by Steve Richer
He had to do it soon now. His legs were cramping up and the boredom was wearing his patience out. It was his last murder and he couldn’t wait to get it over with. If he did it now, he could get himself a copious lunch, take his time at the airport, and be home for dinner.
“Hi, I’m so glad to see you.” Jeff realized he had unlocked the door for nothing since he opened it for her. He moved aside to let her in. He didn’t bother to lock up again thinking it might threaten her. “You want something to eat? I can fix us lunch.”
He wanted to kiss her, but didn’t know if it was proper to do so this early in the relationship. Man, he was such a fool! He was coming off as an amateur.
Chasey didn’t know what kind of tone to adopt. She needed to make accusations, but if this man was dangerous she didn’t want to upset him.
“I was thinking about getting a quote from one of your superiors for my article.”
“I don’t know, it’s a pretty hush investigation, everybody’s trying to keep the lid on it.”
“I figured you’d answer something like that. I called your department at the RCMP.”
“Oh Chasey…”
He took a few steps back and sat on the armrest of the couch, knowing that his lies were catching up to them.
“They said you didn’t work there. There is no Jeff Riley in the entire RCMP.”
“That’s because Jeff isn’t my real name.”
“What?” she asked, visibly confused.
“Well, it is my name, just not what’s on my birth certificate. My name is Jean-François Riley. Jean-François turned into JF which eventually turned into Jeff. All my official papers are under Jean-François which explains why they said they couldn’t find me.”
“You work for International Liaison, right?”
Jeff nodded, cursing himself for not having told her the truth before.
“Then why didn’t them boys in your department know about you?”
Chapter 44
Announcing himself as a UPS deliveryman to apartment 712, Harker was buzzed into the building. His surgical gloves were in place and the heat they generated was suffocating. He would get blisters, he was sure of it.
He climbed the stairs to the third floor and was thankful the movers were indeed gone. He walked to apartment 316, his steps muffled by the cushy carpet. He noticed the peephole and got mad at himself for forgetting his reverse viewer at home. It was a handy little device one could use to spy inside apartments.
“Look, I’ve got secrets, you’ve got secrets, everybody’s got secrets,” he heard his mark say through the door.
Harker stopped in his tracks. His mark had company. It didn’t matter, he had waited long enough. Two corpses for the price of one. He could afford it.
“I never lied to you, Jeff.”
The visitor was a woman; her accent betrayed her southern origins. He could kill a woman, he had no particular moral problem was that. He had killed Helen Hill in Mexico just last week and she had been quite pretty.
He pulled his gun out of his pants and held it behind his back. He knocked. It took the better part of ten seconds for Jeff to answer. What Harker first noticed was the young woman and how attractive she was.
He tightened his grip on the weapon.
For an instant, Jeff wondered who the guest was. But the man’s eyes were cold and yet intense. Was he wearing surgical gloves? He saw one of his hands was hidden behind his back and his instincts kicked in. He had seen enough movies to guess the purpose of the man’s visit.
He wasn’t quite sure why someone would want to kill him, but he didn’t have time to ponder the question over a cup of hot cocoa.
He slammed the door shut and turned the deadbolt. Maybe he was wrong and had only slammed the door into a Jehovah’s Witness’s face. He hoped it was so.
“Why did you do that for?” Chasey asked, failing to see the logic in his move. And where had his politeness gone?
“Come on!”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the balcony. They stepped out and went to the left. There was one balcony for each two apartments. A painted plywood board running from top to bottom divided them.
“I think this guy wants to kill us.”
It was too high to jump. Jeff didn’t try to remove the plank. He leaned against the rail and swung his right leg around the panel.
“What the hell are you doing?”
After swinging his left leg, he was on the neighbor’s balcony.
“Come on, Chasey!”
She followed his lead and a moment before being pulled in by Jeff she saw Harker crash through the door. He was really after them.
The glass door was open and they could see the woman who had just moved in emptying boxes. She looked up at them as they entered her apartment.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
Just meeting my new neighbors, Jeff felt like saying. But there was no time for jokes.
He ran to the door with Chasey in tow. He jerked the chain off and turned the lock. There was no time to hide. They had to run. They were in the hallway, running for their lives toward the emergency stairwell. If they could reach the car, they would be saved.
Harker was on the balcony wondering where the two of them had gone when he heard a door being slammed in the corridor. He ran back and spotted his mark and the girl step into the staircase. He ran after them.
They had reached the ground floor and Jeff was opening the heavy door when they heard muted gunshots explode around them. They saw the damage inches away from their heads.
They ran out, passing in front of the manager’s office, and seconds later they were in the parking lot heading toward the Geo.
Two more shots were fired at them, making the driver side window shatter. Jeff reached through the hole and unlocked the door.
He got in and opened the door for Chasey. He reached into the glove box and pulled out his spare set of keys which he had kept ever since he had been mugged a few years ago.
