Port Starbird (Storm Ketchum Adventures) (10 page)

This
old fishing boat... Ketch squinted in the fading light and realized this boat looked familiar. And then one of the men's words floated up to him like a feather on the wind - "amigo". Yes, that was Mario down there with Mick; and that was Mario's boat; and they were going to illegally dump toxic waste at sea.

Indiscriminate o
cean dumping of drums like these containing hazardous waste had been allowed at one time, but when it was learned the drums could corrode and disintegrate faster than had been thought, the practice was halted, at least in civilized parts of the world. Especially when dumped on the continental shelf or in shallow seas, it was understood that this kind of pollution could easily contaminate fish and shellfish harvested for human consumption.

But money talks, as they say, and Ketch supposed
this was one way to make some when you were down and out; and though it was utterly abhorrent to him, they probably had few if any qualms about doing it, other than worrying about getting caught. And with all the environmental regulations in place today, doing it this way was undoubtedly less expensive for the company than doing it the right way would be.

Unbelievable... Mick's involvement didn't surprise him, but he'd thought Mario was
more ethical than this. Granted that might seem incongruous to some, given Mario's lifestyle; but though it might not appear to make sense, to Ketch there was a distinction between being an outlaw and being a criminal - especially an environmental criminal, which to him was one of the worst kinds of all.

The oceans were not limitless, as many people seemed to believe
, and there would eventually be far-reaching consequences if people didn't stop polluting them - and soon. In addition to contamination of seafood, there was the seawater itself to consider. Ketch had read that this state was one of those that didn't regularly monitor water quality at its beaches; well, they'd have to when people started getting sick, as he knew had happened from time to time at some of the beaches in New York and New Jersey.

And
what about the myriad other creatures that didn't have the option of leaving the water? There was legislation nowadays, to be sure, but it never seemed to be enough, as evidenced here tonight. There were sea turtles now with fibropapilloma tumors; fish with ulcers; coral reefs dying from bleaching and black band disease; and shellfish, numerous bottom dwelling organisms, and seabirds poisoned by algal blooms. A huge garbage patch had been discovered floating in the middle of the Pacific, consisting of particles of pelagic plastics, chemical sludge, and other debris trapped by the currents of the North Pacific Gyre; estimates of its size ranged from a quarter million square miles to over five million.

Marine mammals were also being
impacted, including dolphins, which Ketch personally admired more than the vast majority of people he'd ever known. Chemicals, sewage, nuclear waste, lack of food due to overfishing, all were starting to take their toll. Several massive die-offs, each numbering in the thousands, had occurred in recent years. The populations of harbor seals in Europe, bottlenose dolphins in the Gulf of Mexico, and striped dolphins in the Mediterranean had been dramatically reduced. And some years ago over half of the bottlenoses on the East Coast had been killed by some kind of bacterial infection. Where would it all end?

Extinction, that was where. And when the seas and the rain forests are dead, mankind will soon follow. We may be
among the last to go, Ketch thought, but go we surely will. Mother Earth will inevitably assert her regulatory powers and right the wrongs just as she always has, and she'll expunge us without a second thought.

Red
-faced now and dangerously stimulated, Ketch's first instinct was to jump up, run down there, and stop them - but fortunately his thinking brain overruled the instinct this time. Mario might possibly listen to reason and Ketch believed he wasn't a violent man, but who knew what Mick might do? Maybe he was being overly dramatic, but he decided it would be wise to not risk ending up in the hospital, or worse yet wherever those drums were going. Maybe he could call the Coast Guard later, after he'd gotten safely away from here.

So he maintained his position and fished his phone out again. Despite the poor lighting, he got a
zoomed shot that would be unacceptable to a serious photographer but did clearly show what was happening. Then he quietly retreated back up the road and returned to his truck.

A couple of short barks ensued at his arrival, but that was probably okay since those two down the road would be occupied for a while and there'd be no lollygagging on his part this time. He started the truck and turned it around as quietly as possible and drove, again with the lights off
for now.

