Luke paused, thinking fast as he slipped back further into the shadows.  The ferry started making headway toward the Canadian coast, about twenty minutes away at the best speed the old converted barge could muster. 
        He realized with a sinking feeling that there might be a way, but there were risks involved . . . “Jack!” he called out in a half-whisper.
        “Yeah?” his partner called out in the same voice.
        The otter swallowed hard.  “I’m going to try something stupid.”
        “Oh boy.”  There was a sound as the fox scuttled off to one side and Luke started to force himself to calm down.
        When he felt himself sufficiently centered he thought to himself, This had better work.  Bear?  He recalled the correct rituals and started to softly chant.
        He closed his eyes.
        When he reopened them he was surprised.  The World hadn’t shifted, but the Bear had managed to surprise him again.
        A thin glowing haze, blue and green, was starting to appear to the northwest, resolving itself into a long rippling ribbon of light.  The illumination grew swiftly until it matched the Moon at its half phase.
        The Lights?  Damn, Luke thought.  And he could now see the other fur, a fox, standing beside the wheelhouse.  He was occasionally menacing Ed, the elk who was the ferry captain, with his gun. 
        Luke lifted his revolver and took aim, remembering to squeeze the trigger, not pull it.
        The pistol jerked in his paw and the fox whirled, stumbled forward, fell and lay motionless on the deck.  Ed saw his opportunity, spun the wheel and the ferry started to turn ponderously.
        “Doug?  Doug!” the lynx called out, half-carrying Sarkozy with him as he stepped out of the shadows.  The ethereal light overhead gave his gray fur an odd, almost turquoise glow.
        “Give it up, buddy,” Jack growled, “or you’ll join him.  Besides, Canada’s getting smaller all the time.”
        “Turn us around again, or I kill him,” Bob said, holding the knife close to Sarkozy’s throat.
        Luke heard something surprising.
        Jack laughed.
        A shot rang out and Sarkozy screamed.  There was a second shot and the lynx pitched backward, crumpling to the deck.
        Jack emerged from cover and walked over to Sarkozy as Luke stood up and holstered his pistol.  Lanterns and other lights could be seen at the docks; they were getting close to home and it looked like half the town was waiting.
        “What the hell did you do, Jack?” Luke demanded.  Sarkozy was moaning in pain, clutching at his lower leg.  A dark smear of blood showed on the whitewashed deck planks.
        “I had to get him out of the way,” Jack said defensively, “so I winged him on purpose.”
        “You – you shot me!” Sarkozy gasped, his muzzle gaping open in anger and shock.
        “Yeah, and now we’re even for you biting me,” Jack grumbled.  “Quit your whining.  It looks like all you got was a scratch anyway.”
        Luke walked over to the lynx and scowled.  A dark wet smear covered his chest and his eyes were rolled back in his head.  “Well, he won’t be going anywhere,” he muttered, and went further forward to check on the elk.
        “You okay, Ed?” he asked.  The elk was dressed in his nightshirt and a bathrobe, and looked both tired and scared.
        “Yeah.  Thanks a lot, you two,” he said as Luke stooped over the fox’s body.
        He was still breathing, and even moving a bit despite the blood matting down his headfur.  Luke picked up the gun lying a short distance from the fox and nudged him over with his foot.  “Hey, this one’s still alive,” he called out to Jack.
        “No kidding?  I always said your aim was bad.”

        The ferry ran up against the bumpers on the dock and stopped there, held in place by the engine while several furs tied it fast.  The elk then shut off the engine while two stevedores moved the bow gate out of the way.
        The first person onto the boat was Circling Eagle, followed by two men with lanterns held high.  “Luke!  Jack!  You two okay?  We heard gunshots.”
        “We’re fine, but we’ve got one dead and two injured,” the otter said quietly, then quickly filled his superior in.
        The bobcat nodded.  “I managed to get that much from Doc Travers and a few of the furs in the neighborhood,” he said.  “How many were there?”
        “Just two, as far as we know,” came the reply.  Luke stepped aside as Sarkozy was helped off the ferry, Jack walking behind him with a smirk on his face.  The other fox was carried off the ferry by three furs while a fourth pressed a rag to the wound on his head.
        Pete glanced up at the waving streamer of light as it waved overhead, then looked at Luke.  “That was good shooting in the dark like that,” he said, carefully deadpan. 
        “Yeah, I guess so,” Luke replied equally carefully.  Both of them had been taught that when intervention comes, it was always best to keep quiet about it.  Thanks offered to Whoever might have done it would be performed later.  Luke put his paw on Jack’s shoulder and nodded at him, then started down the road.
        “Hey Luke, where are you going now?” Pete asked.
        Luke paused and looked back at the bobcat.
        “I’m going back to bed.”


August 15, 1935
1015:

        Doug shifted on the bed, slowly becoming aware of a splitting headache.  He started to open his eyes and closed them swiftly against the light streaming in the window.  The fox tried to shade his eyes with his left paw, but it seemed as if it wouldn’t move more than an inch.  The movement was accompanied by a metallic noise, like chains rattling together.
        He blinked and finally focused on the fact that he was in a jail cell, his left paw cuffed to the bars.  That brought him awake immediately and he tried to sit up, only to groan in pain and settle back onto the thin mattress.
        He brought his right paw to his head, and was able to trace the outlines of a bandage.  The wound it covered throbbed, and he tried to think past the pounding inside his skull.
        What the hell happened to him? was his first thought.  The second was where’s Bob?  Doug tried to think past that and figure out what his options were.
        There weren’t many.  The Minister’s orders had been explicit: He and Bob were not to get caught, but if they were the Government could not give them any help without jeopardizing their relations with Rain Island.  The orders were typical, and he recalled a piece of office gossip about another team that had tried to infiltrate New Haven.  According to the rumor, they would have been shot anyway – but the Committee of Nine had wanted to know who to blame.
        Doug closed his eyes again.  He might go to prison, but there was always the chance he could escape and get back to Canadian soil.  All he needed to do was bide his time and let his wound heal.


