by J M Dolan
“Or there’s the criminal element I’m investigating,” said Sam, picking up on the theme. “One that has become all too common in Canada. Many women are victims of the sex trade and in some cases, human trafficking. To my mind, even one victim is one too many.”
“Good point.” Jamee offered support for Sam’s premise. “There are lots of sharks out there on the internet. It’s possible this fraudulent agency could be involved somehow in human trafficking.”
“Maybe Odessa, was never meant to be here as a live-in-caregiver,” Sam speculated. “For whatever reason, she approached them to help her find work in Canada, or more likely she was recruited. Most temporary foreign workers, who are coerced, don’t have money. The fact they can’t pay is one way traffickers control their victims. Debt piles up to levels the worker can never pay back, so they’re unable to escape the control of their traffickers. Many are forced into prostitution and drug use. Foreign workers may come here for a better opportunity” continued Sam, “but that doesn’t mean all find it.”
Thomas had been listening patiently, his hand methodically stroking the dog’s head. “I can never understand why women, and sometimes men, are so taken in by this. Why doesn’t the world care about what’s happening to these human trafficked victims?”
“Rule Number Nine,” replied Jamee, “people don’t want the truth, they want a story and in these cases, a fairy book ending. It’s easier to close a blind eye than to change humanity.”
“Bloody hell, we can’t even protect our own,” said Thomas. “Last week, two men were charged after police responded to an eighteen-year-old woman’s request for help. The woman was forced to have sex and was being held against her will. She was a Canadian citizen and so were both the men. They’ve been charged with Trafficking in Persons, Section 279.01 of the Criminal Code. The woman and one of the men were from Alberta. The second man was from Montréal.”
“Scum of the earth if you ask me,” said Sam. “Do you think this criminality ties in with Odessa and what may have happened to her?”
Jamee pitched in, again with a direct question to Inspector Volkov. “Inspector, what made you suspect foul play? You said Odessa’s father has ties to a very important man in your country. That would make me think, she would have had money. What happened to Odessa rarely happens to someone with money?”
“Jamee has a good point,” said Sam. “This whole situation is very odd. There must be more going on here.”
“I’ll be honest,” continued Jamee. “I was surprised by the extent of investigation, being taken on by the Prosecutor’s Office in Kiev. A personal visit seems somewhat excessive.”
She realized she was poking the bear, but then again, you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. Jamee wanted answers. Volkov glared at her in indignation. She could practically see his hackles rising.
“Ms. Blair, Inspector Craig and Mr. Avery are aware that I am not in favour of this working relationship.” Volkov’s words were stilted and brisk. “I would like you to know up front that I think there are too many people involved — you for instance.”
He ground out his next words. “You are not trained as an investigator or a police official and the fact you are female, is further reason to doubt your usefulness. It has been my experience, that members of your gender are prone to hysterics and emotional judgments. I do not consider your role here to be of any value in this investigation.” His face was flush with anger.
“Ah then,” said Jamee, her brows shot up in mock surprise. “I’ll make a quick mental note to quit asking questions beyond my mental ken.”
“You’re trying to make me look like an idiot,” growled Volkov, his dander up.
“Not much challenge there,” said Jamee, her voice deadly quiet.
Volkov pushed his chair back and stood abruptly. Sam was on his feet in an instant, as was Tess, a low growl in her throat. The air was charged as the men locked eyes.
Sam kept his voice low and steady, “Despite, your lack of confidence and unveiled hostility, I can assure you Ms. Blair is a top-notch investigator and integral to this team. If we need to cut someone from the team, it won’t be Ms. Blair.” There was a lethally sharp edge to his words.
“She has proven her worth on numerous occasions,” added Avery. He was sitting back in his chair watching the show. He reasoned Sam could look after himself and the man seemed eager to defend the damsel. “You can put your horns away,” he said to Volkov.
“I’ll remind you,” murmured Jamee, pinning Volkov with her gaze, “you contacted me.”
