‘What was the last tip-off you had, Captain?’ There was a wind on our backs and it was Tom’s voice.
I turned — we both turned. He was standing in the starb’d doorway, leaning against it, his voice a little high but otherwise relaxed. ‘Was it another log tow?’
‘No.’ The Captain was leaning a little forward, peering at Tom from under his bushy brows. ‘I don’t think we’ve met,’ he said, the easy-going, friendly manner suddenly gone.
‘My name’s Tom Halliday.’ He came in, shutting the door behind him and holding out his hand. ‘You’re Captain Cornish, I take it. I have to thank you for taking Philip and myself on this trip with you.’ The Captain ignored the outstretched hand. He was frowning as Tom, quite unabashed, went on, his voice tending to slur some of the words, ‘I think you know the “target” as you call it, the tow taking logs from the Cascades, which I own, down to Seattle for milling. I would like to talk to the people running this operation if I may. Can you get them on the radio please?’
‘No, I cannot.’ Doug Cornish’s reaction was immediate, his tone uncompromising. ‘And you will kindly ask permission before coming on my bridge. Do you understand, Mr Halliday?’
Tom smiled and shrugged, not in the least put out. ‘So sorry. Of course. Permission requested, Captain.’ It just didn’t seem to occur to him his manner and the slightly supercilious tone in his very English voice were not the best way to approach a Canadian skipper on his own ship. And he didn’t hesitate, but went straight on, ‘You do understand, don’t you, this operation, which from all the talk I’ve been listening to on board is a drugs snatch, could result in a woman’s death — in a woman being murdered?’
The frown on Cornish’s face deepened. ‘Are you drunk or something? What woman? What the hell are you talking about?’
‘My wife,’ Tom said. ‘If this is drugs …’ He paused, shaking his head and looking suddenly uncertain. ‘I want to talk to them. Whoever has set this operation up. I have to warn them — they’ve threatened to kill her.’
‘Who have?’ There was disbelief in the Captain’s voice. ‘What are you talking about?’ He sounded exasperated.
Tom started to stutter something, then stopped. ‘Ask Philip here. He’s a lawyer. Maybe you’ll listen to him.’
And so I was brought into it and quietly I told the Captain of the cutter something of what I knew. I couldn’t help it. Tom, drugged to the eyeballs, had blurted it out and now I had to back him. In any case, perhaps it was as well, since it made up my mind for me.
But then the incredible happened. They didn’t believe it. That Doug Cornish, standing there at the chart table with his Mate watching the scan, on the threshold of an awkward boarding operation with an American tug for target, wouldn’t believe me was something I hadn’t expected. That he wouldn’t believe Tom, whom he clearly suspected of being an alcoholic, was fair enough. Tom wasn’t easy to take at times. But that he wouldn’t accept it from me, after we’d been standing there at the chart table talking about our respective boats and drinking coffee together… ‘But the man’s right,’ I said. ‘He’s telling the truth. They’re holding Miriam Halliday and once they know her husband is on board…’
Then we’ll keep him below. That way they’ll never know — will that satisfy you?’
I must have been arguing with him for fifteen minutes or more, but he absolutely refused to contact his RCC base. ‘You can talk to them afterwards,’ he said finally. ‘Once we know whether there’s drugs on board or not. As soon as the operation’s over, then you can talk to them. Not before. Okay?’ And that was his final word. I couldn’t budge him, nor could Tom, whose tone of voice had changed to one of pleading, tears in his eyes and his voice half-choked with emotion. I could see his change of manner had affected Cornish. He was no longer resentful and there was compassion in his voice as he put his hand on Tom’s arm and said, ‘Look, even if I accept the truth of what the two of you have been saying, I can’t do anything about it. I’m just the skipper of a Coastguard vessel. I carry out orders, and my orders now are to stand by this tug while specialist officers of another branch of government service carry out a search. Afterwards you can talk to whoever you like. And now, Mr Halliday,’ he added, ‘I suggest you go below and leave me to get on with my job.’
Tom hesitated, glancing at me, and then he turned without another word and went stumbling down the ladder to the sidedeck. ‘Better keep an eye on him.’ The Captain’s hand was on my arm, propelling me towards the door, and as I went out I saw him look across at Jim Edmundson with lifted brows, and seeing Jim nod, I checked and said, ‘It’s true what he told you. He had a note from her. She’s being held hostage — ’
‘That’s a matter for the police.’ Cornish’s face had suddenly taken a shut look. ‘Nothing to do with me. You keep him off my bridge. Understand?’ His head thrust forward, his eyes on mine, waiting till I acknowledged his order with a nod. ‘Okay, then after this little business is over I’ll drop you both at Ocean Falls, or he can go on to the Cascades with Jim Edmundson, whichever he likes.’ He turned back to the radio. ‘Any sign of that tow?’ The Mate shook his head and Cornish thrust him aside and buried his eyes in the eyepiece of the scanner.
Tom was waiting for me at the bottom of the ladder, his hand clutching at me. ‘What do I do?’ His voice trembled, on the verge of tears.
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Nothing you can do — except keep out of sight when we meet up with the tow. They don’t know you’re on board.’
‘That man Lopez, he was with us when we came ashore.’
‘So was Camargo,’ I said. ‘All those two know is that a man you met on the ferry got you a lift on a Coastguard cutter. That’s all.’
‘But as soon as we reach the tug — ’
‘That’s all,’ I repeated. ‘All they’ll be able to report. And it’ll take time for them to contact whoever it is that’s employing them. It’ll be tomorrow at the earliest before they connect the Kelsey and us with the stopping and searching of the tug, and then all sorts of things may be happening.’
‘You think they’ll find coke on board?’ His hand was still gripped tight on my arm. ‘Is that what you think?’
‘How the hell do I know? But if that yacht makes a rendezvous with the tug and the customs boys search it … Then the offices of the SVL Company in Seattle will be raided and the tug boat owners, Angeles Georgia Towing, as well. If all that happens, then they won’t be worrying about Miriam.’
It seemed to satisfy him. He stared at me a moment and I could see his mind grappling with the implications. Then he nodded. ‘Ya. Guess you’re right, Philip. And the Captain — he’ll believe us then, won’t he? I mean, if they find one of the ships stuffed with coke, he’ll have to believe us, an’ then he’ll let me talk to this RCC base of his and the authorities will be alerted and they’ll start a big search. Ya …’ He was nodding his head again. ‘Maybe it’ll all work out for the best. The poor darling — I just hope to God…’ There were tears in his eyes then and he let go my arm, snuffling into his handkerchief and turning aft. ‘Where’s the heads?’
I told him where it was and he went aft, balancing himself carefully with his hand on the deckhouse rail. When he returned he asked ‘How long’ve we got- before we close that tow? An hour?’
‘A little more,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘I’m going to get some coffee then.’ I went with him down to the mess-room and with the coffee I had some biscuits and cheese out of the fridge. By the time I had finished he was sprawled on the bulkhead settle half asleep. I got my anorak and went up on deck. The wind of our passage was too great for me to stand on the sidedeck, so I took up a position aft where I could look back from the shelter of the deckhouse along our wake to the vague outline of the mountains and the dark of the shore either side of the broad ribbon of water we were steaming down. The fog was no more than a gossamer-thin veil of mist now that we were out of the narrower Fisher Channel and into Fitz Hugh Sound.