He wished he knew where that boat would be going
. Maybe if he'd gotten closer and stayed longer and listened harder... But Mick and Mario might not have a firm destination in mind anyway. They might just motor out a ways and do the deed wherever it felt 'right'. He thought again about alerting the Coast Guard, but he couldn't provide a course or destination. They wouldn't be foolish enough to jettison the drums in the shallow sound, right? Probably not; Mario at least should know better than that - unless he knew of a deeper hole. But they'd most likely head out to the Atlantic through Oregon Inlet, and with their running lights off - another reason it would be difficult for anyone to find them. And if he could convince the Coast Guard to mobilize, it would take time (it wouldn't take them
that
long to load those drums), and by then it would be too late to intercept them in the inlet, and maybe too late as well to catch them before they dumped, which would be a waste of everyone's time. If only he knew for sure where they were going...

Well, he couldn't know where they were going right now - but
he thought of a way he might be able to later find out where they'd been. He couldn't try that until tomorrow, though; but with any luck he'd then have all the information he and the Coast Guard would need.

Assuming of course that he was right about what they were doing. Though Ketch considered it highly unlikely, it was possible
that there was a perfectly innocent explanation for what he was seeing, one that wasn't occurring to him for some reason; in which case he'd only embarrass himself at best, and unnecessarily kill a friendship and make an enemy at worst, by reporting them without cause. Another good reason to wait until he'd gathered more evidence.

Okay then
- he had a plan. Meanwhile, his stomach was rumbling, which was not surprising since he'd eaten nothing since his meager brunch earlier in the day. It would soon be full dark and he was famished - and the dog as well, he imagined. He needed to find them both something to eat.

~  ~  ~

Ketch pulled into the parking lot at Fisherman's Wharf and parked as far from both the road and the building as possible. Granted it was a weeknight, but during the season places like this usually stayed open later to cater to the tourist trade, and the lights were still on here. He figured that although this was a full-service restaurant and not a fast-food joint, he should still be able to get some kind of quick takeout. If they kept driving there'd be some other options in Wanchese proper, around the Junction, and then in Rodanthe, but he didn't know their hours; and they were here now and they were hungry.

He
let the dog out for a couple of minutes to give him a chance to stretch and relieve himself, then helped him clamber reluctantly back up into the truck. "This is a restaurant. I'll get us some supper. Be good, and I'll be right back," he said. "And be quiet." He left the dog behind once more and headed across the parking lot.

He
reasoned it should be safe to take a short dinner break here. Mick and Mario should be occupied for some time with loading the drums, and then with driving the boat to wherever they were going and back again. In the unlikely event only one of them took the boat out, it would be Mario, and in that case even if Mick stopped here Ketch doubted he'd be recognized, especially without his beard. So there was no need for undue haste now - except that he did sincerely want to get home.

Home
... Wonder where that'll end up being when all's said and done, he thought. He turned to look back at the dog, who was tracking Ketch's progress with sad eyes. Dogs were indeed the most loyal of friends. Though he wasn't in a joking mood, an old one popped into his head - if you don't believe a dog is man's best friend, lock your dog and your wife in the trunk of your car for an hour, and then observe which one's glad to see you when you let them out. And here he was dragging the poor creature with him all over the Banks.

Ketch entered the restaurant
and ordered a dozen hush puppies and a serving of chicken tenders. After a short visit to the rest room, he also selected two large bottles of water from a cooler, and a Diet Pepsi to provide some caffeine on the drive back, and set them on the counter. It wasn't much, but it would be relatively quick and enough to tide them over. Someday when he had more time maybe he'd return here and leisurely enjoy some of the fresh and supposedly delectable seafood he'd heard this place was noted for.

And so, he thought while he waited
- there was the business with the house, and now this business with toxic waste dumping... It seemed to him that his once pleasantly laid-back life was getting more complicated by the minute. And speaking of complicated, now there was also Kari - who'd flown completely out of his mind with everything else that had been transpiring. He remembered his cell phone was still silenced. He activated it and saw an incoming voice message flagged on the screen. She called, he thought; that's a good sign. He listened to the message.

"Hey there
hotshot, where y'all at? Tried to return your call, couldn't get you so I dropped by your place and the boatyard when I got back, but you were nowhere in sight! Guess you're busy - anyway, catch y'all later!"

Well, at least she sounded cheerful
and not upset that he'd been incommunicado this evening. And she'd tried to find him. He should call her back. But when he did, what was he going to tell her about where he'd been tonight? He could just say he'd been running errands, but that wouldn't fly this late in the day. Would she, and others as well, find out if he turned Mick and Mario in to the authorities?