“Technically, I contacted your sister, an invalid. A woman, who claims to have a disease so debilitating she requires the full-time service of a caregiver.”
“So what did you expect,” challenged Jamee, “a weak and helpless woman?”
“What I expect is for a woman to know her place,” said Volkov, “to show proper respect and subservience.” His tone spoke volumes, conceit and distain in every word. He sent Jamee a challenging look, chin raised, eyes gazing down the bridge of his nose.
“So in other words, I’m going to need to dumb it down, if I’m going to meet your expectations,” Jamee growled.
Sam and Thomas exchanged a smile. Jamee was in rare form.
Volkov sent her a chilling look, malevolence radiated from every pore. “If your sister is anything like you, it is no wonder she has been left to fend for herself. Her husband likely grew tired of the burden she placed on him.”
Jamee now rose to her feet as well and moved towards the back door, grace and dignity in her every step. What she thought was, “eat dirt and die”. What she said was, “With some men when you strip away civility, this is what it comes to — a caveman type mentality. Good comrade, even Canadian politeness has limits of endurance. I’m afraid you’ve reached mine.”
They were all standing now. The air was static with tension and emotion, Volkov arrogant and angry, Jamee’s temper snapping at the insult, Sam poised to protect and defend. Civility was indeed a slipping mask as the adrenaline pumped.
“We’re all done here,” cut in Sam, his eyes hard and fierce, his focus still on Volkov. “Jamee, my apologies for our foreign guest’s rudeness and hostility, perhaps we should continue our review tomorrow.”
“In total agreement,” said Thomas as he nudged Volkov towards the door. The time for amusement was over. “You need to watch your mouth, sunshine.” He’d moved as a precaution between the two men hoping to avoid a diplomatic incident.
It was clear Volkov had ruffled more than a few feathers, and understandably so thought Sam, sanctimonious prick. He hoped he and Thomas would be forgiven soon – himself at least. He didn’t want Jamee upset with him and Volkov had been a complete bastard. He wasn’t sure how they would proceed as a team.
* * *
“What a jerk,” said Jamee to Tess as she closed the door behind the men. “What’s his problem anyway? Oh, I know he hates women, but talk about burning your bridges. I think he’s coo coo.” The dog looked up at her with soulful eyes and then as though in agreement, gave out a happy bark.
Jamee finished the cleanup and dumped the cooling water from the kettle. She looked longingly at the plate of cookies, but in the end returned them to their container and instead, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. Tess danced about in hopeful joy. The bottle of water usually signalled the chance for a run.
Taking the young Springer out was one of Jamee’s greatest pleasures. She loved to walk the coulee while the dog explored every nook and cranny. The breed wasn’t named Springer for nothing. It wasn’t uncommon to see Tess spring, with all fours straight up into the air, like some circus acrobat.
Jamee jogged while Tess kept her nose going, constantly sniffing at all the wonderful smells in eternal hope of flushing some kind of game. The run had got Jamee to thinking, which had been the primary purpose. She’d talk things over with her sister, but it seemed that a few days in the city might be called for.
While she’d
watched the dog cavort amongst the hummocks, the thought struck her that it might prove beneficial to check Abi’s answering machine for messages. Odessa may have tried to call when she first arrived in Calgary, but by then Abi would have left for her move to the farm. With luck, there might be a message that could shed some light on the woman’s death. In Jamee’s opinion it was worth a look.
Anyway, it was time to check on the house. She was officially house-sitting until it was sold. Jamee thought about taking the dog with her but the kids adored Tess and she hated to cheat the dog of their company.
Chapter Twelve
The drive back to the city was accomplished in taciturn silence. Each man kept his thoughts to himself. That was just fine with Sam. He was glad the challenge of driving in heavy traffic diverted his attention from Volkov. Things had really gone off the rails. The guy had a warped sense of fair play. It might be cultural differences, but that didn’t make it any easier to excuse Volkov’s attitude toward women. The fact he’d taken the opportunity at their team meeting to spout his bigotry rankled.
