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RBB [voiceover]: The small plane was buffeted by winds and rain as it banked gently for the final approach to the Vancouver airport. I stared grimly out the window, recalling that I'd never much cared for the place. Beside me, Wulfgar whistled through his teeth as he continued to clean his hardware; the noise didn't bother me, but it also reminded me to keep an eye on my old friend. Up front, JYD and -hb- were chatting with our pilot, a bubbly young woman who seemed far too cheerful to handle the stress of piloting yet who handled the six-seater Cessna with nonchalant skill.
JEN: When we land, I know a really good vegetarian restaurant in Vancouver that we all can try.
WULFGAR: Nae thanks, lass; I need some animal protein to keep my edge.
RBB: Be polite, dammit; she's the pilot.
WULFGAR: I *was* polite.
RBB: A simple "no thanks" would have been enough; there was no need to slaver over animal protein like a fourth-rate nightclub comic doing a Homer Simpson impression.
WULFGAR: Maybe I should have let my claymore slip back in that hotel room in L.A.
RBB: But you didn't, so cool down. After all, I got JYD to re-equip you, so be grateful.
JYD: So ... you want to track down Hairhead, but do you have any idea how to do it?
RBB [voiceover]: I didn't like to admit that I didn't have more than a few casual hunches to pursue -- so I didn't, and JYD went back to studying his folded hands. I figured that Hairhead had infiltrated the New Age community, and that New Agers were as thick on the ground in Vancouver as in any other West Coast city. I still had the photo of Hairhead masquerading as timleary, which would give us some sort of head start. And then there was another option that hadn't occurred to me till now.
RBB: Does Vancouver have an aquarium? Or a university with some sort of marine biology department?
JYD: I'll have -hb- check it out.
-hb-: You *always* have me check out anything intellectual; at least you admit that I'm the smart one.
JYD: No, just the intellectual one. You're always quoting.
-hb-: And the quotes are apt and fit the situation, so what are you complaining about?
JYD: Nothing, just mentioning it.
RBB [voiceover]: Namagomi-chan kept on talking about her coelenterates, and a few cephalopods also turned up in my notes of my first conversation with her, just before the bullet ruined the finish of that outdoor table at Bubbie's. I figured that it was a lead we couldn't afford to pass up.
Landing was no problem, nor was wrestling our luggage out of the plane. I didn't expect a grim-looking galoot in a three-piece black suit, backed up by two Mounties, to meet us at the terminal, however.
SHAKESMEAR: Ladies and gentlemen, I must insist that you accompany us.
JEN: But we were just going to --
SHAKESMEAR: I do not care what you were "just going to." Every time you and your colleagues enter Canada, Professor Bernstein, we have difficulties with unexplained deaths, firearms injuries, and ethical issues concerning the right to die. Frankly, the Prime Minister -- to the extent that anyone can understand him -- is exasperated and has had enough.
WULFGAR: Lad, might I have a word with you?
SHAKESMEAR: I think not, "lad." You are the sort of person who gives those of Scottish ancestry almost as bad a name as extras from BRAVEHEART who cannot get out of character.
WULFGAR: Why, ye --
RBB: Ease up, pal. Let me try to talk with him. Look, I'm just a historian now. Here are my faculty IDs. I'm trying to find two friends who have disappeared and someone who has caused both our countries no end of trouble.
SHAKESMEAR: That may be all well and good, but --
RBB: Do the names Namagomi, timleary, or Hairhead mean anything to you?
RBB [voiceover]: He stared silently at me, but I could detect a wariness in his gaze that impelled me forward. Maybe a more direct question would work.
RBB: OK, how about this: Have you had any strange problems with coelenterates or cephalopods lately?
RBB [voiceover]: The words rocked him back on his heels, and he paled. I figured that something indeed was going on, and that it was beyond his power to handle; in fact, he suddenly seemed glad not only to see us but to toss the whole gamy mess into our laps. He excused himself and walked away from us, taking a cellular phone from his pocket; meanwhile, the two RCMP goons kept their cold, ice-chip-blue eyes fixed on us.
-hb-: Jen, maybe we should try to distract them.
JEN [distracted]: Say, what?
-hb-: Oh, never mind. You're already distracted.
RBB [voiceover]: Shakesmear was in the middle of a heated conversation. I caught a few fragments, such as "beyond our understanding" and "nothing to lose." Finally, Shakesmear snapped something in a cold and vicious tone that seemed to work. He listened, nodded with satisfaction, and said, "I am glad you finally chose to listen to reason." Then he rang off and came back to us.
SHAKESMEAR: Welcome to Canada, Professor. I have authorization to give you every assistance.
RBB: Does that include answering my question about coelenterates and cephalopods?
SHAKESMEAR: Yes.
JEN: Could we do this at that vegetarian restaurant? I'm really hungry.
SHAKESMEAR: I know the place you mean. Permit me.
RBB [voiceover]: He led us to a black limousine with tinted windows, and as we all got inside, I had a feeling that we'd learn something useful.
[...to be continued...]
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