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sound. It was a sound I liked. When they were gone I called Dave. Who was parked elsewhere, out front of the best Chinese restaurant in Port Morris.

I took the road toward town, and then cut into the trails before the first residential neighborhood began. It was dark up there. No streetlights. Nothing but the rainforest either side of the old Toyota Land Cruiser, pushing through the night. I preferred to come at the downtown area at an oblique angle, rather than straight on. Just in case anyone was watching the main roads.

While I drove, I thought about what we had not mentioned, the cruise ship.

Emerald Allure they called it. Nice name. Sounded about as phony as you could get. That enormous boat floated up there in the front of my mind. At the same time, in the back of my mind was the salvaged submarine. Except it wasn’t a salvage anymore. In my waking dream the sub was new and sleek. Cutting through the murky depths of the Pacific, powered by a nuclear reactor. I didn’t know much about how a nuclear reactor worked, but I figured it involved atoms being split and sparking off barely contained chain reactions. Fueled by a fissile material, like plutonium.

And swimming from the back of my mind to the front was Amber Chapman, like a pale mermaid moving through the dark waters.

Thirty-Four

The Land Cruiser was a comfortable vehicle. A big wide bench up front, same thing behind. I had the Remington long gun laid in the back seat. I removed the Glock from the glove box and put it up front with me, like an ugly but competent passenger tucked under my right thigh. The dashboard had a clock, which read a couple of minutes after eight.

It took about five more minutes to come down through the residential areas into town. I cruised past the Golden Lights Wok, not too fast, not too slow. The street was three or four back from the waterfront. At this time of night things were winding down. I didn’t see anyone walking. Nowhere to go. Stores were blank, nothing was happening. Nothing except the Chinese food being prepared in the Golden Lights Wok.

I clocked Dave slumped into the driver’s seat of a faded red Ford hatchback. I turned the corner and parked two blocks away. It took a minute to double back on foot. I came at the Ford from its blind spot. The model was Fiesta. There was a bumper sticker with the Alaskan flag, the Big Dipper in yellow against blue. Next to that was another sticker, older and just as faded as the car. It read ‘Proud Mother of a U.S. Soldier’. I figured Dave or a sibling had served, and he was driving his mother’s car.

When I slipped into the passenger seat Dave jerked upright from his huddled position. He glanced at me in panic. I looked at him and he settled down. Dave had parked with a clear view of the entrance through the driver’s side window, good view of the street through the windshield, and an acceptable view behind him through the mirrors. Not perfect, but workable.

He had been finishing up a donut when I came in. Dave wiped a leather jacket sleeve across his mouth and said, “See the Hummer?”

I had already seen the Hummer across the street, same side as the restaurant. A squat and ugly machine in matte black.

I said, “You sure it was Chapman?”

“Based on your description, yes. Four girls and two guys driving. Look two cars back from the Hummer and check out the Subaru.”

Two cars back a Subaru was parked facing the same direction. It was the vehicle I’d seen Willets driving the other day, when all of this had begun. In the dark, the car didn’t look teal, it had a murky color, like old seaweed on a beach.

I said, “Who’s in that one, cruise ship security?”

Dave turned to me. “How’d you guess?”

I said nothing.

He said, “One guy in the Subaru, uniformed. He came off the boat with the girls. Girls got into the Hummer with the other two, Subaru followed them here.”

“Recognize the other people from around town?”

“No, they don’t look like they’re from around here.”

“What do they look like?”

He said, “No beards.” Dave shrugged. He was wearing a parka, and his chin and upper lip were fuzzy with a very limited growth. It might have been limited, but it was all he had. He looked at me and I became conscious of the fact that I’d only just shaved my beard.

I said, “Did you do a walk by?”

“I did actually, but there’s no way of seeing inside. The front does take-out and the back has the seating. I didn’t want to go into the restaurant itself.”

I looked at the facade. The Golden Lights Wok had three windows that gave into a waiting area with a fancy counter. The counter was decorated with strategically arranged orchids, which I figured must be fake. Behind the counter, a paneled screen blocked off the rear part of the restaurant. The panels were painted in a calligraphy style. Chinese mountains with the odd heron flying up high, and oriental boats coming down winding rivers. The woman behind the counter was dressed in a pink sweater. It looked soft. She was concentrating on something right in front of her, maybe her phone.

I said, “I’ll go in.”

Dave moved his head incrementally to look at me. I flipped open the door handle but stopped short of pulling the door and activating the interior light. I had seen movement. A man was coming out through a break in the panels, from the back of the restaurant to the front. He was wearing a white uniform, with gold braiding on the shoulders and a hat. It was Willets. The uniform made him look even more untrustworthy. Like he’d stolen someone’s Halloween costume. It was in the angle of his hat, and the slight sloppy way that he’d tucked in his shirt.

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