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Geocodes, Claire explained, were used to identify exact locations on the earth’s surface by assigning geographic coordinates, and it didn’t take her long to run each reference through the computer program. There were only eight of them, and once Claire had separated the code from some other letters that appeared at the end of each line, it was easy.
The first four identified pointed to the each of the first four villages that had reported thefts, the fifth was Tsatsquot, where Jimmie Alfred had lost his life, the sixth was Warrimuyanga, off the north coast of Australia and the seventh was Ahas’wit, the village where Leonard had been killed. The eighth was in a labyrinth of islands northwest of Klemtu.
“We’ve got him!” Dan’s yell was loud enough to disturb two kingfishers sitting out on the pilings. “We’ve got the bastard!”
He thumped the table with his fist, but then he caught himself and checked the list again.
“It looks like they’re in chronological order.” He ran his finger over the names. “That’s the first one, down there off Mussel Inlet, and that’s the second up near the end of Seymour. See that? And here’s number five, Charlie’s village.” He looked at Claire. “Maybe those letters at the end of the codes stand for what was stolen?”
After each code there were two or three letters and Dan opened his notebook to confirm what he was seeing.
“RTM. That has to be the Raven transformation mask. And here. BX. Bentwood box.” His finger traced down to the fifth line. “And this TM would be the Thunderbird mask from Charlie’s village. It all matches —except for this last one. There hasn’t been a theft reported from Kla’wis.”
“Not yet. But maybe that’s why he’s here.” Walker had been sitting quietly, listening to everything. “That’s where the next theft is going to be.”
Dan stared at him, his mind racing. Walker had to be right, but Dan wanted to be able to tell him he was wrong. That there was not going to be another theft. That once he had talked to the Contact Bureau and they had seen the notebook it would all be over. They would go in and search the houses on Porcher, question everybody, find Martin de los Santos and arrest him.
But he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. It was going to take too long. By the time the police got there, Kalfu was going to be gone.
Walker read the expression on Dan’s face. “You don’t think they’ll catch him?”
“I wish it was that simple, but that’s not the way it works. They have to apply for a search warrant and that takes time. When they’ve got it, they’ll send a team to Porcher. Maybe send in some of the guys from Rupert. But by the time they get there, Kalfu will probably have left.”
“But their helicopter’s still there.” Claire had been listening in as she watched the screen.
“Yeah, but we can’t see the other end of the island. They might have already taken the boat. Kalfu—de los Santos—could be anywhere.”
“But if the Bureau knows he’s heading for Kla’wis surely they’ll send a team in there?”
“Maybe.” It wasn’t likely. There were too many bureaucratic requirements that would slow them down. “But he could be way ahead of them.”
***
DAN SHOVED HIMSELF back from the table and went to stand beside Claire in the wheelhouse. The light was already starting to fade, the dark water dotted with small boats heading back to shore, and he could feel a cold, jittery energy taking hold of his body. He was so close. There had to be something he could do. His hands clenched into fists as he stared blindly out into the dusk.
“Even if I left now it would take me more than a day to get there!” He pushed the words out of a throat thickened with frustration and anger. “I might be too late.”
There was a long silence and Dan knew they were all thinking of the people in that tiny village identified only by the last geocode in the notebook. They would be gathering round fires, cooking supper, laughing, telling stories, completely unaware of what might be coming their way.
“Your VHF working?” Walker was the first to break the silence.
“Sure, but what good is it? I can’t use it to warn them. It would alert the people on Porcher, and anyway it’s only line-of-sight. That’s sure not going to reach as far as Kla’wis.”
“It doesn’t have to reach Kla’wis. You remember how the guys at Tsatsquot reached me when they wanted to get you?”
“Yeah. They relayed the message—shit! You think that could work here? It’s a lot further away and it’s late in the season. Not as many boats out now to pick it up and pass it on.”
“Worth a try. Better than sitting here waiting to hear this guy has murdered someone else.”
An hour later, fuel and water tanks full, they were underway. Dan had called Charles Eden to ask for his help and before they left, Eden and Walker had worked out a message they thought would alert the villagers in Kla’wis while not alarming either de los Santos or the people on Porcher Island if they heard it. Dreamspeaker had barely cleared the outflow from the Skeena River when they heard it repeated several times, but then the VHF fell silent and they had no way of knowing whether it had been passed on or whether the chain had been broken. Dan debated calling Waglisla to ask Matthews to help but he couldn’t risk it. While he hadn’t actually been ordered to stay in Rupert, he knew that was what the Bureau expected and they weren’t likely to be anywhere near as understanding as Markleson.
***
THE NEXT TWENTY-EIGHT hours were a blur. The gray evening merged into dark night and then into yet another gray morning, the diesel engine throbbed unrelentingly under their feet, and the lines on the screen scrolled endlessly down to chart their passage.
