The River Killers (34 page)

Because the boat was heeled over, I had no trouble reaching the hatch cover, but it was dogged shut. I used the only tool I had: the gun I'd taken from Crowley. Two shots at one aluminum lug, bend and twist, and bend and twist, and it was off. Repeat procedure on the other side, push the hatch cover away, and I was out. It was none too soon because water was lapping over the hatch coaming. Any later and the water would have forced the hatch cover shut, sealing me inside. With nothing to keep it out of the hatch, the water poured in faster and faster, and soon the
W 10
slipped away beneath me.

It was a calm night with a half moon. The water was cold but not January cold. I figured I had three or four hours before losing consciousness. I treaded water as I looked around for Sanderson but he'd obviously abandoned ship much earlier. A mile or so away, I could see two pairs of red and green lights much where I'd expected them to be: shrimp boats working the McCall Bank. I fully expected one of them to be my cousin Ollie because the McCall Bank was his spot.

It wasn't Ollie who picked me up, but he was half a mile behind the guy who did. The skipper phoned the Coast Guard while I climbed into some dirty but dry coveralls, and they announced a search on channel 16. The five shrimpers in the area pulled their gear and were the first to start looking. Every boat in the Strait of Georgia was at least on the lookout, and within forty minutes the Coast Guard hovercraft had joined the search.

Even so, they didn't find Sanderson until the first dim light of morning. The red life jacket was spotted by the
Nootka Girl
, but when they got close enough, they could see Sanderson floating facedown. He had made no preparations for hypothermia, and the ocean had exacted its usual penalty for stupidity. Exposure had robbed Sanderson of strength and consciousness, and the old-fashioned life jacket hadn't held his face out of the water.

Still, I had to ask the medic on board the hovercraft if he was really dead, and when he confirmed it I felt, not relief so much, but that things had been simplified. One more pawn off the board. I jumped on the
Ryu II
with Cousin Ollie, and we headed up the river to his place in Steveston.

The
Ryu II
was well built and well appointed, and I reflected briefly on how well Cousin Ollie had done for himself. He was a comfortable guy leading a comfortable life with a wonderful family, and I envied him greatly.

As we cruised up the river, daylight brought it to life. The gentle red of the sunrise bathed everything in innocence and hope. When the darknesses along the bank had all been erased by light, I could see the way ahead. There was a future.

Ollie sipped coffee for a diplomatic length of time. Finally, he asked the obvious. “What in hell happened last night? I'm guessing you and the dead guy were on the same boat. What went wrong?”

“A lot went wrong, Ollie. All I can say is the dead guy deserves to be. I'll tell you the real story someday, but in the meantime I'm trying to figure out a story to tell the Coast Guard.”

Ollie tied up the
Ryu II
at Steveston, and we climbed into his pick-up. We were at his expensive-looking house in time to see his two boys off to school. They gave their Uncle Danny a hug, and set off up the road, skipping and hopping over puddles. Ollie was only four years older than me but already had a wonderful family. I had some catching up to do.

Ollie's wife, the daughter of Second World War Japanese internees, chatted while I sipped coffee and Ollie rummaged through his closet for clothes that would fit me. My own clothes were in the dryer and I'd rescued my credit cards and
ID
. When I was dressed and had breakfasted, I asked to use their phone. I dialed Louise at her work number.

“Hi, it's me.” There was an extremely long two-second silence.

“Just who the hell do you think you are and what the hell do you think gives you the right to put me through what I've just been through and why the hell should I even be talking to you and you better get the hell over here
ASAP
.” Click.

“I'm on my way.” I hung up and dialed a cab. When it arrived, I hugged Ollie and Oshie and thanked them profusely. Then I set out to confront a killer.

When we got to the police building, I paid the substantial cab fare with my credit card and hurried into the lobby. Tommy and Louise were waiting for me. “Tommy, do you mind if I have a word with Louise?”

He made a be-my-guest gesture. “I'll be in my office.”

