Unredeemed

by J M Dolan

  “Interesting that it’s too early for the CBSA but not this guy, this — Volkov,” Sam motioned to the email, “he, on the other hand is on it before your caregiver scarcely failed to appear.” Sam sat back in consideration.

  “Tell you what, Jamee,” he offered. “I’ll make a couple of inquiries. I’d like to run this situation and the email by an old friend of mine first. Then go from there.” Sam rose from his chair and Jamee mirrored the action. They’d finished their coffees there was no reason for her to stay.

  “Sounds good to me, Sam. Anything you can do I’d sure appreciate the help. Keep that copy and please give me a call. I’ve left my contact information with your assistant.”

  She moved away from the table and Sam placed his hand on her elbow as he saw her to the door. He’d seen the expression of worry on Jamee’s face when she’d shown him the email. He could guess where some of that concern lay. “Have you shown the email to Abi yet?”

  “No, I don’t want to cause her any stress until I have something concrete,” Jamee admitted and paused to draw a deep breath, “There’ll probably be hell-to-pay over that — the not telling her right off part. After all she’s the big sister.”

  Sam smiled sympathetically. He had a notion about that hell-to-pay part too. It was called full disclosure and he was already feeling uncomfortable. He didn’t even know Jamee yet, but he could guess she wouldn’t like being intentionally left out of the loop. The death and identity of the woman in the yellow file came to mind. “Try not to worry,” he said. “I’ll be in touch very soon.”

  He closed the door behind her and returning to his desk picked up the phone. It only required the push of one button before the deep voice of his friend and mentor, Thomas Avery answered.

  “Hey Sam, what’s up?”

  “Thomas, are you familiar with the Odessa Koval file the RCMP sent over this morning?”

  “Sure, what about it?” Sam could hear the rustle of paper as Thomas dug around on a desk more often than not littered with files and documents. He cracked a grin. There was nothing Sam liked better than to cause a little pestering when it came to Thomas. He had the utmost respect for the man, but tidiness wasn’t his strong suit.

  “The RCMP report says immigration documents, specifically a visa inserted passport were found with the body, correct?” queried Sam.

  “Aye,” Thomas affirmed. “The paperwork says the woman is Odessa Koval. She’s here in Canada under the live-in caregiver program. I have someone checking with CBSA to find out who the employer is. Why?”

  “No need to wait,” said Sam. “I just had a visit from the employer’s sister, Jamee Blair. She’s brought me an interesting piece of the puzzle. It’s an email. I’ll send it right over.” Sam paused briefly thinking of his meeting with Jamee and of how to present the situation to Avery.

  “I’d love your take on this Thomas. Jamee says the CBSA was disinterested when she spoke with them this morning.”

  “Really? So, I’m guessing your instincts are poking at you. And it’s already Jamee, is it?” Thomas asked.

  “We have a family connection” said Sam. Trust Thomas to find something to needle him about in even the simplest conversation. “I’ll fill you in later.”

  Sam hung up the phone, and popping open the lid of the scanner, threw the email onto the glass. He thought about what Jamee said regarding CBSA’s reaction to the puzzling email. His probing mind married it to the information contained in the RCMP file. Something in his gut told him there was a connection between the two. The question was — what. Hell of a coincidence that his new case file dealt with the same woman hired by his old acquaintance, Jeff Swynia and his wife Abi Blair-Swynia.

  Sam scanned the document, attached it to an email for Thomas Avery, and hit the Send key. His thoughts shifted to his friend and career associate. Avery’s expertise lay in the lofty hierarchy of Public Safety Canada. Thomas was himself an immigrant to Canada. Arriving from the United Kingdom as a young man on a work visa, he had fallen in love with his adopted country, persevering to receive his permanent residency and then proudly his Canadian citizenship.

  Sam met Thomas through mutual government issues and they developed a working relationship that had at some point, morphed into a close friendship. Sam respected the integrity of the man. But at the same time, he was becoming ever more aware of the distain and willy-nilly attitude rampant in one of the agencies Thomas Avery monitored — the powerful CBSA.