Dan stayed at the wheel all night, relying on the information on the screen to guide his course and trusting that this late in the year there would be no logs or other detritus in his way. He turned it over to Claire once it was light, but took it back after he had made a pot of coffee and grabbed a couple of cookies, completely ignoring Walker’s snort of disgust.
It wasn’t until the evening of the following day when they were approaching Waglisla that Dan passed the microphone to Walker.
“See if you can reach anyone. Ask them if they’ve heard the message and passed it on. We’re too far away from either Porcher or Kla’wis for anyone to hear you so I don’t think you need to be careful with what you say.” Dan’s speech was slurred from lack of sleep.
“Thought you’d never ask.” Walker depressed the switch. “Wilf Edgar. Wilf Edgar. Wilf Edgar. Walker calling.”
There was no answer.
“Who the hell is Wilf Edgar?” Dan snapped. “Just make an open call. Doesn’t matter who answers.”
“Patience my friend. Patience. Wilf’s getting on in life. Might take time for him to get to the radio.”
Walker repeated his call with the same result.
“Patience isn’t going to help us this time, Walker, and time is something we don’t have.”
Dan nudged the revs up yet again as he entered Lama Passage, and watched in frustration as a pod of dolphins raced effortlessly past as if to emphasize his lack of speed.
The air now smelled of ozone and overhead the clouds were an ominous yellowish-grey. Another storm was on the way.
“That you Walker?” A thin, reedy voice filled the wheelhouse.
Walker grinned and looked at Dan as he answered.
“Hi Wilf. You there by yourself?”
“Yeah. Rest of them took off to Kla’wis after they got your message.”
Walker’s grin got wider. “You hear anything from them since then?”
“Nah. No need. S’pect they’ll tell me all about it when they get back.”
“Shit! Do they know to keep out of the way?” Dan asked.
He reached for the microphone but Walker moved it away.
“When did they leave?” he asked, holding up a hand to stop Dan from interrupting.
“Before daylight. Too dark to see any damn thing except the wake when they took off.”
“How many?”
“I dunno. Five. Six. Maybe seven if they picked Richard up.”
***
WALKER REPLACED THE microphone and leaned back on his chair. “Guess the message got through. Sounds like they’ll have it all sorted by the time we get there.”
“How the hell do you figure that?” Dan ran his hand over his face, grimacing as he felt the two-day growth of beard. “We’ve got six or seven guys running around trying to catch a man with a knife who has no problem using it. We could be running into a blood bath!” He stared out the window into the gloom, wishing for a clairvoyance he knew was impossible. “The best we can hope for is that de los Santos sees them, realizes they knew he was coming, and beats it. It means we’ll have lost him, but at least it won’t . . .”
He would have said more, but the satellite phone interrupted him.
“Connor.” He snarled the word into the microphone, not caring who it was calling.
“Where the hell are you?” It was Markleson.
“Coming up on a small cove north-west of Klemtu. The village is named Kla’wis if that’s any help, and I can only talk for a couple of minutes. I’ve got some tricky navigating to do here.”
“Goddamn it Connor. Working with you is like running a friggin’ circus. You’re supposed to be in Rupert. Now I’ve got the Bureau on my ass asking what the hell you’re up to.”
“Why? No one ordered me to stay there, and they didn’t need me over on Porcher. They took their own team in. I figured I was better off following up on a lead down here.”
“Better be a good one. The Bureau says the knife that was used on that guy over in Australia was the same as the one that killed Jimmie and Leonard.”
***
BY THE TIME DAN ENDED the call the radar was showing the entrance to the cove and he slowed the engine. There wasn’t much clearance to squeeze Dreamspeaker’s wide beam through the opening and once inside there wasn’t going to be much room to maneuver. He needed to stay close to a steep cliff on his port side. Anywhere else where the shore was lower might give de los Santos an opportunity to climb on board. As soon as he could he put the engine in neutral and let the boat coast in until the bumpers he had hung on the hull kissed gently against the rock wall.
“Think you can keep her here until I get back?” he asked Claire. “There’s not much current so she shouldn’t need much fiddling to hold her steady. Walker and I will take the canoe in and see what’s happening.”
She nodded and took the wheel. “Be careful,” was all she said.
Dan and Walker slid the canoe into the water and paddled soundlessly to the opposite shore. No lights showed in any of the houses and only the occasional glint of moonlight on the glass of the windows revealed their presence.
“Where is everyone,” Dan whispered. “It’s not that late. Should be someone still up.”
The bow of the canoe scraped against the shore, and suddenly the air was filled with a cacophony of whistles and rattles that rose and faded then rose again.
“What the hell is that?” Dan snapped.
Walker chuckled. “Better let me out, white man. Take the canoe back offshore. This is a T’seka. They’re taming Man Eater. You don’t want to help him escape.”