Unknown Diners

Chapter Forty-Five

Lorne and Catherine returned to the patio rail and watched in silence as two men ran along the float, cut Tastevin's mooring lines and pushed her away from the finger. Someone in a tender put a line to a bow cleat and towed her out into open water. "I like that sort of initiative," he said as he hugged her into his side.

"Fire trucks aren't there yet. Who are they?"

"Thinking boat owners. Preventing the fire's spread. The marina does a safety and fire-fighting seminar every six months." He turned her into his chest, and they hugged.

"By the time the firemen arrive, the fire would have spread to other boats, then accelerated."

"They work quickly."

"Saving their own boats."

"No, I mean Bottom Line."

"Yeah. We're into the professionals now."

"The professionals?"

"The Mafia, the biker gangs, whoever was cut-out of the business when drugs moved toward regulated distribution."

"Yeah. Had to go somewhere, didn't they? Not just shrug and walk away."

"Whoever Bottom Line is, he's well connected and fast-acting."

"So what do we do now?"

He turned them in their hug and said, "Stand here and watch the fire — and the moon, it's beginning to rise."

She lifted her head from his chest and turned it. "But what about them? Bottom Line, George, the others?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Not now. They expect us to react. They're waiting for us to react, in fact. In the crowds down there, watch for people watching people, not the fire."

"Scary. See two right away. Fuck!"

He kissed her forehead. "We're safe here. Look along the lines of balconies, up the condo towers. Everybody's out watching. Up here we're lost in the background. They expect to see us running around in a flap down there."

"Yeah."

"They're also hoping we were aboard."

"Oh, fuck!" She squeezed tighter. "Probably."

"Investigators are going to find two charred corpses aboard."

"What? Who? What are you saying?"

"Cool the trail. I'm calling the Mounties. We'll play dead."

"Then what?"

"Search and hack until I find Bottom Line. Get enough on him for the Mounties to deal with — attempted murder. I've never presented them with one of those."

They stood watching as Tastevin burned. "Could have been done from a dinghy or a kayak, a limpet would be easy to place from a small boat, maybe a diver approached. Whatever, from the rapid spread of the fire, it was likely an incendiary limpet. Pierce and ignite. Hull's likely holed below the waterline, so —"

"So she's sinking?"

"Yeah, but the moon's rising."

"God, I can't believe how stoic you are with this."

"Many years of practice."

"Yeah, I guess... So, the Mounties?"

"Yeah, should get onto that. It's past midnight in Ottawa, but I can get the night desk, get the thing rolling."

Lorne switched on his phone, thumbed in and selected Contacts, scrolled down, selected and pressed Call. He gave his code to the receptionist and waited for the line transfer. He gave his code again to the Staff Sergeant and did the two-step authentication. "Thank you, Sir. I'll connect you to the Duty Superintendent."

"You've another NCECC case for us? Seems pressing, middle of the night."

"Yes, but this time with attempted murder."

"You have my attention. You?"

"Yes. And my wife." Lorne grimaced.

"When?"

"A few minutes ago. Vancouver. False Creek boat explosion and fire."

"Give me a sec." Lorne heard him on the intercom to the Staff Sergeant. "Boat fire, Vancouver False Creek. Happening now. Need information."

He heard the confirmation and continued. "I was thinking it would be helpful to the investigation if two charred bodies were found aboard. Delayed identification. Let them believe they've succeeded."

"You have an idea on who they are?"

"Know one of them. Nutcracker, George Hundsmann. Appears he received an early parole. The other one is new, calls himself Bottom Line. He seems very heavy. Swift. Decisive."

"Let me check —"

"Vancouver should know before things start. The boat should be sinking in a quarter-hour or sooner. Vancouver Police will have divers heading there now. Fire Department also."

"Here's my Staff Sergeant. I'll get him onto Vancouver. Are you safe, do you need protective custody again?"

"I think we're good. Much better if they think we're dead."

"You're going invisible again?"

"Yeah, we need to. Bottom Line seems to be the top line or very near to it. God, he's fast."

"This number still safe?"

Lorne paused, then nodded. "I still have your scrambler on it."

"So what's your next step?"

"Watch my boat sink with our charred bodies aboard."

"Yeah, I... Fuck, they're persistent."

"We'll win."

"E Division will call you."

"Thanks."

"Thank you."

Lorne clicked off, then turned off his phone and looked at Catherine. She stared back, silent, slowly shaking her head. "You hide so much. You've carried a heavy load alone for so long." She picked up his hand and brought it to her lips. "You continue to floor me with these glimpses of what you've been through."

"It's complex."

"Fuck! Now that's an understatement." They moved back to the rail, their arms around each other's waists and watched Tastevin burn.

"I should do steel with the next one. Fibreglass feeds on itself and accelerates the fire."

"Next one?"

He nodded out at the fire. "That one will never sail again."

"I can see that. But you want to continue sailing?"

"I love the freedom, the independence, the oneness with nature. It gives me a feeling of place, of peace, of belonging."

"I'd love to give you all those — to share all of them with you." She squeezed his arm. "There she goes." They watched the clouds of steam rising from the bubbling water, watched her hull disappear, and her mast follow it down, then stop. The mast hesitated before it slowly tilted to the right with the ebbing tide. It stopped at a steep angle, the top spreaders just clear of the surface.

They looked up at the full moon in silence, then hugged.