“The Royal Canadian Air Force is ever at your service.” I can almost see the grin on his face. I imagine his face. He’s cute.
Within minutes, I am on the phone to a Captain at Four-twelve. He is a lot less helpful. The words 'I can’t tell you that on grounds of national security’ come up three times during the ninety seconds of the call.
I need to escalate this.
My phone rings just as I’m about to walk into Tony’s office. It’s Cal. Clearly he’s not in a plane back to Vancouver. My irritation fights with my curiosity. Curiosity wins. “Hi… Listen, you were told not to follow this up; you were told, or asked anyway, to go back to Vancouver… Who?… What do you mean you can’t tell me?…You’ll only tell me in person?… OK, OK, I’ll meet you there at, around eleven-thirty.” OMG he won’t leave it alone.
If Tony thinks Cal’s still involved he’ll have a cow.
I knock and enter.
“Hi Jennifer, grab a seat,” he says.
“Something’s come up and I need your help,” I say. He nods. “I know you told me to lay off the Neil Harris thing.” He nods again but this time there is a look on his face that doesn’t bode well for me. “Well, a couple of things have come to light that I need to talk to you about.”
“They’d better be earth shattering or…” He leaves the sentence hanging, like a condemned man.
However, he listens with neither comment nor expression, while I tell him about Adry’s email and the details of my conversations with her, the RCMP and the RCAF.
When I finish, he rubs his chin like he’s stroking a beard. Seconds pass and I know better than to interrupt his train of thought. I watch him as he thinks through all the ramifications. I can see why he got promoted to his current position; in addition to the fact that he has a razor-sharp mind, he exudes an air of confidence and authority. Finally he nods, slowly at first, then faster.
“OK, that’s earth shattering enough.” he says and I breathe a silent sigh of relief. “I need to talk to the Director again and I might need you to join us. Don’t leave the building.”
So much for going to see Cal.
It took the best part of an hour but I got the summons. The Director’s office is on the corner of the floor and has a bleak view of the mantle of early-winter snow dusting the Pineview Golf Course. It’s so much prettier in summer.
“Firstly, Jen,” the Director says. “I want to thank you for bringing this to our attention. Your work on this has been excellent, especially your discovery that there is a Canadian Forces general implicated in this armaments affair. However, you have touched upon an issue that is of the highest security. For that reason, Tony and I have agreed that you will drop all your other work and report directly to me on this case.”
Wow. Working with the Director will give a huge boost to my career. “Thank you sir,” I say.
“If we are going to work closely together, I think you’d better call me Markus,” he smiles.
“OK, I’ll leave you to it,” says Tony rising. “Well done Jennifer.” He pats me awkwardly on the shoulder and leaves.
As soon as the door closes behind him, Markus speaks. “What I’m going to tell you is highly confidential and is not to be talked about outside of this room; not even Tony has been briefed on this. We have known for some time that Neil Harris was involved in some illicit arms deals. But we knew he wasn’t the only one. There is a cabal of senior government officials involved and we need to find out who they are. We knew someone in the Army must have been in on it and it looks like this general that you’ve discovered is the one. We are fairly sure that there is also a senior member of the RCMP involved, so the Minister has given me the responsibility for the investigation. I’m afraid your conversation with Inspector Saunders and his subsequent inquiries may have alerted the cabal.”
“I am so sorry, sir, uh, Markus. I should never have contacted him.”
“Don’t sweat it. It was partially my fault, I told Tony to take you off the case and told him that it was in RCMP hands. Anyway, maybe it’s good that you made that call. Maybe it will shake up the cabal and they may do something rash and expose themselves. I have my own mole in the RCMP attempting to unearth who is the bad apple over there and I want you to find out who the hell this general is. If we have these two key members identified we can take action.”
