I
crank on the steering mechanism, the tail end of the Crayfish flicks and the
craft rounds the bulky underside of an iceberg.
I re-watch the latest Club recording once more and find what I’m looking
for. I flip on my radio again and hail
my wife back in Wisconsin.
“What?” She asks in that tone that means she’s trying
to curl her hair for work, which is a different tone than the one she has for
straightening her hair... I know what
you’re thinking: we spend way too much time together. We even both work at the same place—the D.N.R.
office. Currently I’m sick…or at least
that’s what she told Lawson Hunter, our boss, to explain my absence.
“You
mean you’re going to work while I’m at home sick?” I joke.
“Well
one of us has to earn a paycheck, and since you’re off on a Canadian Cruise...” She returns, not at all amused. “Now what do you need? I still have to get Brock to the sitter’s.
She’s
not going to like me adding another task to her morning routine but she can
yell at me once the Minister is safely away from his under-siege home and I’m
back to my home—a little less safe. “I
noticed something before when you sent me that recording, I checked it again to
make sure I really saw what I saw.”
“And?”
“And
I’m not going crazy. I’ve isolated the
image and took a screenshot of the frame—it should be in your e-mail by now.”
“Ok?” She said with a muffled voice, which by this
time in her morning routine could only mean she had a wad of hair in her mouth
while she used her iron on the rest.
“What’d you find?”
“A
mistake.” I reply. “The
Club’s, not mine. When the leader
fired his weapon, the muzzle flash illuminated his face. It was only for a second but I got a clear
image of it and from the sounds of things it’s the only one anyone has of him. I need you to scan the mug shot into D.A.D.
and see if he can find us a name to go along with it. If we can I.D. him we’re bound to find
something in his profile we can use as leverage.”
“So
now on top of everything else you expect me try to figure out how to turn that unfinished,
oversized microwave in the basement you
call a computer on? “
I
shrug, I’m thousands of miles away—she can’t hurt me. “That’s the short, long and narrow of it.”
She
grumbles madly, “alright, but you owe me.
I mean you haven’t even installed a power switch on the blooming thing
yet, one of these days I’m gonna get zapped!”
“Shocking.” I chuckle back at her. “You’ll figure it out.” Then I switch off the comm. link and turn my
attention back to the frigid ocean just in time to dodge beneath an enormous
grey whale but I’m too close and the Crayfish gets caught in the currant the
massive creature leaves in his wake. The
craft spirals into an underwater tailspin as I fight to keep it from bashing
into the belly of the whale as I pass underneath the behemoth. In these cold, green-tinted waters he is king
but he poses no threat to me—some animals don’t need to push their weight
around to prove dominance. For some
their majestic size and grace is proof enough.
I
skim past the tail and peer out my rear viewport just as the whale is swallowed
up by the murk as though traveling through a portal to another realm and I am
once again alone. The ocean in front of
me is clear of any other traffic so I increase my speed, set the auto pilot to
follow the coordinates and pray that my wife finds the information I need
before I arrive.
Five
minutes later the base of the seaside cliff that the Minister’s fortress sits
on comes into view. I steer the Crayfish
directly beneath, allow just the tip of the exit hatch to clear the water and
ice and set the anchor. The entrance hatch
pops open and I’m just about to get up from my chair when my wife hails me over
our comm. link. “So’d you get zapped,
Mamma?”
“Yes.” She replies with a sour tone that reminds me
of her reaction to when my mother asked her what in God’s name she put in the
lasagna. “And I expect you to stop off
and get me some aloe when you eventually decide to come along home. “Damn thing singed me.”
I
smile. “For you I’ll even spring for the
big bottle. So you get anything other
than burned? I love our time together
but a man’s life is hanging in the balance here.”
“Of
course.” She says, “The man in the video
is Victor Reed. He’s a lifelong sealer
but he’s not the head of the group as we originally thought. He’s a lower middle-class man from Cape
Breton Island, average yearly income is under $50,000…”
“Anything
we can use?” I ask impatiently, checking
the time.
“Now I expect chocolates to go along with
my aloe.” She snips back. “I was just telling you his situation so you
could maybe go into this thing understanding your enemy and any possible
motives he might have for getting involved in all this in the first place. If you can sympathize with him maybe you can
resolve the situation without anyone getting hurt.”