He'd intended to
not tell her whatever he learned about Mick, but how could he avoid it now, given the circumstances? Would his name get into the newspapers? And whether it did or not, would Mick and Mario find out it was he who'd reported them? Ketch thought he'd heard that anyone against whom a complaint had been filed had a legal right to know the identity of the complainer. Did he care? Not so much about Mick; but he was sorry Mario would know he'd betrayed him, since he considered Mario a friend.

But wait, maybe he should care about Mick - he
could be the type that might seek some kind of retribution or revenge. Could he report them anonymously? Would he be taken seriously if he did that? But he couldn't just call, he'd have to show them the pictures. Could he send them a letter? This was starting to give him a headache.

"Sir? Sir?" Ketch realized he was being addressed. "Sir, your order's ready." He paid, thanked the girl, and
carried the food back out to the truck.

The dog appeared happy to see him but too tired to bark
; and he was panting, so he was probably thirsty. Ketch glanced around the interior of the cab, which was unfortunately shipshape as always, and saw nothing he could use as a water dish for the dog. He could go back into the restaurant and ask for the cup he should have thought to request before, but he didn't want to leave the dog again. He decided his ball cap might hold long enough for the dog to get a drink, so he removed it from his head and poured half a bottle of water into it.

The dog drank fast enough to lap up almost all
the water before it had time to soak through the material, and then started sniffing at the bags. Ketch hand-fed him half of the tenders and some of the hush puppies one at a time while he himself devoured the rest, almost keeping pace with the dog. Then he filled the hat again.

He'd been
exceptionally lucky tonight, he thought as he finished off the other water bottle. There were so many things that could have gone wrong - he could have been seen, he could have forgotten to silence his phone, he could have left the flash on, the dog could have barked, he could have guessed wrong and never found Mick in the first place - and his impulsiveness could possibly have gotten him injured or maybe even killed. And then what would have become of the dog, who he shouldn't have brought with him in the first place? And no binoculars, no camera, no food, no water... Not even a pot to piss in, as they say (as some mysteries he'd read had also suggested carrying). Not a well-planned or executed surveillance or stakeout or whatever, that's for sure. Some detective he'd make.

He
disposed of their debris in a nearby trash can and wrung out his hat, and they finally hit the road to head for home - definitely this time, no more detours. He decided to put off calling Kari until they got there. He was tired, and for now he still had his self-imposed ban on using a cell phone while driving to fall back on. The ban was self-imposed here because unlike some other states, North Carolina only disallowed it for school bus drivers and novice drivers instead of for everyone, which he didn't agree with.

Or should he wait until the morning to call her? He didn't want to wake her if she was asleep.
He knew the Sea Dog didn't generally open until noon, but she usually did her instructing in the mornings when she had a class. He remembered she'd said she had one coming up soon, but he didn't know when; though probably not tomorrow since she'd hadn't asked him to help. But then again, she didn't always ask. He sighed and rubbed at his tired eyes one at a time. More complications... At least Mick hadn't shown up at the restaurant. He decided he was overthinking this; he'd call when he got back, regardless. If it was too late and she didn't want to answer, she wouldn't have to.

He
tried to relax and just enjoy the ride. There'd be nothing else to do for a while anyway, and the scenery was still inspiring to him even at night. He succeeded for a time, but then a nebulous thought started to nag at the back of his mind... Yes, Tibbleson Construction, that was it - something he'd earlier filed away for later reference, the place where the drums had originated. Where had he heard that name before? He couldn't place it at the moment, but he was sure he knew it. Or maybe he just thought he did because it sounded a little like 'Tillet', one of the names he knew of the historically prominent families of Hatteras Island, like the Midgetts, the Etheridges, the Jennettes, the Grays, and so on.

He was especially familiar with the Midgett name because a remarkable number of Midgetts had served as surfmen at the old lifesaving stations and
several of them had won Lifesaving Medals; and because nowadays the name was advertised everywhere in the form of Midgett Realty, a major one that also managed over five hundred vacation rental houses on Hatteras Island alone.

Midgett Realty... HatterasMann Realty...
Ingram... Tibbleson... Now he had it - Tibbleson was the maiden name of Bob Ingram's second wife, the one who'd disappeared. Could there be a relationship of some kind between Ingram and Tibbleson Construction? He'd have to remember to see what he could dig up on that. He could do it right now with his phone provided it had network connectivity here, but he certainly wouldn't try that while driving and he didn't want to stop. He'd just have to be patient.

