Burroughs' Bistro was an out of the way place off of the main drag. It seated maybe thirty people and did more carry-out business than eat-in. Fraser had found it as a young RCMP officer. He'd liked the friendly service and good food. It had been more than a few years since he'd been there and hoped that Digger Burroughs still ran it the same as he always had.

"Hello, come in, have a seat. I don't get many customers this time of evening. The lunch rush is my bread and butter." A big man with an apron tied around his girth and sleeves rolled up greeted them. The small eatery had only two other patrons and one of them was talking to the waitress as she took a break.

Ben chose a booth half way along the left wall and slid across the black, leather seat facing the door. Meg slid in opposite him. She hadn't been any more communicative on the walk over from the hotel. Ben knew something was wrong when she hadn't insisted they take a cab.

"What can I get you to drink, coffee, iced tea, soda, maybe a milk shake for the lady?" The big restauranteur asked after setting down two menus, an order pad in one hand and a pen buried in his big hand. Meg looked up at him, a smile trying to pull up one side of her lips.

"What flavors do you have?" She took one of the menus but didn't look at it.

"Oh, the usual, strawberry, banana, chocolate, vanilla, and our specialty, peanut butter." He grinned at her, his thick, dark brows wiggling like woolly worms.

"I'll have a peanut butter shake and a grilled chicken sandwich hold the mayo and extra tomato." Ben's eyes widened.

"Remember your peanut allergy, Candace." He spoke up trying to signal her. Meg sighed, she hadn't had a peanut butter milk shake in ages.

"Oh yeah, I forgot, and I can't have strawberry either. Make it a chocolate milkshake." She glared at him for a moment. Ben gave her an innocent shrug.

"And for the gentleman?" Burroughs asked flipping the order pad page. He had seen the exchange between the two but didn't say anything, it was none of his business.

"I'll have a vanilla milkshake and a roast beef short order." Meg looked at him, puzzled. She'd never heard of short order.

"Green beans or peas?" The big man asked.

"Green beans." Ben answered before handing back the menu.

"Short order?" Meg asked as the restauranteur shuffled back to the kitchen to fix their orders himself.

"They put roast beef between mashed potatoes covered with toast and all of it smothered in brown gravy." The Mountie answered, talking as much with his hands as he did with his words.

"Ugg, sounds like a case of heartburn waiting to me." Meg wrinkled her nose at his dinner order. Ben waved her pessimism away. It sounded like heaven to him. The sound of the milkshake blender spinning drown out anything Ben had to say.

"Here you go, one vanilla, one chocolate milkshake, I'll bring your dinners out in a moment, the chicken is grilling as we speak." Burroughs set the tall, frosty glasses on the Formica table top between them with a smile. He received two, polite smiles in return.

"I wasn't aware you were allergic to strawberries." Ben nearly called her 'Inspector'.

"Not actual strawberries, the red food dye." She caught the hitch in his sentence and tried not to smirk. "You aren't allergic to anything, are you." Meg remembered as she began sipping the tall, smooth milkshake.

"No, not that I'm aware of." Ben waved his left hand, his watch reflecting the light.

"You aren't wearing your ring." Meg pointed out, pursing her lips, secretly glad she wasn't the only one who hadn't remembered something.

"Oh, yes, I put it in my pocket in the wash room." Ben dug the thick, gold band out of his jeans pocket and slid it on.

"What about that watch?" Meg pointed to the RCMP issue watch his father had left him.

"Hmm, I'll have to send it to, ah, back to the house in the morning before we board the ship." He slipped the watch in his leather jacket pocket as it lay on the seat beside him.

"You should get a cheap one somewhere, you have a tan line." Meg tapped his wrist before she thought. Ben's green eyes widened.

"Grilled chicken sandwich for the lady, extra tomato, no mayo. For the gentleman, a roast beef short order." Burroughs set their dinner orders on the table and stepped back to survey their reactions.

"It smells wonderful, thank you kindly." Ben pulled his fork from the set wrapped in a paper napkin. One bite and the Mountie thought he'd gone to culinary heaven.

"This chicken is great, it's so juicy." Meg agreed, pleased.

"Thank you both, let me know if you need anything." The big man stepped back before turning to leave, a huge smile on his face. He loved seeing the positive reactions to his food.

"I'm glad you suggested this place, Ben." Meg finally said his name without sounding like it tasted sour.

"I'm glad you approve," His lips pressed together, ready to say 'Meg'. He didn't want to call her 'Candace' either, so he didn't call her anything.

Meg heard the hitch in his voice again and saw the indecision in his eyes as she looked up from her plate. She was glad he let the sentence end where he had, with no address.

For a while they both ate in silence, enjoying their dinners as the city passed by outside. For a brief moment they were just two people having a meal together, no rules or regulations to separate them.

Agent Markham waited outside the dock, ticket in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He'd called the cell he'd given Inspector Thatcher at five that morning to go over a few, last minute details. Now it was four hours later and he was waiting on his female partner from CSIS to arrive.

