Red Paint

by Valerie Van Clieaf

  “Move the fuck over!” yelled Kirigin.

  “You’ll get us killed!” yelled Severall.

  “Shut up. Both of you!” hissed Alex as Hunt eased the van into the right-hand lane, moments before the oncoming car sailed past them, its headlights casting a momentary sheen on the side windows.

  “If we suffer because of this fool’s errand you’ve brought us along on, you’ll hear from our lawyer. Make no mistake,” threatened Severall.

  “Why didn’t you just call an ambulance?” whined Kirigin. “And turn the fucking heat down! It’s too hot.”

  Alex bent over to check Levon’s pulse. He couldn’t find one.

  “Can you still feel breath?”

  “Yes,” said Robbie. The question scared him. “What’s the matter?”

  “I can’t get a pulse.” Alex quickly pulled the blanket off, unzipped Levon’s jacket and put his ear directly over his heart. There was a faint pulse.

  “I’ve got one now.”

  “Listen to me, Levon,” Robbie whispered intently. “I’m right here with you. And the sergeant’s here. We’re taking you to the hospital. Don’t die on me. Please don’t die.”

  “Good. Keep talking. Keep him with us.”

  Alex’s words gave Robbie a purpose and he continued to speak quietly into his brother’s ear.

  They were on a downhill grade now and with the added momentum Hunt lost control. They slid across the lane and off the shoulder, landing in the brush that grew beside the road. Alex and Robbie held tight to Levon, bracing themselves against the seats in front and behind them. The van continued to slide, plowing through icy brush, and bouncing off a guard rail before Hunt got the vehicle back onto the road.

  “You okay back there?” Hunt’s voice betrayed that he wasn’t.

  “We’re okay,” said Alex. “How much further?”

  “We’re on Watson Island Highway now. It’s a straight ahead and I’m going to take it a little faster. We should be okay till the bridge approach to Kaien Island. It’s a little steep and comes up fast. I’ll have to slow down for the bridge too; it’s narrow and there’s a sharp curve in the road right off the bridge. Once we make it through that stretch, we’ll only be a few minutes from the hospital.”

  “Okay,” said Alex, bending to check for a pulse. No pulse. He checked the carotid artery, then the armpit. No pulse.

  “I don’t have a pulse. Do you still have breath?”

  Robbie checked. “No!”

  Alex moved to Levon’s head, tilted it, pinched his nose, and gave him a rescue breath; his chest inflated.

  “Steady his head and neck like this.” Alex quickly demonstrated. “You need to keep his airway open.”

  Robbie’s face had drained of colour, but he did exactly as he was shown. Alex moved into position over Levon’s chest, placed the heel of both hands, one over the other, on Levon’s sternum, laced his fingers together and started CPR. It was 2:08 pm.

  Everything stopped for Alex as he concentrated on keeping Levon alive. It was just him and the man beneath him as he cycled through compressions, a rescue breath, a check for pulse, compressions, a rescue breath, a check for pulse. He’d had the training, but he’d never had to perform CPR before—had never been the bridge between life and another man’s death. He was unaware that Robbie had started to weep softly, unaware that the van sped up and slowed down, unaware of Kirigin’s complaints and Severall’s useless entreaties for silence. Periodically he checked his watch. Six minutes after he started, Hunt announced that they were on the bridge. The bridge was a bumpy ride and he had to brace himself. Compressions were impossible, they were bouncing around so much. Then they were off the bridge and taking the curve just after it. Alex leaned into the back of the seat in front for balance and checked for a pulse; none. He bent to give a breath but stopped when he felt a puff of air against his lips. He put a hand on Levon’s chest and felt the slightest rise and fall.

  “He’s breathing,” Alex announced. Robbie stopped crying.

  “Is his heart beating?”

  “Not yet,” said Alex, resuming compressions. “Keep his airway open. Watch his chest. Talk to him. Tell him to stay with us. We’re almost there.”

  “We’re on the main stretch into Rupert now. The hospital is close,” announced Hunt.

