“Where’s your laptop?” said the younger officer.
“At the detachment.”
“Is the house router connected?”
“Probably.”
“I’ll check the router first, then sweep the office.”
“I’ll start in the living room,” said the younger guy.
“I’m going to board up the window I busted to get in last night. I’ll bring up the stepladder in case you need it.”
Alex headed down the hall to the kitchen and went out through a side door to the garage. He grabbed what was left of a roll of heavy-duty plastic, a staple gun, and some short lengths of board, then returned to the kitchen. He grabbed scissors from the drawer, carried everything to the basement door and opened it. Cold air rushed at him. He descended and crossed the floor to the broken window, put down the plastic and staple gun and grabbed a broom to sweep up the shards of glass. He got the step ladder and opened it beneath the window, cut enough plastic to cover the entire window, then climbed up and stapled it in place. That done, he hammered the lengths of board in place with a few screw nails. Then he brought the ladder upstairs and through the kitchen into the living room.
Their house dated back to the mid-fifties and all the inside walls were plastered. It was one of the things Alex loved about the house. The living room featured a decorative motif in the centre of the ceiling and elaborate cornices where the walls met the ceiling.
Seeing him, younger Joe pointed to a fold in the cornice. “There’s one up there.” Alex brought the ladder over and opened it. Joe climbed up. Alex watched as he pulled a small, scalpel like instrument from his tool belt and carefully pried the camera loose. He popped it into an evidence bag, returned to floor level and continued his sweep.
Alex was thinking about an email he received late the night before—from razum: You saved your lovely wife. This time. Brandeis and Kennedy shared the opinion that targeting Gwen and ultimately, him, was a personal vendetta. Not surprising.
Alex had cracked a covert message Seth Boyce had tweeted, which eventually led to finding the stolen children, finding Boyce, and exposing numerous members of the paedophile ring, including MacLeish and Rhodes. Evidence indicated that the ring had operated, undetected, for years.
Alex could see why Batlan was targeted. He was an insider and a traitor. But Alex had read the transcripts of Crown interviews with Batlan after he was turned. Batlan was intimate with details of the BC operation and he knew there were dealings transnationally, but he wasn’t privy to the how of it. Important, he had no names of anyone involved outside of BC. Turning Batlan hadn’t put the police much further ahead, except for the fact that he was more than willing to throw his partners here in BC under the bus. As far as the bigger picture went, all they had was Gregori Kirigin’s name and one grainy picture, a side view, and they had nothing on another major player, his partner, Eric Severall. Not even a picture. Batlan hadn’t given them anything else worthwhile.
Older Joe joined them in the living room. “Your router is dead,” he said. “Feeds are often hidden in USB cables connected to the internet, or the router itself. We see that a lot. That way, the feed can be viewed from literally anywhere. You sure didn’t make it easy for the guy. He had to go old school.”
“So, we’re still looking for a power source for the cameras,” said Alex.
“My guess is something like a DVD player. Is there any reason to believe our perp is in the area?”
“No,” lied Alex. He felt the guy’s presence but didn’t say so. It was hard to explain.
“If he was forced to use a DVD, he’d have to be within a couple of miles to monitor the feed, the cheeky fucking bastard,” muttered older Joe.
“Interesting,” said Alex. “I’m going to check the basement. See if anything jumps out at me.” He left the ladder where it was, grabbed his heavy-duty lamp from the hall closet and headed down. He moved to a storage locker under the stairs. Releasing the latch, he allowed the door to swing open, stepped inside and turned on the lamp. The locker was nearly empty. All their ice fishing gear was in the garage where it was more accessible. He searched slowly and methodically, starting in one corner, and moving around the perimeter. He examined every square inch of the space and found nothing.
He returned to the main room, a big, open space. Not much was stored down here. If it was made of metal, Kirigin would have looked for a place to attach it, maybe using magnets. He started at the electrical box on the opposite wall. Opened it up. Nothing. He glanced around the room slowly. On the wall opposite him was a laundry area. The big, double tubs were there when they moved in. He walked over to them, hunkered down and there it was, under the tub furthest from the stairwell, held in place against the tub with heavy-duty magnets. Alex carefully disengaged it, grabbed his lamp, and returned to the main floor.
“I’ve got the DVD player,” said Alex. He put it down on the kitchen table. Older Joe was near the archway between the kitchen and living room. He joined him.
“Where was it?”
“Right below this room, attached to one of the laundry tubs. Did you find anything else?”
“Nothing in the dining area,” said Joe. “I’m about to start in here.”
“Found another one,” younger Joe called out from the living room. Alex turned to look at him. The arch between the two rooms gave him a clear view. He watched him extract a camera from under one of the flowers on Gwen’s prized peace lily.
Alex turned back to the DVD box, turned it over and noted the make, manufacturer, and serial number, then slipped it into an evidence bag. He turned to look at the lily, then looked at the DVD, now encased in plastic. There was a low-pitched squeal as the older Joe located a camera above the door frame leading to the basement. He went to fetch the ladder in the living room.