Of
course she’s right—the yin to my yang.
“I slump my shoulders, “yes ma’am.”
I concede in a sheepish tone I’ve not used since the last time my third
grade teacher caught me eating paste during class.
…yes,
that’s right—THIRD GRADE. So sue me.
But the next few words are no joke.
And they smack me back to the realities of human frailty, even my own,
all too quickly as my wife speaks the words, “looks like Victor’s wife has some
form of cancer…she’s dying.”
There’s
nothing I can say. I was hoping for
leverage that would make him think about the future but not that…I’ll almost
feel guilty for using that, but it’s
all I’ve got. “Thanks, hun. I’ll make contact when I’m done. Okay?”
“Okay—and…”
“Yeah?” I ask, about to turn away and get to work.
“Do
be careful.”
A
short, timid smile etches across my face, “I will.” I tell her then I lift off the steel grating
of the sub and shoot up through the open hatch.
I
follow the curve of the cliff higher and higher. It begins to snow and the wind picks up,
yellow sunlight reflects off the frozen precipitation and I’m blinded by the glimmering
white out. But finally I reach the edge
of the cliff. I misjudge my trajectory
and I have to correct myself by reaching out with my hands and flipping off the
roof of the edge a second before impact.
Then I get my first glimpse of Harb’s fortress.
It’s
a massive compound. The house itself
sits on five acres. Huge windows open to
luxurious balconies that look out over the frozen bay. Elaborate white stone pillars pop against the
red brick of the mansion and I find myself officially feeling just a tad
jealous. But I’ll be jealous of a dead
man unless I find him in the next two minutes…the only problem in that there
must be at least fifty rooms in this house and twice as many windows. I know Harb is being held in a room with a
window—I saw it on the recording…but which one?
There’s no way to tell and it’s going to take a lot longer than two
minutes to check all of them.
Then
a gust of wind knocks me around, tossing me about, flipping me end over end in
the air. Then the turbulence subsides, I
look down to check myself over and find a glowing red dot on my chest.
I’ve
flown right into the path of a sniper’s laser sight. I duck out of the way and use the zoom lenses
in my cowl to follow the laser beam to its intended target: a window covered
with red velvet drapes on the fourth floor.
Now I don’t know the layout of the mansion and like I said, I haven’t a
clue as to which room the terrorists are holding Harb in…but the one a sniper
has his sights set on is a good enough place to start for me.
I
rise higher into the sky and when I figure I’m high enough, I dive bomb the
window. I gain speed as I dart down
towards the glass. I shield my face with
my forearms, brace for impact and crash through the glass. I roll on the plush, purple carpet, the
drapes blow in the breeze in back of me as the three thugs scramble around the
room trying to figure out what just happened.
Victor hides behind Harb who’s strapped to a rickety wooden chair, he’s
got his bat pressed firmly against the minister’s throat. One of his henchmen brings his bat down at me
like an axe, I let it hit the ground then I roll over the top of it. He lets go and the handle slaps down on the
top of his foot. He jumps around holding
it like a cartoon character while the other guy takes a swing at me head. I jump back and he takes another shot at my
gut, I kick the bat but he manages to hangs on.
Then he takes the weapon in both hands, close to his side and brings it
back, then he pushes it towards my stomach like a battering ram. I turn and catch the bat, lift up on the end
of it and strike him in the forehead. He
staggers backwards and bumps into his jumping buddy. In a flash I rip one of the drapes off the
rod and wrap them up tighter than Minister Harb, then I clunk their heads together
like the Three Stooges. They thump to
the floor, unconscious and I turn towards Mr. Reed.
“It’s
over Victor. Now put the bat down—you
don’t want to do this!”
He
reacts to my knowing his name but only for a moment. Then he pushes
desperately, trying to bide his time.
“How would you know? You don’t
know anything about me!”
“That’s
not true…I know your name…and I know where you live—though I’m not going to
prove it with an address—not in front of the Minister.” Harb glares at me and I wave my hand at him
as though to let him know that it’s all part of the plan but I don’t think that
makes him feel any better. Now here
comes the hard part—the part I don’t want to do…“I also know that your wife is
dying and that you’ll soon be a single parent.”
