“That is not a problem,” reassured Mahmood. “I will see you then. Hello? Hello?”
* * * *
Chris had returned to Knowlton in time for dinner the previous day and, as expected, some quality time in the company of Sandy followed by a good night of sleep had done his morale a world of good. In addition, though there had been no activity of interest to date with the four young men in Sutton, both he and Jonathan had been concerned about staying away for too long.
As he turned off the shower and began towelling off, Sandy entered the bathroom with a phone in hand.
“Jonathan on the line for you, sweetheart,” she said then winked and smiled. “Nice suit, by the way,” she added before leaving.
“Thanks,” Chris laughed as he turned on the speakerphone. “Morning, Jonathan. How’re you doing?”
“Not great yet, but better,” Jon admitted. “Spending the night at home with Josée did me good. No wonder I married that woman.”
“I know what you mean, my friend,” said Chris. “What’s up?”
“Our buddy, Mahmood, just got a call from someone and based on what we’ve got, he’s meeting that someone at some point. We just don’t know where or when.”
“I did well to head on back here, although it could be bullshit just to lead us on,” Chris said. “After all, they do know they’re bugged. Regardless, I’ll be working on getting into the laptop again today so I’ll be around. Let me know of any developments and I’ll do whatever’s needed on this end.”
“I’ll definitely keep you posted,” Jon confirmed. “Just wanted to give you a heads up. Good luck with the computer.”
“No worries,” Chris grinned. “I’ll crack the bastard.”
* * * *
“We appreciate you seeing us as quickly as you did,” said Harris as they sat in the operations director’s office at the P.W. Enright Tobacco Company.
“We run a tight ship with zero tolerance for any illegal activity,” replied Michel Paradis, settling in behind his desk. “You call us to inform us our name, our actual packaging, might be used in some type of criminal business, you can expect full and immediate cooperation.”
“Glad to here it,” said Joanne Nelson. “Particularly with the case we’re working on where time is of the essence.”
“Right,” Paradis nodded, “So, let’s get to it. Just to recap what I told you yesterday on the phone. Everything to do with our industry is highly controlled, right down to the printing of cigarette packs and carton wrappers. Ours is a product of vice so there’s too much room for contraband, cigarette counterfeiting and so on. The print suppliers we use treat the products they print for us with the same security as lottery tickets, share certificates and the like. Finished stock is kept in vaults, inventory controls are high and criminal record checks are performed for all personnel involved from warehouse staff to press operators to management. The same holds true here.”
“That’s all clear,” Tim confirmed, “And you’re comfortable that any unauthorized personnel couldn’t be in a position to steal carton wrappers, even in a small quantity?”
“Nothing is impossible,” said Paradis, “But in my opinion, it would be highly unlikely. Anyone not authorized wouldn’t have the required card keys to access our stockrooms and anyhow, one can’t visit a stockroom alone. Two authorized card keys are required.”
“So, if carton wrappers were stolen, you believe it would be by someone with authorized access to the stockrooms?” Joanne asked for clarification.
“Most likely,” Paradis agreed. “Even a small quantity taken, say from one of our wrapping machines, would be quickly noticed as missing during a production run. Our inventory controls are that good. However, someone with access to the stockroom might take the same small quantity from a lot in storage and, though the inventory would still come out short, it might only be discovered some days later when that lot was brought into production.”
“So, in summary,” said Harris, “We should be looking at people with authorized access first.”
“That’s what I’d suggest,” Paradis nodded as he picked up a computer printout lying on his desk. “I took the liberty of printing a list of those employees for you. We’re highly automated so there aren’t that many. I’ve reserved a meeting room in case you wish to interview them.”
“Excellent, thank you,” said Joanne.
“I also asked our human resources department to print up the profile sheets for these employees,” Paradis added, tapping on a file folder. “I’ll ask you not to leave with them without proper authorization but I thought they might be helpful as a starting point before interviewing any employees.”
“This is great,” Tim grinned. “You’re making this so much easier than some places we have to deal with.”
“Not a problem. I’m happy to help,” Paradis replied as he pulled three stacks of sheets attached with paper clips from the folder. “This group is the day shift and nobody’s absent today so obviously, you’ll start with them. This second group are people on the evening shift which starts at four. Everyone is scheduled to be here so unless someone calls in sick, you could meet with them all today. These last four do the night shift starting at midnight. They do both production runs and the daily machinery cleaning. Paper creates dust and we package a lot of cigarettes.”
“Not everyone has quit smoking yet?” Tim asked with a smile.
“No, some of us haven’t,” Paradis laughed as he tapped the cigarette pack in his shirt pocket. “Anyhow, to meet these guys, you might want to come back in the morning, maybe around six. They should be here, though this one, Omar Kalpar, didn’t show up for his last shift or even call, which surprises me cuz he’s generally very reliable. That’s what I have for you for now. Any other questions?”
“No, I think you’ve covered everything for now,” said Nelson as they rose from their seats.
“Good stuff,” Paradis replied. “Come on. I’ll show you to that meeting room so you can review the profiles and when you’re ready, I’ll go get your first subject.”
