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It took most of the night, but by the early hours of the morning Dan had Walker’s reluctant agreement to accompany him down to Vancouver. It hadn’t been easy, and he didn’t feel comfortable with the knowledge that he hadn’t been entirely truthful. He had spent hours convincing Walker that he was the only one who could give a good enough description of the stolen regalia to enable its return. That part was true, although he really wouldn’t have to go down to the city to do that. What Dan hadn’t said was that once the meeting was over he planned on driving Walker to the hospital and somehow getting him examined, if not by the specialist Bryce had recommended then at least by an emergency-room physician. The man was so obviously suffering there was a good chance he would be admitted, or at least given something to ease the pain.
It was three in the morning when he phoned Markleson to see if he could arrange a float plane instead of a fixed-wing aircraft.
“Do you have any idea of what time it is?” Markleson had obviously been pulled out of a deep sleep, and his words were slurred. “This had better be goddamn important.”
“It is to me, and if you want me to continue working with the indigenous folks on this coast, then it is to you too.” Dan was too tired to come up with a diplomatic response. “I need you to get hold of Vancouver and get them to send up a float plane for my trip tomorrow.”
“Are you crazy? It’s three o’clock in the morning. They’ll all be home in bed sleeping—like I was and like you should be. Why the hell do you want a float plane anyway?”
“I’m taking Walker down there with me. I’ll never be able to get him into a fixed-wing. Even a float plane will be tough. He’s in rough shape.”
“They’re not sending a goddamn taxi! You can’t take a civilian along for the ride just because you want to.”
Dan looked back over his shoulder to make sure Walker wasn’t listening.
“Then deputize him. Do whatever you need to do, but I need to take him with me. Tell them he’s the only one who can identify this stuff. That’s the truth, anyway.”
“Damn it, Connor. This is not about ‘this stuff’, it’s about an assault and thefts on the other side of the planet. He sure as hell can’t identify those.”
“So tell them to have someone from forensics, or better still from the museum out there at the University, to talk to him. Tell them it’s cost efficient—two for the price of one. We’ll get a good description of the items stolen here and the museum will be a good resource for when we turn anything up.”
Markleson’s sigh was loud and clear. “You’re not going to listen to reason are you.” It was a statement, not a question.
“No. Not if it means Walker stays here. He has to go down to the city, and he has to go with me.”
“Shit. Okay, I’ll see what I can do, but no promises, you understand? I don’t even know if I can get hold of anyone in time to talk to them before the plane takes off.”
Dan smiled as he felt a weight lifted off him. “Thanks boss. I appreciate it. I owe you one.”
“You sure as hell do,” Markleson growled. “ In fact, you owe me more than one.” The phone went dead.
***
“WHY CAN’T THEY COME up here? Make more sense. This is where it happened.”
Walker was slowly working his way down onto the swim grid. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week, his face lined, his jeans and jacket stained and wrinkled. Dan knew that, like him, Walker hadn’t eaten anything and was functioning on only a cup of coffee, and he also knew he himself didn’t look much better. He should probably have changed into his uniform, but it was too late now and even as he thought about it, he realized he liked the message the state of his clothing sent.
“You ever known the big city boys to make it easy for us small town folks?” he asked. “They always figure their time is more important than ours.”
Walker snorted derisively and grabbed the railing to steady himself. “They got an elevator to get me into that thing?” he asked. “Not going to be pretty if . . .” The rest of his words were drowned in the backwash of props as a Beaver float plane taxied up to the wharf.
***
IT TOOK TIME TO GET Walker onto the plane, and even longer to get him off, but with the help of the pilot and another RCMP officer who had come to escort them to the NCB liaison office, they arrived only a few minutes later than scheduled. They were taken to a small conference room on the ground floor where a breakfast of donuts, danish and a pot of coffee had been provided, all of which Walker refused. It was only when a small, gray-haired woman with thick glasses was brought in and introduced as the curator at the University’s Museum of Anthropology that he was willing to even acknowledge the other people present, let alone join the conversation.
