Lea shook her head.
“What is it?” Hawke asked.
“No fuel left — I heard Crew Cut Lady and Smets talking about it. That’s why they took off in the Nautilus.”
“Bloody fantastic, and they’ve got the research files as well.”
Hawke determined they had enough fuel to go the short distance back to shore and slowly turned the yacht around, taking control and sailing her home with what little remained in the tanks. Arriving at the jetty and securing the yacht with a mooring rope, a small man in Bermuda shorts and a white bucket hat came running up to them, waving his fist in the air.
“Hey! You — I recognize you!”
“Who’s that?” Lea said, narrowing her eyes with confusion.
“Leave it to me.”
“You stay right where you are, buster!”
“Afternoon!” Hawke said chirpily as he tied off the mooring rope.
“You took my Seabreacher — where the hell is it?”
“Gone but not forgotten, mate,” Hawke said flatly.
“What the hell! That thing cost me fifty grand!” The man put his hands on his hips but took a step back when the Englishman straightened up to his full height and covered him with his broad shadow.
“Here,” Hawke said, casually tossing him the keys to the Maritimo. “Have this instead — it’s worth two million dollars.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Lea woke up after a short sleep just in time to see the tops of thousands of pine trees flashing beneath the plane as they descended onto the runway in St. John’s. The island was a largely untouched wilderness on the eastern coast of Canada, still bearing the ancient glacier scars of the last ice age on the sparse face of its boreal landscape. It was hard to believe this was part of the same continent they had taken off from just a few short hours ago.
This was the island that the Icelandic Viking explorer Leif Erikson had sailed to over a thousand years ago. He had called it Vinland because of the grapevines he had discovered growing all over the island. This was the island where Portuguese explorers had come to find the legendary Northwest Passage. This was the island where Sir Humphrey Gilbert, Sir Francis Drake’s half-brother, had started the entire British Empire when he claimed it under Royal Charter for Elizabeth I in 1583. This was an island with history.
After the plane had taxied into the small airport they were soon on their way west, skirting the shores of Windsor Lake in a hired Land Rover Evoque. Less than fifteen minutes later they reached the small community of Portugal Cove on the Avalon Peninsula and drove the Evoque into the back of the Bell Island ferry.
“Did you know,” Ryan said, “that Portugal Cove was one of the first settlements in the entire New World?”
Scarlet sighed. “Do try and control your nerd, Lea.”
“He’s not my nerd,” Lea said with a shrug. “He’s Maria’s nerd.”
“Hey!” Ryan said, indignant. “I’m right here!”
Scarlet dragged on her cigarette and winced. “Like I could ever forget.”
Lea smiled at the banter. She had felt better since telling everyone about the research files and having Alex get them from her room and re-send them. At least now they were working as one again. She looked out across the waters of Conception Bay. Even now in summer they looked cold and gray, which wasn’t surprising considering they often still got winter snow and ice well into April or sometimes later.
She felt a sense of serene calm about the place and took the opportunity to relax as the ferry trundled slowly across the bay on its way to the island. After she’d explained about Ireland and the files on the plane journey, Ryan had enlightened the team about their destination, and while much of what he’d said could only ever be of interest to a person like Ryan, some of it had stuck in her mind.
The largest town was the community of Wabana, where they were headed now. The town’s name meant ‘the place where the sun shines first’ in Beothuk, the language of the first people to live here. More recently, the town had suffered U-Boat attacks in World War II in the Nazi drive to destroy Allied cargo ships transporting much-needed iron ore to the steel mills of Nova Scotia.
Today, just a few thousand people lived on the small island, and they were all dependent on the ferries for their connection to the rest of Newfoundland. When the ferry service stopped for whatever reason, helicopters had to be used to take people to the mainland for any emergencies.
It didn’t take long for them to make the short drive to the center of the island and then down a gentle slope to the northwest side where Martha Parsons had lived alone in her small white clapboard house for over thirty years. When they had started researching the blaze at the museum in which Nate Derby had died they had quickly discovered the name of the curator — Bill Smith. It hadn’t taken long to connect him to Martha, his former fiancée. A few phone calls had revealed an address and a local rumor about a mysterious engagement gift that was worth exploring. They figured she was as good a person as any to ask about what had happened to Nate and Bill at the museum.
“Come in,” she said, barely looking at them. “How’s she cuttin’?”
Ryan looked at Hawke, confused. “Um…”
“You want coffee?” she said sharply.
“Yes, thanks.”
“Anyone want something to eat? I can fire up a scoff if you want.”
“Not entirely sure what a scoff is,” Ryan said, peering into a small pot on the stove, “but I think your wallpaper paste’s gone off,”
“Wallpaper paste, what the..?” Martha looked at Ryan and squinted. “That’s fish and brewis you fool.”
Ryan repeated the words like an admonished child. “Fish and brewis?”
“Want some?”
“Um…”
“I’ll have a go,” Hawke said.
“Me too,” Scarlet said.
Lea and Victoria joined Ryan and passed, but Martha served Hawke and Scarlet two bowls of the local tradition — cod and hard tack — and added some scrunchions, a salted pork fat fried until crunchy and sprinkled liberally over the top.
Scarlet looked disappointed when Martha set the pot down and poured herself a coffee. “Don’t I get any of those little scrunchy things?”
Martha looked at Scarlet and then over at the scrunchions. “Women don’t need no scrunchions. Just sit down and eat what you got.”
Ryan smirked as a reprimanded Scarlet lowered herself to the kitchen table and spooned in a mouthful of the fish and brewis.
Martha jabbed the wooden spoon in Ryan’s face. “What about you — you sure you don’t want none? Scrawny little chicken like you could do with feeding up.”
A frowning Ryan peered into the pot once again. “You have to be joking.”
“Huh?” Martha looked at him accusingly.
With all eyes on Ryan, he had no escape. “I mean you have to be joking — of course I want some!”
Martha spooned out another bowl and set it on the table. “It’s all yours.”
Ryan looked at the food sheepishly. “Thanks.”
Lea had chosen to stick with the coffee, which came from an original Atomic coffee machine from the early fifties. She was marvelling at the thing as it creaked and whined when Martha caught her in the corner of her eye.
“Wedding present.”
“Ah…”
“Don’t worry, it’s not gonna blow up or nothing like that.”
“No, I’m sure it won’t.” Lea stepped closer to the machine to highlight the meaning in her words.
“Just that the way you was looking at it made me wonder if it was admiration or horror in your eyes.”
Lea smiled. “A bit of both, sorry…”
“George fixed her up a few times over the years and I reckon she’ll outlive me — here’s your coffee.”