Chapter 5: The Interlude

"Hello, Rick," the tall Englishman greeted me. "It's been quite a while, hasn't it?"

"It has, Harold. Twelve years almost. You were with Interpol, on loan from your city police. Birmingham, wasn't it?"

"That's right. I'd just started there and you were working with us on the human smuggling file. I wish I could say we put a stop to it, but all we managed was a finger in the dike."

"I was on loan to INS at the time," I recalled. "That was an interesting two years. I got pulled off when 9/11 happened."

"Yes, I remember. Bloody mess, that. We should have seen it coming."

"We did. We just didn't pay attention to what we saw."

"So what have you been up to lately?" he asked.

"Working as a private contractor. I'm retired now."

"I take it you aren't referring to building houses and the like."

"No ... not that kind of contractor."

He nodded. He understood. Harold Sinden was a very smart man. He had taken a retirement at fifty and immigrated to Canada to start a private business, Orca Investigations. It had grown into a second business, Orca Security. I was here to touch base and renew an old friendship, not look for a job.

"I was very sorry to hear about Elizabeth," he said. "I know you were very close and I'm sure it was heartbreaking to lose her."

I nodded. I didn't want to get into that again. I'd had enough grieving to last me a lifetime.

"How's Helen?" I asked, quickly trying to change the subject.

"Very good. She's in Solihull, visiting her sister for a fortnight. I'm on my own for a bit."

"Then you can get away for dinner tonight? I'd like to hear about your business."

"I'd like that, Rick. Where are you staying?"

"The Lion's View. They have a kennel where I can keep my dog."

"There's a very nice restaurant in the same block. I'll meet you in the lobby at seven o'clock and we can walk to it."

"I'll look forward to it," I smiled. I think it might have been the first smile I'd had that day.

"So, putting that recent ugly business behind you, what strikes your fancy?" Harold asked. I had given him a sketchy account of my brief stay in Oregon, including the attempt on my life.

"I don't think I'm cut out for a desk job. I was thinking of perhaps a job in security with a business slant. A lot of stolen property coming from building sites. I could help businesses cut down on that."

Harold nodded. "We do that here as well. Copper seems to be the current favorite, but almost anything that can be resold will be a target. We tracked down one gang who were nicking tractors, back-hoes, and the like. Shipped them to Manitoba and Ontario to sell on the sly. No end to what they'll steal."

"I'm going to head east first, I think. My parents are living in Cape Cod during the spring and summer months. They use my condo in Florida during the cold weather."

"It's nice you're able to look after them, Rick. How are they?"

"Fine. I'm still getting nagged about a wife and kids, but I'm forty now, so I don't see that happening, at least not the kids part. I thought I had all that, but it vanished in a heartbeat."

Harold nodded understanding, knowing Elizabeth was a difficult subject with me.

"I'm thinking of expanding into the United States, Rick. I could use a good man like you."

"I might be interested in the security side of the business. We could talk about it when the time comes."

"Massachusetts isn't your home state, is it?"

"No, upstate New York. Rochester. Dad worked for Kodak for thirty-one years after he got out of the army. At least he had a pension. They owned a small house where I grew up and kept it until I bought them their place on Cape Cod. They used to go there on their summer vacations. I already had the condo in Florida, so it was perfect for them to winter there. I'm hardly ever around, so I gave them the master suite and I sleep in one of the guest bedrooms when I'm home."

"It's nice to be able to look after your folks like that," Harold said. "They can retire in comfort and not have to worry about anything."

"Yeah, there had to be something useful to do with the money."

"How long are you staying here in Vancouver?"

"A few days, I think. A little sight-seeing, maybe some fishing."

"I have a boat. Why don't we plan on using it this weekend? I've got place in Pender Harbor near some pretty reliable salmon fishing. We could go up there Friday night and come back Monday morning."

"Can you get away, just like that?"

"Yes. I've got good people to look after things now. I've learned not to micro-manage, so I let the people do their jobs. We won't be out of range of my SSB radio on the boat and most of the area has cell phone coverage. But ... I doubt we'll be bothered."

"Can I bring my dog?"

"Is he housebroken?"

