Lloyd said nothing.
“So you wanted me to talk nicely about your new projects in Halifax and Calgary?”
“You’re only for the Halifax deal.”
Daniel frowned.
Lloyd continued, as if the revelation about Larch forced him to question other assumptions. “People know you. You’re on TV. They ask for your opinion every time there’s a big business story that affects the region. You know powerful people in government. But you’re not too close to them to be thought of as co-opted or corrupted.”
“And you have someone else lined up for the Calgary project?”
“Of course. And he’s been much less trouble than you.” He flicked a glance to the officers. “So I have my protection now?”
MacKinnon pushed away from the wall near the door. “We can certainly discuss the details at the station. You’ll have to come with me.”
Lloyd stood up and grabbed his jacket, fanning one neat stack of papers on his desk onto the floor. He walked out with MacKinnon.
Daniel grabbed Lloyd’s arm. Something sounded a bit too coincidental. “What’s the Calgary deal about, really?”
Lloyd glared at Daniel’s hand on his arm. “We develop the neighbourhood for the spin-off companies from the university. And sell it to the government.”
“At a substantial risk premium, no doubt. You’re waiting for the referendum to pass. Then a new and inexperienced Alberta government takes power. They’ll be desperate to buy, trying to make a big splash to show their new citizens a shiny new future. They’ll have no bargaining leverage. They’ll pay whatever you want.”
“Timing is everything, as they say.”
Daniel hissed at Lloyd’s pompous airs. “You’re a greedy and selfish bastard. When’s the sale?”
“Why do you care?”
“Humour me.”
“Next week.”
Daniel released his arm and watched Lloyd and MacKinnon walk down the hall and out of the business building.
Touesnard accompanied Daniel. “What was that about?”
“Don’t you find it odd that Alberta keeps coming up? Lloyd and Forrestal send a lot of money to some lawyer in Calgary. MacKinnon said the intercepted weapons were destined for a right-wing fringe group in Alberta. The founder of this group is now the leader of a referendum campaign that concludes in two days. Larch takes his orders from this leader. And now, Lloyd has been working on a property development project to be sold to the government in Alberta.”
Touesnard nodded.
“And there’s something special about the timing of the deal, too. Another coincidence. Right after the referendum. Do you believe in coincidences, Detective?”
“I wouldn’t be alive if I did.”
FIFTY-FIVE
AT THIRTY-ONE THOUSAND FEET over Saskatchewan, the ride was smooth. The Yes campaign’s Bombardier Global 5000 soared over the world, leaving everything behind as it flew swiftly forward. Into the future, Garth thought. With a strong tailwind, it would be a six-hour flight from Edmonton to Halifax. It was insulting that the premier didn’t trust him to finish the job. But he would finish it, and he would demonstrate how valuable he was to the new government-in-waiting. Direct, decisive action would make him the perfect defence minister. And after a respectful period, leader.
His official cellphone buzzed with a text message from Brewster.
Why does the RCMP want to talk to you?
No idea.
What did you do?
What did you tell them?
It better not affect the campaign.
I don’t know what you mean.
I told them you were flying out East.
Yes.
Don’t fuck it up.
Garth swore at the blue sky out the window. He tossed his phone onto the neighbouring seat. His other, non-official cellphone buzzed immediately. He grabbed it as if it were a weapon. Larch.
Waiting for target. Have leverage. Will advise when target terminated. Instructions?
Garth thought for a few moments. Decisive action. Direct. The answer was simple.
No loose ends. Do it now.
Five hours to landing and to some good news.
FIFTY-SIX
DANIEL FELT A WARM CONTENTMENT. He had finally dealt with Lloyd and his persistent hostility. While MacKinnon escorted Lloyd to the police station for booking and questioning, Touesnard drove Daniel back to the hotel room, in spite of his protests. He worried that Larch was closing in, and he didn’t want Daniel exposed. No question he would be safer at the hotel.
