Running Off Radar, page 18
“And I suppose the family thinks history is repeating itself or something?”
“If by that you mean outsiders come in and abuse the locals, who have no legal recourse for their losses. It’s not a repeat so much as the same song, new verse.”
Green took her time wiping her mouth and hands on the paper napkin. If she gave her any snark about going native, Maji was ready. Instead, Green just said, “So I take it you don’t think Captain Charlie’s death was accidental.”
“Nope. Charlie radioed Dee, who was home with the flu that afternoon. Told her about a trawler in the channel near his secret herring egg harvest spot, acting weird. Planned to go over and check on it if it was still there when he had his haul in.”
Lt. Green raised one platinum brow. “And he died with those two weights that are too heavy to be lead in his skiff.” She took the last bite of her burger. “Can I see the sinkers?” Green asked around a mouthful of burger. She ate like a soldier on duty, or a cop on break. Fast enough to not go hungry if a call came in, slow enough to not get sick if running was called for.
Maji set one weight on the table and slid it over. “Feels about twice as heavy as it should if it was lead. But it looks like the real deal, doesn’t it? Would be a clever way to hide…another metal that doesn’t rust.” She glanced around and confirmed that she could have safely yelled gold in here. “Dee—Deanne Davis, the half owner of the fishing boat—confirms they don’t use anything like this and she hadn’t seen it before. Charlie used the skiff that day to carry the harvest from shore to their full-size fishing boat.” She paused. “He was found on shore, right?”
Green nodded. “In the shallows, caught on some branches. Postmortem said he broke his neck prior to getting waterlogged by the tide.”
“Who found him?”
“Coast Guard sent out a search at daybreak and spotted the fishing boat right where Dee thought he would anchor it. They brought it in and turned it over to the state police to look for evidence.” Green stopped talking long enough to get another mouthful down, along with some soda. “Coasties left the body to the state police, since he was clearly dead and it was their scene to examine.”
“So the skiff might have been towed back with the coroner,” Maji said, thinking aloud.
Green nodded, chewing the last of her fries. “And nobody who knew what this was saw it,” she agreed, following Maji’s train of thought. She smiled. “Now we know what they look like.”
“Very portable, except for the weight. How many do you think they managed to collect?”
Green collected up her food wrappers, crushing them into a little ball on the plastic tray. “Won’t know that until we find the stash. Assuming it’s still here in town.”
“It must be,” Maji said, voicing her suspicions at last. “And they don’t know where it is. If they did, what would they want with Dee?”
“Valid point, if Charlie’s death is actually related. Let’s go look at the rescue logs from that day.”
* * *
When they found Lt. Kim in the communications center, Jack was nowhere in sight. The night shift radio monitor sat quietly reading a paperback, apparently ignoring them. Just the same, they moved to the empty office that had repeatedly been swept for bugs and found to be clean. Green handed him the sinker. “Fill her in.”
“There was definitely a sub in these waters during the time window of the cable damage. And we’ve confirmed it’s gone now. We think they took the minisubs back with them, leaving just the trawler behind. If they got most of these”—Kim waved the gold sinker like it weighed less than lead—“we might be looking at fifty million worth, in US dollar equivalent.”
But usable anywhere, in any economy, Maji thought. “Not huge, but worth the trip.”
“Big enough now, thanks to Robin Hood.” Kim referred to Angelo as the media did, because he had stolen trillions from international crime networks’ digital bank accounts and redistributed the funds to individuals and groups all over the world. “With the banking crackdown finally in play, hard currency is the only way to restore power to the big players. Those with access to subs and such.”
“How many transport routes can you track? Ferry, private boats, air.”
“Based on encrypted transmissions we’ve cracked so far, we’re ninety percent sure the payload’s still in town. Question is where and when they’ll try and move it.”
“Searching planes, trucks, and boats on the ground right now would take a lot of hands. How much can your platoon cover?” In teams of two, three, or four, she supposed.
