Foxed

by Garry Ryan

  “This whole business sounds a little iffy to me. I’m used to working with the TAC Unit. What exactly do you want me to do?” McTavish put his elbows on the table.

  Lane said, “Right now we’re working with the best information we have. Bringing in the TAC Unit would attract too much attention and probably warn the kidnappers. After the murder at Bearspaw Dam, we think we’re running short on time. We’re asking you to follow us in. Take the door in case we have any unexpected visitors.”

  McTavish nodded and leaned back. The chair creaked a warning.

  For a moment Lane thought the chair would collapse.

  McTavish apparently thought the same thing because he stood up, pulled another chair from a nearby table and sat in it. “That’s better. You’re also asking for some extra equipment, I think.”

  “We were hoping you could help us out in that department,” Harper agreed.

  “For hostage situations like this I like side arms and shotguns. Automatic weapons tend to create a wider spread effect with their field of fire. I prefer the narrow spread provided by a close range shotgun blast or a Glock nine-millimetre.” McTavish frowned.

  “What?” Lane asked.

  “We’re talking about your kids, and I’m getting all technical on you. Making it sound too clinical. I’ll take care of my end. Namely the weapons, ammunition and vests.” McTavish reached for a sip of coffee. “Where and when do we meet?”

  “Before we get to that, there’s one other thing,” Harper said.

  “Harper and I leave with the kids before any other units show up. We’re on leave so, technically, we shouldn’t be there,” Lane said.

  “You don’t want to lose the bust on a technicality but you want the kids out safe.” McTavish looked out the window and onto the cul-de-sac.

  “That’s right. It’s Moreau’s building and his part of town. We have to expect some complications if we hang around for any longer than is absolutely necessary,” Lane said.

  McTavish turned back to face them and nodded. “Now, where do we meet when you get your confirmation?”

  Robert Rowe heard his stomach grumble. He was in the city now and he’d found Centre Street. All I have to do is walk south.

  He saw the school on his right. The chain-link fence came right up to the sidewalk. Traffic rushed by on his left.

  He felt inside the pocket of the black leather jacket. His fingers touched the wooden handle of the dandelion weeder. Its forked tip was ready. He’d used a patch of concrete to sharpen the metal so that it would pierce flesh easily.

  He breathed better when he was past the school and the fence. Last night he’d had a nightmare about a schoolyard and Zander being chased. Robert was left to watch and feel that everlasting ache of helplessness as his brother was hunted down and killed by Moreau.

  Robert reached an intersection and waited for the walk light. He looked down the hill and saw the Calgary Tower. It still looks the same, he thought, but so much else has changed. He remembered that the article said Kev’s restaurant was almost in the shadow of the Calgary Tower. The walk sign blinked on. Robert crossed the street.

  Keely sat in her car and dialed.

  “Arthur.”

  “It’s Keely.”

  Arthur sat on the couch studying the charts and posters on the wall. On the coffee table in front of him there were markers, a yellow notepad, multicoloured sticky notes and a coffee cup. “What have you got?”

  Daniel and Christine appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “Who is it?” Christine asked.

  Erinn sat up on the couch. “Well?”

  Arthur covered his right ear with his hand, stared at the floor and listened.

  “I’ve got a list for you. Got a pen and paper handy?” Keely asked.

  Arthur reached for the pen and pad of yellow paper on the coffee table. “Go.”

  “Tell Lane that Hussein found five more vehicles, owner IDs and license plates for him. Here they are.” Keely listed them. “I’m emailing Harper the photo IDs of the drivers so he and Lane will be able to identify them.”

  Arthur wrote down the information. “We’re getting close.”

  “I sure hope so.” Keely continued, “Still no luck locating Mary Lowell. I’ve got three more shelters to visit tomorrow. Hope Moreau hasn’t gotten to her first.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anything new at your end?” Keely asked.

  “I think we have a pretty good guess at the location where the kids are being held.” Arthur looked at the others in the room awaiting an update.