On the wall-mounted TV, CBC News reported the latest referendum polls. The gap between the Yes and No sides was shrinking, with the Yes side gaining momentum from the premier’s rousing promises. Daniel flicked the TV off, dialed, and listened to six rings on his cellphone before he hung up and tried again. He had sent several text and voice messages to Claire, saying he would be right on time for their dinner date.
But there was no reply from her.
He could easily walk the short distance to her apartment, but Larch was out there still. Claire should have answered. She would have texted if she had been recalled to duty. Claire should have responded by now. Why isn’t she answering?
He should go straight to Claire’s, only a few blocks away. But Touesnard had told him to stay put.
Daniel’s worry spiked. He grabbed his coat, slipping out of the hotel room and into the gathering evening gloom while Touesnard was in the bathroom. He ran a few minutes through the damp despair, squishing the grey slush on the sidewalk with every step. Rounding the corner onto Brunswick Street, he could see light leaking from what he assumed was her apartment on the second floor. She had given her address to him on an earlier text message. She was there. So why didn’t she answer?
His mind came up with several possible answers. She was in the shower and couldn’t hear the phone. She heard it but decided to not answer it. She was busy, cooking a nice meal with the radio turned up loud. No, that was supposed to be his job tonight. He struggled to come up with answers as he climbed the staircase along Citadel Hill. Halfway up, he could see through her apartment window on the other side of the street. It looked like she was there. A couple of lights had to be on. He saw a shadow move. And another one.
Wait.
Why two shadows?
He wasn’t expecting anyone else. Maybe she had a friend visiting. She hadn’t mentioned anyone, though. He stopped and looked at the ground in a flash of guilt; he was spying on her. Would this be his new normal for relationships after his failed marriage to Vanessa? Was he genuinely concerned for her well-being, or merely petty, jealous, and insecure? How could he see who was there without revealing himself? He rushed over and pushed the door buzzer for her apartment in the lobby. No answer. He pushed again. Again, no response. He ran outside to discover that the blinds had been closed so he could no longer see inside the apartment.
His mind gravitated toward the worst-case scenario.
He approached the main entrance, found the buzzer panel, double-checked her apartment number on the card he pulled from his pocket, and pushed the right button. No reply. He walked across the street to get a better view.
Touesnard appeared out of the darkness, slightly out of breath. “Don’t do that again.” He scowled between puffs.
Daniel pointed at the second floor window. “Remember I have a date tonight? I’m supposed to be there soon. Something’s wrong.”
“Aren’t you overreacting?”
Daniel shot him a look. “I’ve called her several times, but she hasn’t answered. I saw her through the window. And someone else is there, too. She didn’t answer when I buzzed her apartment. I don’t like it.”
“I don’t see anything.”
Movement behind the blinds was reduced to a single blob pacing to the left then to the right. “The curtains are closed now. I can’t see the window, and Claire’s not answering her phone or the door buzzer.”
Touesnard rubbed his beard. “I
t’s probably nothing, but I don’t want you sneaking out again. Let’s settle this now.” He dialed a number on his cellphone. “Hang on.”
Daniel could hear MacKinnon’s tinny voice from the phone. “Daniel, Professor Fanshawe said that Larch asked a lot of questions about you. He’s been studying you, following you, looking for weaknesses, knows about your interest in Ms. Marcoux. You might be onto something. MacKinnon’s on his way.”
Daniel sat on a bench outside the main entrance, his phone quiet in his hand, while Touesnard kept his focus on the apartment above. A life Daniel might be beginning to care about was on the line.
A man emerged from a darkened car. He carried an oversized bag in each hand and ignored the scattering of tourists admiring the clock tower at the Halifax Citadel. Unlike the group of fifty or so sightseers from a dozen countries, he didn’t much care that King Edward VII commissioned the clock when he was but an earl. He didn’t marvel at the colourful flags flapping in the stiff ocean breeze. Instead, he turned his gaze to the apartment building across the street. While the group continued their tour around the hill, the man hurried across the street and stopped at the entrance to the Maritime Foundry Apartments.
