Skye had been travelling for the best part of forty-eight hours and only now, with the firelight flickering around the room and the mellow sound of the saxophone on the CD player, did she feel truly relaxed.  Michael’s letter inviting her to visit had arrived just after Christmas.  A whole month in his company was more than she had ever hoped for.  They’d continued to write and talk on the phone until finally the day arrived for them to meet.

From the moment she’d arrived at the airport, the experience had been fantastic.  Far too excited to read or watch the film as the plane crossed the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, she’d stared out of the window and thought about Michael.  When the plane touched down at SeaTac Airport, she’d suddenly felt nervous.

The arrival hall was relatively empty with only one or two people waiting to meet friends and relatives.  She’d anxiously scanned the faces for Michael and was a little worried when he didn’t appear to be there but as she walked towards baggage reclaim, he came running off the escalator.  Before she knew what was happening, he’d whisked her into his arms and spun her round and round, covering her face in soft kisses.

Michael kept his arm around her and held her close while they waited for her luggage to appear on the carousel.  The smiles he gave her set her pulse racing.  He’d carried her case, and it wasn’t until they were sat in the car, that he drew her into his arms once more.  One hand had traced the line of her cheek while the other had caressed her back.  He’d lowered his head to hers and kissed her.

Skye would remember that first true kiss in the weeks to come.  It had been soft, and sensuous.  Michael’s lips had brushed hers; his tongue gently probing until she’d opened her mouth to him, and allowed the kiss to deepen.  At that moment she knew she wanted Michael with every fibre of her being.

The traffic on that late Sunday afternoon in May was light and the drive from the airport to Seattle had taken just over an hour.  They’d parked on Alaskan Way and walked along the waterfront before finding somewhere to eat.  Skye had no recollection of the meal.  The only images that filled her mind were those of sitting opposite Michael, holding his hand now and again and watching his face intently.  She’d memorised each line, each expression, the way one eyebrow raised at a question, and the way his face lit up when he smiled, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners.
 
Michael had reserved a suite in one of the large hotels near to the naval base.  That way he would be close to the ship should he be required onboard.  His gaze had never left hers as he told her that as much as he wanted to lie with her in his arms, he also didn’t want her to feel under any pressure.  How, if it didn’t feel right for her, he would understand and book her into another room.  Skye had blushed at his words, and had reached across the table to take both his hands in hers.  With faltering words, she’d softly said that she wanted nothing more than to lie by his side and to be completely loved by him.

They’d left the restaurant arm in arm, and walked back to the car to join the queue for the ferry.  While most passengers left their vehicles on the car deck to climb the stairs to the lounge, Michael and Skye had sat for a long time in the circle of each other’s arms, just like a pair of teenagers on a first date, neither of them really able to believe that being together could feel so good, so right.

That first night, Michael made love to her with such tenderness that she thought her heart would burst.  He’d whispered his thoughts to her, igniting the fire inside her.  With one smouldering look he could make her body ache for the touch of his.

The first weeks had passed in a blur.  They spent the days exploring the Kitsap Peninsula and the nights making love.  Twice Michael was recalled to the ship, leaving Skye to explore on her own.  On those occasions, she caught the ferry to Seattle or Port Orchard and visited all the usual tourist venues—Pioneer Square, Pike Place Market, and the Space Needle.  While she’d hoped these where places they would have explored together, she understood that the Navy had first call on his time.

Michael showed her around the ‘mothballed fleet’, the resting ground of some of the US Navy’s most famous battleships and destroyers.  He had painstakingly explained the names of the various parts of the ship and how a sailor’s bunk was called a ‘rack.’  She’d found it hard to comprehend how five thousand men and women could cram together on an aircraft carrier and call it ‘home’ for six months.  Her admiration for Michael, and what he did for his country, grew by the hour.  Although he never introduced her to his fellow officers, she hadn’t thought it particularly strange, at least not at the time.  It was only much later, when the sorry category of events finally unfolded, that she understood why.

