by Easton, Don
“Nice family,” said Pike, pouring them each another drink.
“Hey, one of those was enough for me,” said Welsh.
“Ah, come on. This will be the last one for me too, then I’m gone.”
“You go ahead. I’ve —”
“Bet you miss your kids,” interrupted Pike.
“Yeah, I really miss being apart from them. Wish I was heading home tomorrow too.”
“Actually I have some good news for you,” said Pike, standing up and looking out the balcony door. “You will be catching an earlier flight.”
“I will?” said Lorne in surprise.
“Yeah, stand up. I got something to show you.”
When Lorne got to his feet, Pike drove his fist deep into Lorne’s solar plexus, causing him to double over as the air exploded from his lungs. Pike’s next move was to ram the palm of his hand under Lorne’s chin, while delivering a blow with his other hand to the base of Lorne’s neck, breaking it instantly.
Before Lorne’s body could fall, Pike grabbed him by the arm and silently lowered him to the floor.
Pike smiled. “Yup, your flight is leaving right now.”
Chapter Fifteen
It was four o’clock Friday afternoon when Jack checked his watch. He knew it was only three o’clock in the morning in Moscow and would likely be a few hours before he heard back from Romanov. He looked across his desk at Laura and asked, “How you feeling?”
“Tired,” she admitted.
“Me, too. Let’s pack it in until Monday morning.”
“You don’t have to twist my arm on that. Do you think on Monday Isaac will order us disclose the identity?”
“If we are, how do you feel about that?” asked Jack.
“Same as you. Mixed feelings. I really want him to go to jail, but I want to catch these other guys before they do any more murders.” Laura saw Jack staring glumly down at his desk. She reached over and patted his hand and said, “Don’t worry, if ordered to divulge, I will refuse, same as you.”
“I’m not worried about you,” replied Jack. “You should know by now that I trust you implicitly.”
“Likewise, so what’s troubling you?”
“I was thinking of Amanda. Having met her and seen her picture … it kind of got to me.”
“Her picture?” asked Laura.
“Dyck showed me a photo taken of her immediately after her attack. Guess he thought it would prompt me to give him the name.”
“What a jerk.”
“He’s got a point, though,” said Jack. “We can’t let him strike again. We better be prepared to put some hours in and catch him the next time he goes to a park.”
“I’m all for that, but who knows how long it will take? You said yourself that we have probably scared him off for a month or two.”
“If he thinks we’re watching him, he will behave.”
“But he knows there’s no way we can watch him forever,” said Laura.
“I’m positive he will strike again,” said Jack bitterly. “It is all a question of when.”
“That would be the million-dollar question. Hopefully not until we are done investigating Oskar.”
“That would be nice.”
“Say we were done with Oskar. We still can’t spend the rest of our lives watching Virgil twenty-four-seven.”
“I know.” Jack gave Laura a hard look and said, “We won’t. Trust me on that.”
“Trust you?”
Jack nodded solemnly.
Jack was pulling into his garage when he saw Natasha walking down the sidewalk, holding hands with Mike and Steve. When he stepped from the car Natasha let go and both boys ran to meet him.
“Where were you?” asked Jack, after scooping a boy up in each arm and bouncing them.
“Mommy took us to the park,” said Steve.
“The park?” replied Jack, trying to sound enthused as the hair on the back of his neck tingled.
“I climbed the bars,” said Steve.
“You did? Well aren’t you the little spider monkey!”
The boys continued to chatter, but Jack tuned them out as they all went into the house. His initial fear for his family was quickly replaced with anger. Anger at a situation over which he had little control. He felt like he was sliding into a dark abyss. It was his decision … but was it the right decision and what would the future bring?
“Jack? Want to talk about it?” asked Natasha from the bedroom doorway.
“About what?” Jack replied automatically, trying to snap out of his reverie. He realized he was standing in the bedroom, staring at his pistol that he had placed in the dresser drawer. His memory of the last few minutes of greeting Natasha and walking inside were a blur.
“I said do you want to talk about it?” repeated Natasha. “I can tell that something bad has happened. Can you talk to me about it?”
Jack sighed. “I can give you the basic details.”
They sat on the bed and Jack told Natasha about how he and Laura turned a new informant and how the informant tried to prove his credibility by admitting to raping Amanda.
Natasha cringed, closing her eyes when she heard.
“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “Maybe I shouldn’t be unloading on to you.”
“I don’t like it because of how awful it is, but I like it less when you shut me out,” she replied. “At least I understand what is bugging you. We’re a family, we should be able to go to each other when we’re upset. I’ve come to you in the past.”
“What was worse was when I went to Amanda’s apartment block to check on the informant’s credibility, I had a chance encounter with her and her three-year-old daughter, Megan.”
“She has a daughter? You spoke to them?”
“Yes. Amanda wanted me to promise that I would catch the guy who attacked her. Christ, he was sitting in my car only a block away at the time.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Nothing, I was too shook up. She saw that I was and thought it was because I really wanted to catch the guy. She was really compassionate toward me. Made me feel worse.”