1230:

        Circling Eagle stood flanked by Jack and Luke while the ferry was tied up to its dock.  Passengers and two wagonloads of cargo went past them, and Luke said, “I don’t see them.”
        “There they are,” Jack said, pointing as a third wagon trundled past, revealing a quartet of furs, two bears, a wolf and a stout brown deer.  The bears and the wolf wore the blue police uniforms usually seen in larger towns than Kyuquot; the deer wore a suit a shade or two lighter than his fur color.
        Circling Eagle walked up to the deer and extended a paw.  “Magistrate Williams?”
        The deer smiled and took the paw.  “Yes, that’s right,” he said in a deep voice.  “And you must be Sergeant Circling Eagle.”  Magistrate Parker Williams had a certain reputation in the region – he always prided himself on knowing as much as possible about people he might have to deal with.  A few resented this, resulting in Williams acquiring the deprecating nickname ‘Nosy.’
        Pete nodded, then gestured at Jack and Luke.  “Officers Kelso and Carver,” he said.  “I’m very glad you could come out this way, sir.”
        “Call me Parker, please, Sergeant,” the deer said.  After introducing his three companions he said, “We had an early lunch, so we can get right down to business.”  He started walking up the road at a fairly rapid pace, considering his size and the hot afternoon.  “I believe the only case on the docket is the extradition for – ah, a fellow named Sarkozy, isn’t that so?” he asked.
        “Well, um, Parker,” Pete said with a bit of a sheepish look, “there have been a few things come up that you may not have been made aware of.  When we get to the station house I’ll have Kelso and our town’s shaman explain things.”
        A penetrating glance from the portly buck.  “The shaman is involved?”
        “Yes.” 
        Williams shook his head.  He always hated it when a shaman got involved.

        A few minutes later the whole group was seated in the main room of the station house.  One of the bears accompanying Williams had a pad out and was taking notes as the deer looked over the written reports from Luke and Jack.  He finished his reading, took a sip from a glass of water and said, “Well, we’ll have the shaman then.  State your name and credentials, please.”
        “Thomas Windsong,” the horse replied.  “I am a registered shaman in accordance with the regulations of the Synod.  Here’s my license,” and he passed a small certificate to Williams, who studied it carefully.
        “I shall accept your testimony, sir,” he said as he passed the certificate back.  “Your statement indicates that the defendant, Doctor Sarkozy, is not guilty of any crime and is a refugee.  Correct?”
        “Yes, sir.”
        “Your testimony corroborates the statements submitted by Officer Kelso and Doctor Sarkozy.  Thank you.  Now then, um, Doctor . . . Ferenc? . . . Sarkozy.”
        “Yes, Your Honor?” the fox said in an anxious tone.
        “Please, Doctor, this is Rain Island.  I’m just a magistrate, not a marquis,” and Williams cocked an eyebrow at the fox.  “Based on testimony given and corroborated by a registered shaman, I rule that you are not guilty.  I further rule,” he said as Sarkozy perked up, “that under the League of Nations conventions on refugees, to which Rain Island is a signatory, I grant you refugee status.  I shall have one of my officers go with you to Seathl to seek resident status.  Joey?” he asked, looking at the wolf.  “You’ll take a copy of everything with you back to Seathl.”
        “Right, Parker.”
        “So, that’s done.  Now, any other cases?” Williams asked.
        “Just one,” Pete said.  “Two furs, presumably Canadian agents, tried to kidnap Sarkozy.  One was killed during this action, the other is in a cell.  He’s charged with battery and attempted kidnapping.”
        “Let me see.”  Williams took the proffered report and read it over.  “The only name we have for him is Doug?  Hmm.  Pat, wire Naikoon for me and have a couple lads come up and escort the prisoner from here to Seathl.”  He chuckled deeply.  “If he’s from Ottawa, I can expect some fur flying in the Foreign Syndic.”
        “Now,” he said as he closed the case folders, “I think that’s all, hmm?  We’ll be at the Workingmen’s Hall tonight, and head out in the morning.  We’re done here,” and he stood up and shook paws with the Kyuquot officers, then with Windsong and finally Sarkozy.
        After he left Sarkozy got to his feet and, walking stiffly with the help of a cane, approached the three officers and offered a paw.  “Thank you – not you,” he growled at Jack, who chuckled.  He hobbled out with Doctor Travers beside him.
        Pete sighed as the screen door closed.  “Well, that’s that.  Luke, tomorrow I want to go over a few things with you.  Changes to your work shift.”
        The otter’s ears laid back.  “Changes?  Why?”
        “You start training with Windsong tomorrow.  Nine o’clock, as soon as his kids go to school.”
        Luke bristled indignantly.  “What?!  When did this happen?”
        Pete grinned.  “Doc Thomas and I discussed it yesterday.  I think it’s a good idea to have two shamans in town.”  His brow furrowed.  “By the way, you did thank the Bear, didn’t you?”
        “Not yet, why?”
        Pete jerked his thumb in the direction of the rear of the building as Jack chuckled.  “Get your tail in that sweat lodge now.”
        As he walked out of the office Luke grumbled, “I can see where this is going to be more trouble than it’s worth.”



End.