Kim smiled to himself and gave Green a nod. She picked up the briefing. “ANB Harbor had a visit from a pump-out service today. Every vessel’s had a metal detector with a gold sensor close enough to ping if she’s got more than a class ring on board. Tomorrow our crew will hit Crescent Harbor and move in wider circles from there.”
“Are you checking trucks big enough to haul freight onto the Alaska Marine Highway ferry?” Maji asked.
“Can’t search every vehicle in the area,” Green conceded. “But we’ve started screening all cars and trucks as they load on, in case they got smart and broke the payload into lighter chunks. And we have operators on board in case anybody drives on with cargo that pings. They’ll be suitably welcomed when they drive off, either farther up the Inside Passage or down in Bellingham.”
“What about air?” Small planes were unlikely, for the reasons she and Dee had discussed. “Any chance they have somebody working at the commercial freight business here?”
“Low probability, but we’ve got someone there in case,” Green replied. “Which is all well and good, but if it’s hidden in a building someplace or up in the hills, we’ve got no way to narrow the field yet.”
“If the mercs are hanging around town instead of moving the gold, what’s the holdup? Charlie died nearly two weeks ago,” Maji pointed out. “And if it’s not on the Eagle Song, what did those guys want with Dee?”
Green looked to Kim. “Rios thinks the Russians lost the payload somehow, with a tie in to Charlie Shakely’s death.”
Kim did not dismiss that option. “Be mighty handy if Thumb could tell us.”
“I’ll check in at Command, see if I’m cleared to reach out or if they’ve gotten word.” Maji wished she could offer more, but ruining Tom’s long game wasn’t worth getting one piece of intel from him if they could figure this out themselves. “But in the meantime, I’d like to see the search and rescue logs myself.”
“We’ll do you one better. There’s video.”
* * *
“Thank you for the ride.” Rose looked at Dee’s profile as the quiet woman drove, handling the big truck like it was her second home. There was a woman out there who would treasure this view, the chance to ride shotgun. If it wasn’t this Liv that Heather had her hopes set on, it would be another. Rose had faith but she didn’t know how to communicate it.
“Sure,” Dee said. “And I guess I never said thanks. For jumping in with Ri against those guys. Heather told me what you did, how you got people to help. How’d you know to do that?”
Rose smiled to herself. “Training. Last summer, I went to a camp that Ri was helping to teach. Self-defense, first aid, that sort of thing. We practiced a scenario very much like this, a made-up scene with attackers, a victim, and bystanders. I never expected to have to use it in real life. Funny.”
“Ha-ha?”
Rose chuckled. “No. Funny that it worked so well when it mattered. I’m a big believer in practice, though.” After a quiet lull, she ventured, “I have a presentation tomorrow and I haven’t tested it out at all. I was planning to try it on Ri tonight.”
“You have to talk in front of a group? And you don’t know what you’re going to say?”
“Well, I have my slides ready and I know my material—it’s my own project, after all. But I’m nervous about how it will sound to some of my audience.”
“Why?”
“Well, anthropology’s changed over the years. We’re not just outsiders looking in.” Like visitors at a zoo. “Now some of us are involved in the issues we study—we take sides, we advocate. And for older, more conservative academics, that seems radical.” Rose hated that old racist put-down, going native. “I disagree, but there are risks when you insert yourself into problems you don’t understand. For one, you risk imposing your own values on the very people you’re supposed to be learning about.”
“The new imperialism, huh?” Dee smiled. “Engineering companies always come up to Alaska, wanting to sell us solutions that don’t fit our climate, our culture. To problems they don’t understand. Big money, though.”
Rose blinked. “Like that, I suppose. But I know what my work is for, and I try to behave like an ally rather than a co-opter. I just don’t know if I’m presenting the project in a way that shows that. In thirty minutes, plus Q and A.”