“Well, she’s right that you’re upset. I bet you do want to nail the guy.”
“Nail him? I’d like to nail his balls to a stump and push him over backwards. I hate being in this position.”
“What does Rose think about it? Or does she know?”
“She knows,” replied Jack. He told Natasha about Dyck and the upcoming meeting on Monday morning with Assistant Commissioner Isaac.
“Well, thanks for telling me,” said Natasha.
“Thanks for listening,” said Jack, wondering if he felt better or worse for unloading on Natasha. Partly he felt weak that he couldn’t be psychologically strong enough to handle the situation and momentarily despised his insecurities. Another part told him that Natasha was his best friend and that he should be able to confide in her. He would be angry if the tables were turned and she hadn’t reached out to him. In his heart, he knew he would never survive in this line of work without her support.
“Now what are you thinking?” asked Natasha.
“About how much I love you and how lost I would be without you.”
“That sounds like a pat answer,” replied Natasha.
“It isn’t really. It’s straight from the heart. I respect your opinion.”
“Back at ya, big guy,” said Natasha, kissing Jack on the cheek.
Jack pulled away. Despite opening up to Natasha, he had not yet found the answer he was looking for. “Do you think I made the right decision? What would you have done?”
Natasha looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter what anyone else would have done. Your decision was made in good faith. Let’s hope you can learn to live with it.”
“It’s really eating away at me,” admitted Jack.
“You wouldn’t be human if it didn’t.”
“Guess I better make sure I catch the people behind these murders.”
“Tha
t might help, but I doubt it would ever completely ease your conscience.”
“I think you’re right about that.”
“You’re also really tired. You’ve hardly slept all week. Maybe by Monday morning you will feel a little more refreshed.”
“Yeah, maybe that’s —”
Jack’s cellphone rang and he quickly answered when he saw that it was Romanov.
“Bad news comrade,” said Romanov. “Your American is dead. It only happen, maybe ten minutes before I got to hotel.”
“What happened?”
“He go over balcony. Smash head on sidewalk. I think American name Ben Pike, grab him and throw him over.”
“Any witnesses?”
“People on sidewalk almost get hit, but say when look up … do not see anybodies.”
“Where is Ben Pike?”
“He in room for interview. I talk to him. He say Welsh commit suicide. He say Welsh tell him he upset because maybe he have disease from prostitute. Pike drink with Welsh before it happen and hear this. Pike say he talk to him and think everything okay and go back to his room.”
“I think Pike is lying.”
“Welsh have pictures of his wife and two kids on table in his room, beside empty vodka bottle. Maybe he depressed.”
“That is what Pike wants you to think.” Jack thought of the first victim, Paul Jennings. Another man murdered with a family left behind …
“Maybe,” replied Romanov. “But we have no evidence on Pike. I tell him somebody in next room hear him fight with Welsh. It is a lie, but I try to, how you say … shake Pike up. He no afraid. He say he no fight at all. He not even ask to talk to American embassy.”
“Did any witnesses hear Welsh yelling when he was falling? Eight floors is quite a height.”
“Nobody hear nothing until big splat.”
“Then he was probably dead or unconscious before he was thrown over.”
“Unless real suicide,” said Romanov.
“I feel certain it wasn’t.”
“Okay. Maybe you are right. You want me arrest Pike? I make him talk.”
“That wouldn’t help us. We would never be able to get his confession admitted in court if it was given to you under duress.”
“Under my dress?” replied Romanov angrily. “I am a man! What you think? I am woman prostitute who —”
“Duress! It means what you would do to Pike to get him to talk.”
Romanov paused for a moment. “Oh, now I understand. You think I make him wear dress, he talk?”
“That’s not —”
“Never before I hear that. Other prisoners beat him,” said Romanov, thoughtfully. “That maybe work.”
“No, not dress,” said Jack, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “The word just sounds the same. It means anything you would do to him to make him talk if he did not want to talk to you.”
“Oh. No worry. I just beat him. I no kill him.”
“I know. We call that duress. That would really hurt our case. If we are going to catch the guys he works for in Canada and the United States, we need to go about this my way.”
“What is your way?” asked Romanov.
“Wiretap. For that, I want you to let Pike go. I need the bad guys to be relaxed and think they are getting away with it.”
“Will you still need me to come to Canada?”
“Yes, for sure if it goes to court. Maybe the United States, too.”
“Okay comrade. I no put Ben Pike in a dress. I let him go.”
“Thank you. One more thing. You said you had pictures of Welsh’s wife and kids. Please scan and email me copies.”
“Okay, comrade. I do that. I also send you picture of body that go splat on sidewalk.”
Jack’s frustration continued to build after he hung up. Welsh’s death was proof that he was on the right track. Except he would still be alive if I hadn’t been wasting my time talking to Inspector Dyck …
Jack felt his need for vengeance grow. He thought about the pictures that Romanov would be sending him. Am I doing the right thing about using them? … damn rights I am …
Chapter Sixteen
Jack and Rose arrived at Assistant Commissioner Isaac’s receptionist’s office at precisely nine o’clock Monday morning and were directed into his office.