“So far, I have a short list of seven generals who might fit the bill. If I can find which one of them authorized a certain military flight from Vancouver to Ottawa on Monday night we may have our man. Unfortunately, the guy at Four-twelve Squadron is refusing to tell me on grounds of 'national security’.” I make the air quotes as I say it.
“I can cut through that BS for you. Leave it with me.” I realize what a big advantage it is reporting directly to the Director of CSIS.
His phone rings.
He looks at the caller ID with a frown. “Sorry, I have to take this.”
“Do you want me to leave?” I ask. He shakes his head.
“Yes,” he says into the phone. “Who… OK… When was this?… What did you say?… Uh-ha… OK, I’ll follow it up.” He hangs up and puts the phone back in his pocket. “That was my mole in the RCMP. He’s getting closer to knowing who our target is.” He smiles. “Better hurry up and track down that general.”
I get up to go.
“One other thing,” he adds. “Tony tells me that you have been working with a private detective from Vancouver.”
“Yes. Cal is a really bright guy and he’s given me lots of help. In fact it was someone in his firm who told me about the existence of the general.”
“Yes, Tony told me that. However, I ran a check on them. Rogan is a former drug addict and his partner has some fairly sketchy skeletons in his closet. Due to the highly sensitive nature of our investigation, I think you should sever all contact with them. And Jen, that’s an order.”
“If you say so.” Cal and Nick have been really useful and I enjoyed working with them but if dropping them is the price of working directly with the Director, so be it.
I am on such a high. One call from Markus to an Air Force General has cleared the way for this call. I try to dial back my glee as I dial the number.
“Hello again, Captain. This is Jennifer Halley from CSIS.”
“Yes ma’am.” I can tell from his tone that the word has trickled down from four ranks above him. “Can you now tell me who authorized that flight from Vancouver to Ottawa on Monday night?”
“Yes ma’am, I can.”
I wait. Silence on the line. He resents being told to give up the information.
“So who was it, Captain?”
There’s a longer pause than necessary. Finally, “It was… Major-General Art McNeil, ma’am.” Gotcha! He’s one of my seven suspects with Special Ops experience.
“Thank you Captain,” I say.
“Yes ma’am.” There’s a tone in his voice. I get the feeling he doesn’t like dealing with women. I hang up on his ass.
Major-General Art McNeil was the least likely of my seven suspects but he’s had several postings that were Special Ops related and he could certainly have known Neil Harris’ killer, Staff-Sergeant Anton Wills. Now comes the big job. Finding enough evidence to go forward.
My cell rings.
Cal.
I was supposed to meet with him twenty minutes ago. How am I going to let him down lightly?
“Hi Cal.”
“How far away are you Jen?”
“Sorry Cal. I won’t be coming.”
“What?! Why the hell not?”
His tone irks me. “Because, what I’m working on is highly classified and I have been told not to share any information with you.”
That draws a long silence. Then, “If I were to tell you that I know the name of the person Neil Harris was selling arms to, would that change your mind?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. But that’s not the biggest piece of information I have for you.”
“What are you talking about Cal?”
“Be here in thirty minutes.” he hangs up.
If he knows the name of the person who has been buying the arms this could be a big break. I call Markus to get his permission but all I get is his secretary. When I ask to speak to him she says, “He’s meeting the Minister for lunch and then he’s going to a meeting at twenty-four Sussex.” Twenty-four Sussex? That’s the Prime Minister’s residence. Ho-ly! There’s no way I can get through to him to get his permission to meet with Cal.
Damn!
42
Cal
Wilfrid’s is a bit up market for my taste but I guess I’m trying to impress Tina just a little bit. Stammo won’t be impressed with the bill though. Which reminds me I must give him a call and see how he’s doing. I feel a twinge of guilt being here. We have a business to run and with Nick in hospital, it must be putting a big load on Adry; she’s keeping me up-to-date with emails but I really should be there.
I also feel guilty that Nick’s daughter was at my apartment when that soldier showed up, probably to kill me on the orders of some general. Maybe Jen will have had some luck in tracking him down.