“Well, how hard could that be?” Dee’s flat tone revealed the dry wit that clearly ran in her family.
“I’m just nervous, really. Most of the people at this conference either have tenure and lots of articles published, or they come from communities that are doing their own work to preserve culture through traditional foods.”
Dee drove in silence the last few blocks. After she parked the truck in the hotel’s lot, she turned to Rose. “I could listen if you wanted. Not like an academic, or as the voice of the Tlingit or anything. Just as me.”
“Really? You don’t have to be up at three a.m. to fish? I don’t want to impose.”
“Yeah, you’re pretty clear on that.” Dee’s mouth quirked in that almost smile. “And don’t worry. I’m lying low until Ri catches the bad guys. Or something.”
Rose felt a swell of pride at Dee’s faith in Maji. “Okay, then. Thank you.”
* * *
Rose opened the door and heard a rustling from the couch as she turned on the light. She spun, ready to defend herself and Dee from an intruder. “Dev. What the hell?”
“So sorry to alarm you,” he said, in character as Professor Dev. “I was just—”
“Skip it. She’s a friend, and Ri trusts her. Dev, this is Dee, Dee, Dev.”
“Hi,” he said, taking a quick scan of Dee’s work clothes. “You with the conference?”
“Nope.”
“I’m going to make some tea. You two sit down.” Rose used a tone she borrowed from the Benedetti women. They sat. Who to explain first? She looked at the tea sampler in the little tray by the electric kettle on the kitchenette counter. “Here, pick what you like.”
Dee accepted the sampler and drew out a foil-wrapped bag, handing the collection to Dev. She watched him warily but didn’t volunteer any information.
“Dev, Dee is the woman those two men tried to drag away yesterday at the harbor. She’s been helping Ri today. So…not a threat.”
Dev nodded. “Glad you’re okay.”
“You her bodyguard?” Dee looked to Rose without waiting for his answer. “Wait. I heard you were an ambassador’s kid or something like that.”
Rose shook her head. “Not quite.” But simpler than the truth. Maybe she should have stuck with it. “No, my cousin pissed off a whole lot of criminals a few months ago. All of Angelo’s survivors have security while things cool off.”
“Angelo the Robin Hood guy? That’s your cousin?” Dee asked.
Rose turned and poured three mugs full of steaming water. She opened a tea bag and started her cup steeping while the pain subsided. Sometimes that look of sympathy was just too hard. “Yes.”
Dev got up and took the other two mugs, setting one in front of Dee. Then he pulled a third chair out from the little table and touched Rose’s arm.
Dee studied him. “You his friend too? And Ri?”
Dev nodded. “We all served together.”
“But now you’re a bodyguard and she’s spy-versus-spy. Asking all about Russian subs and smuggling buried treasure.”
“Really?” Dev replied. “She told you all that?”
Dee bristled at his tone. “She needed my help to talk to folks who know things here. Getting her some stories wasn’t hard, and it seemed to help.”
“All the stories lead back to a Russian nogoodnik whose name sounds like circus,” Rose said. She wasn’t sure how much Maji would want her to say about Sirko, since she hadn’t herself.
Dev’s eyebrows lifted. “And what’s this Russian guy want around here?”
“Something heavy that the Russians would kill Charlie for and try to smuggle home,” Dee said. After a long pause she added, “That’s all I know.”
Rose hadn’t seen that flavor of unrest on Dee’s face before, and it made her stomach knot. What was Maji doing? Was she really going up against Sirko again? She could hear Angelo’s voice from last summer, saying, This guy’s really starting to bug me. The memory brought tears.
“Hey,” Dee said, touching her hand. “She’s not working alone, you know. And she must think you’re safe with this guy.” She looked Dev over. “You’re Indian-Indian, huh?”
He smiled. “My folks are. I’m just Indian-American. As opposed to American Indian.”
Dee laughed.
“Finally, someone who likes that joke,” Rose said, collecting herself. “Would you still like to hear my presentation?”