As soon as Louise closed the door behind us, I made a pre-emptive strike. I clutched her urgently and pressed my mouth to hers. She did not object greatly. Indeed, she seemed to respond in like manner. I pulled her closer and she moaned quietly as her hands clasped tightly on the back of my neck. The embrace ended with me breathing gently into the curve of her neck.

“I'm sorry, Louise. I didn't have a lot of choices.”

She pushed me away gently and sat down behind her desk. “Something changed. What?”

“Four nights ago, I had a call from a dead man. That wasn't Crowley's body in his float house; it was our bad guy,
AKA
‘The Farmer,' or at least one of them.”

Louise groaned and closed her eyes. “Rookie mistake number one. Don't assume anything. But the dead guy's prints were on the gun?”

“He'd handled it two nights before. So those prints matched the body, and all the unknown prints were actually Crowley's. And the reason neither of our bad guys showed up on
DFO
employment records is that they were officially still
BC
government employees, on loan to
DFO
.”

I spent the next ten minutes relating everything Crowley had told me and giving a brief rendition of the events of the morning.

“So Crowley actually
is
dead now. I don't think there's any reason to change the initial analysis of the case you made in Bella Bella, if you know what I'm saying.”

“Thanks, Danny. But I've got to tell Tommy, at least. He's our partner. After that, we'll see how it plays out. I'm not too worried about looking bad, compared to some of the screwups my colleagues have made.” She paused and looked at me intently. “Tell me again how you got out of the bottom of that boat. You said the lid was on?”

I'd glossed over some of the particulars, but now she forced me into a more detailed description. When I finished she leaned back in her chair and breathed deeply. “Danny Swanson. Danny Swanson. Danny bloody Swanson.” After a pause she stood up, and said, “Let's go see Tommy.”

Tommy's office didn't contain much of interest except him. He was on the phone as we entered, listening intently while scrolling through his e-mail. He gave some instructions to someone he called Wingy and slammed the receiver down. There was a brief pause while he processed whatever had just transpired. Then he turned to us. “Welcome back, Danny. I just know you've got an interesting story for us.”

So I went over it again. When I got to the part about the misidentification of the body in Crowley's float house, he gave a sympathetic look to Louise, but made no comment. And then the crucial bit, the part that I hadn't told Louise yet. “And I know why Billy was killed.” Tommy looked up, and Louise uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “Crowley made an offhand comment that didn't register with me right away. When I was bobbing around in the water, my mind went off on its own and made a connection that I've been trying to make for weeks. Crowley casually mentioned that when the rabbits died, they went into convulsions. Christine had reminded me at the party that that's how Billy's cat had died, the day he disappeared.”

Louise frowned. “But wasn't the cat back in Sointula? It was nowhere near the West Vancouver lab.”

“Yeah, but it had access to one of the mutant fish, Igor. When Igor's picture showed up in the
DFO
database, I could see that something had chewed on its tail since I had last seen it. I knew that when Billy got home from the pub, the night before he left for Vancouver, he was definitely not sober. I figure, he forgot to put Igor in the freezer. The cat was hungry, chewed off a piece of Igor's tail, and paid the price for it. Billy probably noticed in the morning that the cat had chewed on Igor, but he wouldn't have thought anything of it.”

“I'm starting to put this together,” Tommy said. “But how did Billy know his cat had died?”

“Christine left him a message,” I said. “When Billy found out his cat had died, he put two and two together, and realized that these fish, which
DFO
had released into the wild, were poisonous. So when he got to the lab, he raised shit.”

“But not right away,” I said. “Crowley saw him when he first arrived at the lab, but didn't say anything about Billy making wild accusations. I figure that after Crowley gives him the brush-off, Billy gets in his car and carries on to Vancouver. At some point, he checks his messages, realizes what exactly is going on, and drives back to the lab. Crowley is gone by this time, but Griffith is there. Billy confronts him, and tells him what kind of a
DFO
asshole he is, and what he's going to do about it. Griffith can see the project, his career, his entire life going up in smoke. So he kills Billy to keep him quiet.”

“That's a lot of suppositions, Danny,” Louise said thoughtfully. “Logical, yeah. But what kind of physical evidence is there? We're going to need something if we're going to tie this to Griffith.”