  The CBSA was one of several agencies under the umbrella and direction of Public Safety Canada. Along with the RCMP and CSIS, it kept Canada safe from a range of risks that spanned natural disaster to crime and terrorism.

  Under Sam’s current project, illegal immigration and criminal activity in Canada, he was required to coordinate with all three agencies and that made Thomas Avery his go to guy. Sam pushed the email forward for easy access and quickly scanned through it again.

  From: Aleksey Volkov

  To: Abi Blair-Swynia

  Subject: investigation of illegal immigration

  Hello Mrs. Swynia,

  I would introduce myself. I am Aleksey Volkov, investigator from the Kiev Prosecutor’s Office, Ukraine. We are investigating regarding fraudulent visas and illegal immigration and came across documents particularly relating to Odessa Koval. Our investigation indicates that Odessa Koval provided fraudulent information on her papers. She has no experience caring for children, does not have any medical training, and had no intention of working as your caregiver. All phone conversations between you and Koval were set up. The main purpose of the fraudulent group we have uncovered is illegal entry to your country

  Mrs. Swynia, my main purpose in contacting you is to request your help in the investigation. It is imperative we locate Ms. Koval and expose this criminal scheme. It is in your best interests to assist us in this investigation.

  Sincerely,

  Aleksey Volkov

  Fraud Investigation Unit

  Kiev Prosecutor’s Office, Ukraine

  Sam’s concentration was broken by the piercing ring of his phone’s direct line. He punched the speaker button leaving his hands free to shuffle papers. Avery’s distinctive rolling baritone came through loud and clear.

  “Bloody hell,” said Thomas, “that’s some email.”

  “Yup,” Sam quipped, “it piqued my curiosity. Jamee says, she was supposed to collect Ms. Koval from the airport last night, but the woman didn’t show. When she met with CBSA this morning they were very casual and suggested she wait and see. Any thoughts?”

  Avery’s voice came through loud and clear.

  “Ay, old mucker, lax border officials springs to mind. Heard that story?” queried Thomas.

  “Shoot” said Sam.

  “Story is CBSA border guards, at a crossing in Manitoba, are under investigation after a celebrity’s friends who allegedly had criminal records and are therefore ineligible, were issued temporary resident permits to perform in Canada.

  “I’m guessing the press ran with that, big time,” said Sam.

  “You can believe it,” confirmed Thomas. “This kind of thing makes everyone look bad and won’t be tolerated. The only people we want working for us are those who can demonstrate integrity for the placement of public trust, every single day.”

  “And the fall-out?” queried Sam.

  “A professional standard internal investigation is underway,” revealed Thomas, “and last week, the CBSA issued a strongly-worded memo to remind staff that breaches of policy will not be tolerated. The memo specifically cited among other things, accepting gifts, hospitality and other benefits, abuse of authority and engaging in preferential treatment are reasons for dismissal.”

  “That case involved American citizens crossing into Canada,” said Sam, “a misjudgment absolutely, but Blair’s missing caregiver and her name in connection to an investigation into fraudulent visas, involves the Ukraine. I think there’s more going on here than just the good will of a couple of CBSA officer
s.”

  Sam allowed for a short pause as he considered the links from the RCMP file to Jamee’s missing care-giver and Avery’s story about a lax CBSA border crossing.

  “I’d be curious to learn what the RCMP thinks about Koval,” said Sam. “How is it that Blair’s live-in caregiver, supposedly on a flight from the Ukraine, ends up dead on Stephen Avenue hours before her scheduled arrival time?”

  “Good question. I’ll set up a meeting with you and the appropriate person. Likely the man already on the ground will get you the best info. I’ll see if I can side step the bureaucracy and contact the RCMP investigator assigned to the case,” Thomas spoke briskly. “Today soon enough?”

