The Dragon at The Edge of The Map: A Crime Thriller Novel

by P. A. Wilson

  Monique clicked the seatbelt closed.

  He waited. “Do I have to beat you to get the directions? I can, but it’s difficult while we sit in the car.”

  Monique shook her head. “Go to Gastown. I hid it in one of the tourist shops. I have a key.” He knew she worked at A Walk in The Past, so it would add some credibility to the story.

  “Don’t try anything. If I kill you, perhaps that will be enough. Perhaps this evidence will be lost.” He started the car.

  Monique looked out for police cruisers as they drove, none were about. And no one was coming to rescue her. Rafe wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what happened until something was done about his jaw. “Where do you come from, Vincent?”

  “Why do you want to know? Getting to know me is not going to save your life. I know these tricks. I have used them to my advantage.” He sped up to make an amber light.

  “It will pass the time. It gives me something to think about.” And something to keep you occupied while I figure out a way to escape.

  “I am from Yugoslavia.”

  “Which part?”

  He glanced at her. “When I left it was no sides. Just Yugoslavia.”

  That seemed odd, ten years since the war and he wasn’t taking sides? “You have family there?”

  His mouth tightened. “No. They died in the war. I do not wish to speak of this again. Where am I going?”

  Why was he working for a war criminal? Maybe he didn’t know. That was a dangerous game for The Colonel to play. “Park on Water Street near Main. We won’t get any closer at this time of night, there will be too many cabs waiting for the clubs to close.”

  They parked and Vincent grabbed her arm, walking close enough that people would think they were together. His grip was tight but not enough to hurt.

  “Where?”

  Monique nodded toward the closest alley. One she knew well from her tours, one that turned a dogleg and opened out onto Hastings where she could run.

  Vincent gave her a shove. “Give me the key.”

  “I have to do it. I have to reach inside and put in the code before the alarm goes off.” She wriggled her arm. “I need both hands.”

  He looked around. There were voices coming from down the street. Drunks returning home to the gentrified parts of the neighborhood. He pushed her a little farther down the alley until the drunks passed, then returned her to the door. Monique didn’t react to the fact he’d missed where the alley turned.

  “No tricks.” He let her arm go.

  Monique pretended to fumble in her pocket for keys, hoping the crowds would come closer. She only needed Vincent to be distracted for a second.

  “Hurry,” he snapped.

  “Hey man, what’s going on?” One of the passing drunks called out.

  Vincent turned to order them away. Monique ran toward the end of the alley around the dumpster, and through the gloom toward the streetlights and noise of Hastings Street. The sound of Vincent running behind, drove her to a breakneck speed. She ignored the feeling that he was just about to grab her shoulder. Monique just ran. Her focus on the sounds of traffic and people ahead.

  On Hastings, no matter the time, there were always people hanging around. The drug trade didn’t keep regular hours. Vincent wouldn’t want too many witnesses. And she could find a cop, or something. If she could find a few seconds safe and alone, she could call Adams.

  She turned right as soon as she hit Hastings, running toward the corner of Main where she saw two uniformed cops talking to a group of women who were obviously lost. If she could get their attention, she’d be safe, if only for a little while.

  Vincent’s steps stopped pounding after her. She didn’t look to see if he had stopped or just slowed to a walk. She kept running toward the cops who were getting into their cruiser and leaving. Her heart stopped. She looked around and saw Vincent on the phone, probably calling for reinforcements. Or was he ordering someone to go hurt Rafe?

  She spun in place, suddenly unsure of where to go.

  If she ran south, there would be fewer crowds to hide in. If she went north the police station was only three blocks away, but Vincent could catch her before she was safe.

  Now she couldn’t stop looking at Vincent. He stared back and pointed a finger as though it was a gun. It chilled her and she slowed her dash before she realized it.

  Vincent started forward stalking her like a lion on a wounded gazelle.

  Why didn’t anyone notice what was going on. She started walking backward in the direction of the police station. It was her only hope. Vincent sped up and Monique stopped watching him and just ran.

  There were still enough people around to keep him from just shooting her. Monique knew that the leather crop was in his jacket. She was sure he had a gun as well. If he decided to cut his losses, then she was going to be dead as soon as he followed her around the corner.

  She sped up and turned the corner. Another alley beckoned.

  She had a chance. If she could get into the alley before Vincent came around the corner, she’d be hidden behind a dumpster and dialing Adams’ number.

  She hurled herself around the corner and half way down it to the first dumpster. The stench was overwhelming, but she closed her mouth and hunkered down. Reaching for her phone, she turned it on then immediately turned it off before anyone saw the light. Her plan was not going to work. Vincent would be looking through the alley any second.

  Behind her was a rusty door. Without much hope, she slid her fingers through the handle and tugged. It opened a few inches. She pulled again thankful that there was no light behind it. Despite the condition of the door, it swung quietly. She slipped inside, pulling it shut behind her. Using her phone for light, she saw a lock and turned it. Vincent wouldn’t be able to tell she had gone in.

