by Rae Knightly
They shook hands, then, as the client turned away, Laura saw the notary giving his assistant instructions which clearly implied making a phone call, to which she hastily nodded in understanding. Then he closed the door, calmly returned to his desk, sat down and crossed the fingers of his hands on the table in front of him in a business-like manner. “Ms. Archer.” He said gravely. “We don’t have much time.”
“What is going on here?” Laura said in bewilderment.
Mr. Boyle inspected her curiously. “You did not bring your son along?” He asked.
Laura shook her head. “No, I sent him home. His grandfather’s passing has not been easy on him.”
Mr. Boyle nodded in approval. “Good.” He said slowly, lost in thought. “Still, out of respect for your late father – God rest his soul – I must warn you that my assistant is calling the police right now.” The notary stated.
“What?” Laura exclaimed, perplexed. “Why?”
“Have you heard of the CSIS, Ms. Archer?” Charles Boyle asked.
Laura blinked at him, racking her brain: “You mean the Canadian version of the FBI?”
“Yes.” Mr. Boyle acknowledged. “Well, you see, a couple of their agents barged into my office yesterday, waving a lot of official documents at my face.” He gazed at her intently, trying to read her reaction. “My intention was to read your father’s will to you this morning, as he had instructed me to do at his passing. But yesterday’s unexpected visitors changed everything. Basically, all your father’s assets have been frozen. The CSIS has taken hold of your father’s will as well as his inheritance.”
“What?” Laura burst out, incredulous. “But why? Is that even legal?”
“Just last week I would have said ‘no’. I have never experienced anything similar, to be honest.” He said. “But, as it turns out, I was wrong. They did this in all legality. I’m afraid, Ms. Archer, that I am unable to read your father’s will to you today.”
Laura stared at him, her mind unable to grasp what he was saying.
Mr. Boyle continued apologetically: “To be honest, my assistant and I did not expect you in today. We… er…. I guess we expected the CSIS to have made you aware of the situation by now. It was our error… we should have contacted you immediately…” He pulled open a side drawer and dug out a medium-sized envelope. “Nevertheless,” he continued carefully, “I am glad you came, as they did not get their hands on this.” He handed the brown envelope to Laura, who took it with a look of total confusion on her face. He said gently: “Don’t think I approve of what is happening, Ms. Archer. Your father’s passing is a loss to us all. He was greatly appreciated by the community, me included.” His voice went down to a hush: “This envelope was not part of the will. Your father entrusted it to me, as one friend to another, and made me promise to give it to you, should you ever face any kind of trouble. Please, do not mention this envelope to anyone. It is the only thing of your father’s that I was able to… how shall I say… omit from yesterday’s investigation.”
Laura sat like a statue, gaping at the envelope dazedly.
The notary stood up, saying gravely: “Still, I can’t ignore the arrest warrant that came in this morning. That is why it is my duty to call the police, Ms. Archer. So I beg you: leave quickly!”
Laura’s handbag tumbled to the ground as she pushed back her chair. “An arrest warrant? But why?” She asked, fumbling to pick up the handbag. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”
Mr. Boyle stared at her in surprise as he realized her confusion: “No, not for you!” He said. “It’s for your son.” He explained. “The arrest warrant is for your son!”
Laura stared at him in horror.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The First Witness
AT DAWN THAT MORNING, INSPECTOR JAMES HAO had received new information from the Dugout about the fur hat man in the funeral photograph. Surveillance cameras at the Toronto airport showed him as having arrived a week ago from South America, travelling with a Canadian passport that identified him as Jack Anderson. However, as it turned out, the Bolivian Embassy had informed Canadian authorities two days ago that the real Jack Anderson had fallen to his death in an attempt to walk the dangerous Inca Trail. His remains were being flown back to Canada that same day. Meaning that the CSIS still had no clue as to the real identity of the fur hat man, nor how he had managed to travel across the country from Toronto to Chilliwack without leaving a trace.