  “You know it,” responded Sam. The easy back and forth flow of dialogue mirroring their excellent teamwork. “In the meantime, I’ll see what I can find out about Aleksey Volkov. I need to get back to Jamee soon. I haven’t revealed to her that her missing caregiver was found dead this morning. It’s going to be a shock.”

  “Good luck with that, old bloke. You sound like you’re in a hurry to help the lady out Already on a first name basis, she must be a looker.” Thomas hit the disconnect button before Sam could voice the mild curse on the tip of his tongue.

  Sam let out the quiet expletive. He didn’t mind Tommy Boy’s good natured ribbing. His friends were always giving it to him about his bachelorhood and Jamee was indeed a looker — Sam couldn’t deny the fact.

  Jamee reminded him of ginger honey, warm and generous with an odd mix of sweet and spicy. She had an aura that inspired confidence and trust, a kindness and generosity of spirit.

  She’d been creative and shown good common sense in getting the email to him. There was more to Jamee than good looks. Sam had a strong feeling he ought to check into what kind of work, she’d been doing for his government.

  Chapter Four

  Jamee left Sam’s office full of determination. It appeared Sam had done well for himself. But then again, you would expect the special investigator for the Attorney General to have an impressive space. Some might say he’d been lucky, but Jamee’s Rule Number Two came to mind — luck looked an awful lot like hard work. Plus he had some chutzpa and Jamee liked that in a man.

  She had her own calls to make and some creative and talented internet searching to do. She would tap into her sleuthing experience — a formidable weapon. Over the years, Jamee had compiled an extensive network of contacts. It was an impressive list of the who’s who in the country. Ones, that worked in the background, not necessarily the ones getting the press. All of which had helped to earn her a solid reputation that she was a gal who got the job done.

  Supplementary to her well-developed list, her arsenal of talent included an uncanny ability to surf the internet for information. Jamee was a puzzler, a skill that resulted in the evolution of Rule Number Four: success in life is measured by our ability to solve problems. Jamee simply couldn’t resist problem solving.

  Originally she’d tried the mainstream method and sought the proper channels. Now it was time to pull a rabbit out of the hat and make a call to her source at the CBSA.

  As Jamee remembered it, the job of the CBSA was to control the movement of people and goods into and out of Canada. In recent years, changes had been made to strengthen the system. To that end, advance data on new arrivals was now a requirement.

  The premise was that better management at air and sea ports meant less risk to national security. Jamee speculated a deeper look at that advance data might just net results in solving the mystery of her missing caregiver. A good place to start would be to determine if the woman even entered the country. Tracking was in order.

  It puzzled her the email from Inspector Volkov said Odessa never intended to come to work for her family. In fact, everything about his email was an enigma. She planned to take the communication apart piece by piece until she found the answers to a whole lot of questions. She’d start with a call to her contact.

  Jamee had managed the four block walk to where she’d parked her car, but her feet weren’t happy about the high heels. Parking spots near Sam’s office building, or anywhere downtown for that matter, were at a premium. With relief she slid into the splashy red interior of the silver mustang and pulled her cell phone from her purse. Bringing up the contact list, Jamee scrolled down until she spotted the familiar name she’d linked to the CBSA entry. Pressing the hands-free mode she let the system dial. She could have asked Siri to do it, but she hated that electronic little bitch and her superior attitude.

  She was just turning into traffic when she heard the familiar voice. “Bonjour, André,” she answered back. There was genuine pleasure in her voice. “It’s Jamee Blair, how’s it shak’n?” She put a little back spin on the last word.

  “Jamesina, mon amour,” was the warm reply, “how wonderful to hear from you.”

  The deeply masculine voice was full of French-Canadian charm. It was hard to resist the appeal of the seductive accent and André had been born knowing it. With mock sorrow he said, “Ah oui, but once again, will you break my heart chérie. My guess is your call means you have some question for me, not an answer to my standing proposal?”

