“Five minutes,” Hollis said. “Then we should be ʼround the point and out of the worst of this.”
“What about the doctor?” I said, leaving Jaak and climbing the step to join Hollis at the wheel. He held his balance against the ship’s motion as if the seas were as smooth as glass. “Can he meet us at the boat?”
“She,” Hollis corrected. “Claybeck’s a woman. I’ve been trying to reach her. No cell signal way out here but I’ve tried her on the satellite phone, and still nothing.”
“But she knows we’re coming.”
“She knows I might turn up with a patient.”
“Christ, Hollis.”
“Options were limited, lad. I called Dr. Claybeck straightaway once I found Jaak. She told me she’d be at her house after nightfall. But with the storm and Jaak passed out, I had nearly resigned myself to calling an ambulance and giving them some half-assed story about finding him unconscious at the marina.”
And then I showed up and Hollis decided to gamble on Claybeck being home. God help the sailor if we crossed the Sound in a storm only to find an empty house.
“What’s your business with a freighter from Helsinki?” I said.
“You’ll laugh. Video game controllers. A new model, with built-in memory and some sort of kinetic whatsit for the player’s movements. People will spend thousands on the latest generation to get the edge on their competition. What do they call it?”
“E-sports.”
“Right. South Korea’s crazy for those. An acquaintance of mine in Vantaa found a couple of dozen extra controllers lying about their R&D department and got them to Jaak, who was going to show me a sample today. If all looked proper, I’d buy the rest tomorrow. But then—” He shrugged and glanced toward the cabin where the unconscious sailor was secured to his blood-dappled settee. “Fate had other plans.”
I looked at the indistinct shape of Vashon Island, off our starboard. The scattering of lights onshore helped differentiate the black of the landmass from the dark sea below and clouded sky above. We hadn’t rounded the point yet, but already the waves rolling the Francesca were decreasing in size.
“Doc Claybeck’s home is just four miles along,” Hollis said, reaching for the satellite phone he’d tucked into the chart holder. He let the phone ring as he nudged the throttle forward. The Francesca responded as if she’d been waiting for the moment, her bow lifting to keep pace with the rapid current. No one answered the call. I went below to ready Jaak to move.
I guessed the sailor’s weight at about two hundred and fifty pounds. I could conceivably get him off the boat and into Claybeck’s place, but only by lifting his substantial bulk in a fireman’s carry over my shoulders. That would put a lot of pressure on his gut, which sounded like a bad idea. Hollis and I would have to try hauling Jaak using a blanket. I went below to the Francesca’s staterooms and found a duvet that looked thick enough to handle the load without tearing.
By the time I’d readied the makeshift stretcher, Hollis was easing back on the Francesca’s speed and turning us sharply toward shore. Through the windshield I could see a stubby dock outlined by footlights every few feet along its length. Beyond the dock, a broad house stood at the top of a rise. A lamp glowed from behind one long picture window. The rest of the house was dark.
“Not promising,” I said, loudly enough for Hollis to hear me.
“But the dock lights are on.” I could imagine Hollis gesticulating encouragingly. “Tie us off and I’ll try calling the doctor one more time.”
I stepped out the aft door into the driving rain—the island did nothing to block that—and made my way carefully along the narrow side deck to kick the fenders to hang over the rail before picking up the coiled and sopping bowline. As Hollis brought the Francesca alongside the dock, I jumped down and wrapped the line around the nearest cleat. A surge shoved the ten-ton boat into the floating dock, crushing the fenders between nearly flat. The planks groaned with the pressure. I hurried to tie off the stern. My head was already soaked, hood or no.
“Anything?” I called to Hollis. He began to shout a reply from up on the bridge, but my attention was distracted by movement from the rise leading to the house.
Dogs. Large dogs, running at top speed. Running at me. Their claws made hasty scrabbling clicks on the first wooden planks of the short dock as they lunged, fangs bared.
Five
I moved as quickly as I ever had in my life, jumping high to catch hold of the Francesca’s deck rail and vaulting in a single motion onto the boat. Without pausing I reached up to grab the chrome handrail on the side of the flybridge above me and practically ran vertically up the cabin windows, hooking a foot on the handrail and hauling myself upward.
Below me, the dogs jumped to snap menacingly at the air and ran in circles on the dock. The side deck of the Francesca was only a foot wide—too narrow for the beasts to leap aboard easily, but their jaws could reach just fine. Every jump brought them close enough for me to count their teeth. They looked like some sort of shepherd or Malinois mix, big-chested with pointed ears and tawny fur and black faces. Big enough to tear off a man’s limb if they wanted to. They wanted to. They didn’t bark but instead whined with spine-chilling eagerness.
I was perched in a crouch with my feet on the slick metal handrail and my arms holding on to the side of the boat for dear life. Like a treed cat. Me on the outside of the flybridge, Hollis gaping at me from the other side of the polyurethane window.
“Van?” he said.
“You might have mentioned the damn dogs,” I shouted.
“I didn’t know,” Hollis said. “They weren’t around the only other time I’ve been here.”
I risked standing up on the slippery handrail to climb to the aft of the boat for a better grip. I was stuck between the dogs and the pouring rain, but at least I wasn’t in danger of falling to the dock. My escape seemed to urge the hounds into trying to leap aboard, their claws scraping the fiberglass hull with every attempt.
“I’ve got an air horn,” said Hollis. “And a gun, if we need it. But—”
“We’re not shooting the dogs. Any other ideas?”
My phone rang. I wasn’t in a position to reach for it.
“Look there.” Hollis pointed.
Another light had appeared up at Dr. Claybeck’s house. The right size and shape for an open door, down at ground level.
The dogs stopped jumping. In another instant, they were running as fast as they had come, up the dock and the short hill and presumably into the house. The rectangular light went out. I hadn’t heard a whistle or any other signal.
After a moment I climbed down to the side deck. Hollis met me outside. We both kept a wary eye on where the dogs had gone.
“The doctor must have called them off,” he said, turning to put the satellite phone to his ear. “Maybe I can reach her.”
“No need.” I nodded toward the house. In the dim, a distant figure of a tall person in pale clothes stood out like a phantom. The figure raised one arm and held it aloft.
“That her?” I said.
“Let’s say yes,” said Hollis. “Jaak can’t wait forever.”