by Chris Ryan
“Will do.”
“Who’s over to Ann Marie’s?”
“Julianna.”
I hung up and turned to my brother.
“Joe, nothing, and I mean nothing surprises me with cops anymore, with what they did to Norman Reid in Little Catalina on August 26, 2000. He was thirty feet away holding an axe. You tell me how dangerous he was at that distance to anyone.
“And the poor young fellow in Corner Brook, Darryl Power, with known mental problems. Shot and killed on October 16 the same year.
“These killings were exactly fifty-one days apart. Dark days for policing in Newfoundland and Labrador. Actually, the killing in Corner Brook was the first one since the RNC became armed full-time on June 14, 1998. One of the last police forces in Canada to become armed. Something I was personally against. What happened in Corner Brook was the reason why I was against arming the RNC.
“Did you time how long the robot was in behind Leo’s house, Joe?”
“No, but I’m guessing ten minutes or so.”
“I wonder how long they plan on using it? The more they use that, the longer Leo will stay in that house.”
“Did they put the robot back in the truck?”
“Yes, it crawled up the ramp. And then they backed the truck down the road into the post office yard and turned around and headed down St. John’s Road. Just scope the town hall parking lot. The truck is backed into the same spot it was in before it went up St. John’s Road.”
“I’m curious as to how many times they’ll use it. You would think they would have stayed longer when they sent it in.”
“You’d think.”
“But I guess the batteries only last so long. The thing looks like it’s quite heavy, with all the lights and the PA system.”
“Joe, what time is it? I left my watch at Tina’s.”
“It’s nine forty-five. How long you staying tonight?”
“I’m waiting to see if Newfoundland Power shows up to cut the power.”
“I forgot about that.”
“The rumour today was that they were doing it around midnight.”
“Well, that’s only a two-hour wait. I’m going to grab a coffee at my house—you want one?”
“When you come back I’ll dart in to the house for a can of Pepsi, okay? I won’t be long.” I have a house in Bay Bulls, although 99 per cent of my time is spent with Tina and Stacie and Hollie in Witless Bay.
I didn’t get back to the pit until over an hour later.
“Where did you go? You said you’d be a few minutes and now it’s eleven o’clock.”
“Had a call from me buddy Scott Andrews. He wanted the lowdown on what was going on. He saw it on the national news last night in Ottawa and he figured if anyone knew what was on the go, it would be me. He thought he met a Crockwell fellow once when he was campaigning with Councillor Patrick O’Driscoll up to Paddy’s. He said the name rang a bell. He figured it might be Leo. And he has one of those minds that never forgets a name.”
“Dutch, he seems to be doing a good job as our MP in Ottawa.”
“Yes, Scott is a politician through and through. Loves to talk, loves people, and he’s a hard worker. He can work eighteen to twenty hours a day. And smart—he sees stuff that other people miss. A sharp mind. He’ll make cabinet eventually, down the road. Scott and I have two things in common: we’re both diehard Liberals and we’re both cigar aficionados.”
“Dutch, that will take a while. The Liberals, federally, are in hard shape.”
“Joe, the Tories were down to two seats after the 1993 election and they rebounded.”
Sharon and Brenda pulled up in Sharon’s car. They got out and came over to Joe’s rig.
“Get in, Sharon, jump in the front. Brenda, you get in the back, on the other side. What was Ann Marie saying?”
“She said Leo repeated the same thing over and over. And every time he said it, his voice was louder and louder, more agitated.”
“So you think that they don’t have him riled up now? Did you ever hear the saying, ‘Don’t wake a sleeping giant’? Whatever chance they had of getting him to come out peacefully just went out the window. How stupid of the cops to send in that robot. Didn’t they learn anything from their dealings with Leo in 1998? Pulling stunts like that will only make him stand his ground. They should be using kid gloves on Leo.
“Joe, put the binoculars on. The truck by the town hall—isn’t that a Newfoundland Power truck?”
“Looks like it. It’s blue with yellow markings on it. Who do you think is driving it?”
“I’d say Ronnie Power from Calvert, who lives in Bears Cove in Witless Bay.”
“Just keep an eye on him to see where he goes.”
“He’s going across the bridge. He’s going right.”
“So that means he’s not going up towards Leo’s. He’s hauling in in front of the church. Below where the priest’s house was, the Palace.”
“Someone did say that all the connections for that side of the harbour were housed there in that little beige steel building, just below where the Palace used to be.”
“I wouldn’t call it a building. Looks more like a reefer on the back of a truck.”
“He’s backing in. There’s someone guiding him back. Who would that be, I wonder?”
“Morgie Lundrigan.”
“I doubt it. Morgie is off on sick leave. Could be Raymond Boland from Calvert.”
“Dutch, Raymond is retired.”
“Yes, Joe, he is. But they call him when they’re short-handed.”
“Why are they backing up so far? He’s stopped now. Someone is at the controls on the side of the truck, raising the lift bucket. Actually, they’re guiding it to the ground. Someone just got in it.”
