Black wind

short distance on a small side road that led to the tiny hamlet. They meandered past a small group of houses until the road petered out at the drive of a quaint Victorian inn situated right on the water. Built as a summer estate for a Seattle newspaper tycoon at the turn of the century, the three-story structure was agleam in pastel shades of green and lavender. Bright flowers sprouted in large pots and flower boxes were wedged everywhere, throwing a vast array of colors to the eye.
    “Dirk, it’s beautiful here,” Sarah beamed as he parked the car next to an ornate gazebo. “How did you discover this place?”
    “One of our scientists has a summer home on the island. Claims they have the best king salmon in the state here and I aim to find out.”
    Dirk led Sarah to an intimate restaurant at one end of the lodge that continued the Victorian decor theme. Finding it nearly empty, they took a table next to a large picture window that faced east across the sound. After ordering a local Chardonnay, they admired the view across Quartermaster Harbor to a smaller island named Maury. To the southeast, they could see Mt. Rainier standing majestically in the distance.
    “Reminds me a little of the Grand Tetons,” Sarah said, fondly recalling the craggy peaks of northwest Wyoming. “I used to ride horses for miles around Lake Jackson at the base of the Tetons.”
    “I bet you’re a pretty fair downhill skier as well,” Dirk ventured.
    “I banged up a few sets of skis growing up,” she laughed. “How’d you know?”
    “Jackson Hole is right around the corner. Skied it once a few years ago. Terrific snow.”
    “I love it there,” Sarah gushed, her hazel eyes glistening. “But I am surprised to hear that you have been to Jackson. I didn’t think that a NUMA special projects director was allowed to leave sight of the ocean.”
    It was Dirk’s turn to laugh. “Only on my annual vacation. The Gobi Desert happened to be booked that year,” he grinned. “So tell me, how did a nice girl from Wyoming end up working at the Centers for Disease Control?”
    “It’s because I am a nice girl from Wyoming,” she cooed. “Growing up on my parents’ ranch, I was always nursing a sick calf or mending a lame horse. My dad always said I was a softie, but I just loved being around animals and trying to help them. So I studied veterinary medicine in school, and, after bouncing around a few jobs, was able to snag the field epidemiologist job with the CDC. Now I travel the world preventing disease outbreaks and helping sick animals, and I even get paid for it,” she smiled.
    Dirk could tell her compassion was genuine. Sarah had a warm heart that seemed to resonate through her. If not employed by the rDC she would probably be off running a dog shelter or helping a wildlife rescue, with or without a paycheck. With her gazing at Dirk ith tender eyes, he was glad she was here with him now.
    A waiter appeared to spoil their intimacy, but brought a gourmet meal to the table. Dirk enjoyed a mesquite-grilled king salmon filet, while Sarah dined on Alaskan weathervane scallops she deemed so tender they melted in her mouth. After sharing a fresh raspberry cheesecake for dessert, they took a short stroll hand in hand along the water’s edge. Dirk kept an eye out for the two men in the Cadillac, whom he finally observed parked a few blocks away in Burton.
    “It’s gorgeous here, but I guess we should be getting back,” Sarah said with disappointment. “We should have the blood test results on your sick crewmen by now, and Hal probably has your bomb canister analysis completed.”
    As they approached the car, she turned and hugged Dirk.
    “Thanks for a lovely lunch,” she whispered.
    ““Kidnapping beautiful women in the afternoon is a specialty of mine,” he smiled, then took her in his arms and gave her a long passionate kiss. She responded by wrapping her arms around him, squeezing the back of his waist tightly.
    Easing the car out of the parking lot, Dirk meandered slowly down the one-lane thoroughfare of Burton. He glared as he drove by the Cadillac parked in a side alley, the two men waiting for them to pass. As he watched in the rearview mirror, he was somewhat surprised to see the black sedan turn and follow immediately behind him. There was no more pretense of an invisible tail, Dirk thought, which was not a good sign.
    The Cadillac followed behind until they reached the intersection of the Vashon Highway. As he