Daniel was pacing at the front door and heaved a sigh of relief as MacKinnon handed one of the bags to Touesnard, who continued to watch the window above. MacKinnon pulled out a key. They silently stepped into the vestibule. Opening the inner door, they marched straight into the elevator, and MacKinnon pushed the button for the second floor. MacKinnon and Touesnard dropped their bags and the deep bass thud betrayed contents that were much heavier than the bags suggested.
In apartment 211, Larch sent a text and then tossed his cellphone onto the bed beside his captive. He moved his bag to the floor and walked to the end of the bed so he could see her in one clear view. She was bound with duct tape around the hands and feet, and her mouth was now taped shut. A stream of coagulated blood traced a wavy line down the right side of her head, matting her blond hair.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience. You’re not my target. I’m waiting for Mr. Ritter. I know that he’ll be here soon. I believe you agreed to meet him for dinner.” He patted a small box with wires attached to a short antenna.
Claire shook and squirmed on the bed. How does he know that?
He took two steps, picked up his bag, opened it, and pulled out his pistol and the silencer. He spoke to the gun. “Miss Marcoux. I need you to understand a few things first. I’m a professional. I mean you no ill will, personally. This is just business.”
She had ceased squirming by the time he finished twisting the suppressor onto the pistol barrel.
In the elevator, MacKinnon flipped the emergency stop switch before they had reached the second floor, freezing the door closed, and the men opened their gym bags. Touesnard reached into his and removed a jet-black SIG Sauer pistol that he stuffed into his holster. He pulled out a Kevlar vest and slipped it over his shoulders.
MacKinnon slid his vest over his head and secured the Velcro straps around his waist. He turned to face Daniel. “Remember, stay near the elevator. There is probably an innocent explanation, but after what Professor Fanshawe explained, we should just check it out. Maybe nothing will happen, but maybe something will. The best way you can help us is to stay out of the way.” He put his right hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “I don’t care what you did in China. We know what we’re doing.”
Daniel nodded, but it wasn’t the tension about the situation they were about to face that caused his stomach to churn. Finding himself once again in the orbit of guns brought memories of his time in China flooding back. Another piece of his old world had crept back, bringing with it the potential for terrible violence. For a moment, he was in another elevator with Vanessa, shortly after he revealed his shadow career as a trade attaché for the intelligence agency.
“You had a gun?” Vanessa had asked with a frisson of fear.
“They trained me. I needed to protect myself.”
“So it was like the driving training, just part of the job?”
“No, it was different. When you carry a gun, you can’t just put it in a drawer at night and forget about it. You’re never not thinking about it.”
Waves of confusion and worry spread across her face. “Just part of your work uniform, then?”
“A jacket is a part of a uniform, but a gun is a perpetual threat. You’re always aware of its terrible power to destroy.” He sighed. “I hated carrying it around. Even if I never used it.”
She looked deeper into his eyes and saw something disturbing staring back. “But you did use it, didn’t you?”
Daniel stared at the floor and sighed at the images, the faces, the carnage that spun in his head. “You have no idea how relieved I felt when I returned it.”
Now, in the elevator with two cops, the guns had come smiling back, as if waving to him and welcoming an old friend. He felt trapped in someone else’s cycle of violence once more.
Daniel saw MacKinnon and Touesnard flip thin fabric bibs with the word “POLICE” on the front and back of their black Kevlar vests. They stuffed radio earpieces in their right ears. After a quick adjustment, MacKinnon said, “Base, we’re about to approach the residence at 1651 Brunswick, apartment 211.” They each pulled back the slides of their SIGs and holstered them.
Daniel tapped his foot on the floor. Hurry! The addictive adrenalin rush returned.
He could barely make out the tinny voice leaking from MacKinnon’s earpiece. “Base. Acknowledged.”