  A minute later, Alex got a pulse. Robbie cried out in jubilation and Alex rolled his shoulders and flexed his hands in relief. It was 2:18 pm. Two minutes later, Levon’s heart stopped again but he was still breathing on his own. Alex resumed compressions. There wasn’t another vehicle in sight and Hunt took the van fast as he dared. He tried to cut speed approaching the exit to the street the hospital was on, but it proved to be impossible. They careened onto the street sideways and were halfway down it before Hunt got the van back under control, moments before he took the exit to the emergency bay. He pulled up at the entrance, jumped out and ran for ER staff and a gurney.

  Alex continued compressions until Hunt came back with staff and a stretcher. Hunt returned to the driver’s seat, Alex and Robbie got out the van and the staff climbed in and took over. It took two tries, but the paddles got Levon’s heart going again. They quickly bundled him onto a stretcher and whisked him inside.

  “I’ll be right back,” said Alex. He followed the hospital staff with Robbie in tow. He stopped just inside the entrance, but Robbie ran with the staff to the swinging doors of the emergency bay, which is where, they insisted, he remain. Upset, he turned and scanned the room. They were alone. He walked slowly back to Alex who stood at the entrance, waiting for him. Alex spoke first.

  “Your brother is a hero.”

  “You have no idea how much of a hero he is. And that asshole Hunt. I saw his face. Just before he shot my brother. He was afraid of my brother. Afraid of him! An unarmed man! My brother has never held a gun in his life!”

  “I’ll be reporting Corporal Hunt’s actions.”

  “Reporting his actions. Right. A lot of good that’ll do! Nothing will happen and you of all people should know that. Fuck! Civilians can kill us and get away with it. They do it all the time! And the police too!”

  Alex chest tightened in the face of that truth. “I’ll make sure that no one connects him, or you, to any of this.”

  “Right!” said Robbie dismissively. “Like you can do that!”

  “I can and I will. But we need to get our story straight, right here, right now, and stick to it. Why did Kirigin have you picked up?”

  “He saw us at the Skeena plant entrance. We were there twice.”

  “Was the gate locked?”

  “Not the second time. Which is why we found shelter further along on a side road.”

  “If anyone asks, keep it simple. The storm had gotten worse and you pulled over to wait it out. You were going to try to find shelter at the plant because you thought it was deserted. But the gate was open, and you didn’t want to trespass.

  “But they knew we’d been to the gate. I was leaving the side road and pulling back onto the highway when the car they sent after us tried to run us off the road. I did my best to outrun it, but they caught up with us and brought us to the cabin.”

  “Okay. That sounds good,” said Alex. “As for the tablet, is there someone you can pass it to?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not going to tell the police I have it?”

  “No.”

  “You’re not going to tell them who Levon is? What we were doing?”

  “No.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe you?” he hissed. “My brother thinks your wonderful. Do you know that?”

  “I know that he trusts me, and I have not betrayed that trust.” Alex was silent for a minute, struggling with his emotions. “I’m so sorry for what has happened to Levon. If only I’d known you were at the cabin. All we can do now is pray he makes it.” Alex had a hard time getting the last words out and fought to keep his emotions in check. That wasn’t lost on
Robbie. Surprised, he lapsed into silence.

  Alex looked out the entrance door. Hunt was watching them from the driver’s seat. Kirigin and Severall were shadowy figures, barely visible in the back of the van. “I have to get these two to the detachment. There are others we haven’t located who are still at risk. I’ll check back with you as soon as I can.”

  Chapter 30

  Hunt pulled up in front of the Rupert detachment office. Severall could be heard whispering in the back. Kirigin’s whispered responses had a plaintive edge.

  “Quiet back there,” said Alex. He turned to Hunt. “How many interview rooms have you got?”

  “Just the one,” said Hunt.

  “Anyone in cells?”

  Hunt shook his head. Alex looked down at Kirigin’s briefcase.

  “I’ll put Kirigin in cells. Take Severall to the interview room.”

  “What about our rights,” insisted Severall.

  “Hunt, read them their rights.”

  Hunt did so.