We have just finished our lunch when Jen arrives. She walks over and stands at our table. She looks from me to Tina and back to me, indecision written clearly on her face. I sense the change in attitude towards us which I noticed on our phone call. She looks around. Checking to see if we will be overheard by any other diners, I guess. Finally she sits. “You know who Harris’ cabal was selling weapons to?” No, 'hi’, no preamble just straight to it.
“What cabal?” I ask.
She looks flustered. “Well he wasn’t doing it alone was he?” She just answered a question with a question.
“What cabal?” I repeat.
“I’m sorry, I can’t share that with you.”
Seems like she wants to follow through on that order to cut us out. We’ll see.
“There is a Commercial Attaché at the Iranian Embassy, name of Majid Zarin. He is the buyer of that shipment number seventeen.”
“How do you know?”
I tell her about our takedown of the Vancouver arms dealer David Fox and how Steve got his surviving gang member to give us Zarin’s name.
“How do you know it’s the same guy? Majid Zarin is a fairly common name.” Her previous suspicion is somewhat smoothed over with enthusiasm.
“That’s what he said,” I say.
“You talked to him?”
“Tina interviewed him. He denied everything but he threatened us, so I figure he’s our man.”
She furrows her brow. “It makes sense that he would be the buyer. Iran is a big Hezbollah supporter.” She mulls it over for a moment. “Cal, Tina, I really appreciate your help with this, I’ll be in touch.” She stands up. It’s time for her to give us the brush off.
“Sit down Jen,” I say.
I take out the photograph we printed off the Internet, put it on the table and smooth it out.
“So?” she says.
“I just saw him. He’s Majid Zarin’s driver.”
“But he’s dead.”
“Yet I just saw him, face-to-face, not two metres apart.”
“That’s ridiculous. When he detonated the bomb, Hamza Kashif was blown into a thousand pieces along with eleven innocent victims. We have the DNA evidence.”
“I know,” Tina says. “I covered the bombing for the Daily News Hound. When his name was released, I did a deep dive into Hamza Kashif 's background and I discovered that he had a brother, a twin brother named Rachad. They were born in Palestine, moved to Lebanon as teenagers and then disappeared off the map.”
Jen sits down.
“And he’s Majid Zarin’s driver?”
She looks at me and I nod.
“Are you sure?”
I nod again. “He looks exactly the same as this picture. Same eyes looking in different directions, same shaped nose. Identical.”
“But how can that be?” she says.
“Think about it Jen,” Tina says. “Neil Harris, and this cabal you mentioned, are making millions selling arms to terrorist organizations and God knows who else. His girlfriend, Annalise Lamarche, steals some incriminating documents and sends them to her brother. They need to get rid of her and Denis. Denis is no problem, he’s a drunk living on the streets in Vancouver; they just send their rogue RCMP guy to kill him. But Annalise is more difficult. So they ask a favour of a customer, Majid Zarin, they ask him to get one of his terrorist friends to blow her up.”
“But why would they murder eleven other people just to silence her?” Jen looks aghast.
“Yes,” I say. “It is extreme. But there would be no murder investigation that could lead back to Harris. Someone might have known about their affair and could have told the police. It’s the perfect murder.”
“But eleven innocent people as collateral damage? These people would have to be monsters.”
Even I have difficulty accepting Tina’s theory. Who would do such a thing?
Jen stands up.
“I need to talk to my boss before he goes in to see the PM. Don’t leave the hotel. He may want to talk to you guys.”
She picks up her briefcase and turns to leave.
“Jen wait!” Tina says. Jen turns back, impatience written all over her face. “After you’ve made your call, come back. There’s something else you need to know.”
Jen nods, then strides out of Wilfrid’s thumbing the screen of her phone.
“What do you want to tell her?” I ask.
“Nothing. It’s what you have to tell her,” she says.
I know what she’s talking about. “About the face I saw on the conference call screen?”
