Unaware of how long Jonathan would remain but hoping for an opportunity to learn more about this last target, William had hastened to find an acceptable spot from where he could keep an eye on the Acura. A walking path ran along the far side of the property next to which occasional sitting areas had been put in place amidst copses of cedars and junipers. Beyond, the lawn sloped down to the street below which led out of the condominium complex.
Satisfied with the cover offered by the evergreens, William had selected the closest copse, perhaps sixty feet from Jonathan’s SUV. He had moved his own vehicle, which was now parked on the street twenty feet behind him, unlocked with the key in the ignition should he need to leave in a hurry for any reason. Remaining alert for any passersby, he exercised his patience as he waited for Jonathan to exit the building. He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait too long.
* * * *
Jonathan stepped out of the building and headed across the pavement with his usual, purposeful stride. As he neared his vehicle he simultaneously heard the soft, popping crack and felt the burning sting as a bullet grazed his forehead. He dove for cover behind the Acura as more pops sounded, intermixed with blunt thuds as the bullets impacted the SUV. Remaining immobile, he listened intently but no other shots were heard. An engine started somewhere nearby followed immediately by the sound of a car racing away.
Believing his attacker was gone but taking no chances, Jonathan remained in a crouch as he moved a few feet away to examine the side of the Acura. No evidence of any damage supported his impression the gunshots had come from the opposite side. Returning close to the vehicle, he rose slowly, just enough to peer through the bottom of the driver’s side window. An irregular star-shaped pattern adorned the glass of the front passenger door, a bullet having left its mark. He could see no movement beyond, no sign of further danger.
He felt a trickle on his brow and swiped it with his hand. Blood, more than he expected. He knew the injury was superficial but head wounds tended to bleed a lot and he would have to look after it sooner rather than later. He certainly couldn’t simply drive off and head back downtown with a bleeding head wound and he had yet to see the damage to his vehicle. Though he hadn’t counted, he had heard a number of shots and the sounds of their impacts.
With one eye continuously scanning his surroundings, he backtracked to the building’s entrance as he pulled his phone out.
“Yeah, Chris,” he said when the call connected. “I’m heading back up. I just got nicked in the head by a bullet so I’ll be staying for lunch after all.”
* * * *
AutoRoute 15 northbound entering Laval, Quebec, 12:48 p.m.
“You’re getting better at this, old boy,” William muttered to himself aloud as he crossed the Médéric Martin Bridge from Montreal to Laval. “You don’t have to wait for any news reports this time. You already know you screwed up.”
His initial plan had been to simply keep an eye out for Jonathan when he left, to ensure the MDX was in fact his vehicle. Once Jonathan drove off, William would have had more than enough time to get to his own car to follow. He had actually settled into his chosen hiding spot without the rifle at first but the sheer proximity to his target’s vehicle and the deserted surroundings had soon convinced him he might be missing an opportunity to finally eliminate one of his prey. Desire to succeed in his quest had soon taken over and urged him get the rifle.
He had felt confident when Jonathan had appeared and had taken his time, intent on making the pull on the trigger worthwhile. His first shot had been close, so close it had actually drawn blood and for an instant, he had thought he had scored a hit. However, before he had managed to take a second shot, his target had dived for cover behind the Acura. For the briefest moment, William had considered running out to shoot the man at close range but reason had held him back. Enraged, he had emptied the magazine, riddling the SUV with his seven remaining bullets before rushing back to his waiting car and escaping.
Relatively certain nobody had seen him, and intent on keeping things as such, he had made his way off the small island and headed north through Montreal and into Laval via the freeways, quickly putting distance between himself and the shooting scene. He would spent the next few hours getting a bite to eat and shopping for a few necessities at the Carrefour Laval shopping mall to get his mind off his latest failed attempt.
He would then have to start thinking, or rather, acting intelligently for a change and stop letting his emotions take control. He was a brilliant man and could certainly succeed if he put his mind to it. All he needed was a plan – and as he took the exit for the shopping mall, the inkling of an idea began to take shape. With a bit of research, he would soon know if this could be the opportunity he was looking for.
* * * *
Nuns’ Island, Montreal, Quebec, 1:27 p.m.
“Hey, guys,” Chris greeted the two cops as they stepped out of the elevator into the penthouse’s entrance foyer. “Thanks for coming over.”
“We’re taking this kind of personally,” said Tim Harris. “You did good to call me directly.”
“It made sense since you’re on the other cases,” Chris replied. “There’s no way this was a coincidence.”
“Jonathan’s okay?” asked Frank Bakes.
Chris nodded. “It was just a graze. He was lucky. Come on in. We’re having a bite to eat.”
He led the way to the dining room where the others sat munching on an impromptu lunch of cold cuts, cheese and baguette in lieu of the previously planned pizza.
“So, did you catch the bastard who shot me?” Jonathan solemnly asked once the greeting formalities were over.
“Not yet,” Tim replied, equally deadpan as he and Frank sat at the table, “But we’ll be on it as soon as you give us his name and the address where we can find him.”
