Discreet Activities

by Claude Bouchard

“You idiot,” JayQ retorted. “You have now confirmed to them that Mohsin was connected to someone else.”

  “And if I had stayed to answer his questions, the police would now have my name,” Omar argued.

  “You could have simply kept on going and walked by, Omar. It is not a crime to walk along a street. They could not insist you identify yourself as you had done nothing wrong. They most likely would not have even spoken to you.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” Omar snapped, “But it is done. I don’t know if they are still looking for me but I don’t think I should be walking out there for now.”

  “Where are you?” JayQ demanded.

  “In a small restaurant on the southeast corner of Bélanger and 13th.”

  “I will be there in a minute or two,” JayQ sighed. “Be ready to get out of there and into the car quickly.”

  * * * *

  “Alright, Dave. Thanks,” said Harris before cutting the connection.

  “So, do we go in?” Nelson asked her partner.

  “Nope, because of the possibility of explosives,” Tim replied. “We’re to evacuate this building and the ones on each side, cordon off the area and the alley as well. Dave’s having some backup sent over to block off the street and alley and knock on doors to inform residents. Bomb squad will be over shortly, probably from the RCMP because this seems to be related to an explosives theft they’re investigating. Dave’s heading over and so are Jonathan Addley and Chris Barry.”

  “Really? Wow,” Joanne exclaimed. She, Harris and a third detective, Frank Bakes, had met Jonathan and Chris and been entrusted with some classified information about the Discreet Activities group while working a murder case a few years earlier. “How are they involved in all of this?”

  “I’m not sure but Dave was with them when I called just now.” Tim replied. “Two of Jonathan’s people were killed by the explosion last night.”

  “Oh my God,” said Joanne. “Whatever’s going on is going to get ugly.”

  “Very ugly,” Tim agreed. “Why don’t you go get the car so we can get started? I’ll go tell Mrs. Sauvageau she done baking for the day.”

  * * * *

  It was a little after two in the afternoon when JayQ strolled up to the Audi parked on St-Michel Boulevard, opened the door and slid behind the wheel to head back to Omar’s home. He’d just spent the last half hour nosing around the cordoned-off area around Mohsin’s apartment, an easy task as he blended in with numerous neighbours and passer-by, all equally curious as to what was going on.

  He had not really learned anything besides the confirmation that Mohsin’s home was indeed in the hands of the authorities. He had noticed an RCMP bomb squad truck amidst the multitude of police vehicles within the barricades and was pleased he’d had the foresight to take the explosives with him the previous morning. He was annoyed he hadn’t thought of Mohsin’s laptop sooner and hoped nothing incriminating would be found by the police. However, there was nothing he could do to change that now and he remained confident the authorities could do little with him. Omar was another story, but he had already determined a solution to that problem.

  He was not pleased with Omar. For months upon months, the man had demonstrated unwavering conviction as they discussed their involvement in the war against the west. It was now clear, however, that Omar was all talk and no action, completely devoid of anything resembling courage.

  He had been shaking like a leaf and white as snow when JayQ had picked him up outside the restaurant a few hours earlier. After parking the Audi in the employee lot of a warehouse down the street, they had returned by foot to Omar’s home where JayQ had attempted by various means to reason with his colleague. Omar had seemed to calm down after a while until JayQ suggested they return to scout the area near Mohsin’s apartment. Omar had flatly refused, fearing apprehension and then had once again started arguing about the feasibility of going ahead with the attack planned for the weekend.

  JayQ had finally left to scout on his own, urging Omar to have some tea and to relax until his return. At that time, they would have a calm discussion about what steps should be taken in the coming days.

  * * * *

  Jonathan pulled the Acura through the opening in the barricade and saw Dave McCall beyond the yellow tape waving them over. He pulled the car to one side, double parking within the melee of vehicles before he and Chris climbed out and headed towards the captain.

  “I could have just called you,” said Dave as he raised the tape to allow them access.

  “I know,” Jon admitted, ducking under the tape and into the restricted area, “But I just lost two people and need to be doing something.”

  “I hear you,” McCall nodded as they shook hands.

  “Find anything so far?” Chris asked.

  “The bomb crew found traces of explosives.”

  “Only traces?” Jon raised an eyebrow.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” replied the captain, “And they’ve confirmed it’s from the batch stolen from the demolition site. Same stuff as last night.”

  “So there’s still a lot of C-4 stashed somewhere,” Chris frowned.

  “God damn,” Jonathan muttered. “What else?”

  “A laptop, password-protected,” Dave continued. “No discs, keys or any other storage devices. No paper records of any kind either.”

  “Who’s going to work the computer?” Chris asked with a faint smile.

  “Since we’ve already confirmed that at least some of the stolen explosives were here,” McCall smiled back, “I think the RCMP’s case is the priority. I’ve already directed the chain of evidence custody documents be completed to reflect transfer of the computer to Jonathan for delivery to Nick Sharp.”

  “We can handle that,” Addley nodded. “Thanks, Dave. This won’t cause you any trouble?”