Chapter Sixteen
Maji pulled earphones down over her head so she wouldn’t disturb the soldiers quietly working at their posts inside the incident command room. They had given her one of the large screens and set up the video log for her. Not realizing that Coast Guard helos recorded every mission, she was a bit amazed to see and hear what the pilot did. The picture was a little grainy, the colors slightly washed-out, but then the date and time stamp in the upper left corner showed it was March and the skies on the approach to the trawler Arkhangel hung heavy with clouds.
The helo approached under the cloud ceiling, rapidly honing in on the boat as Jack’s voice relayed their status back to the IC. Hovering some distance back, Jack noted the ship’s list to starboard and hailed the captain on the radio. His voice was clear and reassuring, in contrast to the near panic in the heavily accented seaman’s voice. The captain seemed equally worried about losing his boat as losing his life or his crew. Jack promised that a boat was coming out, and if they could keep the trawler afloat safely it would be hauled into port for repairs.
In under a minute, everyone agreed the helo would deploy its rescue swimmer onto the stern deck of the boat. If the swimmer couldn’t help them stop the leak, the crew would don their gumby suits and prepare to get in the water for airlift.
The view stayed on the rear of the boat, now under the hovering helo, but the voices changed. Maji recognized AET Taira’s voice telling the pilots each step of preparation to lower the swimmer down. When a female voice responded with the go-ahead, Maji realized copilot Jamie Manning was female. Nice. The swimmer, Dan Rivera, landed on the stern deck and unhooked the cable, which AET Taira guided back up into the helo.
While she listened to the swimmer update the flight crew on his efforts to find the leak, close the open valve causing it, and pump out the submerged holds, Maji admired the teamwork involved. Every member of the crew was totally on task but sounded relaxed. Each person could focus on their own contribution, confident in the others’ abilities.
Ten minutes later, the swimmer got back into the sling and AET Taira’s voice relayed his ascent back into the helo cabin. With the tow ship only minutes away, Jack bid the trawler captain farewell over the radio and turned the helo toward home. Seconds later the video feed stopped.
Maji took off her headphones, still thinking about the team. People who worked like that together did not betray each other for money. This mission, fully documented and time-stamped second by second, didn’t hold any secrets. She looked around the room of screens and maps, chart tables, and computers. Every blue-uniformed soldier watched a weather broadcast or a radar screen, or listened to a muted radio channel monitoring for distress calls. Not one played on their cell phone, or gossiped, or told stories to pass the time. She was sure they let off steam elsewhere, but in here it was all quiet vigilance.
As Maji surveyed the room, she spotted Lt. Green in the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the frame. Green flashed Maji a brief smile of acknowledgment, and with a nod to follow her out, she turned and disappeared into the hallway. Maji blinked under the fluorescent lights outside and strode after Green, now turning left into the commander’s office.
“Well, Rios?” Green leaned one hip against the desk that Lt. Kim sat behind. He looked up from his laptop to hear Maji’s response.
“Please tell me all four crew members cleared whatever checks you ran.”
“Rivera got behind on child support once, but caught up years ago. Taira has so many speeding tickets even USAA won’t insure her. Manning had an arrest a few years back, but won on self-defense. Jack’s squeaky clean. And nobody’s got odd bank deposits, or worrisome web searches, or known associations with bad guys.”
“Good. Is there video for the search for Charlie too?”
Kim nodded. “It’s sad, frankly. Totally professional, but you can hear the pain when they realized there was no way to help him. These guys live to save, and they count the losses.”
“So others may live,” Maji reflected. The rescue swimmer’s creed didn’t seem at all trite, in light of the risks she’d watched them take. On an easy day. “Did they cover the whole search?”
Kim shook his head. “They went right where the co-captain thought the Eagle Song would be, then to the nearby coves. Spotted the skiff, then the body. Dropped the swimmer onto the beach, confirmed death.”