  An unlocked door in this neighborhood didn’t bode well, but there was nothing inside this building that could be worse than Vincent. She followed the hall to the end where a short flight of concrete steps led to another open door.

  The screen gave light, but showed her there were no bars. So no call to Adams, but at least she could hole up for a while. A little luck and higher up there might be a window where she could find service. Monique figured she had some good luck owed to her.

  She made her way up three flights of stairs before she heard voices. A line of people filled the hall, all of them agitated, some twitching, and some scratching at their skin as though trying to remove something underneath.

  “Get in line, bitch,” one of the women snapped as Monique tried to get past the crowd. “They are packaging right now.”

  Junkies waiting for a fix. There would be nothing else in the building if a meth lab was operating. That might be a good thing. If the rest of the building was empty, she would be able to find a place to hide.

  Monique stepped away from the line-up and tried to find another way out of the building. The front door was boarded up and so were all the windows facing the street – and still no bars on her phone.

  She realized that the alley was her only choice for an exit and she had no idea if Vincent would still be looking for her there. Regardless, she needed to get to somewhere she could call for help. It was only a matter of time before Vincent, or one of his friends, decided to get to Rafe and hurt him.

  She worked her way back to the basement door, heart trying to climb out of her chest. Voices came from the top of the stairs. It would be helpful if she could go out with one of the junkies. If Vincent were there, he wouldn’t be looking for her as part of a group. Could she afford to wait for an escort?

  The voices came closer and Monique could make out a few words. It was at least two men. Perhaps they weren’t junkies. Perhaps they were dealers, which would make it more difficult to just follow them. There was no way they’d miss her and, in all probability, they’d think she was trying to steal from them. It didn’t matter at this point. She was going to follow them and hope for the best. She stepped into the shadow of a doorway.

/>   “Yeah, that corner is good earlier, but at this time there’s no traffic.” The short, skinny one was doing the talking. He was wearing a heavy jacket with a New York Yankee’s crest.

  “I’m heading home,” the other man said. This one was heavier and taller, same jacket. “I have to be home to take Vanessa to school tomorrow.”

  They passed Monique without noticing her. As soon as they were a foot in front of her, she uncurled from the shadow and followed.

  Even though she stepped quietly, the two men noticed her. That must be some kind of drug dealer’s survival response. They looked her up and down, then turned away. Monique wasn’t sure if she was happy that her pretense of being a junkie worked, or annoyed that they didn’t see her as a threat. She decided on being pleased, because she had no need to be a threat to anyone.

  The two men cleared the alley and Monique paused before stepping into the street. There were very few people about, but a block away, she saw the lights of the police station. And in the opposite direction the activity on Hastings Street. If she turned left it was a clear run to safety, but no cover if Vincent was somewhere between her and the door.

  To the right, the dubious cover of crowds where she could make a call. She turned on her cell phone. There was one bar, maybe the call would go through if the sliver of green on her battery was enough to power it.

  Monique figured her chances were better in a one-block run. Vincent wouldn’t be stupid enough to try to shoot her so close to the police station. At least, that’s what she told herself.

  A quick glance around and she pushed off from the alley.

  No one was in sight between her and the light of the station. There were a few shadowed doorways, but none big enough to hide Vincent.

  It didn’t matter who was on duty. A woman afraid of being killed would get their attention enough for her to tell the whole story.

  And she would. No more holding back on anything she’d done. No more—

  She was yanked off her feet and pulled into one of the shadowed doorways. It was the entrance to an empty community center. Deeper than a shop door. Deep enough to hold Vincent and another man.

  Monique kicked and scratched, but she couldn’t cry out through the hand across her mouth.

  “You should not have run away,” Vincent breathed into her ear. “Now you will be punished for that. We will have some fun, and you will give us the evidence.”

  The other man said something that Monique couldn’t make out through her struggles. And then Vincent slapped tape over her mouth and tied her hands. “I can knock you out, or you can wait quietly here with this man until I bring the car. You choose.”

  Monique’s only hope was to remain conscious, so she could take any opportunity to escape. She went limp in his hands. “Good little girl. Now, no trouble. My friend has a knife. He is very skilled. He has learned where to cut to make the most pain without killing.”

  She nodded and let him place her in the dark corner like a bag of trash.

  While Vincent brought the car, Monique tried to identify the man who was waiting with her. It was too dark to see any features, but he was tall, well over six feet, and thin. He didn’t say anything, just stood there facing her. She could almost feel the tension in his body.

  Was he just waiting for an excuse to hurt her? Was he going to do something just because he could?

  He had ordered Vincent around, so he must be high in the organization. Maybe The Colonel himself? She didn’t think that could be right. Why would The Colonel get involved here on the street? Why risk exposing himself? The only reason would be that he knew what Alexi had, and that no one in his organization knew who he really was.

  If that were true, then The Colonel would be afraid she’d say something that would tip people off. And perhaps he would have to fear retribution from his own men. Men whose families he’d tortured, or wiped out.

  No wonder he’d told Vincent to gag her.

  If she had guessed right, how was he going to get her to tell them where the picture was without taking the chance she’d blurt out what she knew?