“Aw, crap,” Jonathan muttered. “I forgot to ask him before he left.”
“This is serious, guys,” Cathy scolded, shaking her head.
“Jon started,” said Tim before turning serious. “Seems your shooter was hiding in a bunch of trees about twenty yards from your car, based on shell casings we found there.”
“Low velocity twenty-twos,” Frank added, looking grim, “Like the ones at the Summit shooting.”
“So we may have found a link,” said Jonathan.
“We’ll know for sure soon enough,” said Tim. “The techs are collecting slugs as we speak.”
“The only problem is,” Chris stepped in, “The link doesn’t make sense. It was fine to think someone was gunning for Dave and Frank but how does Jon tie in to all of this?”
“Could it be related to something you guys worked on since Dave joined you?” asked Tim.
“If that was the case, how would Frank fit it?” Jonathan countered.
“If I fit in,” said Frank. “Though it seems likely, we’ll only know for sure once we have the ballistics results.”
“How soon can you expect those?” asked Dave, well aware of the consistent delays with evidence testing due to short-staffed labs.
“I mentioned this had to do with the Great McCall and was assured someone would be on it this week,” Tim replied with a smile.
“I’ve still got clout,” said Dave. “In the meantime, we can figure out what happened today.”
“I’ve got two men going door to door in the building,” said Tim before turning to Jonathan. “I take it you didn’t see anyone?”
“Nobody,” Jonathan confirmed, “Which doesn’t surprise me. I’ve been here often and the lot out front and the lobby are usually deserted.”
“Even more so on weekdays,” Chris added. “Most of the people who live here are working couples so the place empties out during the day.”
“There was a man in the entrance when I arrived,” Jonathan remembered, “But that was half an hour before I left.”
“What was he doing?” Tim questioned.
“Looking at the directory board,” Jonathan replied. “He stepped aside to let me buz
z in then I came up here.”
“Did you get a good look at him?” asked Dave.
Jonathan shrugged. “I didn’t examine the guy but, yeah. Late fifties to early sixties, a bit taller than me, not quite six feet, trim, well dressed but casual, short grey beard, glasses. He didn’t look out of place or seem strange.”
“Are there any security cameras anywhere?” asked Frank.
Chris shook his head. “Only the intercom cameras for private elevators. It’s a quiet neighbourhood and all units have alarm systems monitored by a security firm which also patrols the complex. They have an office in the next building.”
“We’ll check with them,” said Tim. “Does anything else come to mind, Jon?”
“There was a car in the visitor’s lot when I arrived,” Jonathan replied, looking pensive. “It was gone when I went back out. Probably belonged to the man I saw. Dark grey, almost charcoal, a sedan, maybe a Kia or a Toyota, like a Camry, maybe some other make and model.”
“Dark grey mid-size Asian import,” Tim paraphrased as he took a note. “What else?”
“The rest is simple,” said Jonathan. “I came out the front door and crossed over to my car. The first shot came when I was five or six feet away. I heard it and felt the sting on my forehead so I dived behind the car. Several more shots followed, they were fast so I knew it was a semi and the trigger was being pumped. I heard those hitting the car and determined it was on the opposite side. As quickly as it all started, it stopped and seconds later, I heard an engine start up and a car racing off. Our guy may be a lousy killer but he’s good at getting away.”
“We’ll go visit the security office,” said Tim as he and Frank rose from their seats. “I’ll keep you posted if we learn anything. In the meantime, watch your backs.”
“You do the same,” Dave suggested. “For all we know, you might be on the list too.”
Chapter 10 – Thursday, October 8, 2015
Nuns’ Island, Montreal, Quebec, 10:35 a.m.
“The view is indeed spectacular,” said William as he gazed at the Montreal skyline from the eighteenth floor. “I’ll take it.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to see the two units available in the other building, Mr. Ryerson?” asked the rental manager, out of professional courtesy. “They’re comparable in size to this one, similarly furnished and a bit less expensive though, I must admit, they don’t offer the same view.”
“Which is exactly why I want this one,” William reiterated with a smile. “When can I move in?”
“We can do the paperwork immediately if you like,” the manager replied. “I should be able to have the credit verifications done by tomorrow, just a formality, of course, and I can have a housekeeping team in tomorrow as well. Is Monday acceptable for you?”
William frowned. “Not quite. I’m not happy with my current accommodations and would rather vacate sooner than later so here’s what I propose. We’ll do the paperwork immediately and I’m certain you can have your housekeeping team in well before tomorrow. As for credit verifications, do what you must but we’re talking a three month lease and I intend to pay cash up front. I can give you the two thousand for the security deposit now and another sixty-five hundred when I pick up the keys this afternoon, let’s say around three o’clock?”
“Uh, I, uh, we’ll do our best to make it happen if it’s more convenient for you,” was the manager’s flustered response. “By the way, you said you’d bring sixty-five hundred this afternoon. Three months of rent would be six thousand.”