“You about done in here?”
“Nearly,” said young Joe.
Alex joined them in the living room. “I need to get some things for my wife. We left in a hurry last night. Are you done in the bedroom?”
“It’s not done yet, but go ahead,” said the older man. “We’ll do your bedroom and the front hall last.”
“It won’t take a minute.” Alex headed down the hall to their bedroom. He pulled a small suitcase down from the closet, threw it on the bed and quickly packed changes for Gwen and himself. A book she was reading was on her bedside table. He picked it up and put it in the suitcase as well. Seeing Gwen’s slippers just under the bed, he bent to grab them, accidentally kicking one just out of reach under the bed. He dropped to his knees and bent to reach for it. He caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, of a box that was not part of the bedframe. He was out the bedroom and down the hall fast as he could run, yelling as he ran.
“There’s a bomb in the bedroom! Out the back door! Now!”
Older Joe came running from the kitchen and the three of them were out the back door and down the back stairs into the snow in record time.
“We were just about to head to the front of the house!”
“Where’s the bomb?”
“Under the bed. People beside me are on holiday, till the end of the week, I think. Neighbors on the other side both work during the day.”
“Where’s the corporal doing the house to house?” asked younger Joe.
“Last I noticed, she was canvassing the other side of the street.”
“I’ll go intercept her.”
“Make sure the area in front of the house is kept clear.”
“Copy that,” said the younger man, sprinting across the closest neighbor’s back yard and disappearing around the far corner of their house.
Alex reached for his phone, then remembered it was on his desk at the detachment. “Can I get your phone to call this in? Mine’s been compromised.”
Joe pulled out his phone and handed it to Alex.
“I’ll help them out front,” he said and headed across the neighbor’s yard.
C
hapter 4
It was close to the dinner hour and Alex wasn’t back yet. Gwen, weary of the mundane reading previous guests had left behind, switched on the tv. The six o’clock news was on most of the channels. She chose the local station and settled in to watch. She was interrupted by a knock at the door and got up to answer it. It was the officer standing guard outside her room.
“Sorry to bother you, ma’am. Your husband wants you to know he’s on his way and would you order dinner. He wants the pork chops, mashed, not fries and a salad. He’ll be eating here with you.”
Gwen nodded and moved to fetch the menu resting on the table beside the tv. She glanced at the screen and recognized the reporter as Tilly Oldham, a woman she knew in passing. She turned to the dinner entrees. The special looked good.
“I’ll have the manicotti, a house salad, and coffee for both of us. No dessert.”
“I’ll order that for you now,” he said, looking past her to the tv screen. “I see you’re watching the news. Don’t worry. Sergeant Desocarras will explain everything when he gets here.”
“Explain what?” Gwen asked, turning to the screen.
“He found a bomb at your house.”
“A what?! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Your husband wanted to be the one to tell you. He didn’t want you to worry. I’ll put that order in for you now,” said the flustered officer, quickly closing the door.
Gwen sighed in frustration and turned back to the tv. The clip being run, featured men in hazmat suits going into her house, followed by a clip of Ian Kennedy, standing on the steps outside the detachment office, explaining that the team was able to diffuse the bomb. She checked the regional and national news services. The story was everywhere. There was another knock and Alex entered, carrying a suitcase.
“I see you’re watching the news.” He crossed to her chair and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I got you a burner.” He took off his jacket and protective vest and put them on the bed.
“Thanks. Damn, I miss my phone. I better call mom first. The story was picked up by all the major networks. She’s a news hound and she’ll be upset.”
“I did let her know that you’re okay and that you weren’t at the house.”
“I’m sure that was reassuring. Did she give you a hard time?” Alex shrugged noncommittally.
“You called your parents?”
“As soon as the media showed up on our street.”
“Alex Desocarras, sit down now and tell me everything.” He plopped into a chair.
“Where was the bomb?”
He looked at her. “You’re not going to like this.”
“Alex?”
“It was under our bed.”
She started to cry.
“Gwen, honey, it’s going to be okay. We’ll get him.”
She got her tears under control with difficulty.
“Evidence of our demise would have been scarce indeed.”
“Alex! This is not the time to joke.”
“I’m not joking sweetheart. Come sit here,” he said, motioning to the chair beside him. She did and he reached for her hand.
“What about Jeri Fernice?”
“Jeri and Jas moved to a hotel last night as a precaution. You were sleeping when I got back last night. I should have told you this morning, but you were sleeping when I left.”
“I understand why Batlan was killed. He’s a squealer. What I don’t understand is why this guy, whoever he is, would target you and not Jeri? You were both involved in the take down.” She looked at Alex. “Actually, you were the one who tracked down Seth Boyce’s mother and uncovered the connection to Inspector MacLeish.”
“And don’t forget, we discovered Morgan O’Meara at Gustafsen Lake. If we hadn’t found her when we did—”
“It would have been a cold trail,” Alex finished for her. “And we’re not sure Jeri’s in the clear, at least not yet.”