Skye awoke from the dream with a start.  The cabin was completely dark save for the glow of the embers from the dying fire.  Brushing her hair from her face, she felt tears.  Crying again, would she never learn to forget him?  Would Michael always be in her thoughts, her dreams?
Blindly, she searched for the switch for the lamp on the table behind the sofa.  She turned it on, and blinked frantically as the room was suddenly bathed in light.  Looking around the unfamiliar room, she couldn’t see anything that would have wakened her, other than the final log disintegrating into ashes in the grate.

One window was slightly ajar, but not enough to cause anything to fall.  She crossed the room and closed it, then reached to draw the drapes.  She had the strange feeling that she was being watched.  Don’t be stupid, she told herself.  Now is not the time to be paranoid.  You’re a country girl at heart, remember?  It’s probably just the breeze in the trees, or maybe a neighbourhood cat out on a nightly prowl.  She walked over to the fire and placed the safety guard in front of it, then turned out the lights and went to bed.

***

From his hiding place deep within the wood, Walker heard the sound of an engine backfiring.  By the time he reached the track, the vehicle responsible for the noise had vanished into the black of the night.  The woman in the cabin had obviously heard it too, for one moment the cabin had been in complete darkness and then suddenly it was a blaze of light.

Walker watched the slim figure come to the window and look out before closing the drapes.  He stepped back into the darkness afforded by the trees, his ears straining for the slightest sound that seemed out of place.  An owl hooted nearby, in protest at having its nightly hunting raid disrupted.

Somewhere out on the water he could hear the throb of a ship’s engines as it made its passage through the strait.  He’d heard the same ship earlier in the evening as it rounded the headland a few miles south of where he now stood.  But the ship hadn’t been what caught his attention.  It had been the sound of a heavy vehicle moving down the track towards the cabin.  If he’d left the lodge earlier and taken up his hiding place in the woods, he would have seen the vehicle and known why it was using the track at this time of night.

A light in the cabin bedroom went on.  His tenant was preparing to go to bed.  Walker decided to wait another thirty minutes before looking to see if the vehicle had left any tracks.  He was quite sure that whoever was using the cove was very professional.  There would be little or no trace of their visit.  He hoped for once he was wrong, and that his tenant had spooked whoever it was just as she’d spooked him earlier that day.  Sufficient perhaps to make them find another access point to the shore, but he rather doubted it.  These bastards didn’t have any thoughts other than for the large bundle of untraceable cash, which undoubtedly would be pressed into their eager grubby hands.

Two hours later, after a fruitless and frustrating search, he’d found nothing apart from a few broken twigs and the odd foot print.  Whoever had been using the track had left in a hurry, even so they’d been very careful to cover their movements.  Yet he was sure that someone was using the dock to off load cargo onto a small boat.  He just needed one breakthrough –
something that would help him to identify either the vehicle or the goods being transported.  And if those goods turned out to be the chemicals he found in the fish, then he was sure they could traced back to the plant that produced them.

He shivered slightly in the cool breeze as he made his way back to the lodge.  Not only was he tired, and frustrated by this latest case, but he was also angry with himself for renting out the cabin.  But it was too late to change things.  He’d just have to work round the situation.  He’d been in tighter spots than this over the years, so why was this beginning to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up?  Part of it, he knew, was the feeling that this latest case of illegal dumping was personal – someone getting back at him.  That didn’t surprise him.  He had trodden on enough toes over the years, but the question was – who and why?

The other part of the problem was the woman, that small vulnerable figure had brought out the protector in him, even if she did have the temper of a wildcat.  He didn’t even know her, and had no particular wish to.  He wasn’t one for short holiday romances, the love ‘em and leave ‘em attitude of the beach lothario was definitely not his style, even if he had the time or inclination.  Besides, he preferred his companions to be less fiery and opinionated, although he had to admit that she did have a certain appeal.

He shook his head in disgust at the direction his mind was headed.  He let himself into the lodge, and flicked on the percolator in the kitchen on his way to the study.  He sat down at his desk and waited for his computer to boot up.  Although it was after midnight he wasn’t ready to sleep.  He intended making a list of every company, corporation and individual who might just be interested in nailing his hide to the mast for closing down their operations, for so much as one day.

