“That’s ridiculous!”
“No, it’s not. Remember what you showed me on your computer? Even you carry around a computer program that can completely alter a photo.”
“Well, yeah. A still photo.”
“Videotapes are just a series of stills, April. And you’re Ms. Electronics. They’d have a field day.”
April was rubbing her forehead, her attempts to find the lamp switch unsuccessful. She felt like bawling. “Why, Gracie, are we now fighting both the FAA and the Coast Guard? What is this, some sort of bizarre conspiracy to get Dad?”
“I haven’t a clue why the Coast Guard would come out and harass you and seize the videotape,” Gracie replied. “But suppose they’re testing some new submarine or laying an underwater cable or who knows what?”
“But these guys are supposed to be on our side, aren’t they?”
“Sure. ‘We’re from the government. We’re here to help you.’”
“I mean, just Wednesday I talked to a very helpful Coast Guard officer in Anchorage. Oh, God!”
“What?”
“Things have been moving so fast, I completely forgot.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Remember I told you about the somewhat clandestine meeting with Lieutenant Hobbs — Jim Hobbs of the Coast Guard in Anchorage?”
“Yes. At Starbucks. I figured he was hitting on you.”
“No, he was trying to warn me, and I didn’t take it to heart. He said there were other agencies interested in Dad’s situation. I asked him for the radar tapes, and he said he was told there was nothing there that would help. I handed him the exact coordinates from the on-board GPS, and then blundered into the area without ever thinking that they might be waiting and watching. That’s what Jim Hobbs was trying to warn me about.”
“Hey, I would have done the same thing, April.”
“It’s funny you’d mention submarines, Gracie. Scott McDermott is an ex-Navy pilot, and he was saying exactly the same thing last night — that they may be protecting some Navy operation.”
“All the more reason to raise that aircraft as soon as possible.”
“That’s the other problem,” April sighed, relating Jim’s reluctance even to apply for permits, now that the area was supposedly restricted.
“April, push those two guys hard to help you. I’ll… Wait a minute. I know someone down here in the Coast Guard. Let me see if I can find out what claim of legality they’re using to rope off that area and confiscate tapes. In fact, I’ll recommend to Ted Greene that we just charge into this immediately and file for an emergency restraining order to locate and protect that tape.”
“My head is so fuzzed up right now, Gracie, I can’t think.”
“You need coffee.”
“Yeah. But more importantly, I need something encouraging to tell Dad.”
They ended the call, leaving April feeling overwhelmed.
There was no way she should be wide awake at five-thirty in the morning after less than five hours’ sleep, April thought, but she was. The burning desire to finish the mission she’d come to Alaska to accomplish drove her into the shower and out of the room around six, looking for a coffee shop open for breakfast at that hour.
“Totem Inn’s the only one, ma’am,” the desk clerk said, pointing the way. She zipped up her parka and trudged the relatively short distance through the quiet, darkened streets of the small town. The temperature was in the mid-thirties, and while winter was officially over, the frigid air cascading down the mountain slopes from the surrounding glaciers kept the town in a constant state of refrigeration.
April snuggled into a booth and ordered. The coffee tasted far better than it actually was, but the eggs were perfect, and she finished the meal and sat quietly for a few minutes, her eyes on a distant light across the bay, her mind working through the central question of what to do next.
Scott McDermott was bunking, as he put it, with Jim, and they had agreed to meet in the morning with no clear idea of why. Gracie was right, April thought. She needed their help.
Okay, she told herself. Focus. What do I want them to do? They can’t steal the tape back.
It had been a mild torture to lie in the hotel bed earlier with the knowledge that the state trooper who’d waylaid them wasn’t leaving Valdez with her tape until morning. That little cartridge might mean her father’s livelihood and happiness, and it was physically less than two hundred yards distant at the tiny state police office. The thought of breaking in had crossed her mind. There were no steel doors or bars on the windows. It was little more than a portable building, and she could probably gain access with a screwdriver.
At 1 A.M. April had slipped from beneath the covers, shivering in the cold of the hotel room, and peeked out the window, staring at the nearby building as a Valdez police car motored by.
Am I crazy? I’m not going to burgle a police station. Like they wouldn’t know who took their tape.
She’d gone back to bed and fallen into a deep sleep replete with odd dreams of a beautiful mountain field and saddled horses that couldn’t be ridden. She’d chased the unattainable mounts for endless hours in the dream before Gracie’s phone call had shattered it.
April thanked the waitress for the latest coffee refill and re-focused on the present. She couldn’t steal the tape, and she couldn’t even talk the officer into letting the other two guys see it, and Gracie obviously thought that was a fatal problem. Yet the key to Arlie Rosen’s exoneration was sitting under 250 feet of water just sixty miles south, and even Gracie was afraid something might happen to the wreckage. Full, unopened bottles in the cabin of the Albatross would destroy Harrison’s theory.
We’ve got to go back out, regardless of the risk, April concluded. She had Jim’s address. She should probably walk there and knock on his door about seven. McDermott might be grumpy, but Jim would be gracious, and she could plead with him shamelessly, the damsel in distress, as Lieutenant Hobbs had characterized her. She hated manipulating, but this was different.
April paid the check and studied the local map in the tiny Valdez phone book at the café before pushing through the door into the cold. The glow of dawn was already on the eastern horizon as she reached Jim Dobler’s door, surprised to find a light on in what must be the kitchen or dining area. She could see through the window by the front porch that it was Scott McDermott sitting alone over a cup of coffee. She tapped lightly on the glass, surprised when Scott jumped, startled, then smiled when he saw her face through the glass door. He got to his feet to let her in.
“April! You’re up early.”
“Yeah. Good morning. So are you.”
He closed the door quietly behind her. “Jim’s still snoring in his room, and I was just trying to get a handle on the day.”
“Me too.” She smiled.
“Would you like some coffee? It’s kind of cold out there.”
“Love some,” she said, deciding there was no point in discussing her breakfast.
She sat at the small kitchen table as he handed her a fresh cup.
“Jim’s got good taste. Starbucks, Seattle’s Best, Millstone… the good brands.”
“Scott, I need to go back out there and try again.”