Chapter 10 - The Last Harbor Shipment
The federal response moved quickly.
Canadian authorities were notified.
Interpol opened a coordination channel.
Military export-control specialists joined the investigation.
I stayed recused from operational decision-making.
That did not mean I stayed uninformed.
Bell Meridian Star was scheduled to depart Halifax at 11:30 p.m.
Easton boarded at 8:12.
At 8:43, Canadian border officers attempted to inspect four containers.
Bell Meridian lawyers produced emergency diplomatic transit documentation.
Forgery.
Very good forgery.
Enough to delay inspection.
At 9:05, Easton’s lawyers filed an injunction.
At 9:20, the ship began preparing for unscheduled departure.
Daniel called me.
“He knows.”
“Can they stop the vessel?”
“They’re trying.”
“Trying is not the same as stopping.”
“I’m aware.”
Griffin paced my hotel suite.
Calder and Evelyn sat near the television.
My father had been discharged into federal protective custody.
For once in his life, Alden Rowe was not controlling anything.
At 9:47, Canadian authorities boarded the ship.
The containers were empty.
Easton had moved the cargo.
“How?” Griffin demanded.
Daniel answered over speakerphone.
“Another vessel departed the private Bell terminal three hours ago.”
“What vessel?”
“A research yacht.”
Evelyn stood.
“Destination?”
“Unknown.”
I looked at the maritime map.
A private yacht could disappear into hundreds of harbors along the North Atlantic.
But Easton was not merely fleeing.
He needed leverage.
He needed the cargo delivered.
I studied the old Harbor records again.
Routes.
Ports.
Neutral brokers.
Then one location caught my attention.
St. Pierre.
French territorial waters south of Newfoundland.
A small transit point.
My mother had underlined it in one of the copied manifests.
“Daniel.”
“Yes?”
“Check St. Pierre.”
Silence.
Then keyboard sounds.
Thirty seconds.
A minute.
Finally:
“Damn.”
“What?”
“Bell Meridian has a fuel-services subsidiary registered there.”
The operation shifted.
Authorities tracked satellite transmissions.
At 1:14 a.m., a vessel matching the yacht’s dimensions appeared south of Newfoundland.
Canadian patrol aircraft confirmed it.
At 2:03, the yacht stopped transmitting.
At 3:12, a distress beacon activated.
Then vanished.
Easton Bell had disappeared into the North Atlantic.
Again.
But the cargo mattered more.
A French patrol vessel intercepted the yacht at dawn.
No Easton.
No crew.
No cargo.
The vessel was drifting empty.
On the bridge was a single envelope.
My name.
Inside:
You always did choose duty over family.
Now choose again.
Beneath the note was a photograph.
Calder.
Taken from across the street two days earlier.
My blood went cold.
I called him immediately.
No answer.
“Where is Calder?” I asked.
Evelyn stood.
“He left twenty minutes ago.”
“Why?”
“Coffee.”
We ran downstairs.
His rental car remained outside.
The coffee shop was half a block away.
Empty sidewalk.
No Calder.
Evelyn stared at me.
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“No.”
Daniel’s agents sealed the area.
Security footage showed Calder walking toward the café.
A delivery van stopped.
Two men stepped out.
He fought.
They stunned him.
Thirty seconds later, the van disappeared.
Evelyn slammed her fist against the brick wall.
I caught her before she hit it again.
“He’ll use Calder to reach Charles.”
She looked at me.
“You think he wants the original Harbor evidence.”
“Yes.”
“And you.”
“Yes.”
My phone rang.
Easton.
I answered.
“Where is he?”
Calder’s voice came through first.
“Aunt Maren, don’t—”
A blow.
Then Easton.
“Still stubborn.”
“If you hurt him—”
“You’ll do what?”
I stopped speaking.
Easton continued.
“Charles Mercer has the originals.”
“Yes.”
“You will bring them.”
“No.”
“Then Calder dies.”
Evelyn covered her mouth.
Easton’s voice remained calm.
“Tomorrow. Pier 17. Midnight.”
The place where everything began.
“Come alone.”
“You know that won’t happen.”
“Then bring whoever you like.”
He laughed.
“It won’t matter.”
The line ended.
Evelyn looked at me.
“We’re going.”
“Yes.”
“Federal team?”
“Yes.”
“Charles?”
I hesitated.
Then a voice came from behind us.
“I’m already here.”
Charles Mercer stood beside Daniel.
He held the original steel document case.
“I spent thirty years running,” he said.
May you like
He looked at Evelyn.
“I’m done.”