"Yeah. I wouldn't do that to you," I chuckled.

"Bring him along then."

"Okay, count me in. Sounds like a very enjoyable weekend."

We agreed to meet at his office at five o'clock Friday afternoon and he would drive us to the ferry and then to Pender Harbor.

He must have had all his gear and supplies packed the night before because the only reason to stop was to pick up a fishing license for me. I had everything else including deck shoes that I would need. Harold would take care of the rest. I had no idea if Norton would like the boat, but it was big enough at 28 feet to be fairly stable.

The weather was sunny, although a bit windy on Saturday morning, so we stayed on the lee side of Texada Island. The wind dropped later in the afternoon when Harold made for Young Point on Lasqueti Island. We got into a run of Silvers (or Cohoe, as Harold called them) that wore us out. It was all catch-and-release with barbless hooks, but it was great fun. We boated only two fish, one for supper and one for the freezer. They were about five pounds each, but they fought like tigers and we lost more than we released.

Norton loved every minute of the day. He would stick his nose out into the wind when we were running along, his big ears flapping as we cut through the light chop. When we stopped, he would curl up on the deck and watch us, content with the light rocking of the boat.

Sunday dawned cloudy but dead calm and we took a sight-seeing run up the inside of Nelson Island, into Jervis Inlet and finally, Hotham Sound. Harold showed me where a spectacular sixteen-hundred-foot waterfall appeared when spring run-off or heavy rains in the fall and winter filled Freil Lake near the mountaintop. The waterfall had created a sandbar just beyond the mouth of the stream and we anchored there for our lunch to watch the wildlife. It was shallow enough that I took Norton for a swim, something he loved to do.

When we returned to Vancouver on Monday morning, I thanked Harold for sharing his weekend with me. I found it was exactly the tonic I needed after the events of the past two weeks. We parted at my hotel, as I had made reservations to fly to Boston the next day, then drive to Cape Cod to see my parents. I would leave my car in one of his office parking slots. We promised to keep in touch, and this time I thought it was more likely I would.

Over the years I had learned to sleep on aircraft. It wasn't easy and occasionally I had to settle for being semi-conscious for a time. My flight was business class to Chicago, then to Boston, but my thoughts kept me from really zoning out. It was bothering me that those thoughts included Sally Baynes more than anything or anyone else. That was unusual, but perhaps caused by the fact that I had nothing in front of me that warranted my attention. There was no future contract to execute.

Sally couldn't be included in the collection of one-night-stands that had made up my sex life in the three past years. After I'd gotten past the shock and anger at the death of Elizabeth, I forced myself to resist getting involved with anyone. I wanted sex, but I didn't want the complications that went along with it. I had too much pride to hire a prostitute or an escort, so I preyed on the lonely, married or otherwise. If I wasn't too fussy, I could pretty much count on an evening's entertainment when the mood struck me.

Sally was different. Just how different, I hadn't quite figured out. That she was Hurley's niece had a part to play in it, all right. I didn't fuck over friends. Besides, she had been the aggressor. She came on to me and made no bones about what she wanted. I suppose that, and Hurley's approval, should have relieved my conscience. Yet, in the back of my mind, she had left believing something about me that caused her to back away.

My welcome home was just as it always was; enthusiastic. Norton was a surprise to them, but his friendly nature guaranteed his acceptance. My parents looked the picture of health considering their age. They were approaching the seventy mark, yet in my mind they looked and acted much younger. I was happy about that. A long lifespan seemed to be the genetic pattern for the Vermeulen family.

Norton found Cape Cod exactly to his liking. We were less than a mile from the beach, and he loved to play in the surf. The water was cold, but he never seemed to mind. He would run up and down the beach, chasing a ball and returning it to me, insisting I throw it again. I was thinking how much he'd enjoy Florida, too.

Over the next six weeks, I found myself getting restless. I wasn't used to taking vacations and there were times when I didn't know what to do with myself. I toured the area, including Woods Hole, Martha's Vineyard and Nantucket. I did something I'd never done before and took a guided tour of Boston. I was pleasantly surprised at how much I learned, and I enjoyed the day.