“That’s interesting. They’re raising it close to one of the poles. I figured that they would just throw a switch and kill the power to Leo’s house from inside the little building. Obviously not. What’s the thing in his hand? You see that, Joe?”
“It’s a long pole with what looks like a hook on it.”
“It must be something to disconnect the joiners. They’re at something. A lot of movement. Holy fuck, Joe! The whole harbour is black.”
“Dutch, someone just fucked up.”
“Why would they blacken the whole harbour?”
“I have no idea. I guess they pulled the wrong connection.”
“I see lights on in only three houses. And Foodland. I guess that’s their emergency lights.”
“How long has everything been black?”
“I’m guessing a minute or so. Lights . . . the south side just lit up. Gone again. Okay, I’m wondering how long it will take them to isolate Leo’s house. Shouldn’t take too much longer. Lights . . . everything is back on. Leo’s house is in complete darkness. Joe, wasn’t that wild, the whole harbour in the dark? I wonder if they pulled the meter off the house?”
“You think they did, Dutch?”
“I think that’s the only way to kill power to a single house. Unless you go up the closest pole to the house and disconnect it. I’m thinking they pulled the meter off the house. They’d hardly let a linesman go up a pole with an armed man in a house looking out at him.”
“So who do you think pulled the meter off? Ron Power?”
“Doubt it if it was him, Joe. He never left the pole by the priest’s house. Two people got out of the NL Power truck and they were still under the pole by the priest’s house when the lights came back on. So I’m thinking one of the cops pulled it off.”
“Why do you think it was a cop?”
“Well, for one thing, the RCMP wouldn’t let a linesman get that close to Leo’s house. So, if I was a betting man, I’d say definitely a cop pulled it off. It will be interesting to know
who actually did it. I know if I was a cop I would be pretty nervous going up to Leo’s house to remove his meter.”
“Dutch, I’ve only seen the lights off like that a half-dozen times in my life. Actually, one time the lights were out for four or five hours one night. Leo and me had this humongous light. Something like one million candlepower. We came up here in the pit and shone it on every house in the harbour. I think it was in ’77 or ’78. Some people were pissed with us, but we didn’t give a fuck back then. Young, full of piss and vinegar. It was a good laugh. If my memory is correct, I believe we were in Leo’s beige 1977 Plymouth Satellite. Man, he loved that car. He always loved cars. The more power they had, the more he liked them.”
“So, I wonder what their plans are now that they have Leo in complete darkness? Joe, I’d say this is about to get very interesting. Joe, you remember your first car?”
“Hardly. My memory’s not that good.”
“Mine was a brown 1978 Plymouth Volare. Licence plate number AAY-502. Man, I loved it. I traded my Honda Hawk 400 motorcycle for it. I got it when I was living with Julianna and Robert, after Mother died. The two side windows wouldn’t go up, the exhaust was shot, and the radio didn’t work. I remember leaving the Soundbone in Goulds one night, around two o’clock in the morning, with Ronnie Dunne and Barry Norris. It was pouring out of the heavens. We flew in the road. Soaked to the bone like three ducks. If you were in the back, you never got as wet. I think sometime that fall I had the windows fixed. The cold weather convinced me to fix them. That Volare was the first car I got laid in, with the windows down. Oh, the memories! The good old days . . . would love to have them back.
“Anyway, Joe, I’m off to Witless Bay. You staying much longer?”
“No, maybe a half-hour or so.”
“Joe, keep the scope focused on Leo’s house for the next while. Be interesting to see if you can see any lights from inside it. Like a flashlight or a candle.”
“Never thought of that, Dutch. I will.”
“Okay. Keep my binoculars and scope and guard them with your life.”
“Thanks. See you in the morning.”
“Joe, give me a wake-up call.”
“Okay.”
Chapter 4
_____________________________________
Tuesday, December 7
“Dutch, get up, it’s seven o’clock.”
“What? Why didn’t you call me sooner?”
“I figured you needed the sleep.”
“Jesus, Joe.”
“On the go so much since this all started with Leo.”
“Have I missed anything?”
“No, very quiet.”
“I’m going to boil a few eggs, okay? I’ll be over in half an hour. See you then.”
“I wonder, will this end today? We’re into our fourth day. How long will this go on? I only hope it ends peacefully. For everyone involved, Leo and the police.”
I drove to the pit from Witless Bay. There were strange cars parked there. Joe was there, by himself. I parked and got in the back seat of the SUV and took the scope from him.
“Joe, anything happening since I was talking to you? What about the snipers . . . they in position?”
“Everything looks like it has since this started.”
“Sharon or Brenda on the go yet?”
“No, haven’t seen them yet.”
“Who owns all these strange cars?”
“I don’t know who any of them are. I’d say they’re people from up the Shore, people heading to St. John’s to shop and run errands, and they decided to pop up here for a look.”