  “Good,” Keely said.

  “We think it’s an apartment building.” Arthur rubbed his eyes.

  “With the vehicles and owners, Lane should be able to zero in on the apartment. I pity the poor bastard who’s holding the kids after those two get hold of him,” Keely said.

  “You think it’ll get worse?” Arthur asked.

  “Only for Moreau and his mob. We’ll track them all down after this.” Keely hung up.

  “Well?” Christine asked.

  “We have more vehicle IDs and the owners. Now Lane and Harper will know exactly who to look for. That means we may know even more by tomorrow,” Arthur said.

  Erinn wrapped her arms tightly around her ribs. She shook her head.

  Arthur stood.

  Christine hugged Erinn.

  “I don’t know how you stay so calm,” Erinn said.

  “Simple,” Christine said. “We all promise to fall apart when Jessica and Matt are home safe.”

  Robert walked past the wall of glass that allowed patrons to see out but made it difficult for passersby to see in.

  He sat on a bench just east of Kev Moreau’s restaurant.

  Fifteen minutes later, Kev stepped out the front door and onto the mall. Moreau looked up at his sign. The neon light flickered. The name Kev went bright white, then off, only to warm up and flicker again.

  Robert saw that Moreau was wearing clothes that fit him like they were made to make a statement, to draw attention.

  Robert stood and felt for the weapon in his pocket.

  Kev looked away from the sign and walked back into the restaurant.

  Robert sat back down and considered his options.

  He took a look at his clothes and had a quick sniff at his right armpit. “The front door won’t work.”

  Robert stood and walked east. He counted doorways as he moved to the end of the block and turned left. Then he turned left at the alley. He counted doorways and followed his nose.

  He stopped at a blue metal door close to a dumpster. Kev’s was written in white paint on the blue. A black Mercedes was parked close to the wall.

  Robert looked around him.

  The back door to Kev’s opened. A man in a black shirt and pants heaved two green garbage bags into the dumpster.

  Robert waited for the door to close. He looked at the shadows creeping up the side of the brick building across the alley from Kev’s. He walked up to the dumpster, got up on his toes, opened the fresh bags of garbage and began to graze.

  Russell watched his crew put the finishing touches on cleanup. Grills gleamed after being scrubbed down, dishes were still hot to touch after being washed, dried and stacked, and the fridge was cooling what little food there was left. Aprons were tossed into the white bag for tomorrow’s laundry pickup.

  Russell waved at the sous-chef as he walked out the front door. Russell locked the glass door at top and bottom and then worked the deadbolt. For the last time, he wondered where Mary and Joshua were. “I hope she calls.”

  “You hope who calls?” Kev asked.

  Russell looked to his right. Kev Moreau had the sleeves of his green tailor-made shirt rolled up. His jacket hung off the bar chair. In front of him were the receipts and cash for the night.

  “Mary. I hope she calls.” Russell saw the predatory look in Kev’s eyes. Russell decided to change the subject. “It was a good night.”

  “Very good.” Kev put the paper in the c
ashbox and locked it. “Wait a minute for me to put this in my office and I’ll walk out the back with you.”

  Russell walked past the bar, into the kitchen and toward the back door. He watched as Moreau rolled down his sleeves, put on his jacket and checked his look in the mirror before closing and locking his office door.

  “Remember, if Mary calls you, the next person you call is me.” Moreau pointed at his chest.

  Russell nodded as he set the alarm and reached for the back door.

  “You and I have history. We look out for one another,” Kev said.

  Russell turned the deadbolt.

  Moreau put his hand on Russell’s shoulder. “I’ve always got your back. Remember that.”

  Russell turned the doorknob and caught the early-morning back alley stink of garbage left sitting too long in the summer’s heat. He looked down the alley for his car.

  Behind Russell, Moreau pushed the door shut and locked it. The light above the door carved a sharp half circle out of the night.

  “I’ve been waiting a while.” Robert stepped into the open from behind a telephone pole.

  “Who are you?” Russell asked.