While his computer hummed and whirred into life, Walker poured himself a mug of black coffee.  He had a feeling he would need it, and an even stronger feeling that the list he was about to make was going to be long, very long.  Twenty minutes later, he took a swallow of his now-cold coffee and reviewed the list.  There were seven names on it.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.  He tried to cast his mind back two years to a particularly difficult and unpleasant case.  He’d been working in South America at the time, he recalled.  But the corporation involved had been headquartered here in America.  The name was in the far recesses of his mind, if only he could remember what it was.  He rubbed his temples to relieve the stress.  There was nothing for it; he’d have to access the files on the main computer in the company office in Seattle.
 
He pointed his mouse at an icon on the screen and opened up his Internet software.  The modem clicked and hummed as the software dialled into the server.  His password accepted, he accessed his firm’s vast database.  He located the files he wanted and started to download them only for the screen to become corrupted.  He quickly tore phone line out of his laptop. 
Why was this happening to him?

The latest anti-virus software had been installed on his machine and all the passwords changed.  The mainframe and server were also protected, yet someone had managed to hack into the system once more.  Only two people had the access codes to the main database, his IT specialist and himself.  Everyone else within company had limited access.  He just hoped that whatever had corrupted his screen hadn’t destroyed any of the files.

Locating and stopping the hacker was beyond his capabilities, and he suspected the police would be no help either.  He’d need to call in a specialist firm, but who could he trust?  Perhaps Joe would have a contact he could use; if not then it was time to call in a few overdue favours.  He checked his watch, and decided he could afford himself the luxury of a few hours sleep before contacting his friend.

After a long hot shower and breakfast, Walker put through his call to Joe.

“Hey, McCabe?”

“I knew it had to be you, Walker.  Only you could call me at this ungodly hour.  Okay, spill—more bad news I assume?”

“Yeah, someone was using the cove again last night, only I missed them. If—”

“What d’you mean you missed them?  I thought you were out there all hours, playing the Navy SEAL.”

“I was, but I got distracted.  It clean went out of my mind that I’d let the cabin and I got the surprise of my life finding my new tenant sitting on the dock dangling her feet in the water.”

“Her?  You’re telling me you’re seeing water nymphs now, is that it?  You’re hallucinating!  When was the last time you slept?”

“Joe, I’m serious.  I forgot the realtor had let the cabin.  My tenant arrived yesterday.  I met her on my way back to the lodge.  When I was camped out in the woods last night, I heard a truck and went to investigate.  But whoever it was also disturbed my tenant’s beauty sleep, so I had to wait until I could get a chance to look around.”

“She’s not a water nymph but Sleeping Beauty.  Make your mind up, this isn’t a fairy tale, you know.  Why don’t you admit you fell asleep on the job?”

“Okay, have it your way.  Something else happened last night which makes me think this is aimed right at me.”

“Go on –”

“Let’s face it, over the last ten years I’ve trodden on enough toes and shut down enough corporations to upset a few folks.  Last night I sat down and made a list of who would most likely want to see Walker Environmental Research and me go to the wall.  So far there are seven names on the list.  As soon as I tried to download the relevant information on each of them from my company’s database, my computer crashed.”

“Nothing unusual in that my friend, mine does it all the time.”

“Yeah, but you’re just plain ham fisted and computer illiterate.”

“Give me a tablet of stone and a chisel any time.  So, what makes this unusual?”

“Joe, I spent a small fortune installing the latest security and anti-virus software.  I can’t be sure until I get into the office later today, but I’m certain someone has hacked into the mainframe and not for the first time either.  I just hope they haven’t managed to delete any files, or corrupt them in some way.  This is way out of my league.  I’ll have to talk to someone who might be able to give me an insight into exactly what damage hackers can do and what I can do about it.  Not to mention whether it’s possible to trace them.  Do you know of anyone who might be able to help me on this?”