  As soon as the gag came off, as soon as she knew for sure who this man was, Monique vowed she would tell Vincent everything.

  CHAPTER 19

  Vincent pulled the SUV up to the curb. Monique struggled against the man who hoisted her into the back seat and pushed her onto the floor. They made sure she had no chance of catching the interest of other drivers by showing her duct-taped mouth. She prayed they wouldn’t hit any speed bumps or make any sudden stops, because there was no place to brace herself, and no padding if she did bang into something. At least Vincent pulled away from the curb smoothly. Monique was sure it was to keep the cops from getting interested, not for her comfort.

  She tried to keep track of where they were going by the motion of the SUV as it turned corners. Three turns into the journey and she was lost, only a vague notion that they were traveling east remained. She suspected they would make sure she couldn’t see her location when they stopped.

  Monique didn’t know what she could do to improve her chances of living, but she realized that she didn’t want to die with so many empty places in her life. She needed time to fix things with Rafe, and Didi. Maybe time to build more relationships and fewer walls.

  The vehicle rolled to a stop after what felt like a half hour to Monique but it could have been anything from five minutes to an hour. The only thing she could verify was that it was still dark, so it was no later than four a.m.

  The two men spoke in a language Monique couldn’t understand. Then Vincent wrapped something around her eyes before lifting her out of the SUV.

  He placed Monique on her feet and used her tied hands to steer her. Nothing was said the whole time. Monique didn’t know if that was intentional or not. She did know it made her feel like an object. Is that how they make it easy to torture and kill? By taking the humanity out of their victims?

  She did her best to follow the directions Vincent communicated through pulls and pushes on her arms. Because she’d been tied up so tightly, the pain of the smallest movement ripped through her shoulders and down her arms, running like fire to her fingertips. It was hard to concentrate on her surroundings to get clues. She could hardly breathe with the agony of every little movement.

  She stumbled up three steps and then the feeling of the wind on her skin stopped, and the ambient sounds of traffic ended. The silence only added to her terror. When they uncovered her eyes, if they were planning to do that, what would she see?

  Some kind of slaughterhouse?

  Some kind of torture room?

  A final push from Vincent and she pitched into a wall, almost blacking out at the searing pain that ran through her body. Monique slid down the wall to a sitting position, back braced against it, waiting for their next move.

  The sound of a chair scraping across a gritty floor broke the silence. A soft voice uttered words in the same language they’d been speaking earlier. Then she felt a tug at the blindfold and light shocked her into squeezing her eyes shut.

  “Open your eyes.” The man who might be The Colonel said. His voice was soft as though speaking to a frightened child. When she obeyed, Monique looked up to see him sitting in the chair, right leg crossed over his left at the knee.

  She stared into deadest eyes she’d ever seen. The man looked even thinner now that he had shed the heavy coat. His face was pale and pockmarked. His hair dyed that impossible black that men thought looked natural, and scraped back with some kind of sculpting product.

  He smiled and she saw a gap where he was missing a tooth. “Vincent will take off your gag, you will not scream?” He said it as if she could choose what to do, but Monique knew it was an order not a question.

  She nodded and braced herself for more pain. Vincent lifted a corner of the tape and slowly peeled it away, hardly hurting her at all.

  “Now, Ms. Duchesne, I have some questions and you will answer them.”

  It looked like Vincent was
going to be silent through this. Monique wondered what he would do if she told him who this man was? She could see the resemblance to the mug shot on-line. He’d had something done to his jaw and nose, but not enough to fool anyone who knew his identity. Maybe it would have worked better if he’d done something with his skin, but then he might not have been able to take any more cosmetic surgery on such bad pockmarks.

  “You know who I am?”

  That was a loaded question. Monique decided he meant his current identity. Now that she was in a position to tell Vincent, she found she couldn’t. What made her think Vincent would react like a normal person? Maybe he knew and didn’t care. Maybe psychopaths didn’t do revenge. “No, but I guess you are a big shot in the local gangs.”

  “I am. My name is Ivan Novikov.”

  So she’d guessed right about his cover story. Still unsure of Vincent’s reaction, she didn’t respond.

  Before Ivan/Javor could ask his next question, Monique’s phone rang. He pointed at her purse and Vincent dug out her phone, turning the display to his boss.

  “Who is this person, Andy?” Ivan asked.

  “A friend. He’s a doctor.”

  “Then I think we will answer, yes? You will only say hello.”

  He hit the bar to answer and Monique did as she was told.

  “Nique? Don’t get mad.”

  Didi. She felt a wave of relief that he was awake and alive. She opened her mouth to say she was busy despite Ivan’s stare.

  “Let me talk, Nique. It’s important I get this out. Part of the treatment, you know. I’m sorry I’ve been such a shitty brother. It wasn’t fair of me to leave you to handle all the problems on your own. Look, I’m going to be here for a day more, if you have time, come see me, please. I want to start making things right. I’m in the River March clinic, room ten. Bye.”

  Just like Didi. He never thought that she might have something to say. Now they knew she had a brother. And worse, they knew where to find him.