On the other hand, the fingerprints that Hao had gotten from Ben Archer at the funeral reception matched those on the pieces of glass recovered from the crash site, officially turning the boy into a previously unknown witness of The Cosmic Fall. Not to mention that Ben was the last person to have spoken to the fur hat man. It was high time they had a serious chat with Ben Archer.
Hao rushed to Ryan Archer’s house, only to find it empty. Quite conveniently, though, they had received a call from the local RCMP informing them that Laura Archer was currently at the notary on Knight Road.
***
“Has Connelly reported back yet?” Hao fumed, as one of the agents parked the white van in a hurry.
“Not yet.” The other agent replied, checking his phone for messages.
Hao swore as they searched the other side of the road with their eyes.
“There she is!” The agent who was driving the van said. They watched as Laura Archer left the notary’s building.
“The boy’s not with her!” Hao exclaimed.
The three men got out of the van. They swiftly crossed the road, closing in on Ben’s mother.
Laura saw them at once, running towards her in their dark grey suits. One of them flashed a badge at her: “Laura Archer? I’m Inspector James Hao with the CSIS. We need to talk to you!”
She glanced around desperately.
“In here!” Someone shouted urgently behind her. Startled, Laura turned around to find someone peeking out at her from a narrow back alley. It was Wayne the Bagman who was urging her to come over to him. Following a wild, baffling hunch, Laura ran over to the homeless man.
“Hold it!” Hao yelled, as he realized her intentions. But already she had slipped into the back alley after Wayne who was holding a metal door open for her. She entered into a dark corridor as the door shut behind her.
“This way!” Wayne urged. They both ran down the dimly lit corridor as fists thumped against the closed door behind them.
The homeless man turned out to be much fitter than he was making out, for with a swift stride he led her up several flight of stairs to a closed emergency exit. Wayne pushed it open so that Laura found herself on a small, rusty bridge structure between two brick buildings above another back alley. A key materialized in Wayne’s hand from under his rags and in no time the door to the next building was open. He ushered her through it so that, again, they were faced with corridors and stairways. Laura’s head was swimming as she lost all sense of direction, while they ran up and down empty corridors, until finally they entered a garage with a yellowish Buick stationed there. Wayne ran over to the garage door to pull it open, then unlocked the car door on the driver’s side before taking place behind the wheel. “Get in!” He ordered.
Laura froze to the spot, a sudden fear gripping her heart. “Wait!” She urged. “I can’t do this! What am I doing? This is crazy! I’m running away from the police. I’ve done nothing wrong!”
“It’s not you they’re after!” Wayne said impatiently, “They’re after your son! You have to get to him before they do!” Since she continued to hesitate, he barked: “Get into the car!”
Automatically, she obeyed. He put the key into the ignition, making the car spurt to life and before long Laura found herself heading out of town, then racing down the Highway.
Once they were satisfied that no-one was following them, she turned to Wayne, asking urgently: “What do they want Ben for?”
Wayne glanced over at her but said nothing.
“And what about you? What have you got to do with any of this?
Why are you helping me?” She insisted.
Still the man did not reply, concentrating on his driving.
“I’m talking to you!” Laura yelled at him. Her heart was racing in her chest, she was on the verge of a panic attack.
Wayne seemed very calm as he said: “I always knew your father had made a mistake by not involving you. He was hoping to protect you from all this, but they were bound to find out about you sooner or later.” He shook his head disapprovingly: “He should have known better.”
Laura stared at him angrily, not appreciating his comments at all. She grabbed the wheel from him, veering it sharply to the right. He hit the brakes so hard the tires screeched.
“What’s the matter with you!” He yelled through his thick, unkempt beard.
“I’m not letting go until you tell me what’s going on!” She seethed, still grasping the wheel. Cars honked as they sped passed them on the Highway.
“Yeah, all right!” He yelled angrily. “Now let go!”
Laura did as he asked, and he carefully weaved his way back into the fast lane, all the while muttering furiously under his breath.