“Quit worrying.  It was probably some high school kid out for kicks.  But if it will make you any happier, I’ll ask around.  We’re talking about cutting edge technology and I’m not even sure the FBI has the ability to do what you’re asking.  But then what would I know?  I’m only a humble servant of the State Department.  When do you want this by?”

“Yesterday will do just fine.”

“I thought so.  Give me a few hours and I’ll see what I can do.  No promises mind you.  How do I reach you?”

“I’m planning on taking the seaplane over to Seattle and should be at my desk within a couple of hours.”

Walker hung up.  He grabbed his overnight bag and laptop, and headed out the door to the dock and his waiting plane.  These days he seemed to be functioning on a mixture of pure adrenalin and caffeine, and he seriously questioned whether he was alert enough to fly.  A few hours sleep in a soft bed wouldn’t go amiss, he thought wryly, as he eased his tall frame into the confined space of the cockpit.

Less than fifty minutes later, he was in his office.  Although modest in size, it offered commanding views of the Seattle waterfront.  He was in the process of opening his mail when the IT technician knocked at his door.

“I hope you’ve got good news for me, Johnson.”

“Sorry, boss, but your laptop is toast—burnt toast, if you want to get technical.  In all my years as an IT engineer, I’ve never seen anything like this.  I can’t tell whether you downloaded a virus or whether you tried to fry the circuits.  Either way, the best place for this is the trash.”

“You can’t salvage anything?  What about the mainframe?”

“Nope, can’t save anything on your hard drive.  As for the mainframe, we certainly have problems.  It depends on what you try and access.  I’ve run every check I can, including changing the anti-virus software, access passwords and security levels.  I just don’t know what’s causing these glitches.  On the surface it looks like a virus, but it doesn’t behave like any virus I’ve ever seen.  We need specialist help here and I’ve absolutely no idea who to contact.”

“All right, Johnson, it’s not your fault.  I have a few calls out.  Let’s just wait and see what develops.  In the meantime, no one—and I mean no one—is to have access to the system except me, is that understood?  I don’t care if the secretaries have to go back to using typewriters.  No one accesses the database until further notice.  Is that clear?  And while I think on, better get someone in to check the phone lines.  If they can hack into the computers, you can be sure they can bug the phones too.”

“I’m on it!”

The technician had barely closed the door when the phone on Walker’s desk rang.

“It’s Joe,” said the caller.  “My contacts tell me there are a number of people doing research into tracing computer hackers.  The guy leading the field is based in England.”

“Great, just what I need to hear.  We have no one in the States who can handle this?  What about the universities, the FBI, the CIA, or even the NSA?”

“Not that my source knows of and I can only pass on what I’ve been told.”

“What’s this genius’s name and how do I contact him?”

“The guy you want is called Ridge.  Dr Ridge.”

“Dr Ridge?  That’s it?  No first name?”

“Sorry, no.  My source informs me that he and his partner have recently finished developing some software that can trace every computer back to its owner each time they log on to the Internet, visit a web site or attempt to hack into another computer, as well as trace every so-called anonymous e-mail sent.”

“Wonderful!  A way to track all the junk e-mail I receive each day.”

“I wouldn’t be so sceptical if I were you, Walker.  I’m told that this guy’s company is negotiating a contract with the British Government and their armed forces.  Rumour has it the Pentagon could be interested too.”

“Is this information one hundred and ten percent reliable?  It seems a little far fetched to me.”

“Yeah, it is.  Apparently the Pentagon offered him a job over here a few years back, but he declined.  Now, do you want those contact details or not?”

Walker thought hard for a moment.  “Why don’t I spring you lunch at Ivars, then you can give them to me in person?”

“Sure.  One-thirty suit you?”

“See you then.”

Of all the countries, Walker had figured that the good ole US of A would have had some geek able to solve his problem.  He’d hoped to keep things close to home.  But if Joe’s information was correct, and he had no reason to doubt it, then he would be placing a transatlantic call to one Dr Ridge in the very near future, in the hope that he could help him find just who was making his life hell.