He pauses for a moment then lowers the bat. I struck a nerve with that one so I keep on
him. “And I know that the only reason
you’re doing this is because you’re worried you won’t have enough money to support
your little girl without the income from the seal hunt.”
“You
don’t understand!” He shouts at me,
lowering his weapon even more. His arm
is shaking now that I have him thinking about his family. “Not really anyway. My father was a sealer—my grandfather…it’s
all I know how to do! It’s my livelihood!”
I
look to the Minister, his eyes are filled with tears and fear and I can’t help
but wonder if the intensity of this whole thing, along with all his other
responsibilities, will be the cause of some sort of heart condition for
him. I take a chance with a hesitant
step forward. “I do understand,
Victor. I come from a place where old
habits are dying hard—where the fight for animal rights is slowly winning. As laws are passed and animals become more
and more protected, people are being charged with things that weren’t illegal
even a month ago. I’ve seen the effect
it’s had on my friends and neighbors as they struggle to adapt. But it’s worth it Victor. It’s worth it because nobody’s livelihood
should cost another their life. “I pause
for a moment to let that sink in then, “I’m sure your daughter would
agree. You really don’t want to do this.
Your daughter is about to lose one parent—don’t make her lose both. Neither you nor your wife have anyone who can
take care of your daughter if you’re both out of the picture which means she’ll
become a ward of the state. Now for
someone who hates their own government as much as you claim to, you’re sure
trusting them with a lot. Or have you
even thought about that?”
He
shakes his head and his shoulders slouch.
“I guess I hadn’t.”
I’ve
beaten him.
“Drop
the bat and I can get you out of here.
The police have followed your demands and have kept their distance. You can make it to your escape boat and be
miles away before they even get close. You
haven’t killed anyone yet—sure they’ll look for you, but eventually the heat
will be off…you can still walk away from this, but only if you stop now.”
The
bat is about to fall from his hand, “why are you doing this?” He asks me, painfully—like he’s about to
sob. I think he got so desperate that
all he saw was the reward—not what he’d have to do to get it. I don’t think he realized how far deep he was
in until he realized he didn’t want to go any further. By then it was too late.
“I’m
doing this because I’d rather see a father be there for his daughter when she
needs him the most than behind bars or dead on the floor of this very room.”
He
flexes his muscles, ready to bring the bat up again, taking what I said as a
threat. “And were you gonna be the one
to kill me if I refused?”
“No.” I tell him.
The sniper is…he was just setting up on the glacier a mile off when I
arrived. I’ve been blocking you from his
laser sight since I got here. But I’m
not with them—and if you don’t end this soon it’s entirely probably he’ll take
the both of us out before your time table is up.”
Victor
peeks over my shoulder, just enough to clear my mane, he can’t see anyone but
the sniper sees him and fires a round that whizzes past my shoulder, barely
missing us both. “You’ve left me little
choice.” He says as his club clatters
loudly to the floor.
Beneath
my mask I smile, just a little. “You
always have a choice.” I reply, slowly
taking out a fox star filled with a gaseous chemical that once mixed with air
will produce a dense fog. “Today you
just made the right one.”
Then
the fox star cracks against the wood flooring.
The
room fills with a cloud of fog.
And
the mastermind behind the club, who turned out to be just another pawn, and I
escape.
By
the time I return to Wisconsin the summit has already adjourned.
And
the seal hunt remains.
Apparently
while The Club was threatening to
kill Minister Harb they were also bribing other members of the summit and they
voted to keep the slaughter going for the very people threatening to kill one
of their own.
It’s
not the ending I’d hoped for but at least I saved that one seal and the
Minister…and a father. And fortunately
today was the last day of the season and the seals are now safe until next
year. Still, for all my efforts, for
Harb’s brush with death, for things to have ended this way because someone was
bought is disgusting. But this was
always a possibility—a vote this loaded is always prone to corruption.
But
now I have a whole year to figure out which sleazy government fat cat accepted
the money—a whole year to expose them for the underhanded, amoral, pathetic
excuse for humanity who would allow something as sick and twisted as the seal
slaughter to continue.
I
have a year to root out the degenerate who would accept a few dollars in
exchange for the lives of thousands.
And
when I do…
The End
No comments:
Post a Comment