(eng) Patty Jansen- Ambassador 06 by The Enemy Within

Author:The Enemy Within [Within, The Enemy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

* * *

THE STREET OUTSIDE was empty. A row of bikes and scooters stood parked on the side of the street, as well as a van. The tram station was deserted, silvered in pale light from a single fluorescent lamp under the shelter.

We crossed the street, stepped over the low fence that separated the street and the tramline—apparently it was to keep ducks off the rails—and crossed the tracks.

The water in the canal on the other side was very dark and very empty. There was a tourist boat company a short distance to the right, and their low boats with glass cabins lay alongside the canal wall. The wind was quite fierce here and even the water in the canal was whipped into little waves that slapped against the concrete sides.

“I can’t see how they could have gotten down there,” Veyada said.

Evi took off in the direction of the boats, and we followed. There was no light anywhere along the quay. I wondered again if Pengali could swim. Then came the sound of a splash.

“There,” Evi said.

Veyada pointed his scanner, because with his poor Coldi night vision, he could not see much in the dark.

A couple of tourist boats with glass canopies lay a bit further down the quay. There was a jetty and on the screen of the scanner, I saw a couple of small figures moving around.

We quickly walked in that direction. The rain lashed in our faces.

We couldn’t get to the tourist boats because a fence blocked the way onto the jetty. Fences were not as much of a hindrance to Pengali as they were to us. I guess I could ask Veyada to kick it open, but that probably wasn’t necessary. A small motion-sensored light came on when we got to the fence. It cast a small pool of light on both sides of the fence, showing the wooden planks of the walkway, wet with rain.

“Abri, Ynggi, come back inside!”

“We have to go fishing,” Ynggi’s voice came back through the drip-drop of the rain on the surface of the water.

“There are no fish at night.”

“There are.”

“In Barresh maybe, but not here.”

He didn’t reply immediately. He spoke to Abri and Kita in Pengali.

A moment later, he came to the gate. He carried a broken umbrella with a piece of string tied to the end. At the very end of the string he had tied a piece of ham that he might have saved from lunch.

“This is how people catch fish here, no?”

“Yes, but fish sleep at night.” I was pretty sure they did. My grandfather in New Zealand had often enough taken me fishing.

Abri also came to the gate, carrying a net over her arm. Kita carried a bucket. Where had they gotten that? It looked suspiciously like it came from the hotel’s cleaning cupboard.

Idda was jumping inside the bucket, a ball of bright orange, trying to look over the side.

“Believe me, there are no fish that you can catch at night,” I said. “Come inside where it’s dry.

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