All things considered, Jamee had taken it pretty well. He could just imagine her under a full head of steam. She was a spitfire — with a kick ass attitude when riled. The picture of it brought a twitch of a smile to the corner of his mouth and served to lighten his mood. The band of temper that had stayed with him since the ugly incident at the farm, eased slightly.
Anger minimized, he still stewed over the nasty turn the meeting had taken. Thomas kept glancing in his direction and Sam was tired of being scanned for his reaction.
“Sam,” said Thomas, “drop Inspector Volkov first. It’s been a long day.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. He really didn’t appreciate the concern.
“That seems unnecessary. Your car’s at the airport and Volkov’s downtown.”
There was quiet in the car. He was aware Thomas was hoping he would keep a lid on his emotions. There’d be a better chance of that if Volkov kept his mouth shut.
Sam pulled up beside the parked car and Thomas got out.
“Inspector Volkov, Aleksey, we’ll start again tomorrow. Hopefully things will be more to your satisfaction.” Avery’s tone was cordial, a not entirely subtle message to Sam. Volkov stared straight ahead and refused to acknowledge him. With a brief shrug of shoulders, Thomas reminded Sam they had a court booked for next week and he was looking forward to whipping his ass. Sam flipped him the bird and a big smile. Thomas smiled back, took one last glance at the sullen Volkov and shook his head.
“Have fun kids.” he threw it over his shoulder and turned to walk to his car. Another warning, thought Sam, where’s his confidence.
The undiluted tension remained palatable for the remainder of the trip. Sam navigated traffic then slowed as he pulled up to the front of the hotel.
“You can drive around to the parking area at the back,” muttered Volkov. He didn’t bother to turn his head, but stared out the side window.
“Ah, he speaks,” observed Sam. “You know you owe the lady an apology.”
Volkov turned then, his mouth a thin drawn line. “What’s that phrase you English use?” he sneered. “It will be a bitter day in hell?” He bit off the words.
Sam held onto his temper, all the muscles in his throat convulsing. “You might say that pal, but it’ll be colder than a witch’s tit before you’re off the hook. This is something you’re going to have to make right,” his voice was gravel, “I repeat, you owe the lady an apology.” Sam pulled into the parking lot and turned off the vehicle. He swivelled to face Volkov.
“Look, make no mistake we’re working this case, with or without you.” Sam’s expression was grim. “I still have an unexplained homicide that may be looking good for human trafficking. Be assured, I’ll follow that injustice all the way through.”
“Human trafficking, prostitution,” mocked the great Aleksey Volkov. “Why change something that’s hundreds of years old?”
“Maybe it’s time,” was Sam’s quiet reply. He’d try one last time to get through. “Look, you’re the one who asked for Canada’s assistance. We granted you access to our country and, based on your parallel investigation, the information we have on this case. However, you’re the guest here. Courtesy only extends so far. Poking around on your own has limits,” Sam warned.
Volkov snapped out of whatever dark brooding place he’d retreated to. With eyes, devoid of emotion, he leaned towards Sam swaying like a cobra waiting to strike.
“You underestimate my resources, Inspector Craig.” Volkov paused for effect. “You underestimate me.”
“I’m trying real hard not to,” said Sam. “I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but you’ve taken the opportunity and pissed on it. I’m starting to wonder about your motives, and how much you really know about Odessa Koval.” Sam’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper, but his words hung in the air just the same. “I’m guessing, it’s more than you’ve let on. What’s your angle, Volkov? Is it some kind of kick back – money from the girl’s family?” Sam stared into the cold, pale eyes and pushed a little harder. “Or, is it a deeper game you’re playing?” Wariness catpawed up his spine.
The slight narrowing of his eyes and tensing of the shoulders telegraphed the move seconds before Volkov threw the punch. Instinctively Sam intercepted the blow, grasping the man’s wrist and forcing Volkov back into his seat.
“Get out.” Sam spoke the words with deadly calm.
Volkov looked like he wasn’t ready to back down, but something convinced him that it was over, for now.