  “Aye André, you see right through me. But, if I was looking for a paramour you’d be eye-candy on my arm in a minute. Likely you’d have to run it by your wife first though since Colette’s a bestie of mine. Sad to say, the most you might hope for is a ménage á trois, but I very much doubt Colette will share.”

  “Ah, but I live for the possibility. Today though, how can I help,” asked André. There was less teasing now in his tone.

  “The live-in caregiver Abi hired wasn’t on the flight last night. I have been trying all day to reach either the woman herself or the agency Jeff hired through. I’d like to determine if she was on any of the flights coming out of Ukraine in the last two weeks. It’s possible, although not likely, I was given an erroneous date.”

  “Jamee, I comprehend you are cautious and suspicious by nature, but even for you, is this not a bit paranoid — or at least over reacting?” The sentence ended on a sigh. “It’s only been a day,” he added.

  Sometimes, André could make her feel like a child he was patting on the head with solicitous attention. It was one of his least endearing qualities. Jamee put off the smart-alecky remark that came to mind, in favour of patience.

  “Less, actually,” said Jamee, “but Abi received a rather bizarre email from the Kiev Prosecutor’s Office saying they’re investigating our caregiver for being in possession of a fraudulent visa. No point in sitting around counting grey hairs while waiting for answers. I’m jumping all over this.”

  “That is disconcerting, ma chérie,” agreed André. “Send me the information and I’ll see what I can do.”

  Jamee could hear the wheels turning in the deliberate drawing out of André’s words.

  “If nothing else, it’s unquestionably a bizarre coincidence,” he concluded.

  Yep, there was more to the man than a sexy accent and a charming manner.

  Jamee clicked off and punched the accelerator, grateful for reasonable traffic. She quickly cleared the city and was soon traveling north to Airdrie, then east onto Yankee Valley Boulevard. The horsepower of the Mustang ate the miles and before long she was off the township road and had traversed the long lane of her personal driveway. Back home, in the familiar surroundings of her farmhouse office, she set the coffee onto perk and prepared to dig in for a good couple hours of work.

  The cozy traditional farm house and quarter section had once belonged to her grandparents. This land had been in the Blair family since her father’s father homesteaded the quarter at the turn of the century. Luckily enough, Jamee had made a deal with one of the great nephews to buy it. The house was hers to do with as she wanted, and the pasture land she leased back to him at a very reasonable price.

  Maybe once Abi and the kids arrived she’d consider more animals. A couple of well trained horses would be nice, but for now it was just her and the do
g. She found herself looking forward to the move. Maybe she was getting tired of her own company. There was a harbinger of truth there.

  Jamee stepped into the comfort of her office and noticed the red light on the answering machine was blinking like Morse code with insistent persistence. One glance to the call display and she recognized André’s direct line.

  The three of them, André, Colette and Jamee had been musketeers all through college. A friendship that only grew richer with age. The kibitzing back and forth between Jamee and André was a standing joke. The truth was, André only ever had eyes for Colette. It was still love at first sight for them. A love, they considered enriched by fifteen years of marriage and four children. Their devotion to each other was about the only thing that kept Jamee believing in the idea of happily-ever-after. Not that her parents hadn’t been happy. The love her parents shared had spilled over into an idyllic childhood for her and Abi. They had been a great family until the car accident that had changed that. Abi was newly married at the time and she’d been in college. It was years now, but Jamee still missed them every single day.

  Jamee listened to the brief message on the machine then hit the redial and waited for André to answer.

  “Hey André, mercy me that was fast, lighting fast. What – the coppers after you?”

  “Touch of a button, chérie, just touch of a button,” said André for once humble. “I’ve pooled the passenger lists back over the last two weeks and will send them by fax once we’re off the phone. I am aware you do consulting for government all the time but I’d just as soon not have an electronic trail. A fax to your number wouldn’t seem unusual in an audit.”

  “Thanks, mo charaid, my friend,” Jamee’s voice was soft. The Gaelic phase displayed her affection. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”