“What’s your part in the charade?”
“I have no part except to keep Hank’s behavior as separate from the name of Northern Mining as possible.”
“You have nothing to do with the men who live on the island?”
“Benning and Dougherty? No, Hank hired them when he hired the Ellsworth fellow. I have no part in any of it. Except that sometimes, as when you showed up the other day, I pass requests along to him, but that’s all. Hank takes it from there.”
“I’m still having trouble with Morrissey.”
“I really don’t know anything about him. From what I understand, Hank knew Morrissey from the guide work the man sometimes did. It’s rough country where my brother is, Mr. O’Connor. There are a lot of people who are capable of the kind of behavior this Morrissey displayed.”
“Where is he?”
“I won’t tell you that. It’s Hank’s decision.”
“You’ll let him know I want to see him?”
“I’ll do that.”
“You don’t have much time before I go to the police and everything comes out.”
“From what you’ve told me, it’s all going to come out anyway. What does it matter about the time?”
“One attempt was already made on Henry Meloux’s life. I want answers before anybody else gets hurt. You still have my cell phone number?”
He didn’t answer. He looked pained, as if his stomach had knotted suddenly. Finally he said, “You talk about people being hurt. I care very much about my brother. What he’s gone through, what he continues to struggle with, isn’t easy. I’d prefer that his solitude be respected, but that’s a choice he’ll have to make. If it were up to me, I’d have you tossed out of Canada.”
“You have my cell phone number?” I said again.
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll expect to hear from your brother.”
He looked at me, unhappy and probably angry, and he looked at Meloux. We turned away and left his office.
In the elevator, Meloux said, “That is a man at war.”
“With us?”
“It spills out at us, but it is something else, I think.”
“He’s going to have his hands full when the truth of all this comes out. Northern Mining and Manufacturing will have to perform some pretty amazing magic to give any of it a good spin.”
Pollard and Schanno were drinking coffee in the front-porch swing when I pulled into the driveway. They looked comfortable together.
As we mounted the steps, Schanno asked, “How’d it go?”
“We’ll have to see. Wellington promised to talk to his brother, but he couldn’t guarantee anything. Hank Wellington makes his own decisions.”
“Hank?”
“What his brother called him.”
“I need a drink of water,” Meloux said and went inside.
“How’s he doing?” Trinky asked, her voice low and full of concern.
“Okay, I guess. We learned a little more about his son.” I explained what Rupert had told me about his brother and the Manitou Island setup. “What did you find out about the number Ellsworth gave you?”
“An answering service,” Trinky Pollard said. “Ellsworth leaves a message, the service notifies the account owner, who accesses the message. I’d need a court order to go any deeper. But I did find out that Entertaintec, which pays for Ellsworth’s services, is a subsidiary of Larchmont Productions, which is owned by Henry Wellington.”
“All roads continue to lead to Rome,” I said.
“Wherever that is in Canada.” Schanno shook his head.
“Any coffee left?” I asked.
“Half a pot,” Pollard said. “Help yourself.”
I’d turned toward the front door when my cell phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket. It was Jo.
“Hi, sweetheart,” I answered.
“You’re alive.”
“And kicking.”
“I’d hoped to hear from you.”
“Sorry. It’s been busy up here.”
“How’s it going?”
“Closing in, I hope. I’m waiting for a call from Henry Wellington, so as much as I love talking to you, I need to keep the line open. How’re things on the home front?”
“You mean Jenny?”
“She’s at the top of my list of concerns.”
“She’s doing remarkably well. She’s strong, Cork.”
“She’ll need to be. How’s everyone else?”
“Annie’s working her rear end off at Sam’s Place. And Stevie’s in seventh heaven with Walleye around. Cork, we really need to consider getting him a dog.”
“We’ll talk when I’m home,” I said, aware that I was putting it off again. “I need to keep this line open.”
“Sure. You take care of yourself. And Meloux.”
“I’m on it.”
I poured myself some coffee. Meloux was at the kitchen sink, drinking water from a plastic tumbler. We headed back outside together.
“What now?” Schanno asked.
“Nothing to do but wait,” I said.
We didn’t have to wait long. In twenty minutes, my cell phone chirped. I answered and recognized the voice, the same one that, on my first visit to Thunder Bay, had given me the instructions that got me to Manitou Island.
“I’ll see you, Mr. O’Connor,” Henry Wellington said.
“When?”
“As soon as you can get here.”
“Where’s here?”
“Go to the marina, the south end of the parking lot. Mr. Benning will be waiting for you. He’ll bring you to me.”
“I’m not coming alone.”
“The old man, the one called Meloux? You’ll bring him?”
“Yes. And a colleague.”
“Walter Schanno?”
Wellington was informed.
“Yes. Schanno.”
“All right. Leave immediately. It’s a long trip.”
He hung up without the cordiality of a good-bye.
The others looked at me.
“The great and powerful Oz will see us,” I said.
FORTY-FOUR
We took Trinky Pollard to the marina and let her off near the dock, where her boat was moored and where, she’d told us, her car was still parked.
She stood in the sunlight, blinking at us, clearly disappointed. “Sure you won’t let me go?” The whole way she’d argued for the wisdom of taking her along to see Wellington.
I leaned out my window. “He only agreed to Henry and Wally. I don’t want to blow this chance.”
“He also tried to have Henry killed. He doesn’t strike me as the most gracious host. You might need all the backup you can get.”
“We’ll be fine, Trinky,” I said.
She came around to Schanno’s side. “You’ll be careful?”
“Always have been,” he said.
She kissed him on the cheek. “When you get back, give me a call, promise?”
“Promise.”
She stepped away. We headed toward the south end of the marina. In the rearview mirror, I watched her watching us. Then she turned toward her boat.
Benning was standing beside a black Ford Explorer, leaning against the driver’s-side front door. The Explorer looked new and reflected sunlight shot from the polished finish in long bright arrows. Benning wore a T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up over impressive biceps. He had on a ball cap that shaded his face and sunglasses that hid his eyes. As we drove up, he looked our way. When I stopped, he pushed from his vehicle and walked to my side of the Bronco.
“I have instructions to take you to Mr. Wellington.” He kept his shades on when he spoke to me.
“Lead the way.”
“How’s your gas?” he asked.
“I filled up on the way here.”
He nodded and turned back to the Explorer.
“What if we get separated?” I said.
“We won’t.”
We followed him northwest out of Thunder Bay, keeping to Highway 17, part of the Trans-Canada Highway system. The sun had just passed its zenith when we finally put civilization behind us. For a long time after that, the highway cut through flat country with a lot of timber and not many towns.
A little over two hours later, we came to Ignace and turned north. We stopped at a gas station with a small restaurant. Benning pulled up to a pump and signaled us to do the same.