“Get down,” he commanded
He fired up the engine and put it in reverse. He backed up enough to clear the other cars and sped away.
They both remained silent as they saw in the rearview mirror the hitman running after them. His gun was pointed at them but he did not pull the trigger. Just as they turned onto the next street, Jeff noticed the killer get into a car parked on the curb.
It was far from over.
Chapter 45
Jeff turned onto Walkley Road. The dark sedan was following them and sped up. It was gaining up on them.
Jeff felt trapped in the city. He stepped on the gas and headed east. If he could reach the 417, he was sure they would be able to lose him. In all the excitement, he hadn’t noticed he was sitting on broken glass.
“I’m gonna lift my ass off the seat for a second. I want you to reach over and sweep the glass off.”
“Excuse me?” she said with a disgusted tone.
“I’m sitting on broken glass and, let me tell you, it doesn’t feel like velvet. So, please?”
Without another word she complied.
“Ouch,” she yelped as she pulled her hand out.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
“It’s nothing, just a little cut.”
She sucked the tip of her finger to stop the bleeding.
The poor man’s SUV engaged the 417 and went north. There wasn’t much traffic and it allowed their pursuer to catch up with them. Jeff was doing 130 kilometers per hour, but Harker was going faster.
Where were the cops when they were needed? The sedan was alongside the Tracker now. Chasey glanced at her right and saw the hitman raise his weapon toward her.
“Jeff!”
It was all she could think of as she threw herself down. Her head was on Jeff’s lap.
The secret agent lifted his foot from the gas pedal and allowed their hunter to drive past them. He got off the highway as the sedan made a U-turn. He was getting into the city once again.
�
�Can I ask you a question?”
“What?” she asked from his lap.
“Do you feel like dying today?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course not.”
“All the motivation I need.”
He could see Harker was again gaining up on them. He drove up St. Laurent Boulevard and turned left on McArthur Road, discarding all known driving rules. A few blocks later, he made out his destination. He parked his car in the police station parking lot.
Quickly, he stepped out of the Geo and met Chasey on the other side. They both jogged to the building. Jeff noticed the hitman drive by without stopping.
“I don’t think anybody’s gonna try to kill us here.”
The desk sergeant observed them walk in and wondered why they weren’t coming to him. “Can I help you?”
“No, it’s okay. We have a meeting with the district inspector at one, we can wait.”
He took Chasey’s hand and led her to a small waiting room.
“Why didn’t you tell that man what happened to us today?” It was a loud whisper.
“Because that will keep us here forever.”
“Don’t pee down my back and tell me it’s raining. They’re cops, they can help us.”
“If we stay here to answer their questions all day then that guy will know where we are and we’re as good as dead. He’ll wait for us at the exit and we won’t live very long.”
“I think I’m entitled to some explanation now.”
It was one thing for him to have lied to her, but quite another to have involved her in assassinations.
“I will tell you everything, but first I have to make a phone call. Everything’s gonna be all right.”
Jeff stood up and went to the pay phone a few feet to their right. He dialed Bellamy’s number.
“John, did you come to believe my theory over the weekend?”
“I’ve thought it over. Don’t tell me you worked on it again, not on a Sunday.”
“No, not really. Not unless you count escaping from a fucking hitman.” He was whispering, but some of the people in the waiting room turned their heads. “The guy came to my apartment, tried to kill me and a lady friend of mine.”
“Jesus, this is getting serious. Where are you right now?”
“Police station on McArthur Road. And the girl I told you about, she’s with me.”
“A hooker?”
“No! I said she was a lady friend.”
“Okay, stay put. I’ll have people come and get you. And tell the girl to stay with you, she could be in danger too.”
“Copy that.”
The safe house was a modest bungalow in Aylmer, Quebec. Three armed soldiers, MPs on security detail with the CSE, had escorted them from the police station to the hideout.
The place had been in use for various missions, ranging from surveillance to hiding defectors, for more than two decades. The CSE had half a dozen safe houses throughout the country. The escort had left as soon as another MP showed up. He sat in an unmarked car across the street, intensively chewing his gum. It was agreed that an additional patrol would drive by every two hours.
It was the first time Jeff and Chasey had been alone in a quiet environment since the situation had escalated. He went to the kitchen and found beer and sodas in the refrigerator. There were potato chips, Kool-Aid envelopes, and soup cans in the pantry. He picked up two beers and brought along a bag of ketchup chips. He set everything down on the coffee table in the living room.
“You like ketchup chips?”
“How ‘bout you tell me who you really are and how I fit in all this.”
She was sitting on the edge of the prehistoric couch, glaring at him with anticipation.
He twisted off the cap of his bottle and took a long swig, sitting on the blue velvet La-Z-Boy. He took his time opening the bag of chips.
“You need to tell me, Jeff. People are trying to kill us. Soldiers come get us at a police station, we’re taken to a safe house. You owe me an explanation.”