“Copy.”
Touesnard flipped the switch on the wall panel, the elevator lurched upward, stopped a short moment later, and the doors burst open. He walked first, the laser from his SIG pointing straight ahead, pointing left, then right, then painting a jiggling red dot on the door to apartment 211. They crouched at opposite sides of the door and listened to a silence from within the apartment.
“Whoa!” said a startled voice down the hall near the elevator. Both men swung their weapons toward it. A rotund man in his midtwenties wearing an olive M*A*S*H T-shirt dusted with orange Cheezie stains, black shorts, and flip-flops stood holding a small green garbage bag in his right hand. His mouth froze open at the sight of two armed police officers in his hallway.
MacKinnon ran up to him and motioned “Shhh” with his index finger to his mouth. “Get out of here, buddy,” he whispered. “Police operation.” The man didn’t respond for a moment, body paralyzed with surprise, and then he slowly nodded.
“Can I drop off my garbage in the chute?” He motioned to the small door in the far wall.
“No.”
The man scurried back to his apartment, MacKinnon observing him while Touesnard kept watch at Claire’s apartment door. The man locked his own door with an audible click.
Daniel wanted to join the two cops, but he stood against the wall beside the elevator. He then flicked his gaze back to MacKinnon. No sound. Touesnard stood directly in front of the door. He gave Daniel and MacKinnon a look. Should we buzz and identify ourselves?
Touesnard moved beside the door, hugging the wall, and knocked once, twice, three times.
No sound from within apartment 211.
He knocked again. “Hello, Ms. Marcoux?” He looked at MacKinnon, who twirled his fingers over and under each other, indicating that he should keep talking. “Are you there?”
Inside, Larch pivoted his head to face down the hall toward the door. He saw flickering shadows under it.
“You are indeed fortunate,” he whispered to Claire.
Larch walked with deadly purpose to the door, gripping his pistol tight, and looked through the peephole.
From the other side of the door, Touesnard glanced back again, and got the same reaction from his colleague. “It’s Frank from two …” — he looked down the hall, past MacKinnon, at the number on the door — “fourteen.” He moved directly in front of the door, faced it, put his hands behind his back to hide what he held, and smiled. Daniel’s training warned tha
t the killer could be on the other side and that such a flimsy wooden door wouldn’t stop any bullets. Touesnard would know this, too. He’s a very brave man, Daniel thought.
Larch peered through the peephole to see a distorted image of a man, fortyish, sporting a trimmed beard around a broad smile, evidently eager to see his attractive neighbour.
It’s not Ritter. The situation just got a lot more com-plicated.
Touesnard continued his high-stakes acting. “Claire, are you angry at me? I’m sorry for what I said to you before. I’d like to apologize.” He tried to look penitent by looking at his shoes, careful to keep his hands out of view. He saw a shifting shadow through the crack between the door and the floor. Someone was watching on the other side of the door.
Larch’s brain whirred through possible ways of getting rid of this annoying neighbour who posed a direct threat to his ability to complete his mission. He had realized the first part of his plan; since he had difficulty in following Ritter with the constant police shadow, he anticipated where the target would go. Waiting at the apparent girlfriend’s place, Larch would be able to finally catch Ritter when he appeared for dinner. But this bothersome neighbour threatened to expose his trap. Miss Marcoux would never be allowed to answer. He would wait it out until the neighbour gave up. He peered out again at the visitor. Good, the man was leaving —
Touesnard saw the shadow under the door move again. He turned away from the door, looked at MacKinnon, nodded slightly, backed up against the wall opposite the door, accelerated over two steps, extended his right boot, and smashed the door with a bass-heavy whomp. The door splintered at the deadbolt and whipped around on its hinges.
They heard the low thump of a person hitting the floor and a hiss as the air pressure equalized between the room and the hallway. The air felt stale and metallic with fear.
True Patriots Page 21