  “I’m on this because of a murder/suicide,” McCall replied. “We already know the killer is dead and we’ll confirm his identity with DNA from here matched to the body. The computer won’t give me anything more unless it contains information leading to any accomplices in last night’s bombing. If anything like that is found, I’ll be informed, right?”

  “Obviously,” said Addley. “I know Nick and his team to be quite cooperative. Is that it?”

  “No, a couple more things. We found a few full boxes of one inch wood screws and a bunch of empty ones. The bomb boys think the missing screws are probably mixed up with C-4 now.”

  “Jesus, I don’t like this,” Chris muttered. “This has to be tied in with the AFI.”

  “Mohsin Rahija was Pakistani,” Jonathan agreed.

  “There’s more which might be helpful,” Dave continued. “We found a stack of thin cardstock cut-outs which folded up just right to form a box about the size of a carton of cigarettes. Along with those, we found some new P.W. Enright cigarette carton wrappers and a couple of glue sticks.”

  “Bombs disguised as cigarette cartons,” Jonathan mused, shaking his head. “That gives a whole new meaning to ‘hazardous to your health’.”

  “Indeed,” McCall replied. “I have Tim following up with the cigarette company to see how easily accessible those wrappers are. That’s all I’ve got for now. Since you’re here, you might as well have a look around this guy’s apartment and we’ll get you that laptop.”

  * * * *

  “How are you feeling, my friend?” JayQ asked as he entered the small house on Haig Avenue, setting the gym bag he carried on the floor before removing his coat.

  “I am very nervous and I am scared,” Omar admitted. “Now that Mohsin and those police officers are dead, I am realizing that I am perhaps not brave enough to be involved with this.”

  “I understand,” said JayQ as he gestured towards the kitchen. “Come. I will make us some tea and we shall sit and discuss this calmly.”

  They moved into the kitchen and as Omar headed towards the stove, JayQ said, “Sit, Omar. This day has been very disturbing for you. Let me make the tea while you relax.” />
  Omar gratefully stepped back and settled into his usual chair at the small table while JayQ filled the kettle and set it on a burner.

  “You know I would never try to make you do anything you are not comfortable with, don’t you, Omar?” asked JayQ from where he stood before the sink, gazing out at the windowless side wall of the warehouse building beyond the yard.

  “I do not always have that impression,” Omar admitted, staring at the tabletop, not daring to look at JayQ behind him. “You can be very forceful and intimidating at times.”

  “I apologize for my dominant personality,” JayQ chuckled, pulling a small coil of one quarter inch polypropylene rope from his jacket pocket as he spoke and wrapping an end around each hand. “I know I can be insistent at times when I want something.”

  He turned towards Omar and approached from behind as he continued. “This, however, does not mean that you, or anyone else, must do what I say. I might be disappointed but you are not my slaves. In the end, you are responsible for your decisions and must act according to your desires.”

  “I am pleased to hear you say this, Jay” Omar sighed with relief. “I was growing frightened of the conseq- arggh!”

  He gasped as the rope tightened around his neck, immediately cutting off his air supply. He clawed viciously, trying to get his fingers under it to lessen the pressure as he attempted to rise to his feet. However, JayQ, who was heavier and in much better shape, leaned his weight into Omar’s back, pinning him against the table while continuing to hold the rope tight. Seconds turned to a minute and Omar’s struggles weakened then ceased altogether.

  JayQ gradually returned to a standing position but maintained his grip on the rope wrapped around Omar’s neck for another minute or so before relaxing his hold. He quickly coiled the rope anew and returned it to his jacket pocket then checked Omar for a pulse but found none. Sliding the chair back, he pulled the body to an upright position, hoisted it onto his shoulder and carried it upstairs to the small bedroom where he flung it onto the bed. He peered out the window and was satisfied nobody could see within from any vantage point beyond.

  Heading to the living room in the front, he recouped the gym bag before returning to the kitchen. Placing it on the table, he unzipped the bag to inspect the contents one last time. Inside were four bundles of two cigarette cartons, each held together with a rubber band. Attached to each bundle was a small black plastic box, resembling many car alarm or garage door opener remote devices. He pulled one from the rubber band holding it in place and slid back the protective cover, exposing two buttons, one green and the other red.

  Mohsin had designed these devices with simplicity in mind for which JayQ was now thankful. Pressing the green switch would start a ninety minute timer after which time the related two carton bundle would explode. The red button was in case of emergency and pressing it would detonate the related bombs immediately.

  A fifth remote control device, grey in colour, lay in the bottom of the bag. Identical in most aspects with the other four, this device was the master and its signals would override those of the others and set all the detonators. Pressing the green button would activate all timers for detonation ninety minutes later and pressing the red would set off all eight bombs instantly.

  JayQ re-secured the black remote under the rubber band and smiled as he slipped the grey master device in his pocket. He would be giving it to Mahmood when they met the next day. He could simply keep it for himself but there was no need for that. He had asked Mohsin to build a second one which was now in the glove compartment of the Audi.

  He zipped up the gym bag and stored it in the cupboard below the sink then picked up Omar’s cell phone on the kitchen table, slipping it into his pocket as he walked back to the living room. He had no computer to worry about as Omar had never owned or wanted one.