  When he was finished, Alex moved to the back of the van, and moved Kirigin out of the van and onto the icy tarmac. His shoes were no match for the ice, and Alex had to half drag, half carry him into the building. He stopped at the reception desk and flashed his badge.

  “Where are the cells?”

  The clerk, an Indigenous woman whose name tag read Carole Bell, handed him a key card and a key ring.

  “Take that door to the right. Cells are at the end of the hall. The key card gets you into the cell area.”

  He nodded. “Corporal Hunt’s right behind me with another prisoner; he’ll need the interview room.”

  “Are they the traffickers,” she asked softly.

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes went to Kirigin’s face. His return stare was expressionless. Her face flushed and her eyes returned to Alex.

  “How do I get a message to Inspector Brandeis?”

  “Sergeant Billings requested a patrol car to the location where they’re doing the rescue. We can communicate with them through our dispatch radio.”

  “Get a message to Inspector Brandeis that Kirigin and Severall are in custody.”

  “Kirigin and Severall,” she repeated. “Yes sir.”

  Alex headed for the cells with a reluctant Kirigin in tow. He used the card to unlock the cell area and found the light switch; a bank of neon revealed two separate holding cells along one wall. There was a toilet in the corner of each one. Kirigin wrinkled his nose in distaste. Alex marched him into the first cell, sat him down and uncuffed his hands.

  “I don’t have to talk to you,” he muttered.

  “Your choice,” said Alex, staring down at him.

  “I have the right to call my lawyer!” Something in Kirigin’s tone of voice got Alex’s attention; it wasn’t bravado; it was fear. “Don’t leave me alone with him!” he yelled out.

  “It’s just the two of us so you can save your breath,” said Alex, quietly.

  “Eric wouldn’t listen! He wouldn’t listen to me! I was right all along!”

  Alex turned on his heel and left the cell. Kirigin fell silent as Alex locked him in and remained quiet as he left the area.

  Hunt was outside the interview room with Severall when Alex returned to the reception area. He approached them. Severall was an odd picture in Italian leather short boots, worsted pants and a ratty, washed out sweater that had seen better days. Severall appraised Alex with interest. Their eyes locked and Alex immediately understood that Severall was indeed the boss, which made Kirigin his golden boy, although that might be past tense now.

  “Park him,” said Alex, “then join me out front.”

  Hunt nodded, unlocked the interview room, and headed in. Alex went out to the van and retrieved Kirigin’s briefcase and the men’s suitcases. Hunt was waiting for him at reception.

  “What now?”

  “Pick up Kumari and Stuart at the Thunderbird and bring them here.”

  Hunt nodded.

  “Then check for an update on the wounded man.”

  Hunt nodded again, face taut; he headed out.

  Alex turned to the clerk; he was suddenly very tired.

  “Dispatch sent the message to Sergeant Billings,” she said. “I haven’t heard back yet.”

  “Where’s the coffee pot?”

  “Staff room is at the end of the hall; mugs are in the cupboard and there’s cream in the fridge; sugar is on the table if you want it; we’re out of milk, there’s cream; the coffee should be okay.”

  “I’ll need office space for my staff.”

  “No one’s in the bullpen tonight. They can work in there,” she said, indicating a large room through double glass doors behind her. She gave him the password for one of the computers, indicating which one.

  “In case you need it.”

  Alex dropped the suitcases in the bullpen and tucked the briefcase under one arm, then headed down the hall for coffee. He stopped at the interview room. He couldn’t resist cracking the door wide enough so Severall could see he was holding Kirigin’s briefcase. Alex patted the case and smiled. Severall shut his eyes briefly, then opened them.

  “I suppose a call to my lawyer is out of the question,” he said, testing the waters.

  “We don’t have anything available to place a call with.” Alex abruptly shut the door and continued down the hall to the staff room. He poured himself a coffee, found the cream and added some. Briefcase and coffee in hand, he returned to reception. Carole watched him approach with relief.

  “I can kind of hear the guy yelling from the cells.”

  Alex looked back over his shoulder. “Sorry about that.”

  “When they’re this crazy, they sometimes take them to the hospital.”