“I don’t work for the RCMP. I’m with CSE.”
“CSE, what’s that?”
“Communications Security Establishment, it’s the equivalent of your NSA. I’m an intelligence officer.”
“You’re a spy?”
“I don’t know, this is my first mission.”
He felt depressed. Not only was his life in danger, but it was making Chasey significantly uncomfortable. Here was a woman whom he wanted nothing more than to please and he had involved her in this dangerous situation.
“Why am I here, Jeff?” Her voice was softer now.
He grunted and avoided her gaze. If he spoke, he would be blowing his cover and most likely discuss top secret matters. It was his first mission and it could very well be his last.
Chapter 46
Chasey craned her neck to make him meet her eyes as she asked her question again. It occurred to her that she sounded like her mother when she tried to suppress her anger to extract valuable information. Just like that time she had misplaced the family car keys at the age of seventeen, she thought.
“What’s going on, Jeff? I think you owe me an explanation.”
“The story is the same as what I told you before. There’s a stolen prototype and I found out about it. You know the third man I said we hadn’t identified?”
“What about him?”
She reached for the other beer and used the tail of her shirt to twist the cap off.
“He’s a former CSE agent. That’s why we’re trying to keep the lid on it.”
“Covering your own…”
“No, it’s not about that. If he knows we’re after him, then he’ll disappear. He’s got the professional expertise to do just that.”
“Doesn’t he already know you’re after him? Would certainly explain the guy shooting at us like we were Thanksgiving turkeys.”
“I don’t know, maybe he does. Yesterday, even my boss didn’t believe my theory.”
“That’s it,” Chasey said, brightening up. “They knew that if you were dead you wouldn’t be able to convince anyone of your theory.”
Jeff put his bottle on the table and stood up. “That means they knew I was the Lone Ranger on this. How could they know that?”
“Who did you tell?”
“No one, my boss knows and that’s all. Maybe they tapped my phone line or something.”
“Maybe your boss is in cahoots with them.”
“No, I don’t believe that. If it had been the case, he wouldn’t have sent MPs to get us. He would have given us an address to go to and the killer would have been there waiting for us. No, I don’t believe that for a minute.”
He believed what he had just told her, but she had given him reason to doubt. He went to the window and absentmindedly gazed at the soldier chewing his bubble gum across the street.
Chasey spoke. “Okay, let’s set this aside for a minute. Why did you tell me all this the other day if it was so secret and I can’t write anything about it? Why did you ask me to come up here?”
He turned around to face her. “Because I…” He stopped in mid-sentence.
As a teenager, he had been in love too many times. At least, he had thought he had been. It was more lust, infatuation. Now he knew the real meaning of the word love, and yet, he was terrified to say it.
What frightened him so much was the fact that she may not share the same feeling. Saying I love you required the other to either say it back or to admit it wasn’t mutual. Losing her scared him more than being killed by a professional assassin.
“When I first saw you in Emmetts Run, I knew I had found the girl of my dreams.”
She looked at him without uttering a word. Jeff swore he saw the outline of a smile.
“I was in Emmetts Run only overnight, all the hotels in Raleigh were booked. I was tailing one of the guys who stole the prototype. Then I lost him. When I had breakfast with you that morning, I should’ve followed him instead. It’s what I was supposed to
do.”
“Jeff…”
He cut her off. “But it was so worth it, you have no idea. I’m sorry I made you come up here. I was afraid that if I didn’t, I would never see you again. There was no way I could let that happen. No goddamn way.”
He took his bottle from the table and walked away to one of the bedrooms.
Few words were spoken during the rest of the afternoon. Chasey was pondering Jeff’s speech while he tried clearing his head of anything and everything. He drank two other beers and welcomed their liberating effect.
The only visitor they had was Julian Farris who stopped by on Bellamy’s orders to drop off clothes he had gathered at his apartment and her hotel room. He also had with him a bucket of the Colonel’s poultry.
Morales didn’t appreciate being in this position. As a banker, he was used to have people come to him begging for money. While his heart was with the cause first and foremost, the power of being able to grant or approve a loan was inebriating. It was a taste of God’s profession.
But today the tables had turned. He had been on his computer when he saw on his instant messaging software that Ledoux had just logged on. He took hold of his microphone and summoned him to do the same.
“Can you talk, are you alone?”
Ledoux sighed in annoyance. He wanted the money that waited for them at the end of the line, but didn’t want to socialize with these criminals more than he had to. He considered his part in the operation over. It was night in Paris and he was in his study.
“Yes, I can talk, although I think it’s foolish. I have fulfilled my engagement, there’s nothing left for me to do, thank heaven.”
Technically it was so, Morales had to give him that. But he personally needed his help.
“I need a loan.”
There was a brief pause and then sudden laughter. “You expect me to give you money?”
“I do, my friend.”
“Aren’t you one of the most influential people in the South American business world?”
“Yes, I am. Now I’m using my influence on you.”