Sam released his grip, and wisely Volkov reached for the handle to slide out. “We’re not done,” he said, his eyes fixed on Sam.
“Not by a long shot,” was Sam’s terse reply.
* * *
Sam had just parked the car and started up the steps to his high-rise loft when Thomas Avery called.
“I just got a brief and succinct phone call from Inspector Aleksey Volkov.”
“Brown nose’n bastard,” muttered Sam. “Did he have something on his mind or was he just looking for a kitten to kick?”
“You might say that,” acknowledged Thomas. “He says there was some, friggin’ and jiggin’, between you two. He wanted to report your unsportsmanlike behaviour. That’s unlike you. What’s with the dust up?”
“He got on my last nerve,” growled Sam, “and I may have accused him of complicity in the case.”
“No one’s wearing battle scars, are they?” asked Thomas.
“He’s a deft bugger, threw a punch, but no Speedy Gonzales — way too slow to hit the mark,” Sam said. “Everything’s copasetic.”
“Mate, you’re being overly optimistic,” Avery disagreed. “It’s a cock-up. Your little kafuffle has resulted in Volkov giving notice, and before you get your knickers in a knot, I agree his part in this is all a bit dodgy and no loss to our team. He was on the edge of becoming redundant and ultimately punted anyway.
“Still, me old mucker,” Thomas’s tone was gruff, “the deterioration of our working arrangement may take some explaining on my part to the Minister. Let’s hope the boss sees it our way. Christ himself would be upset.”
“You don’t even go to church,” Sam reminded him.
“So what, I still know what team I play on,” retorted Thomas.
“Silver tongue, Thomas, silver tongue,” suggested Sam. He was certain Thomas could handle Volkov and any fall-out with the Minister. Thomas wasn’t a political-lifer for nothing. Both diplomatic and savvy, it wouldn’t be the first time Thomas soothed diplomatic ruffled feathers. In the end, it would be Sam’s job to deliver a compelling argument on the merits of pursuing the case. He had a hunch that it would be Jamee, who would discover the bigger picture. She seemed to have a knack for it.
Thomas had already moved on. “More importantly than the fallout from Volkov, results are coming back from the CBSA inquiry into lax practices at the Montréal airport. Internal investigators have been combing through visa appl
ications for signs of fraud but in reality, there is little chance of catching a properly trained and directed illegal. Particularly one with an acquired or stolen identity.”
“This case is like wishing for a seven on the roll of the die and getting a six,” frustration was evident in Sam’s voice. “We couldn’t buy ourselves a break.”
“That might not be the case,” said Thomas. “Internal wasn’t getting anywhere in their cursory look, but they have the perception that there’s something up. They’ve turned their attention to CBSA officers at Toronto and Montréal who were on duty during the times the women in question were going through Customs. They’ve discovered the same two border security officers were covering shifts both when the women entered Canada and, then again the afternoon they flew from Montréal to Calgary.
“Could be a coincidence,” suggested Sam, “or then again, not.”
Thomas made a sound that seemed like agreement. “CBSA are looking specifically into each officer’s background and shall we say lifestyle. I’m borrowing a rule from Jamee’s book,” quipped Thomas, “and also the use of one of her many private investigative sources. Jamee says it’s Rule Number Ten — chart the money – find the treasure”.
“Good rule,” agreed Sam.
“Her source is a private investigator that specializes in computer fraud and the deep web. If there’s something there,” said Thomas, “Jamee, says her guy will find it. We’re looking for evidence of the officers in question suddenly coming into some unexplained cash or asset. Evidence that they had been paid off, would give us leverage to get them talking.
“Her computer expert,” Thomas continued, “has already netted us something to take to the bank He’s uncovered the issuance of two temporary foreign worker visas, one for each Odessa Koval and Veronika Kaminski. They were dated for the same day. The visas appear to have been issued and validated upon entry. This is outside proper processing procedure. The visas should have been issued by CIC and only then validated with the date of entry by CBSA.