  Moreau stood behind Russell.

  “Zander’s brother, Robert.” He moved to the middle of the alley and faced Russell.

  Russell saw a flashback of that day he handed Zander over to Moreau. Russell watched the boy get into Moreau’s car. He saw Pike’s smile and the frown on the face of Moreau’s girlfriend. What was her name? Russell thought.

  Moreau said, “I heard about you breaking out of Bowden.”

  “Just walked away after I heard the police found Zander’s body.” Robert had his right hand in the pocket of his jacket.

  “I was really sorry to hear what happened to Zander,” Moreau said.

  Robert pulled the dandelion weeder from his jacket pocket. “You always were a fuckin’ liar.”

  Russell felt a hand push him between the shoulder blades.

  Robert bent his arm at the elbow. Metal flashed in the harsh clarity of the back alley light.

  Russell put his arms forward. He found himself looking into the face of Robert Rowe, stinking of garlic and sweat. The forked end of the dandelion tool entered Russell’s torso just below the ribs of his left side. He fell to his knees. His hands went to the wooden handle of the weapon.

  There was the sound of feet running west along the alley.

  Robert grunted as he worked to pull the dandelion weeder free. “Run, you bastard!”

  Russell fell onto his back.

  “Hold still!” Robert leaned over and pushed his left palm against Russell’s chest, then pulled the weapon free.

  Russell shuddered from the wrenching agony in his chest. He heard Robert’s feet on pavement as he pounded after Moreau.

  Russell looked up at the night sky. He could see one planet. He stared at the reflected light. He could hear Mary’s voice saying, “There’s the truth and being able to do something about it. Moreau has been pulling your strings for so long, you can’t do a thing with what you know to be true. You know he killed Zander and you’ll never do a thing about it!”

  Russell’s eyes lost the ability to focus.

  SATURDAY, AUGUST 13

  chapter 13

  Matt woke to the sound of the train grunting its way up the river valley. The locomotive was building up momentum to tackle the Rocky Mountains. Matt stood on the bed to look out of the window. It must be late morning.

  Not much to see but tree tops and the other side of the valley. He sat down on his bed and looked over at Jessica.

  Outside the door and down the hall, a phone rang.

  Matt held his breath.

  “Where’s my coffee?” the devil asked.

  Matt saw that Jessica had her thumb stuck in her mouth. There was a silver pool of drool on the pillow.

  “Wuddya mean he’s thinking about more insurance?” the devil asked.

  Matt took a slow breath and sat down on the edge of the mattress.

  “Look, if he’s getting ready to do something else, he’d better let us know what’s up. I’m not gonna hang around here much longer listening to that kid scream. . . . I don’t care if Kev had a bad night. He needs to make up his mind!”

  Matt heard the sound of plastic slammed against plastic.

  He put his elbows on his knees and listened.

  “Yes, I’d like to order some coffee. You know, the usual. Twenty minutes? Okay,” the devil said.

  Matt waited. He knocked on the door.

  “What?”

  “Bathroom,” Matt said.

  The devil smelled of sweat and day-old pizza as he opened the door. “Make it quick.”

  “Okay.” Matt walked down the hall to the bathroom. He left the door open, dropped his pants and sat.

  The devil watched him from the other end of the hall.

  Matt glanced at the garbage can. Inside was a paper coffee cup with a cardboard heat sleeve. Matt leaned forward.

  The devil faced away as he dialed and put the cordless phone to his ear.

  Matt reached into the wastebasket, pulled out the empty cup, pulled off the sleeve and put the cup back in the trash.

  “He always takes care of himself first. The plan is changing and I don’t like it!” the devil said.

  Matt stood up.

  “If he says he’s getting more insurance, it means he’s about to cut us loose. Find out more! Kev will leave us to take care of these kids and take all of the heat from the cops!” The devil stabbed at a button on the phone.

  Matt flushed the toilet, pulled up his pants, put the cardboard sleeve in the sink, washed his hands and rolled the cardboard into a wet ball. He squeezed the moisture out of the sleeve and palmed it.

