakadate stared at his computer in disbelief.

A Google News alert: MORE DRAMA ON THE PACIFIC LION. Three Japanese nationals rescued from a sinking lifeboat. Firearms recovered in the wreck. Reports of an audacious attack on the Pacific Lion and her tugboat escort, the Gale Force, the same tug that had rescued the ship after her near-capsize in the North Pacific three weeks ago.

The three attackers were safe, Nakadate read, but were in Canadian custody. The Pacific Lion, meanwhile, would continue her voyage to Seattle—though from now on, with a military escort.

Nakadate read the article over again. Sato and his colleagues had failed. The Lion continued. There was nothing about a briefcase. No mention of his stolen property.

Perhaps there was no need. The scope of Sato’s failure was so vast that Nakadate could be sure the briefcase remained in the salvage crew’s possession. That was a problem, but it was not yet a disaster.

He picked up the phone. Placed a call to Masao Tanaka. The crew of the Gale Force retained the stolen bonds. Nakadate wondered how eager they would be to trade.

“THERE IS ONE THING I’ve been wondering,” Stacey Jonas told McKenna over the radio. She and her husband had emerged from their hiding place, called over to the Gale Force to check in on the crew. She and Matt were scared half to death, but otherwise they were fine.

“What’s that?” McKenna asked, watching the lights of the Lion inch closer to the stern of her tug, the winch drawing the big freighter back close again. Beyond the Lion’s stern, the Canadian Coast Guard lifeboat had rescued the three shooters; above, a big Royal Canadian Air Force helicopter stood guard.

“It was like they knew something,” Stacey said. “Like, why would they even move on the Gale Force at all?”

“Maybe they talked to the sailor,” McKenna said. “The Coast Guard brought him to Dutch Harbor. Best I can tell, that’s where these three got on.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Stacey said. “That would put them on the ship, for sure. But there’s no way they could have checked out the whole freighter since we left Dutch, is there? I mean, they didn’t even bother to ask me and Matt if we knew anything.”

McKenna said nothing. Thought back to Dutch Harbor. Thought she might remember, vaguely, a man on the dock, a pickup truck. A man at the airport, Court’s flight.

Probably nothing. Just paranoia.

“Those guys were on a mission, McKenna,” Stacey continued. “They knew where to look. How do you figure they got that information?”

Damn it. McKenna stared out the window, the near-black night, the ocean.

“I’ll get back to you,” she told Stacey. “I’d better make a call.”