Gale Force

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Ridley drove them to the pier in the Gale Force’s Zodiac, and then he drove them to the airport in the fuel-dock owner’s truck. McKenna and Harrington didn’t say much to each other on the drive.

It’s better this way, McKenna thought. No chance anybody gets hurt this time around, anyway. No more hurt than we are already.

She wasn’t sure she believed it, though, and she knew Harrington didn’t.

Ridley drove across the runway and parked the car outside the terminal building. Waited behind the wheel as McKenna and Harrington climbed out. It was a decent day outside, not too cool, overcast, the fog just starting to drift in over the mountains. Harrington’s plane wouldn’t have any trouble getting out of town, not today.

She waited as Harrington retrieved his carry-on from the back of the truck, then led him into the terminal building. Through the window, McKenna could see the architect’s plane waiting, a twin turboprop PenAir Saab 340.

“Kind of a puddle jumper,” she said to make conversation. “Might be bumpy, but you’ll be okay.”

“I made it to the tug on a Coast Guard rescue helicopter,” Harrington replied. “I think I can handle it.”

“You’re booked through to Anchorage, then down to Seattle. You can pick up your tickets from Alaska Airlines when you get to Anchorage.”

“Okay.” He wasn’t looking at her, and she wasn’t really looking at him, either. They were both kind of marking time, and McKenna wondered what more she was supposed to say here.

“Anyway, thanks for coming out,” she said finally. “You should have the money in a day or two, tops.”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Thanks,” he said. He hoisted his carry-on bag. Exhaled. “See you around.”

McKenna watched him walk away, out through the security checkpoint and into the waiting room. Watched him join the line of other passengers, present his ticket to the agent, walk out the other side of the terminal and across to the plane. He climbed the stairs to the cabin, found McKenna through the glass, and waved, once. Then he ducked inside the plane, and only then, when she couldn’t see him any longer, did McKenna walk away.

HARRINGTON WATCHED THROUGH THE WINDOW as the little plane rocketed down the runway and lifted off above Dutch Harbor. He could see the airport below, could see Nelson Ridley’s borrowed truck waiting outside the terminal, could almost convince himself he saw McKenna walking out as the plane banked and climbed. In the distance, he could see the Pacific Lion in the harbor, the Gale Force tethered to her bow. He could see it all, briefly, and then the plane was climbing into the clouds, and he could see nothing but gray. He sat back in his seat and tried to forget about McKenna Rhodes, steeled himself for the long flight south.

UNNOTICED BY McKENNA, and Court Harrington, too, was the well-dressed young Japanese man who’d arrived at the terminal in a taxi shortly after the three Gale Force salvors, hurried to the PenAir desk with barely a glance at where Harrington and McKenna carried out their awkward goodbyes, purchased a last-minute ticket to Anchorage and, while Harrington hoisted his carry-on bag and turned away from the salvage captain, slipped past and through security to the waiting area.

When Harrington boarded, the young man was already on the plane, tucked into a window seat near the rear, his nose in his phone, steadfastly ignoring the other passengers.

Harrington might have seen him, might not have, but he didn’t notice, in any case. The man was just another passenger on a half-full flight, another refugee from the edge of the world.