CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Taki thought it was “sen-super-sational.”
“Decidedly memorable,” Kevin agreed.
Neither of them had seen a large ship afire before. Orange flames were consuming the stern and midships section, and a tower of smoke writhed upward and spread into the gray overcast of the sky. The rain farther south hadn’t reached the north side of the city yet. Kevin could feel the heat beating at his face, even from the van, now down on the quay. Hoses were being directed into the blaze and over the as-yet untouched forward half from several fire launches on the far side as well as from trucks drawn up on the quay, but even so, every now and again something inside the boat would flare up or explode with a muffled concussion and cause a fresh outbreak.
Corfe was sitting on the tailboard of the van, looking exhausted, his bearded features suggesting something out of Hades in the flickering red glow from the police cars parked haphazardly around. The officer in charge had talked to Eric and was now supervising the questioning and note-taking going on among the yacht’s bedraggled company, some wrapped in blankets, others being tended for scrapes and bruises by crew from the ambulances that had arrived in the wake of the police cars. Two other officers were talking to Ohira. Michelle was standing to one side with Eric. She had seemed confused and disoriented when Kevin first emerged from the van, but was recovering rapidly. Kevin, preoccupied with the visual feast of the burning vessel, only partly heard what they were saying.
“Michelle, you should have told me! Do you think I couldn’t have dealt with it, for heaven’s sake?”
“We were going to. But we just wanted this final piece of evidence to show you, to clinch it. It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing I’m used to springing on people every day.”
“You make it sound as if I need some kind of . . . of support team to manage my life.”
“But Eric, you do. You’re in a different reality for most of the time. You need people around you to handle this one for you. Don’t get me wrong—it’s not a criticism. That’s what lets you be what you are. But look at us even right now . . .” Michelle swept an arm, “standing here philosophizing, in the middle of what looks like an air-raid. Doesn’t that underline what I’m saying?”
There was a short pause. Then Eric looked her up and down and asked, “Are you sure you’re all right? You look as if you’ve been in an air-raid, anyway.”
“I’ll be fine.” Michelle sighed. “Doesn’t anybody around here have any coffee?”
Ohira turned from the open door of his car, a few yards away. “Just coming up.” He produced a flask and some Styrofoam cups.
“I didn’t know you read minds too.”
Ohira grinned craggily. “Ancient Japanese custom.”
“Eric?” Michelle inquired. He nodded gratefully. She took two of the cups, and held them while Ohira filled them.
Corfe accepted a mug of something from an ambulance man and shook his head in answer to some question. He seemed to be regathering his wits and showing more interest in what was going on. Kevin went over to him.
“Hi, Doug. Are you okay?”
“Aw, I figure I’ll make it.” Corfe took a long swallow from the mug, wiped his mouth with a knuckle, and looked at Kevin curiously. “So what happened to you down at the lab? When we couldn’t get any answer on the phone, I was starting to get really worried.”
“Oh, there was trouble. It’s really been one of those days that you hear about.”
“I thought some of Payne’s people might have gone there.”
“They did. But the Tacoma cops have got them now.”
“Why were you stuck there? How come you couldn’t decouple?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Hell. . . . So tell me what happened.”
Kevin frowned and tried to think back, but before he could go into it, Eric joined them.
“You’re looking better, Doug. I think I’m just beginning to get an idea of how much I owe you. I—”
Corfe raised a hand tiredly. “Not now, Eric. There’ll be plenty of other times for all that.” He looked around them and shook his head. “I don’t know. . . . How did you do it? I was trying all day to get the police to take it seriously, and they wouldn’t even talk to me. You show up with a posse of them in tow. What’s the trick? Scientific intellect? German charisma?” He frowned. “Come to that, when did you even talk to them? You couldn’t have had time.”