“Yup. Told me to clean ‘em good and pack ’em in ice.”
“Why did it take so long?” Jason asked. With all the fish available, it seemed twenty,five heads could have been collected in a single afternoon.
“He only wanted certain salmon,” Stooky said.
“They had to have just spawned — and spawning salmon don’t take bait. You have to net ’em. Them people fishing out there are catching trout.”
“A particular species of salmon?”
“Nope. They’d just had to have spawned.”
“Did.he say why he wanted those heads?”
“He didn’t and I didn’t ask,” Stooky said. “He was payin’ and I figured it was his business.”
“And just fishheads — nothing else.”
“Just fishheads.”
Jason left the porch frustrated and mystified. The idea that Hayes had come three thousand miles for fishheads and marijuana seemed preposterous.
Carol spotted him at the edge of the dock and waved at him to join her.
“You have to try this, Jason,” she said. “I almost caught a salmon.”
“The salmon don’t bite here,” Jason said. “It must have been a trout.”
Carol looked disappointed.
Jason studied her lovely, high-cheekboned face. If his original premise was correct, the salmon heads had to have been associated with Hayes’s attempts to create a monoclonal antibody. But how could that help Carol’s beauty as Hayes had told her? It didn’t make any sense.
“I guess it doesn’t matter whether it’s trout or salmon,” Carol said, turning her attention back to her fishing. “I’m having fun.”
A circling. hawk plunged down into the shallow water and tried to grasp one of the dying salmon with its talons, but the fish was too big and the bird let go and soared back into the sky. As Jason watched, the salmon stopped struggling in the water and died.
“I got one!” Carol cried as her pole arched over.
The excitement of the catch cleared Jason’s mind. He helped Carol land a good-sized trout — a beautiful fish with steely black eyes. Jason felt sorry for it. After he’d gotten the hook out of its lower lip, he talked Carol into throwing it back into the water. It was gone in a flash.
For lunch they walked along the banks of the widened river to a rocky promontory. As they ate, they could not only see the entire expanse of the river, but the snow-capped peaks of the Cascade Mountains. It was breathtaking.
It was late afternoon when they started back to the Salmon Inn. As they passed the cabin they saw another large fish in its death throes. It was on its side, its glistening white belly visible.
“How sad,” Carol said, gripping Jason’s arm. “Why do they have to die?”
Jason didn’t have any answers. The old cliché, “It’s nature’s way,” occurred to him, but he didn’t say it. For a few moments they watched the once magnificent salmon as several smaller fish darted over to feed on its living flesh.
“Ugh!” Carol said, giving Jason’s arm a tug. They continued walking. To change the subject, Carol started talking about another diversion the hotel had to offer. It was white-water rafting. But Jason didn’t hear. The horrid image of the tiny predators feeding from the dying larger fish had started the germ of an idea in Jason’s mind. Suddenly, like a revelation, he had a sense of what Hayes had discovered. It wasn’t ironic — it was terrifying.
The color drained from Jason’s face and he stopped walking.
“What’s the matter?” Carol asked.
Jason swallowed. His eyes stared, unblinking.
“Jason, what is it?”
“We have to get back to Boston,” he said with urgency in his voice. He set off again at a fast pace, almost dragging Carol with him.
“What are you talking about?” she protested.
He didn’t respond.
“Jason! What’s going on?” She jerked him to a stop.
“I’m sorry,” he said, as if waking from a trance. “I suddenly have an idea of what Alvin may have stumbled onto. We have to get back.”
“What do you mean — tonight?”
“Right away.”
“Now wait just a minute. There won’t be any flights to Boston tonight. It’s three hours later there. We can stay over and leave early in the morning if you insist.”
Jason didn’t reply.
“At least we can have dinner,” Carol added irritably.
Jason allowed her to calm him down. After all, who knows? 1 could be wrong, he thought. Carol wanted to discuss it, but Jason told her she wouldn’t understand.
“That’s pretty patronizing.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll tell you all about it when I know for sure.”
By the time he had showered and dressed, Jason realized Carol was right. If they’d driven to Seattle, they’d have gotten to the airport around midnight Boston time. There wouldn’t have been any flights until morning.
Descending to the dining room, they were escorted to a table directly in front of the doors leading to the veranda. Jason sat Carol facing the doors, saying she deserved the view. After they’d been given their menu, he apologized for acting so upset and gave her full credit for being right about not leaving immediately.
“I’m impressed you’re willing to admit it,” Carol said.
For variety, they ordered trout instead of salmon, and in place of the Washington state wine, they had a Napa Valley chardonnay. Outside, the evening slowly darkened into night and the lights went on at the docks.
Jason had trouble concentrating on the meal. He was beginning to realize that if his theory was correct, Hayes had been murdered and Helene had not been the victim of random violence. And if Hayes was right and someone was using his accidental and terrifying discovery, the result could be far worse than any epidemic.
While Jason’s mind was churning, Carol was carrying on a conversation, but when she realized he was off someplace, she reached across and gripped his arm. “You are not eating,” she said.
Jason looked absently at her hand on his arm, his plate, and then Carol. “I’m preoccupied, I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter. If you’re not hungry, maybe we should go and find out about flights to Boston in the morning.”
“We can wait until you’re through eating,” Jason said.
Carol tossed her napkin on the table. “I’ve had more than enough, thank you.”
Jason looked for their waiter. His eyes roamed the room and then stopped. They became riveted on a man who had just entered the dining room and paused by the maître d’s lectern. The man was slowly scanning the room, his eyes moving from table to table. He was dressed in a dark blue suit with a white shirt open at the collar. Even from the distance, Jason could tell the man wore a heavy gold necklace. He could see the sparkle from the overhead lights.
Jason studied the man. He looked familiar, but Jason couldn’t place him. He was Hispanic, with dark hair and deeply tanned skin. He looked like a successful businessman. Suddenly, Jason remembered. He’d seen the face on that awful night when Hayes had died. The man had been outside the restaurant and then outside the Massachusetts General Hospital emergency room.
Just then the man spotted Jason, and Jason felt a sudden chill descend his spine. It was apparent the man recognized Jason because he immediately started forward, his right hand casually thrust into his jacket pocket. He walked deliberately, closing the distance quickly. Having just thought of Helen Brennquivist’s murder, Jason panicked. His intuition told him what was coming, but he couldn’t move. All he could do was look at Carol. He wanted to scream and tell her to run, but he couldn’t. He was paralyzed. Out of the comer of his eye, he saw the man round the nearby table.
“Jason?” questioned Carol, tilting her head to one side.
The man was only steps away. Jason saw his hand come out of his pocket and the glint of metal as his hand covered the gun. The sight of the weapon finally galvanized Jason into action. In a sudden explosion of activity, he snatched the tablecloth from the table, sending the dishes, glasses, and silverware flying to the floor. Carol leaped to her feet with a scream.