Okay, so there
were four things he had to remember to do - call Kari, check out where the boat had gone, do a web search on Tibbleson Construction, and print his pictures. 'Four' was the operative word - rather than try to remember each individual item, he'd remember the number four and then trust his brain to supply the remaining details when he needed them. This was also how he did his grocery shopping. Though he always returned with the number of items he'd set out to buy, he occasionally mistakenly ended up buying the wrong thing. But the system worked pretty well as a rule, so he filed the number away and tried to focus on the remainder of the drive.

The number resurfaced in Ketch's weary mind
as they finally approached the outskirts of Avon. He doubted he'd get to any of the items tonight except for calling Kari, though he might have some more energy if he showered again. "We'll see, Jack," he told the dog, who yawned back at him. Maybe both of them would simply crash tonight instead.

He turned onto Harbor Road at the Barefoot Station intersection, then onto North End Road - again. How many times had he trave
rsed this route in the last three years, counting both directions? Still, it hadn't gotten old yet - and if it ever did, there'd be nothing to be done about it anyway since it was the only way out to the main drag from where he lived.

When their house came into view, he didn't immediately notice the car in the driveway, and in fact came close to sideswiping it in the dark. Good thing he hadn't looked away for a second, he thought, a bit shaken. Whose car was it? The dog knew, and was already up and wagging. Ketch shut everything down, opened his door, and stood aside as the dog bounded past him and up the front steps.

"Jack! Hey there, big fella!" Ketch heard from the shadows on the deck. It was Kari's car. What was she doing here at this hour? He hadn't checked lately, but it had to be after ten, at least. He hiked his shorts up, straightened his shirt, grabbed the empty Pepsi bottle from the drink holder, locked the truck, and started up the steps.

"Kari," he said, with a mixture of perplexion and pleasure - which however quickly
changed to apprehension. What was he going to say to her? Before he could say anything, she disengaged from the dog, got up from her chair, and wrapped him in a bear hug. The dog went back down to the yard to water some of the foliage.

"
I'm glad you're back," she breathed against his neck, then pulled away to arm's length. "I hope you don't mind. I didn't feel like goin' home, so I got somethin' to eat and then just came on over here and hung out. I figured you'd be back sooner or later. I didn't try to go in, but it's probably locked anyway, right? I don't know if you have a hide-a-key somewhere." She sat back down and repeated, "I hope you don't mind." She distractedly ran a hand through her hair and then looked wide-eyed up at Ketch.

"Of course I don't mind," he said. "You're always welcome here, you should know that now." Though he'd noted she hadn't
yet asked him where he'd been, he was still a little anxious - and grubby, and still exhausted - but his concern for her outweighed everything else. She must be here for a reason.

"Let's go inside, you must be getting bitten up out here," he said. He unlocked the door and Kari and the dog obediently followed him in. "Turn that lamp on and sit down and relax, and I'll go get us something to drink."

"Okay, thanks, thank you," she said. "But no wine tonight, I had enough of that last night to last me a little while." Noticing the scuba cylinder standing in a corner, she asked, "Are you finished with that tank?"

"No, sorry,
I didn't get around to that today," Ketch called from the kitchen. Figuring a little more caffeine wouldn't hurt either of them, he brought two tall frosted beer mugs of ice-cold soda - or rather, 'pop' as they called it hereabouts, he remembered - back to the living room. He handed one to Kari, who was on the undoggy end of the couch, then settled into his recliner. The dog stretched out on the blanket covering its end of the couch, happy to have someone close enough by to scratch his butt if he should require that service.

"So what
really brings you here tonight?" he inquired, in an attempt to draw her out. "Not that it matters, and you don't have to have a reason." Though he imagined she probably did. "Like I said, you're always welcome here. How was your visit with your mother?"

"Well
... She's okay, thanks for askin'." She took a drink. "Shoot, I guess I'm too tired to think right now, it's been a long day." It certainly has, Ketch thought. "I guess I was mostly just lonely, and I missed you. You know, since we found out last night what good friends we are." She paused again, then tentatively asked, "Listen, would y'all mind if I stayed over again? It's late and I have to get an early start tomorrow, and I don't feel like drivin' home and back."