“The extra five hundred is yours, my friend,” William replied as he patted the man’s shoulder. “Make it happen.”
* * * *
Nuns’ Island, Montreal, Quebec, 3:53 p.m.
Determined not to waste his first full day out of the hospital strictly recuperating, Dave had suggested he wished to get out to deal with a few matters. For one, he would need a replacement vehicle and a trip to Hudson to get some clothing and other necessities for him and Cathy was also in order. The others had agreed and decided to make a group activity of the outing with both couples piling into the Cayenne mid-morning.
A visit to the dealership, where Dave’s Range Rover had been taken once released by the police, had confirmed he would soon be driving a new vehicle, the damage being sufficiently extensive to consider his previous ride a total loss. Lunch had followed the preliminary shopping for a new SUV after which they had driven to Hudson where Chris had inspected the property for evidence of unwanted visitors while Dave and Cathy packed.
“I’ll be due for a drink,” said Dave as Chris pulled into his parking spot in the underground garage.
“I’m not sure you should be drinking with those painkillers, sweetheart,” said Cathy.
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” her husband replied with a laugh, followed by a gasp and a wince.
“That’ll teach you, funny guy,” said Cathy, opening the door and sliding out before turning to help him out. “Now, let us bring the bags up, understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dave replied as he climbed stiffly out of the vehicle.
“I’ll get you that drink, buddy,” Chris stage-whispered as he came around to the rear and opened the tailgate.
They continued their banter while Chris unloaded the pair of suitcases and locked the SUV before moving over to the entrance of the private elevator, conveniently located in a small alcove between Chris and Sandy’s parking slots. As Sandy pressed the fingerprint scanner to access the elevator, a man approached the group with his own luggage in tow.
“Excuse me,” he called. “Is this the elevator which goes to the upper floors?”
“No, sir,” Chris replied, stepping toward him as he pointed off to one side. “The main elevators are just through the doors over to your right.”
The man took a step back and chuckled as he saw the doors. “You must think I’m blind. I’m just moving in and have never been down here. You caught my attention as I was coming from my car and I didn’t even notice those doors.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Chris replied, “And welcome to your new home. I’m sure you’ll be happy here.”
“Thank you, though it’s just a temporary stay,” said the man. “A few months while I work on a project here in Montreal.”
Chris nodded. “In that case, enjoy your stay.”
“I’m sure I will,” the man responded. “Anyhow, I won’t keep you any longer but it was nice to meet you. I’m Allan, by the way.”
“Good to meet you too, Allan,” Chris replied. “I’m Chris. See you around.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” William replied with a smile.
Chapter 11 – Saturday, October 10, 2015
Nuns’ Island Tennis and Fitness Centre, Montreal, Quebec, 10:04 a.m.
“Are you losing your touch, young fella?” Jonathan teased as they made their way to the snack bar.
“I won three sets,” was Chris’ rebuttal.
“I won the match,” Jonathan countered.
Chris grinned. “But I made you work for it, old man.”
“Son of a bitch,” Jonathan muttered, stopping suddenly as he peered across the vast lobby.
“What is it?” Chris asked, following his gaze to note a man heading toward them from the training area beyond.
“That’s the guy I saw downstairs at your place the day I got shot at,” said Jonathan.
“Hello there,” William called out before Chris could respond. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“You know him?” Jonathan asked.
“Just recently met,” Chris murmured before addressing William. “Good morning. Allan, right?”
“Yes, Allan Ryerson,” William confirmed as he reached them, his hand extended, “And you’re Chris Barry, if memory serves.”
“That’s correct,” Chris replied, shaking William’s hand as he turned to Jonathan. “Allan just moved into our building.”
Jonathan nodded as they shook hands. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jo
nathan Addley.”
“You look familiar,” said William. “Do you live in the building as well?”
“No,” said Jonathan, “But we did see each other there the other day. You were in the entrance when I came in.”
“Yes, I remember,” William replied. “I knew I had seen you before.”
“That’s when it was,” Jonathan confirmed. “Listen, we were just going to get something to drink. Can I buy you a coffee or something?”
“That would be nice,” William accepted. “I don’t know any people on a social basis around here so I won’t say no to a bit of company.”
They strolled over to the snack bar off the back corner of the lobby and were soon settled down at a table with coffees to resume their chat.
“So, Allan,” said Chris, “When we met, you mentioned you were in town to work on a project. Where are you from?”
“British Columbia,” William replied then added, “Tsawwassen, more precisely.”
“It’s nice out there,” said Jonathan. “What kind of project dragged you from there to here?”
William smiled and said, “A joint research project with one of your universities on a mundane subject which would bore you to death. However, luck is with you as confidentiality forces me to spare you of such misery. Sorry.”
“I get it and no apology is necessary,” Jonathan replied, “But if you don’t mind, I do have a question or two about Wednesday morning when we saw each other.”
“You pique my curiosity,” said William. “Ask away.”
“Did you see anyone who seemed strange or suspicious while you were there?” asked Jonathan.
Getting Even Page 6