“What’s your name?” She demanded firmly.
Wayne answered through gritted teeth: “Wayne McGuillen. Professional homeless man, at your service!”
Laura glared at him, but he didn’t appear to be joking.
“Why are these people after my son?” She insisted.
Wayne looked at her curiously again, before answering: “You really don’t know, do you?” She frowned at him to get on with it. “It’s because of The Cosmic Fall, of course.” He continued.
“The Cosmic Fall?” She said, incredulous. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He replied slowly: “Well, your son was there, on the night of The Fall. He witnessed everything.”
Laura remained silent, trying not to show that she was embarrassed not to know more about her son’s involvement on that fateful night. Finally, she said: “Yes, I’m aware my son witnessed the fall of some pretty big meteors next to my father’s property. I understand that this was a terrifying ordeal for him, but that still doesn’t explain why the police are after him.”
Wayne stared at her quietly before saying slowly: “The thing is, it wasn’t meteors that fell into the woods that night. It was alien spacecraft. UFOs.”
Laura felt panic rising up again. Her breath came in short gasps. She closed her eyes to fend off the asthma crisis that was threatening to take over. She did not want to show any signs of weakness by reaching for her asthma inhaler, so she forced herself to take in long, deep breaths to calm down. “You’re making that up. Everybody knows those were meteors. The news showed how they recovered the meteor debris from the fields. Why would you make up such a story?”
He answered slowly: “Because I was there too. I saw them: the spaceships and the aliens. I saw all of it. As did your father, your son and 2 others. There were 5 witnesses in all…” He trailed off, remembering, before continuing: “5 civil witnesses, yet only 4 of us were picked up by the CSIS. Somehow they missed your son. Your father managed to hide him from them. A good thing too. They brought us in for questioning. We thought they just needed us to file a witness report. Instead they kept us locked away for weeks! They used the excuse that we might have been exposed to alien viruses and were dangerous to the public. But in fact they were afraid we would talk to the press. They went to great lengths to cover up the truth, which is why we were considered a menace…” He trailed off again. Laura could hear the hurt in his voice: “All I wanted was to be left alone for a quiet night’s sleep in the woods… Instead I found myself locked up for weeks, prodded like a guinea pig, as if I were the one who was the alien…”
Laura listened to him without moving, unsure what to make of his words. She couldn’t tell if this man in ragged clothes had completely lost it, which was all the more alarming as he sounded so sincere. “Yet, here you are, safe and sound…” She said carefully.
Wayne didn’t seem to mind her statement. He glanced at her before continuing: “Somehow your father got word to the Canadian Human Rights Commission, and they were forced to release us in great secrecy, with tons of signed papers saying we would not reveal anything to any living soul. That’s what they did officially, but behind closed doors they bugged our houses and followed us day in and day out. That’s when your father stepped in again. He helped us disappear from the police radar by finding us places to hide. He provided us with a new life so they would leave us alone.
I went into the Yukon for a while. Couldn’t take the cold. Came back to my home town where I continued living rough so that I would be left alone. Kept an eye on your Dad. I knew he came into town incognito once in a while to sort things out for his family and for the other witnesses.”
He looked over at Laura again before adding: “Good thing I did, too. Found him by his car while he was having his heart attack. Dropped him off at the hospital along with your phone number. But I guess I was too late…”
Laura stared at him sadly. His story made so much sense, yet at the same time sounded completely crazy. Part of her was very reluctant to accept anything he was saying, because accepting it meant a huge weight falling on her shoulders. It was much easier to brush him off as mad. And yet he had helped her Dad…
Suddenly Wayne veered off the Highway to take a small dirt road that lead into the fields. Not long after, he turned into a lot filled with shrubs and a low, rundown house where white paint still showed through the peeling walls. In a swift movement he pulled into a dusty garage before turning off the engine.
“What are you doing?” Laura asked quickly, her suspicion growing tenfold.
“This is my stop.” Wayne said simply.