Maria McLeod was a tall, lean woman with pale blue eyes and freckles beneath her reddish-brown hair. She looked like a woman who could handle a .9 mm handgun with ease. Markham had worked with her before and knew how lethal she could be. Expertise in judo and hours in kick boxing classes kept her in top form. Markham would have made a play for that form, except for the judo, kick boxing and the .9mm, all of which he knew she'd use on him if he tried anything.

"So, where are the ones from Chicago?" McLeod demanded, dropping her bag at Markham's feet. Dressed in a black turtleneck and dark brown corduroy pants, she cut quite a figure.

"Hello, Maria, I'm fine, how are you?" Markham grinned as he stood there, bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands shoved into this slacks' pocket.

"Are they here yet or what?" The lethal Scot demanded, crossing her arms.

"They're boarding as we speak. I talked to both of them earlier, filled them in on what came over the wire last night." Markham answered, his tone annoyed.

"Good, let's get our boarding out of the way. I'm not anxious to send the next several days on this tub." She swung her bag up on her shoulder and took off toward one of the porters assisting passengers.

"Mr and Mrs Southerby, this is your cabin, I'm Kyle. I'll be your day porter during your stay aboard the Alaskan Queen. I hope you have a nice, second honeymoon. Here's a listing of activities and meals." The cheerful, young man ushered Ben and Meg into the room. A row of large, round windows showed the water outside, several feet below.

Looking around the cabin, Meg noted that there was only one, large bed in the center of the room. A hunter green comforter set with gold circles covered the place. She also noted that there was a sofa off to one side, also a hunter green. Rich, pine paneling lined the walls. An ocean scene hung securely bolted to the wall above the television, also bolted down. A large fruit basket sat beside it, a ribbon emblazoned with "Welcome" on it covering the rose colored, cellophane wrapper.

"Thank you, uh, Kyle, I'll take my things." Meg took her suitcase from his hand and lugged it to the bed, in effect claiming it for herself.

"Thank you kindly, we'll take it from here." Ben motioned for the young man to scoot his suitcase off to the side.

"Have a good day." He waited until Ben slipped him a five to smile and retreat.

"One bed," Meg began as soon as the door was closed. "I didn't anticipate that." She put her hands on her hips as she studied Fraser. "Coin toss or rock, paper, scissors?" Meg suggested.

"Neither is necessary,Sir, I'll be fine on the couch." Ben waved her off, pulling his bedroll from the top of the suitcase.

"Ah, you had anticipated this." Meg felt kind of silly, if anyone would anticipate this, it would be Fraser.

"Yes, I'm surprised you hadn't." Ben set his suitcase next to the couch and pulled his leather jacket off.

"I was rather busy studying." Meg had to stop herself from saying 'Candace Southerby's file'. Somewhere on the ship was the contact she was scheduled to meet at the end of the cruise.

"I see your point." Ben acknowledged.

For the next few minutes they both busied themselves putting their things away in the dresser and investigating the cabin. No one knew who the buyer's agent was or when he'd make his play. Both Mounties had to be hyper-vigilant when not in their cabin, and the cabin was the last place they were supposed to be. Markham wanted them taking pictures and meeting people as much as possible so that they could identify the buying agent before they reached Alaska, hopefully with as little fuss as possible. Being tourists was a great excuse to take a ton of pictures.

"Everyone, please assemble on deck for a mandatory emergency preparedness drill, thank you." An authoritative, male voice came over the loud speaker as Meg finished putting her delicates in the top dresser drawer while Ben stowed his shaving kit in the bathroom.

"That's our cue, Ben." Meg pushed her glasses up on her nose and gave him a weary glance.

"We'll do fine, Candace." He reassured her as he checked his wedding band and double checked that he had the room key.

"Let's go." Meg took a deep breath before opening the door and joining the throng of people. Swept into the flock, she felt someone take her hand. Turning back, she saw Ben. She felt better having him in sight and it showed. The Mountie could see the relief and thankfulness in her dark brown eyes a moment before she started pulling him along the passage way.

Porters ushered people along their way to the mandatory assembly above decks. Nearly seven hundred people had gathered around as Captain Jacob Matthews stood patiently, waiting for everyone to quieten down. His officers stood nearby, smiling but bored.

"Welcome to the Alaskan Queen, I've gathered you here for a mandatory emergency drill …." The captain, a man in his fifties, droned on while Meg and Ben began looking at the people assembled around them. The first one they found was Markham. He nodded solemnly at Fraser and winked at Meg.

"I don't like that guy for some reason, he's oily." The lady Mountie said through a smile so he couldn't read her lips.

"I agree." Fraser's instincts told him to be wary of the agent.

As the captain droned on the Mounties began scanning the passengers' faces, trying to remember as many as possible. Fraser paid close attention to the officers standing alongside the captain.

"So far I see only couples and children." Meg lamented as she shielded her eyes. Wearing her prescription glasses, she could see far better than without them but they caused a slight glare in the direct sunlight.

"It may be anyone, a cook, a porter, an officer perhaps." Ben suggested in his manner of fact fashion.

"Polish your social skills, Ben, it looks like we're going to have to be the ship's social butterflies." Meg said with a groan. She could fell the Mountie beside her stiffen at the idea. The man was a walking instruction manual, but he was clueless how to make small talk.

"Oh dear." She heard him whisper.