“That could be difficult,” I conceded. “We have a shortage of bodies. I don't think we're going to find Billy after eight years. Les Jameson was the next to die and the Coast Guard couldn't find him after searching for two weeks. Then, supposedly Crowley was killed but it was really one of the Farmers, and then Crowley does get killed a month later, but we don't have either of those bodies. All we've got is Reginald Sanderson, who died of natural causes in a slightly unnatural way.”

Tommy and Louise analyzed and debated and reviewed options with considerable energy. I, on the other hand, was fading fast. The adrenaline had burned off long ago and I was forcing myself to concentrate.

“What a fuckin' horror show,” Tommy said, drumming his fingers on his desk. “I can't even imagine what the charges should be if we do nail the bastard. Experimenting with undue care and attention? Leaving the scene of an environmental disaster?”

Louise looked at me. “We'll get him, Danny. We've come too far to let him slip off the hook. But right now I've got to get word back to Bella Bella to avoid eating any sockeye. They might have caught some of those normal-looking males. I'll phone Rose Wilson at the health center. She'll pass the word.”

“Jesus, you're right.” I was jolted out of my fatigue. “Tell them not to eat any sockeye—canned, smoked, frozen, or fresh.”

“It'll be tough. Louise said. “Sockeye is such a major part of their diet.”

“Well, tell them to feed a bit to a cat first. That's how people used to test clams for red tide.”

“It seems a bit hard on cats.”

“It's their evolutionary niche.”

“Bit of a comedown from being worshipped by the Egyptians.” Tommy said. “But let's concentrate on what we're going to do next.”

I was drained, physically and mentally, and probably not at my strategic best. But I was clear about one thing: “It's time to take this to Griffith. He's been operating in the shadows for too long, pulling the strings of his various puppets, keeping his hands clean. Now it's him and us, no one to cover for him, and that's a completely different ball game than he's used to.”

“So what's your plan?” Louise asked.

“Have you got the resources to put a tail on him? Twenty-four-seven, without him knowing it?”

Louise deferred to Tommy. “I suppose we could pull something together.”

“All right. It occurred to me that Griffith might not know Crowley is dead. When Sanderson phoned him from the lab, he just said he'd got both of us: no mention of blasting Crowley. And if he didn't phone again from the boat, then Griffith has no idea Crowley is dead. I'm going to go and see Griffith. Tell him we've got Crowley and he's threatening to roll over on Griffith. Would Mr. Griffith like to be of assistance to us, say, in the death of Billy Bradley?”

“But he's not going to confess to killing Billy,” Louise said.

“Yeah, but if he tries to pin it on Crowley, he might let something slip.At the very least, we'll scare him and he might do something stupid.” There was not a single cheer of congratulations or shout of acclamation. “Look guys, it's all we've got. Apply a stimulus and observe the results.”

Finally, Louise shrugged. “Okay, set up a meeting. You can wear a wire. And Jerome goes with you.”

“I'll meet him in his office. He's not going to kill me on
DFO
premises. It's against policy.”

“Jerome goes with you. Two of them.” I started to protest, but Louise was adamant. “They can wait outside his office, but they'll be within fifty feet of you. That's the way it's going to be.”

And that's the way it was. I phoned
DFO
and was put through to Griffith's secretary. He was in the building that morning but was unavailable until after lunch. “And who is this please?”

“Torchie LaFlame. Tell him I've had my last operation and now we can be together.” I hung up. “I'll see him right after lunch.”

“Good timing,” Tommy said. “It gives me a chance to organize the surveillance.”

I stood up and tried to ignore the concern on Louise's face.

“Are you ready for this, Danny? You've had kind of a rough night.”

“I was born ready. However, I do have time for a nap.”

Two hours later, we collected an additional Jerome and headed for
DFO
HQ
. I sat in the backseat and practiced deep breathing. I got Jerome to stop and grab a large coffee for me. By the time we got to the
DFO
building, I'd almost forgotten that I'd spent much of the previous night floundering around in the Strait of Georgia instead of snoozing.