Death Echo

68

DAY SIX

PORT RENFREW

5:25 P.M.

Lina Fredric paid the truck driver in cash, then watched as he racked the fuel hose after refueling the boat. Fuel in Port Renfrew was by arrangement only, and trucked to the water’s edge; rather like an undeveloped country or a step back in time. The tourist-oriented waterfront was the most modern element of the town. The rest was mostly shacks, rocks, evergreens, water, and the sense of a vast ocean waiting beyond the rocks guarding the harbor.

The boat Lina had rented from the friend of a cousin of a friend-or perhaps an enemy, considering the dirty interior-was topped off and ready to run. Except for having a bigger kicker and extra fuel cans lashed inside the stern gunwale, the boat was essentially like the Redhead II, with all the benefits of speed and drawbacks of a boat run by anyone with the cash to rent her.

At least the chart plotter worked. Because most users of the boat had been sport fishermen chasing salmon, radar wasn’t required. In the dense fogs that haunted the west side during summer, pleasure fishermen stayed within view of shore, or went out in packs following someone who had reliable radar.

“Well?” Demidov prodded.

Lina stepped down into the boat. “There is a light for night running, if you insist. I can’t recommend it. We have no radar.”

Demidov looked at the screen of his phone. “I’ll guide us.”

Right into a tanker, she thought sourly.

But she was through arguing with Demidov. As far as he was concerned, he had his orders, he had her, and the boat she had scrounged up was fueled and ready to go. Discussion over.

“Do we leave now?” she asked.

He looked from the numbers on his phone to the paper chart he had found aboard the Sea Tiger. The scow was more like an alley cat than a tiger, but he’d had worse transportation in his career. The van in Rosario came immediately to his mind. At least the slops bucket on the boat could be emptied overboard with each use.

“We have an opportunity for food,” Demidov said. “Is that pub still open?”

“Partially. It seems that some people will endure any kind of weather to avoid crowds. Hikers and kayakers, particularly. The fact that it’s after the first week in October and the weather is dodgy…” She shrugged. “It keeps the summer mobs away.”

Demidov glanced around. Crowd wasn’t a word he would have thought of in the same sentence as Port Renfrew. It was the end of the road. Literally. Like the car they had driven here, the town had a weary, hard-used air. He had parked the vehicle in an empty lot with keys inside. If someone wanted to steal the car, Demidov wished him luck. There was almost no petrol in the tank.

“Bring back enough food and water for a day,” he said.

Without a word, Lina climbed onto the dock and went in search of provisions. Like loose wiring, she clicked in and out of touch with reality. Constant fear was numbing.

Except when it wasn’t.