  “We can’t do that just yet.”

  “He sure hates you!”

  “He sure does.” And now, thought Alex, their operation is about to go belly up because of a young man lying close to death a few blocks away. “Any word from Inspector Brandeis?”

  “He’s on his way.”

  Alex nodded and crossed to the bullpen. He picked a couple of desks that were close together and laid Kirigin’s briefcase on one of them. He drained half the coffee and set it aside, donned a pair of latex gloves and opened the custom-made, hand-tooled case, pulled out Kirigin’s laptop and placed it on the desk. He raised the lid and hit the space bar; the home screen leaped to life.

  No password and perpetually on—and both Severall and Kirigin knew what he was going to find. Alex wondered who would give in first; he guessed it would be Severall.

  He checked the power level; it was low; he found the charger and plugged it in, then sat back, reached for his coffee, and gulped down the last of it. He started to check out the open screen icons along the task bar: the far right one revealed a map of the world and its oceans. Shiptracker.live was emblazoned across the top. Kumari and Stuart were monitoring that website. Alex could scarcely believe what he was looking at. He whistled under his breath. Kirigin had set it to isolate eleven ships. Their ships? He hovered over the two off the US coastline: Shanghai Sunset and Red Dragon; both were identified as container vessels; a quick check revealed all eleven boats were container vessels. There was no icon to indicate the presence of Golden Harvest in the Rupert area.

  But of course, it wouldn’t show up, thought Alex. Its AIS was down, so no GPS.

  The next screen he clicked on was a map of the Prince Rupert area. Kirigin had created a private map of the operation. A boat icon a short distance up the Skeena River yielded the words:

  Golden Harvest. Lifeboats loaded and headed to shore; 11:50 a.m. Enable AIS tomorrow

  Kirigin still had control of the AIS. That was good news. The captain of the ship wouldn’t be going anywhere in a hurry. There were two vehicle icons near a cut-off to Highway 16. He hovered over one of them:

  9:55 a.m. Two loaded at Skeena. One got away. Pickup location moved. Waiting to load
>
  Two women were already on one of the trucks. Where was the woman that got away? The note on the other truck yielded the message:

  Waiting to load

  The coordinates of the pickup location were included with both. But there had been nothing since. The next window he opened was a map of Canada showing the four time zones. In the upper left-hand corner, a time code clock ticked by the hours, minutes, and seconds: pacific coastal time. Alex moved the mouse to a stationary icon in Vancouver.

  Operations complete. $$ sent to Thorgood. What about the body?

  Alex pulled out Kirigin’s SAT phone and scrolled through the messages. He found what he was looking for: a message from Fernice at 9:20 am via Rory’s phone. Alex looked back at the laptop screen and a vehicle icon at the Manitoba–Ontario border caught his eye; he hovered over it.

  Text at 1:38 pm, 26 hrs. from Scarborough clinic, 26 Wayside

  The message was sent just over an hour ago. Alex glanced at the wall clock, then moved to the doorway and asked the clerk when her internet went down.

  “Almost three hours ago.” She looked at Alex like he might be losing it.

  He returned to Kirigin’s computer. Three hours after everyone else was down he was still online. How was that so? The vehicle icons on the map pulsed. Activity at the front door caught his eye. Kumari and Stuart had arrived. Alex got up, waved them in and handed them latex gloves.

  “You’ll need these.”

  “The corporal is on his way to the hospital to see how the civilian’s doing,” said Stuart. “What civilian?” he added, pulling on his gloves.

  “An Indigenous civilian was shot in the raid to capture Kirigin and Severall.” Alex could barely get the words out; his face darkened at the thought of Levon at the hospital fighting for his life. Kumari and Stuart exchanged a glance. “Sit here Kumari. Stuart, get a chair.” It wasn’t long before Kumari was yelling in excitement.

  “Is this Kirigin’s computer! Wait. Is it online?”

  “Yes, to both.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” she said.

  “No kidding!” said Stuart, plopping a chair down beside her. “We’ve been down for at least three hours. What the hell’s he using?