Walker left his office and walked the short distance down to Alaskan Way to Ivars where he found a seat at a corner booth.  The place was buzzing as usual.  Only this early in the year it was full of office workers rather than tourists.  Joe joined him at the table and they placed an order for food and drinks with the friendly waitress.

“We haven’t had lunch in a while,” Joe said.

“I guess not.  Either I’m out of the country or we’re both too busy trying to keep the paperwork down.  Mind you, with all this going on, I can’t say I’ve got much of an appetite,” Walker said, pushing the food around on his plate.

“Yeah.  Anyway, what’s the idea of meeting here?  I could easily have given you the details over the phone.”

“Let’s just say that I don’t trust e-mail, computers in general or telephones at the moment.”
Joe laughed.  “Hey, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were developing some kind of a complex about all this.”

“Paranoia I can deal with, sabotage is a different matter, especially when it involves my business.  Tell me, just how do I get hold of this guy Ridge?”  Walker picked up his beer and took a long swallow.

“You may have to do a little research.  The last my contact heard was that Ridge had this idea for this software when doing post graduate research at Oxford University, but never took it any further.  It was only when he and another computer geek set up a business together, that he started to develop it.”

“Interesting, but that doesn’t tell me how I contact him.”

“My contact can’t remember the exact name of the outfit he owns—Ridge and Something or Something and Ridge, which isn’t much of a lead, I know.  I guess you could try contacting Oxford.  They might have a handle on where he is.  Anyway he’s probably listed in the phone directory.”  Joe passed an envelope across the table.  “All the information I have is in here.  It should be enough to help you to find him.”

Walker slid it into his jacket pocket.  “Thanks.  I really appreciate this.  I guess I’ll owe you big time if this pans out.”

“Nope, I want to see those bastards nailed as much as you do.  I don’t like illegal dumping at the best of times, and especially if it’s on my patch.  Just be careful out there.  I don’t want to lose the best environmental scientist I know, nor do I want to lose my best friend.  So call out the big guys if things turn really nasty, okay?”

“Joe, I hate to tell you, but things have already turned nasty.  I’ve got no idea who I’m up against.  But whoever it is, I must have them seriously worried.  They’ve obviously got ample resources to bribe folks do to their dirty work and feel that if they can discredit me and my company along the way, that’s even better.  But people are going to get hurt real soon and it’s my intention to prevent that happening in any way I can.  Once I have proof of who is dumping this stuff and getting at me, I’ll sing long and hard for justice.”

Walker left his friend, but didn’t return directly to his office.  He set off at a brisk pace to walk the short distance to Pioneer Square.  He turned up the collar of his coat up against the cool April breeze coming up off Puget Sound.  On entering a small Internet café, he ordered a cup of strong black coffee, and paid the small fee to use one of the computers.  He sat down at an empty desk.  Within a few moments, he’d set up an e-mail address with one of the many web-based services.

He called up one of the main search engines and started looking for any reference to a Dr Ridge.  He checked all the universities in case Ridge was affiliated with any, as well as Oxford University’s web site, and drew a blank.  Dr Ridge may have done postgraduate research, but he had broken all ties with his former colleagues.  In desperation, he finally e-mailed the bursar’s office at the university, saying that he was an old friend of Dr Ridge and did they have a forwarding address for him.  He didn’t expect an immediate response, given the time difference between the west coast USA and England, so looked in various on-line newspapers and journals to see if Ridge had written any articles on his new software.  As expected, he drew a blank.  His coffee cold, he finally logged out and deleted all trace of the pages he’d visited from the computer.  On his way back to the office he stopped and purchased a new state of art laptop.

Nothing new had developed since his lunch with Joe, and although he should have returned to Friday Harbor that evening, he decided to tackle some of the mounting paperwork on his desk.  Then he’d try to get to bed at a reasonable time.  Over the last few days he’d had very little sleep, spending most of the hours between night and day watching the cove.  Besides, he wanted to check his new e-mail box before he left for the island and so resigned himself to staying in Seattle.