The woman had brought several books and a box of photographs with her, and she placed them on the table, pulled out a chair beside Walker, and spread them out in front of him. Almost immediately they were deep in conversation, their voices warm and eager. After several minutes of watching the two of them, gray and black heads almost touching as they leaned over the material she had brought, Dan felt a tap on his shoulder and he was beckoned over to another table on the other side of the room.
***
“YOU HAVE TO BE CRAZY! Why the hell would you want to send me over there?” Dan pushed his chair back and scanned the faces staring back at him. There were three of them, all in plain clothes, plus an Inspector who Dan thought looked vaguely familiar although he couldn’t place him. None of them looked moved by his protest.
“You know I’m on a case, working on a murder and several thefts here. This is where I can be useful. This is where I know the people, know the villages, know how things work. I know absolutely nothing about Australia!”
The spokesman of the group, a short, thickset man with a crewcut and a long mustache, was unmoved by his protest. “Two weeks isn’t going to make a difference, and Commander Markleson can have someone keep an eye on things while you’re gone.”
Dan heaved a sigh of frustration. “Two weeks can make one hell of a difference—and what the hell can I possibly achieve in two weeks over there? I have no contacts, no knowledge of the culture or how things work. It’s crazy.”
“You know how things are supposed to work on an investigation and we’ll provide you with contacts. You can identify when there’s something untoward going on. We don’t expect miracles, but we need someone on the ground there to tell us what’s happening.”
“Something untoward? What the hell does that mean? You think there’s something fishy about the investigation?”
“I didn’t say that.” The reply was sharp. “We simply want to be sure that everything possible is being done to find out who did this, and whether it’s linked to what’s happened here. With the current political climate, we need to get this wrapped up as soon as possible.”
Dan stared at him before letting his gaze drift around the other faces. “The current political climate?” He was doing the same repeating thing he did with Walker when he felt completely out of his depth, and he didn’t like it.
For the first time there were signs of discomfort in the group and Dan watched as they exchanged glances.
Crewcut spoke again. “I assume you are aware that the move towards Reconciliation is currently playing a leading role in Australia, just as it is here. It’s important that everybody sees we are putting maximum effort into stopping these crimes and getting these items back.”
Dan was too tired to be diplomatic. “So this whole trip is just for show? You want to be able to say you did everything possible? If it’s about Reconciliation, shouldn’t I be staying here? Taking care of Reconciliation on this side of the pond? Why don’t you use the guys from the anti-terrorist squad if someone from here needs to go there? They’re all familiar with international stuff. Any one of them could handle this better than I could.”
“It’s not just for show, Detective Connor. We need someone who understands the unique issues that exist between a police force and an indigenous population. Someone who can recognize when things that should be being done, aren’t. And it seems the powers that be don’t agree with you as to your abilities.” The Inspector had been quiet up till then, but now he reached out and flipped open the folder lying in front of him. “They say no one else has the unique qualifications and experience you do.” He lifted out a sheet of paper. “You served in the anti-terrorist squad . . .”
“That was ten years ago!” Dan exclaimed. “Things have changed . . .”
“Eight years ago, and according to this you were very good at it.”
He picked up another sheet of paper. “You are—informally of course—considered to be a ‘Lone Wolf’ and as such you are used to working on your own. You have a high solve rate and over the last five years you have received consistently high marks for both your ability to think independently and for your diplomacy when dealing with the public.” He stared at Dan over the rim of his glasses. “An unusual combination I would say.”
He looked back down and turned more papers over. “In addition, it appears you have earned the trust and respect of the indigenous people you work with who frequently welcome you into their communities—something none of the rest of us can claim.”
There was a muffled bark of laughter from the other table where Walker, who was supposedly working with the curator, was apparently listening in to the conversation. The Inspector ignored it.
“And then of course, there is the best reason of all.” He pushed everything back into the folder and looked directly at Dan, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Your lady friend—I believe her name is Claire?—is already over there is she not? You could not possibly have a better cover than a trip to visit her. If there are problems within the investigation, no one will suspect you are over there to look for them.”