“Sure, Joe, I’d say they’re as inquisitive as we are. We think there are a lot of people keeping up on this since it started. Imagine something like this happening in places like St. Anthony, Port au Port, or Frenchman’s Cove. Little towns like that, with very little excitement. Especially this time of year. Sure, most of their populations would be on the hills or in their local gravel pits. Much like us here today. Most of the people in those towns are seasonal workers, working in the fishery. Either crabbing or working in the local crab plant. The majority of our townspeople work in St. John’s.
“We think this is big here. Imagine how big it could be somewhere else in our province.”
My phone rang.
“Hello, Jeff. What are you at?”
“You in the pit?”
“Yes, just got here.”
“Anything big happen last night?”
“They cut the power. The whole harbour was black for three or four minutes.”
“Why did they do that?”
“I don’t know, but I’m guessing they pulled the wrong switch. Anyway, they lit everything back up and then shut down St. John’s Road and Irish Town Road. When they turned those areas back on, Leo’s house was in total darkness.”
“Jesus, poor old Leo. Window beat out of the front of his house. Power cut. What’s next, I wonder?”
“Jeff, they’re fooling themselves. The more they do to him the more determined he will be. I said to someone the other day, ‘You get more flies with honey than vinegar.’ I guess the RCMP never heard that saying before. Jeff, got to go. Bye.
“Joe, back up a little, you’re ahead thirty feet from where we’re normally parked. Holy shit, Joe. Did you notice the SWAT team members on the side of the garage? The side facing Bernie Mullowney’s.”
“No, I never noticed.”
“Here, use the scope.”
“Jesus, Dutch, they’re like flies. There must be at least six of them there. How did they get that close to the house?”
“Joe, there are eight there. I don’t know, but if I had to guess I’d say they drove up St. John’s Road and pulled into Bernie’s yard. Leo wouldn’t see anything from this side of the house as the old games arcade between his house and Mullowney’s would block his line of sight of anything coming up St. John’s Road. That’s if he is downstairs in the house, which is where I’d say he is. Then they snuck over to the garage closest to Bernie’s and then advanced to the next garage closest to the house.
“I wonder if they’re planning an assault from that angle? They look like they mean business. They’re covered in black, everything they’re wearing is black. Even their faces are painted black, and their helmets. Four of them are carrying what look like assault rifles. Whatever type weapon they are, they’re very short. And they’re even black. I suppose they’re AK-47s. Isn’t that what police use?”
“I have no idea, Dutch. Not that much up on the police.”
“I know Leo’s not gawking at them. I guarantee you, he knows they’re there. There’s something up for them to be that close. I’m going to call Ann Marie. I’m wondering if she can see the cops on the side of the garage, the garage closest to the house.”
I dialled Anne Marie’s number. “Ann Marie, have a look out your window towards Leo’s garage. The garage closest to the house. There are a bunch of SWAT team members hanging around the garage.”
“Hang on, Dutch, let me have a look. I can see one every now and then. Hang on, I can see two.”
“Actually, there are eight there.”
“What?”
“We were shocked when we discovered them there.”
“Who saw them first?”
“Actually, I saw them in the scope as soon as I arrived. Joe was here a half-hour ahead of me. He missed them, but he was only using the binoculars.”
“Dutch, what do you think they have up their sleeves?”
“I don’t know. But why, after three days, have they suddenly appeared there? I’m willing to bet they’re planning an assault on the back door sometime today. Most likely tonight.”
“Well, if you think they’re going to attack tonight, why are they there now?”
“I’d say they’re there to get their bearings. A feel for the surroundings. To get some measurements. Find out how long it would take to get to the back step from the garage. Exactly how many steps they would have to take. I’ve read over the years that they’re meticulous about everything. They have to know their complete surroundings. They have a checklist that they follow before attacking. And apparently they have to have something like nine out of ten things done before advancing. If they don’t have the nine out of ten, they work the scenario from a different angle.
“I’d say they have one of those rangefinders. They tell you the exact distance you are from the target. I bet they know the exact measurements of each step, every footstep from the garage to the house. And the elevation of each step.”
“Dutch, that makes sense. But I’d expect them to have a forward assault in the dark. Kind of gives them an advantage. And Dutch, you know as well as me that they have night-vision gear.”
“Never thought of that. But it makes good sense. Ann Marie, you keep an eye from your angle and if we see anything from our angle we’ll call you.”
“Okay, Dutch. Drop up later for a coffee.”
“I will, most likely. Bye. Joe, I’m half thinking Leo might have night-vision gear as well. The price of night-vision gear has dropped drastically in the past four or five years. It isn’t out of reach of the common person. When that stuff first came out you couldn’t look at it because of the price of it. It was cost-prohibitive. We might be surprised at the gear Leo has. Probably better than my scope and binoculars. I wonder would Leo go birdwatching with me when this is all over?”
“Dutch, Leo doesn’t come across to me as someone who would be going around looking for little birds in the bushes.”
“Why not?”
“Drop it, Dutch. You’re starting to sound foolish.”
“Sure, Joe, you should come with me someday birding.”
“Not on your life. If I go looking for birds, it will be to shoot them.”
“Typical Newfoundlander, you have to shoot everything that moves.”