* * * *
‘Pics’ Morrison had earned his nickname, and wore it with pride, because of his love for anything having to do with photography. Whether he was dealing with a bad shot taken with a cheap disposable camera, a professional photo taken with the latest high-end digital apparatus or anywhere in between, Pics could work magic with any image.
Employed with the Discreet Activities’ Surveillance & Technology Centre, one of Pics’ many tasks over the last week had been to somehow enhance the photo of the dirty license plate from the Sentra which the unknown visitor had used to get to the cottage in Sutton. Various attempts had failed to date but Pics was a determined fellow and had been at it since arriving at work that morning. By working with various levels of brightness and pixilation, he had now identified what he believed to be the slightest of shadows created by the embossed letters and numbers under the dirt which covered the plate. He made some adjustments, clicking the mouse with mounting excitement as increasingly concrete forms began to appear on the computer screen.
“Yes,” he exclaimed under his breath as he spun to another computer and logged into the province’s motor vehicle registration database to find the ownership record.
Grinning from ear to ear, he reached for the phone. He had no doubts that Jonathan Addley would be rather pleased.
* * * *
“Holy crap, Joanne,” Tim suddenly exclaimed.
They were seated in the meeting room reviewing the employee profiles which Paradis had provided, each of which contained a photo of the employee concerned.
“What is it?” Nelson asked
He slid the document he had before him across the table to her and stabbed a finger on the photo. “I can’t swear it, but this looks a lot like the guy I took off after yesterday morning at Mohsin’s apartment.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, studying the photo. “He had already turned and was heading away from us when you pointed him out.
”
“He was coming towards us when I first saw him,” Harris replied, “I’m not sure it’s him but it definitely looks like him. Okay, the guy yesterday had that toque on but he had the same kind of bushy beard as this guy.”
Nelson scanned the employee list Paradis had given them. “Tim, Omar Kalpar is also the one who didn’t show up for his shift last night.”
“That’s too much coincidence for my taste,” Tim stated as he pulled out his phone. “Dave is going to love us, Jojo.”
* * * *
“What are your plans today?” Mahmood asked the others as he joined them in the dining room.
“I must study,” Fahad replied. “I am falling behind on my reading because we are skiing most days and drinking most nights. If my father saw how we are spending our time, he would have me return home and beat me then send me to work in one of his plants.”
“What is the difference, Fahad?” Nasir teased. “That is where you will end up working anyhow.”
“Perhaps,” Fahad grinned, “But if I fail my classes, I will be carrying bales of fabric instead of managing a plant.”
“I must submit a twenty-five page economics paper by next Wednesday,” Saad said, “And I have not even selected my subject yet, much less started my research. I too will be doing schoolwork today.”
“I must admit that I agree with our friends,” said Nasir. “None of us have been giving our school work the attention it deserves.”
“I see,” Mahmood replied, somewhat stiffly. “I will study this morning but must go skiing this afternoon. I was hoping you all would join me.”
“What do you mean, you ‘must’ go skiing?” asked Fahad. “What is the obligation?”
“There is no obligation,” Mahmood snapped. “I simply enjoy skiing and wish to take advantage of our being here while I can. I think you should do the same.”
“We have skied most days since we arrived here,” Fahad argued, “And we should really be back at school. Not only is this skiing affecting my studies, it is also becoming an expensive pastime as is our alcohol purchases. My father will start questioning my spending if I am not careful.”
“Fine,” said Mahmood as he stormed up the stairs towards his room. “I am going skiing this afternoon and if none of you wish to accompany me, I will go by myself.”
“What is his problem?” asked Fahad after the door to Mahmood’s room slammed shut upstairs.
“I don’t know,” Nasir replied, “But I think he will tell us this afternoon if we go skiing with him.”
“But I have too much work to do,” Fahad insisted, growing angry. “Why must I drop everything simply to please King Mahmood?”
“I have a feeling you will be happy you did this time,” Nasir whispered. “Now, let us stop this discussion and start our school work. We have several hours before going off to ski.”
* * * *
No sooner had Jonathan hung up the phone following his conversation with Pics Morrison that it rang again, the caller this time being Dave McCall.
“Morning, Jonathan. How’s it going?”
“Better this morning, Dave. Thanks,” said Jon. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” the captain replied, “And I believe you’ll be even better once you know what I’m calling about.”
“I’m all for that,” Addley smiled. “Go for it.”
“I’d mentioned that Tim was following up with those cigarette carton wrappers we found at Rahija’s apartment,” said Dave. “He called the tobacco company yesterday and spoke with the operations director. The guy turned out to be very cooperative and Tim and Joanne were there first thing this morning to meet with him. He supplied them with information on employees who would have access to these wrappers. While looking through some employee profiles, Tim recognized one photo which he thinks is the same guy he chased yesterday morning when he found Rahija’s place.”
“Are you serious?” asked Jonathan, his earlier grin from speaking to Morrison growing yet wider.