“But if he was going to target Jeri, don’t you think he would’ve made his move while he was in Vancouver. I mean, he was right there, almost on her doorstep.”
“I wonder about that myself. But it doesn’t mean she’s in the clear. Our bomber has been planning the attack on us for a while. My guess is he planted everything at our house when we were on holiday.”
“He was in our house. Our house! Touching our things with his filthy hands!” Alex put his arms around her. She shuddered violently, and he held her tighter. The most devastating thing about this for Alex was how his actions had put Gwen in harms way. The first time he laid eyes on her, he knew she was the love of his life. They’d been together almost ten years. She was dating another guy when they met, but still agreed to have dinner with him. Then she broke up with the guy, and he didn’t know about him till they’d been dating almost a month. You were the one Alex. I knew when I met you that I should’ve waited for you.
“Gwen, there’s one thing I want you to remember. Yesterday, we didn’t know the bastard had us in his sights. And yes, he very nearly killed us, but his plan wasn’t as airtight as he thought. Now, we have an important advantage: we know he’s after us and most important, we’re not sitting ducks.”
“He’s close, isn’t he?”
“I think he is.”
There was a knock at the door and the officer poked his head in. “Your dinner’s ready. I’m going to pick it up.” He shut the door.
“I assume you’ll be going back to the office after dinner.”
“Afraid so. There’s still lots to wrap up. “I’ll be gone for a couple of hours at the most.”
Marchand and Goodwin were on duty that evening. After dinner, they picked Alex up, drove him to the detachment office and escorted him in.
“Really, guys,” said Alex.
“Our orders,” said Marchand.
“I could use a coffee,” said Alex. “Which one of you wants to accompany me to the staff room?”
“I’ll get you one,” said Goodwin and made for the staff room.
“Cream, no sugar,” Alex called out to his departing back as he sat down. He picked up the new burner on his desk and read the handwritten, interoffice memo that came with it.
Tech support at E Division have determined that the 100 Mile House office server and phone system have been breached. As a precaution, all duty staff working the Alex Desocarras case have been issued a new phone. All necessary contacts have been added. If you are pulled into the Desocarras case, D. J. Presley will issue you a new phone.
Continue to Use email server and in-house phones only for housekeeping and NEVER for case work until further notice. It is important that all communication APPEAR NORMAL.
Alex unwrapped his phone and noted the number. Next, he read the contents of a folder containing an update from Brandeis in Vancouver. There was nothing new. Goodwin arrived back with his coffee and took a seat beside Marchand. Alex took a sip.
“You guys not having?”
“We’re fine,” said Marchand.
Alex took another sip of coffee, put it to one side and reached for a large FedEx envelope, from Prince George. He smiled. Some of the staff at the PG office were so old-school. He took a cursory look at the front: no sender’s address, which was odd. It wasn’t from the PG office. He put the envelope down very carefully.
“We need to get out of here! Now!” He ran out the door and down the hall to the front reception area, the others right on his heel.
He knew that the bomb squad was staying at the Red Coach Inn, where the Force usually put Vancouver teams when they were in 100 Mile House. Reception had a cell number for Robin, head of the bomb squad team. Alex dialed it and Robin picked up. The clanging sounds of dinner flooded the receiver.
“Hi Robin, it’s Alex Desocarras, calling from the detachment office. You guys finished your dinner?”
“Yeah. We’re just about to order dessert.”
“Can I get you to put a hold on that. I just received a FedEx envelo
pe from Prince George with no return address. It could be nothing. Call me overly cautious, but I’d like you to have a look at it.”
“If I were you, I’d be in the next county by now. Where’s the envelope?”
“On the desk in my office.”
“Is there anyone in that area right now?”
“No. You know our detachment set up, right?”
“I do.”
“I’m in the left-corridor off the main entrance door. My office is close to the end of the corridor. No one else in that area tonight but me. Main reception area and the right corridor are busy though.”
“Just to be on the safe side, evacuate the building.”
“Done. I’ll send a car.”
“Tell them to pick us up out front. We’ll be ready.” Alex turned to the dispatcher and instructed him to send a car to the inn. “Then alert everyone to leave the building. Now.” A night clerk was already pulling on her coat as she headed out the door.
The building was emptied in under two minutes. Alex had left his jacket in his office. He was sitting in Marchand and Goodwin’s cruiser with the heat cranked to high. There were only about half a dozen cars in the parking lot. They were all moved to the street, away from the office. They didn’t have to wait long.
An unmarked SUV, cherry wailing, flew down the side street closest to the detachment office, rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt just before the entrance to the parking lot. Three guys in hazmat suits piled out carrying equipment. Alex rushed over to confer with them before they entered the building. He returned to the squad car and noted the time as 6:47 pm. Everyone waited, all eyes on the front entrance. No one spoke for a few minutes.
“You okay there Alex?” asked Goodwin.
Red Paint Page 4
