Northern Lights: A Due South Novel

Chapter 26: The Law of the Yukon

As he waited for his luggage at the Erik Nielsen Whitehorse International Airport, Ray Vecchio spotted a large poster of a snarling grizzly bear.

IS THERE A BEAR NEARBY?

Ask yourself these questions:

1. Am I in the woods?

2. Am I near the woods?

If you answered "yes" to either question,

there is a bear nearby.

Welcome to the Yukon.

- Parks Canada

Sometimes, Ray regretted befriending the Mountie.

Ray counted the minutes as he waited for his baggage. How long would it it take to retrieve his rental car? Could he use Fraser's name to get out of speeding tickets? The delay seemed absurd for a single-story terminal with only a few gates and one or two flights an hour. When his battered, hard-sided suitcase finally appeared, however, a familiar woman's voice drew his attention.

Deputy Commissioner Margaret Thatcher, dressed in plain clothes and a parka, shoved a luggage cart in his direction. "Let's get moving, Agent Vecchio. I've got a team waiting."

"My rental car?"

"You won't need it. And I think you'll find, when you open your bag, that all the contents made it through customs. Though you should wait until we're outside the terminal before retrieving them."

"Yes, m'am." Ray followed Thatcher through the sliding doors and into the snow-covered parking lot without bothering to put on a hat or gloves. She marched uncommonly fast for a woman her age, swinging her arms like an army recruit as she shoved past tourists returning from northern lights viewing tours and around snowbanks. Ray struggled to push the luggage cart through congealing slush. An icy wind was blowing from the north and the mercury was falling. The chill made his hands ache and his earlobes sting.

As they rounded the last truck, Ray laughed. Four plainclothes officers leaned against three unmarked police cars, their gun holsters visible beneath their open parkas. The blonde woman at the front winked at him. She shared her brother's knowing smile.

"Some introductions," Thatcher said. "Staff Sergeant Maggie Mackenzie, from Inuvik."

"Hey Ray. Couldn't let my brother and my husband catch these crooks on their own, could I?" Maggie said. Although Ray had not been in Chicago when Fraser first met his half-sister, he'd since seen her on several trips to the north.

"Sergeant Victor Kataq and Constable Sarah Mah, from Dawson City." Thatcher pointed to a stocky Inuit man and a short young Filipino woman.

"Things have just been so quiet without Constable Fraser," Kataq said. "I'm almost through my paperwork backlog."

"And I imagine you remember—"

"Turnbull?" Ray said. The skinny, dim-witted constable was still wide-eyed as ever.

"Turns out Constable Turnbull's been working in the basement of Whitehorse HQ since his political career ended," Thatcher whispered. "Fraser was the only commanding officer who would take him. And when I started calling in backup on short notice, well, he wouldn't take no for an answer."

Ray gritted his teeth. With a nod from Thatcher, he unzipped his suitcase and removed a thirty-year-old colour-blocked snowsuit. Beneath it lay his FBI agent's arsenal of two handguns, a bulletproof vest, and dozens of rounds.

"As the designated American in this squad of Canucks, I try to be as heavily armed as possible at all times," he said. "So long as you won't arrest me."