  “To Allah you belong, Omar, and to Him you have returned,” he called up the stairs while slipping into his coat.

  He left the house, making sure the door was locked and dropped the key to the front door he had recouped from Mohsin into the mailbox. He then walked one block over to Arcand Street where he had parked the Audi because, after all, one could never be too careful.

  * * * *

  In an effort to get her mind off the previous evening’s devastating events, Jonathan had insisted Leslie spend the afternoon at the Surveillance & Technology Centre to pursue her training. She had done so and followed up with an intense two hour workout, driving hard to rid herself of some of the rage and grief bottled up inside. She wasn’t certain if she had succeeded to any extent but the physical effort and previous restless night had her looking forward to a quick, late dinner and a well deserved and needed bout of sleep.

  This was her plan as she pulled into the parking lot at the Imperial National Bank in Laval to get some cash from the ATM before retiring to her condo for the night. She was always wistful when she came here for this was the bank branch she used to work at before leaving to join Jonathan’s group at the Ministry of Defence. This was where she had met Chris, Jonathan and Cat and also where she had lost Gina, her co-worker and lover, a victim to the brutal bank robbers who had changed her life forever.

  She went into the empty vestibule and quickly withdrew the cash she wanted, anxious to get home. As she walked back outside into the crisp, cold air, stuffing her debit card and cash into her wallet as she went, she sensed someone behind her just before he spoke.

  “Stop where you are, lady, and don’t bother putting that cash away.”

  She ceased walking, turned to face her aggressor who stood a few feet away and sighed. “I don’t know who you are but I’ve had a terrible day so just leave me alone and everything will be fine, okay?”

  “Just give me that cash,” the tall, wiry teenager replied as he pointed his knife at her, “And maybe we’ll call it a night.”

  “Get real,” Leslie snarled. “Do you really think I’ll just hand over my money to a punk like you? You better put that knife away and go home before you get hurt.”

  “Uh, you don’t want to mess with me, bitch,” the boy shot back, though his eyes showed the first signs of uneasiness. “Now, give me the money.”

  “Now you’re starting to piss me off, asshole,” Leslie warned, letting her handbag drop to the pavement and taking a step towards him. “I’m giving you one more chance to get the hell out of here.”

  “You’re crazy, lady,” the teen cried, stepping backward instinctively and holding his knife out at her in a defensive gesture. “I’ll use this if I have to. Give me the fucking money.”

  “Fuck you, dipshit,” Leslie laughed. “Come and take it. I dare you.”

  The boy suddenly lunged at her, leading with his knife arm straight out and the next two seconds were a blur. Grasping his wrist with both hands, Leslie pulled him to her as she spun one hundred eighty degrees and flipped him over her back, using his momentum to her advantage. The boy grunted in pain as he crashed to the ground, flat on his back then screamed in anguish as Leslie stomped on his knife hand with the stiletto heel of her boot. He clutched his injured hand with the other as he rolled onto his side in a foetal position and whimpered.

  Leslie picked up the teen’s knife, a decent quality switchblade, then dropped down, kneeing the boy in the kidney as she landed on him.

  She leaned over him as he gasped in pain and pressed the blade against his throat. “Are we done here?”

  The teen nodded, his face grimacing, his eyes shut tight.

  “Good answer,” she said, slowly sliding the blade away along his neck, “And, you better really mean it because if you try anything, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

  Again, the boy nodded, remaining otherwise motionless, curled up in a ball on the cold pavement.

  “Good boy,” said Leslie as she rose to her feet and backed away. “Stay there until you can’t hear my car anymore. After that, I suggest you go home and have someone take you to the hospital because that’s one nasty hole you have throug
h your hand.”

  She walked back to her car, glancing over her shoulder a couple of times to make sure the boy was obeying her orders. He was. She slid in behind the wheel, closed and locked her door, fastened her seatbelt and fired up the engine. She put the car into gear and as she began to roll forward, she turned her head to look at him one last time and smiled. He hadn’t budged an inch.

  Chapter 16 – Thursday, January 20, 2011

  Mahmood was still dozing when a strange, intermittent buzzing sound got his attention. He opened his eyes and realized it was the Blackberry laying on the nightstand by his head which was vibrating. He reached for the phone, hoping he had not kept the caller waiting too long.

  “Hello,” he answered, trying to keep the sleep out of his voice.

  “We need to meet today,” JayQ announced. “There have been some changes and you and your friends will be directly involved in the plan.”

  “Really?” Mahmood exclaimed as he sat up in bed. “That is excellent news. What changes have there been?”

  “Be quiet, Mahmood,” JayQ ordered. “Someone’s listening.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” Mahmood apologized, lowering his voice.

  “Act and speak normally,” JayQ scolded. “When you must say something, think before talking. For now, just listen.”

  “Okay, I can do that,” Mahmood replied as normally as he could.

  JayQ sighed and continued. “You will go skiing this afternoon. The others can go as well, whatever seems most normal to your observers. It is probably a good idea if they do as it will give you an opportunity to speak to them after without having to leave the house again. I will meet you in the parking lot at two o’clock. Just you, not the others, as we want to be as inconspicuous as possible.”