  He stepped outside the bathroom. “Finished.”

  “You know what to do.” The devil pointed at the room with a doorknob on the outside but none on the inside.

  Matt reached the door, opened it and used his thumb to jam the ball of cardboard into the mortise. Moisture trickled down the doorjamb. Matt smoothed the wet cardboard with his thumb. I hope I got it right. He closed the door. Jessica sat up in bed. He put his forefinger to his lips. She nodded.

  He waited for the devil to twist the deadbolt. Instead, the man dialed another number. “I want to order a pizza.”

  Arthur opened his eyes, took a sip of coffee and studied the charts on the wall, all tagged with multicoloured sticky notes.

  He set the cup down on a coaster.

  Christine was gently snoring where she lay on an air mattress to one side of the living room floor.

  Roz lifted her head and wagged her tail.

  Daniel appeared in the door to the kitchen. “Want another coffee?”

  Arthur smiled. “Perfect.”

  “Anybody phone?” Erinn stood at the top of the stairs leading to the upstairs bedrooms. She was dressed in a redflannel pajama top and matching bottoms. She held her belly as she felt her way down the steps.

  “Not yet,” Daniel said.

  Mary wiped Joshua’s face. He swung his head from side to side attempting to escape the facecloth.

  “That’s mean.” Dee Dee entered the common room. “Let me take him for you.” She reached out her arms.

  “No, thanks.” Mary tried to hide the anger in her voice as she stood and grabbed the empty baby bottle.

  “Just trying to help.” Dee Dee rolled her eyes. “New mothers.”

  “Give me a break! You call yourself a doula?” Mary took Joshua and headed for the back door. “See you next time.”

  “What did you say to me? I know what that means! How could you say that to me? I was trying to help!” Her shrill voice followed Mary down the hall.

  Mary stepped out the back door. She looked at her son. We need to get out of here.

  Lane closed his eyes and rubbed them with the back of his hand. He inhaled. It’s getting a little gamey in here.

  Harper shifted his position in the driver’s seat. “Want
a cup of coffee?”

  “How long did I nod off?” Lane looked up at the ninth floor of Kev’s apartment building nestled in the picturesque river valley. I need a shower.

  “Thirty-five minutes.” Harper pointed as a truck arrived at the front entrance of the apartment. He grabbed the binoculars. He focused on the driver and waited until he could see the rear license plate. “It’s one of the trucks on the list. Let’s see what he’s delivering.”

  They watched as the driver parked, opened the door and stepped out holding a tray with a pair of coffees and a juice.

  Lane looked at his watch.

  A blue jay squawked from a nearby tree.

  They ignored the bird.

  The deliveryman stepped out of his truck, pushed open the front door and reached for a cell phone.

  Lane checked his watch and wrote down the time, the license number and a description of the driver.

  “Use the camera,” Harper said.

  Lane tapped the side of his head. “It’s in here.”

  The deliveryman stepped out the front door three minutes later, pulled away from the apartment, ran the stop sign at the three-way intersection and turned left in front of them.

  “What’s the rush?” Harper asked.

  “Don’t know.” Lane’s phone rang and he reached for it. “Hello.”

  “It’s Keely. I’ve got two more shelters to check on. Mary has to be at one of them. I’ll let you know if I find her,” she said.

  “Do me a favour?” Lane asked.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Be sure to wear your vest. I can feel this thing rising up to a boil and who knows which way it will go.” Lane thought, I could have explained it better.

  “You got yours on?” Keely asked.

  “Yes,” Lane said.

  “Okay, then,” Keely said. “I’ve got some news for you.”

  Lane leaned forward and glanced at Harper. “Go ahead.”

  “Russell Lowell is dead. Stabbed behind Kev’s restaurant at about one o’clock this morning. Moreau is claiming that Robert Rowe was waiting at the back of the restaurant and is responsible for the murder.” Keely waited for a reaction.