Greywolf stood up. 'Shut up, Leon. That's enough.'

'No, it's not. For Christ's sake, Jack, there's so much you could do. You're tall and strong, and you're not stupid, so what the-'

'Shut up, Leon.' Greywolf walked slowly around the table, fists raised. Anawak wondered whether the first punch would knock him out. Greywolf had once broken a guy's jaw. Anawak could sense he was going to pay for his big mouth with some teeth.

But Greywolf didn't lash out. Instead he rested both hands on the arms of Anawak's chair and bent towards him.

'Do you want to know why I chose this life?

Anawak stared at him. 'Go right ahead.'

'But you're not interested, are you, you self-righteous prick?'

'Oh, I am. It's just there's nothing to tell.'

'You…' Greywolf gnashed his teeth. 'OK, you asshole, of course I'm Irish too, but I've never been to Ireland. My mother's half-Suquamish. The whites never accepted her, and neither did the Indians, so she married an immigrant and no one accepted him either.'

'That's very touching, Jack, but you mentioned it before. Tell me something new.'

I'm gonna give you the truth and you'll darned well listen. You're right. Running around like an Indian won't make me into one. But guess what? I could drink litres of Guinness and I'd never be Irish either. I'll never be a regular American, even though there's American blood in me too. I'm not authentic, Leon, because I don't belong anywhere. I can't do a damn thing to change it.

His eyes flashed. 'All you had to do was move and that changed everything. You turned your life around. I never had the chance.'

'Don't give me that.'

'Oh, sure, I could have behaved myself and got a proper job. This is a free society, after all. No one asks where you come from – so long as you're successful. Some people are lucky – they're a patchwork of ethnicities, the best bits of everything collected into one. They're at home wherever they want to be. My parents were simple people, ill at ease. They didn't know how to teach their son to be confident or fit in. They felt uprooted and misunderstood, and I got the worst of all worlds. It's one big foul-up. And the one thing that ever went right for me fouled up too.'

'Oh, yeah. The navy. Your dolphins.'

Greywolf nodded grimly. 'The navy was fine. I was the best handler they ever had, so they forgot about their stupid questions. Back home it all kicked off again. My parents drove each other wild – she with her Indian customs, and he with his talk of County Mayo. Like they were trying to prove their identity or something. It wasn't as though they even wanted to be proud of where they'd come from. They just wanted to come from somewhere - to be able to say, "This is where I belong."

'That was their problem, Jack. No need to make it your own.'

'Oh, really?'

'Come off it. There you are, built like a tank, trying to tell me that you've been left so traumatised by your parents' problems that your life is a mess?' Anawak snorted. 'What difference does it make if you're Indian, half-Indian or God knows what? No one's responsible for where you feel at home on the inside. That's all down to you.'

Greywolf seemed taken aback. Then satisfaction crept into his eyes and Anawak knew he had lost.

'Who are we talking about here?' asked Greywolf, with a malicious smile.

Anawak didn't say anything.

Greywolf stood up slowly. The smile disappeared. Suddenly he looked wiped-out. He walked over to the mask and lingered in front of it. 'Maybe I am an idiot,' he said softly.

'It's not a big deal.' Anawak wiped his hand over his eyes. 'We both are.'

'Well, you're the biggest idiot of them all. This mask is from the huupaKwan'um of Chief Jones. I bet you don't know what that is. A huupaKwan'um is a box, a place where they keep masks, headpieces, ceremonial items. But that's not all. It's also where they keep their hereditary rights, the rights of the ha'wiih and the chaachaabat, the chiefs. The huupaKwan'um is the record of their territory, their historical identity, their heritage. It tells you where they come from and who they are.' He turned. 'Someone like me could never have a huupaKwan'um; but you could. You could be proud of it. But you don't want anything to do with who you are or where you're from. You tell me to be responsible for the people I've chosen to belong to. Well, you've abandoned yours. You accuse me of not being authentic. I can never be a genuine Indian, but at least I'm fighting to find something that's real. You are real, but you don't want to be who you are, and you're not what you'd like to be. To you I look like something out of a Western, but at least I'm prepared to show my commitment to the way of life I've chosen. You run a mile when anyone asks if you're from the Makah.'

'How do you know… ?' Delaware.

'Don't blame her,' said Greywolf. 'She didn't dare ask you again.'

'What did you tell her?'

'Nothing, you coward. You think you can lecture me on responsibility? Leon, my life might be pathetic, but you? You're dead already.'

Anawak replayed the words in his mind. 'Yes,' he said slowly. 'You're right.' He got up. 'But thanks for saving my life.'

'Hey, hang on a minute.' Greywolf blinked. 'What – what are you doing?'

'I'm leaving.'

'What? Come on, Leon, I… I didn't mean to hurt you, I. . . For God's sake, Leon, sit down.'

'Why?

'Because – because you haven't finished your Coke.'

Anawak sat down, picked up the can and drank. Greywolf sank down on the sofa.

'So what about that boy, then?' asked Anawak. 'Seems you've found a fan.'

'The lad from the boat? He was scared. I looked after him.'

'Just like that?'

'Sure.'

Anawak smiled. 'I thought it had more to do with wanting your picture in the paper.'

For a moment Greywolf looked annoyed. Then he grinned. 'Of course I wanted my picture in the paper. I love being in the paper. But that doesn't mean the other thing's not true.'

'The hero of Tofino.'

'Laugh all you like. Being the hero of Tofino was great. Total strangers came up and slapped me on the back. Not everyone can make their reputation with groundbreaking articles on whales. You have to take what you can get.'

Anawak drained the can. 'And how's your pressure group?'

'The Seaguards?'

'Yes.'

'History. Half were killed by the whales, the other half scattered with the wind.' Greywolf frowned. 'You know what the problem is, Leon? People are losing their significance. Everyone's replaceable. There are no ideals any more, and without ideals, there's nothing to make us more important than we are. Everyone's trying desperately to prove that the world's a little better with them than it would have been without them. I did something for that little boy. Maybe it was worthwhile. Maybe it makes me a bit more significant.'

Vancouver Docks

A few hours later, Anawak was on the jetty in the fading light. Not a soul in sight. Like all international ports, Vancouver harbour was gigantic.

Behind him lay the container port, with its angular mountains of crates. Black silhouettes of cranes stood out against the silvery-blue evening-sky. The outlines of car freighters loomed like enormous shoeboxes between container ships, cargo boats and elegant white reefer-vessels. To his right he could see a long line of warehouses. A bit further on hoses, metal plates and hydraulic parts lay in heaps. That was where the dry docks started, and beyond, the floating docks. The smell of paint drifted to him on the breeze.

He would have been lost without the car. He'd already had to stop a few times for directions but, reluctant to spell out what he was looking for, he'd asked the wrong question. He'd assumed he wanted the floating docks, so that was where they'd sent him. But when he articulated his question more precisely, he was directed to the dry docks. After two wrong turns he had finally arrived. He parked the car in the shadow of a long, narrow building, heaved his sports bag over his shoulder and walked along the metal fence until he came to a rolling gate that was slightly ajar. He slipped inside.