“Yes. This whole thing is too big. Jen’s boss is meeting with the Prime Minister about this. You really need to tell her. Also it’s probably the only way for us to stay on the inside.”
I smile at her. “This is going to be a huge scoop for you isn’t it?”
She grins back. “Yes. Bernstein and Woodward huge.”
I am swept by a desire to kiss her but Jen has reappeared at our table. She sits down. “I couldn’t get hold of him,” she says. “His cell is switched off.” She turns to Tina. “You said I need to know something?”
“Cal has something.” Tina smiles at me.
“Adry emailed you a picture of the guy who killed Harris and told you he works for some general. I might be able to identify who that general is.” I tell her about the face on the conference-call screen.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me this before?” Her voice is almost a shout. She looks about guiltily and lowers the volume but not the intensity. “That conference software may be able to lead to others who are involved in this.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. However, if you keep us in the loop, I can help identify him.”
“No need,” Jen says. “I already know. He’s Major-General Art McNeil.” Damn. Our one point of leverage is gone. I look at Tina and can read the disappointment. Jen opens her briefcase and pulls out a photo. “This is him right?” she says.
A good-looking face in uniform smiles at me.
“No,” I say.
“Are you sure?”
I nod.
She thinks for a bit. “Yet again,” she sighs, “I’m going to tell you something I shouldn’t. We know Neil Harris had two associates in these arms deals. One is General McNeil and the other is a very senior RCMP officer. I suspect it’s his face you saw.” She screws up her face. “So, once again, I’m going to have to break a direct order. You guys better come with me.”
This time I refused point blank to go into the CSIS offices unless Tina came with me. After going through all the security procedures, we are in a little conference room with no windows.
When we are settled into our seats, Jen explains, “I’m going to log into a secure system which will give access to pictures of all RCMP officers.” She opens the laptop on the conference room table and l
ogs on. The system asks her for a security code. She checks her purse and frowns. Then scrabbles in her briefcase. Cursing under her breath she pulls out several file folders and documents which she places in a neat pile on the conference-room table. On top of the pile is the picture of a distinguished looking man in uniform. On the bottom of the photo is a legend saying 'General McNeil’. Finally she finds what she was rummaging for. It’s a small metallic oval with a screen on it. She enters the numbers on the screen into the system’s security code. “The guy we are looking for is senior so I’m going to filter the list to just show commissioned officers. There are over six hundred of them so it could take up to an hour to go through them all.” She clicks and keyboards around for a while and then slides the mouse over to me. “Go through the list on the side. When you click on a name it will bring up the photo.”
I click through the list, looking for a match. Some are clearly not the guy but others I need to look at longer. One Chief Superintendent looks a bit like the face on the conference call; I don’t think it’s him but I make a note of the name. When I’m about halfway through, Jen interrupts. “I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a second. I’m going to have to lock you in this room; it’s a secure area and visitors are not allowed to wander about.” She leaves and I hear the door lock behind her.
I’m distracted from clicking through the list of RCMP members by the rustle of paper. Tina is looking at the pile of files and papers which Jen pulled out of her briefcase.
“I don’t think you should be doing that,” I say.
“Reporter’s curiosity,” she grins back at me. “I can’t not do it. Look, she has a whole bunch of photos of other generals.”
“How do you know they’re generals?” I ask.
“My father was in the army. I know stuff,” she says. “These guys all have little gold maple leaves on their epaulettes, from one for a brigadier to four for a full general, see?” She shows me the photos and one face jumps out at me. Without thinking, I grab the picture from her, fold it over twice and put it in my jacket pocket. “Cal! What the hell are—ˮ There is a buzz and a click as the door lock disengages. Tina quickly puts the other pictures back on the pile and I swivel back to the laptop. As I hear Jen enter, I hope we’re not looking too guilty.
Cal Rogan Mysteries, Books 4, 5 & 6 (Box Set) Page 44