Laura stared at him in bewilderment.
He threw the car key into her lap before getting out.
“Wait! What…!”She started.
“This is as far as I go.” He interrupted. “I did my part, paid my debt to your father. Go and get your son, Laura. Take the car. It was your father’s anyway.”
Laura slid into the driver’s seat, then mechanically tried to get the key into the ignition, but her hands were shaking. “Wait a minute! Is that it? What am I supposed to do now? Where am I supposed to go?” She had so many questions, but at the same time she wanted to get away as quickly as possible.
“Don’t trust anyone.” He said, echoing her very thoughts.
She barely had time to back nervously out of the garage while he started pulling down the garage door.
“Hide! Like me.” She heard him say, as the door shut down firmly, obscuring her view of him. And just like that, he was gone.
Laura stared at the quiet house. She was in a cold sweat, her foot trembled on the pedal. She remembered the Inspector’s face as he lunged for her. He was real. The arrest warrant for her son was real. Ben’s face flickered before her eyes, and she strengthened her grip on the wheel. He was all that she had, all that mattered. She did not want those CSIS men to come anywhere near her son. Feeling a wave of urgency wash over her, she pushed down on the pedal, then sped off, leaving the lonely man to his wild imagination.
***
After an unproductive search for Laura Archer and her mysterious savior, Inspector James Hao entered the notary’s office with his notebook in hand. As he was drilling the elderly man about Laura and her son’s whereabouts, he spotted something jutting out from under the notary’s desk. It turned out to be an asthma inhaler with Laura Archer’s name on it. He knew it required a doctor’s prescription. Hao gazed out the window thoughtfully before putting the asthma inhaler away safely in his pocket.
CHAPTER NINE
The Trap
ALMOST 60 MILES AWAY, BEN WAS STARING OUT his classroom window, daydreaming. Concentrating on the lessons had proven an impossible task.
He had made it to school on time that morning, thanks to the very obliging Mrs. Ghallagher from Chilliwack, who had not only driven him back to Vancouver, but
had insisted he spend the night at her daughter’s house, as she would not hear of him staying on his own after having lost his grandfather so recently. He had found himself in an elegant family home on a tree lined avenue in a well-to-do neighbourhood, with Mrs. Ghallaghers’ daughter, husband and three-year old daughter. He had reluctantly accepted to join their joyful, bustling family dinner before settling in a cozy guest room all to himself. However, they would not hear of Tike sleeping in the bedroom with him. This thorny issue had almost turned into a nasty conversation, until Ben had given in very unwillingly. But as soon as everyone was sleeping soundly, the boy had quietly opened the kitchen door to let in his happy four-legged friend. They had huddled up close before falling fast asleep.
The next morning, Tike had scuttled under the bed before Mrs. Ghallagher had come to wake Ben up. After a hasty breakfast, she had ushered him into the car again so she could take him to school.
While Mrs. Ghallager was distracted by her granddaughter crying in the back seat, Ben was able to convince her that his Mom was picking him up that afternoon, therefore, he did not need to spend another night at the daughter’s house, he argued. She had dropped him off at the main school entrance with his dog, backpack and small suitcase, and had watched worriedly until he had entered the school building. Only then had he been able to breathe.
Fortunately, most teachers had left him alone that day, though Ben’s science teacher offered him his condolences. Still, it turned out to be one of the slowest school days he could remember, worsening when he was in a classroom that allowed him to catch a glimpse of Tike who was waiting patiently outside in the rain. More than anything else, Ben longed to be with his dog, who offered him his only solace.
On one occasion he found himself staring outside again while his companions were resolutely listening to the teacher, when he noticed Tike standing still as stone, ears alert, one paw off the ground, like a hunting dog sensing its prey. Then slowly his tail lowered between his legs, indicating fear, as if the prey had turned out to be a predator. Ben sat up, feeling alert for the first time that day. He followed the direction of Tike’s gaze, immediately spotting what had caught the dog’s attention.