Dyck was already seated in a sitting area around a coffee table with Isaac. Jack caught a slight grin on Rose’s face when she heard Isaac telling the inspector that his security clearance really was lower than everyone on the Intelligence Unit.
Dyck remained silent as Isaac gave a cordial greeting and gestured for everyone to sit down.
“As I understand it,” said Isaac, “Corporal Taggart has an informant who knows the identity of a serial rapist … or is in fact that rapist, is that true?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Jack.
“And you refuse to identify the informant because of information you were given concerning five murders,” continued Isaac.
“Of which I am told only one death has ever been discovered,” said Dyck. “Not only was it classified as accidental, it relates to some guy who fell off a ladder putting up Christmas lights eight years ago in Los Angeles.” Dyck glared at Rose and said emphatically, “What can be proven is that the serial rapist we are after, is currently very active in our country!”
“I have received more information over the weekend,” said Jack, opening up his briefcase. “On Friday I received information from the informant that an American from Seattle was about to be murdered in Russia. I made inquir-ies and a Russian detective located the man in a hotel in Moscow.”
“You made and received inquiries to and from Russia that fast?” said Isaac.
“Uh, yes, sir. I didn’t feel there was time to go through Ottawa.”
“How did you manage to pull that off … or is it a need-to-know basis?” Isaac asked, with a sideways glance at Dyck.
“How I did it is not a secret. I simply have a friend who is a Communist Intelligence officer.”
“I see,” replied Isaac. He looked at Dyck and said, “And he thinks contacting Russia or having a friend who is a Communist Intelligence officer is not a secret … makes you wonder what he really does or knows that rates S-A clearance, doesn’t it?”
Dyck looked sheepish and nodded.
“Please continue,” said Isaac, returning his attention back to Jack.
“The Russian detective tried to call me early Friday afternoon, but I was delayed in a meeting for two hours, so he left a message on my office phone and held off doing anything until I returned from the meeting. When I got his message, I called him immediately and suggested he take protective security measures.”
Silence descended as Jack removed some photos from his briefcase. “The man’s name is Lorne Welsh. The first picture is of his wife and him.” Jack paused after he dropped the picture onto the coffee table to let them glance at it. “This second picture is of their two children.”
“Nice-looking kids,” commented Isaac, while raising one eyebrow as he glanced at Jack.
You’re damn rights something is up … “The last picture is of Welsh again,” continued Jack, “although his face is tough to recognize after he went over the side of the eighth-floor balcony of his hotel room.”
Isaac and Dyck were seasoned policemen, but the sight of Welsh’s shattered, bloody corpse next to the pictures of his wife and children left them both visibly shaken.
Jack sat back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest and stared at Dyck. Now you know how I felt when you shoved Amanda’s picture in my face …
“Unfortunately, the Russian detective missed Welsh’s demise by approximately ten minutes,” said Rose.
“If I had not been delayed at a meeting, I think he would still be alive,” added Jack. He knew it was an obvious comment, but still took satisfaction in rubbing it in.
Dyck picked up the pictures of the children and his hands shook as he glanced back at the picture of Welsh on the
sidewalk.
“If the informant is accurate,” continued Jack, “Welsh takes the murder tally to six. The informant says two more victims are being selected to be murdered in the next couple of months. Both Canadian.”
“The meeting you were at,” muttered Isaac, “I hope it was important.”
Jack saw that the inspector was still staring at the photos. His hand was trembling and his face was pale. He did not appear to be listening to the conversation. Jack felt a wave of emotion. I’m an asshole. This guy really cares.
“Corporal Taggart?” prodded Isaac.
“The meeting was with Major Crimes,” said Jack. “I was seeking assistance in regard to how to investigate the murders, as well as what could be done to stop the rapist, without putting justice into disrepute by breaking my promise to the informant.”
“No,” said Dyck, shaking his head. “That is not right. Sir, I had called that meeting in an effort to find out who the serial rapist was. This,” he said, with a nod toward the photographs, “is entirely my fault.”
Isaac stared silently back and forth at Dyck and Jack for a moment, then cleared his throat. “The context of the meeting or who called it is irrelevant. What is done is done. What we need to do is focus on what I see as being two separate investigations. One of murder and one of rape. In regard to the murders, is there an operational plan in place?”
“Not on paper yet, sir, but I am formulating a plan on how to proceed,” replied Jack. “The only Canadian murdered, so far, is from Vancouver, but I do not yet have any evidence that any of the murders were committed on Canadian soil.”
“Then get your plan on paper,” replied Isaac. “Presumably it will include working with foreign authorities.”
Jack nodded.
Isaac stared at the photos a moment longer, before looking back at Jack and saying, “I take it you also have a plan in regard to the serial rapist?”
Jack nodded again.
“Sir,” interjected Dyck. “That investigation is under the control of Major Crimes.”