“Tim isn’t a hundred percent sure but he did get a decent look at the guy when he was heading towards him. Throw in the wrappers from Enright Tobacco and the fact this Omar Kalpar was a ‘no show, no call’ for his last shift and it all starts seeming a bit too weird in my book.”
“This is very good, Dave,” said Jon. “This could be the kind of break we were looking for. Where are you going with it?”
“I’m calling you,” McCall replied. “I was serious when I said I might bend a few rules. If this guy has anything to do with the terrorist case you’re working on, and most likely Cat and Jeff’s murder, you can run with it. If you need any help, let me know and we’ll be there.”
“I appreciate this, Dave. Why don’t you give me the guy’s address? I’ll get over there with Leslie to have a quiet look around.”
“Tim took a pic of the guy’s employee profile sheet with his phone and emailed it to me,” Dave replied. “You’ll have everything you need, even Omar’s photo. I’m forwarding it to you now. Anything else I can do for you?”
“In fact there is,” said Addley. “One of my guys managed to pull a license plate number from a surveillance photo taken at the cottage in Sutton. It’s from the Sentra used by the mystery visitor who dropped in to see Buzdar ten days ago. I was wondering if you could have someone look into it.”
“Sure,” McCall agreed. “Give me what you’ve got.”
“Plate number is 425-DSS,” Jon recited. “2001 Nissan Sentra, registered to Anna Ladouceur, 791 Godin Street in Verdun.”
“Got it,” Dave confirmed. “What are you looking for?”
“I’d like to know who else has driven that car,” Addley replied. “I just don’t want to alert who else that might be.”
“Tim and Joanne are still at Enright Tobacco, waiting for my call,” said the captain. “That’s pretty much in the same area. Why don’t I send them over, have them pretend they’re looking for a hit and run vehicle with a similar plate, that kind of thing.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jonathan agreed, “As always, it’s a pleasure doing business with you, Captain.”
“The feeling’s mutual, sir,” said Dave. “Keep me posted and be careful out there.”
Jonathan took a deep breath then replied, “More than ever, my friend.”
* * * *
Sandy entered the den, hugging her husband from behind as she asked, “Any progress?”
“Nothing,” he replied with a shake of the head. “There’s some serious protection on this computer. It reminds me of some hacking tests I’ve done with big corporate or government systems. There’s just no getting in there.”
“You’ve had it for less than twenty-four hours, sweetheart,” she encouraged. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“I had it connected to my computer running various algorithm deciphering applications all night,” Chris countered. “Didn’t find the slightest glitch or crack.”
“Maybe it is a big corporation or government computer,” Sandy shrugged and smiled. “All I know is if anyone can break in, it’s you and not me. I’m heading for the gallery for the afternoon. Will I have the pleasure of your company for dinner?”
“I do believe you will, my dear,” he answered, standing to give her a proper hug and kiss goodbye. “I may be tailing one of the Sutton boys this afternoon but I’m waiting for more definite info from Jon.”
At that moment, the phone rang and, after glancing at the call display, Sandy grinned.
“Speak of the devil,” she said, waving goodbye to her husband as he answered the phone.
“Hey, Jonathan. What’s up?”
He listened as Jonathan brought him up to speed with the morning’s promising developments, getting the same positive gut feeling he’d had so many times over the years when they got closer to their prey.
“This is sounding damned good,” he said once Jonathan had finished. “You might want to get one of Nick’s bomb techs to go with you and Leslie. We don’t want anythi
ng else going wrong.”
“Not a bad idea,” Jonathan agreed. “And I should have thought of that myself. Last thing I have for you is about Mahmood. He’s apparently going skiing after lunch.”
“I think I’ll head over to try to get a closer view,” Chris replied. “I’m getting nowhere with the laptop so I’m going to let my computer work on it for a while.”
“Heavy-duty encryption?” Jon asked.
“Heavy-duty everything,” Chris corrected. “I haven’t cracked a password yet, can’t read the drive, nothing.”
“Sounds like the protection level we have on our equipment,” suggested Jonathan.
“I was telling Sandy something to that effect a minute ago,” said Chris. “It’s something to think about. I’ll keep on trying but I’m making no promises.”
“Do your best, buddy, like usual. I’ll give you a shout once we’re done with our little afternoon expedition. Be careful out there.”
“I’m going to watch people ski and chat so don’t worry. You may be going somewhere loaded with C-4 and who knows what else so, you be careful.”
“Touché,” Jonathan chuckled.
* * * *
“She may not be home,” said Joanne as Tim parked on Godin Street near Anna Ladouceur’s address.
“You’re such a pessimist,” Harris grinned, cutting the ignition. “Two great leads have popped up almost simultaneously in the last hour or two. We’re on a roll.”
“I’m just saying she could be working,” Nelson laughed. “A lot of people do that during the day.”
“And others work evenings or nights or not at all,” Tim replied. “She’ll be home. I bet you.”
“Lunch?” Joanne challenged as they climbed the stairs to the door of Ladouceur’s apartment.
Discreet Activities Page 14
