Chapter 68
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Peril Strait, AK
Indeed.
He turned on the SSB. The familiar static hiss returned.
It was not comforting this time. A lump formed in his throat as he thought about the poor woman drifting in the cold water with no hope of rescue.
Was the radio call he’d heard such a stretch?
What were the real chances it didn’t connect to Crystal at all?
He turned the SSB back off.
A humpback spout appeared directly ahead and Marco throttled back. Two more spouts. One whale was full grown, and a much smaller one was alongside—mother and calf. The third one dove, its fluke extending above the surface, then slapping the water before sliding into the deep.
He put the boat in idle and walked to the pilothouse door, snapping a couple of photos. The remaining two whales were floating lazily at the surface. One had several parallel scars running diagonally across its back.
Sorry, girl. Looks like you tangled with a boat prop.
Marco spotted whales almost daily and was always careful to throttle back when he passed near them. He’d seen numerous animals with injuries from boats.
When he was safely past, he throttled back up again and eased into his helm chair. Radio Flyer settled into her cruising groove.
As the boat sped up, a horizontal line appeared at the top of Marco’s chartplotter and began to make its way down toward the icon that represented his boat on the moving map.
The part above the line showed only the most basic map detail—where there was water and where there was land, as if drawn by a third-grader.
The map below the line was the usual richly detailed marine chart showing water depths, rocks, buoys, and markers.
Marco pulled the throttle back to slow Radio Flyer down.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
He zoomed his other chartplotter out to a much wider view and could immediately see the problem.
His chartplotter system was missing map data for a large square area extending south from where he was down to a point a few miles beyond Sitka.
He was always careful when installing a map update to get all of the “tiles” of data for the areas where he planned to cruise.
Without that detailed data, the display would show only a basemap, with minimal detail. Not nearly enough to safely navigate.
This bastard never ceases to amaze.
Considerable knowledge would have been required to perform this chartplotter sabotage, and it was very clearly targeted at the large area around Radioville.
Without the internet, he’d have to travel at least a day back the way he had come to be able to redownload the missing files. It wasn’t safe to continue without accurate charts. Chances were high he’d hit a rock or run aground.
Marco pulled the boat out of the main channel and put it in neutral.
He could drift here for a bit while he figured out a plan.
The current would just move him slowly backward.
He pulled out his iPad and brought up the Navionics app he used for route planning.
It had detailed chart data, and the iPad had a built-in GPS.
In seconds he had it working as a decent chartplotter with the same level of detail that the expensive setup gave.
He never really thought he’d have to fall back on the iPad for real navigation, but it was great to have a reliable backup.
More than one way to skin a cat.
Marco plugged a power cord into the iPad to preserve its batteries, and then he took out his iPhone and brought up the same app on that. He propped the two devices on the helm right over the built-in chartplotter, pushed the throttle forward again, and was on his way.
He cranked the volume on the stereo.
Mick Jagger was singing “Gimme Shelter.”
Marco felt a new determination. Whoever was doing this was costing him a lot of stress and money. He didn’t care if it was about the girl or the gold, he wasn’t going to just disappear and let them get away with it. Not after all this.
Bill had read the entire coded journal to him.
Joe Baxter had been part of a scheme stealing and selling gold from the mine.
He had two partners, one stealing the gold and one selling it.
Joe appeared to have been the leader and the transport, but he was also ripping off his own partners.
All this could have something to do with one of those three guys.
But that was eighty years ago. They all had to be long since dead. Crystal was probably dead, so what about this Pyke family? What would they want with him?
Marco had no leads to go on. Well, almost none. Whoever was doing this really didn’t want him poking around Radioville, so that was exactly where he’d go.