Phil Mulroney sat in front of Michael Parks’ desk with an open folder on his lap. They were reviewing the daily reports that came in overnight from the various military facilities in and around the city and port.
“I see here that RCAF Shearwater thought they picked a contact off the harbour,” Parks said, looking down at the latest report from the previous night.
“Yeah, but they think it was a whale not a U-boat. Seems they can appear the same,” Phil responded with a slight grin. “I suppose there’s some similarity.”
“Hmm. So, is there anything else on that murder up by Africville the other night?”
Mulroney shook his head. “Not really. I’m waiting for Robie to get back to me.”
“Good man there. But I think he might have his hands full right now with the other murder case. So, we’re at an impasse right now.”
“Not quite. As you know, we’ve been monitoring a number of civilians that have raised some red flags as well as watching out for new incoming new people coming here on the pretext of looking for work.”
“And?”
“We do random spot checks on a regular basis then pass what we get to Montreal or Ottawa for further investigation. In the last four months we red-flagged four people for a closer look.”
“Has anything come back yet?”
“Only on one of the four,” he said, flipping up a sheet of paper in the file. “A man named, James Coopers. Works as an electrician at the shipyards.”
“So why does this man stand out?” Parks asked.
“According to Montreal, back in ‘36 he took an extended trip to Germany to see family. His grandparents were German. Immigrated here after the last war.”
“An agent you think?”
“It’s possible. We have him under surveillance.”
“Do we know if this person has made any contact with someone local or outside the city?”
Mulroney shook his head again.
“We don’t have any evidence yet,” Mulroney said with a shrug. Our man on him did report that he went out late the other night, but lost him for a couple of hours.”
“What night was this?”
Mulroney flipped through the papers in the file again until he found what he was looking for.
“Damn,” he swore. “I don’t know how I missed that, it was the night the man was killed up in the Basin area.”
“Maybe we should pick him up for questioning,” Parks said.
“I don’t advise that, not yet anyway.”
“Reason?”
“If this man is a Nazi agent then he’s likely here to monitor the convoys and to send that information to the U-boats offshore. That means he must have a radio somewhere. We know that information is being sent to the German Consulate in New York according to our contact at the FBI. I think finding that radio is more important than arresting this man at the moment. Besides, if we can identify him and track him to where has his radio, we might also get our hands on his code books.”
“Hmm, I see your point. Best to shut down the communication link. The capture of his code books would definitely be a bonus.”
“That’s my thinking,” Mulroney said.
“Okay. We’ll keep with your plan...for now. Is there any more business to discuss?”
“That’s it. Oh, one thing,” Mulroney said, standing up. “I want to use Robie on this if possible, with your approval.”
Parks gave him a questioning look.
“There’s still the matter of jurisdiction. I have authority to deal with any outside agents but if there are any locals involved then he could come in handy with any arrests”
“Ah, then of course. I’ll leave that to your discretion.”
Mulroney turned and walked out into the hall and back to his office. When he reached his desk, he picked up the phone and dialled.
“Detective Robichaud.”
“Robie. It’s me, Phil.”
“What’s up?”
“Not much. Just thought I’d check in with you about that killing at the rail yard.”
“Not a lot more than what I already passed along. I did get a call from the ME. He found somethin’ interestin’ ‘bout the weapon used to knife the fella.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. He says that it reminded him of the type of knife the British Commandos use. Somethin’ about the shape or style of the blade. Says it’s likely not to be easily obtained around here.”
“Hmm, if his guess is right, then we are probably dealing with another agent, I think.”
“That was my thinkin’ too.”
“Listen, you have any time you can spare me? I need to discuss something with you.”
“Sure, when?”
“I’ll leave that up to you. I don’t want to cut into your time too much as I’m sure you’re busy with that murder the other night up in the Basin area. How’s that going by the way?”
“Not bad,” Robie said. “I think we might actually settle the matter in a day or two.”
“Good to hear. Think it’ll get you to your other suspect?”
“Lookin’ that way. Fingers crossed.”
“Great. Now back to meetin’ up, does sometime around say, six-thirty, sound workable?”
“Good with me. Where?”
“How about the Officer’s Mess. We can get a decent drink there and a good meal.”
“Sounds good but I’ll skip eatin’ there, thanks all the same. The wife got lucky and managed to lay her hands on a pound of beef so there’s a hot stew waitin’ for me.”
“Sounds good. You’re a lucky man.”
“I tell ya what, why don’t you come home with me for supper? We can always handle one more at the table. Afterward, we can have that talk with a beer.”
“Now that’s the best offer I’ve had since coming here. You’re on, thanks.”
“I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”
“Right. See you then.” We both hung up our respective phones.
* * *
Pete arrived back from his run up to Rockhead and his meeting with Butler about twenty minutes later. He had a smile on his face.
“Looks like you got something,” I said when he came over and sat down in front of my desk.
“Yep,” he said, nodding. “He gave up Kline as the one who actually did the deed,” Pete said, taking out his notebook.
“He’s sure ‘bout Kline?’
“Yep. Saw the whole thing. I asked if Jencks was involved, he sez no, not directly anyway. He also gave up a name that’ll take us to the thieving operation, maybe even to the Dartmouth connection.”
“That’s great work,” I said, sitting back. “He agree to testify?”
“I didn’t discuss that part with him yet, but I think he’ll cooperate. He really doesn’t want to do any time. I think he jus’ got unlucky an’ took a job that went sour an’ he was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“What about this other name? Who is it?”
“Ray Purcell. Never heard a him before. He’s a fisherman working outta Purcell’s Cove. Owns a coupla trucks which he uses to haul freight when he’s not fishin’. Accordin’ to Butler, Purcell hired him and another guy as strikers on a pick up at the pier and drop off. He didn’t know where that was, I asked. Anyway, they showed up at twenty-four for the pick up an’ that was when it went sour. When they left with Slaunwhite’s body, he an’ the other guy took off when the truck stopped in Greenbank.”
“Bloody good work, Pete. Okay, first thing, run a check on this Ray Purcell. Get everythin’ you can. Then we’ll get an arrest warrant for theft and accessory to murder and bring him in.”
“Okay, sounds good to me. What about Kline?”
“I’ll get another warrant for him,” I said. “First, we gotta find out where he is holed up.”
“That won’t be easy. He could be anywhere, assumin’ he’s even still in the city.”
“I know. I think it’s time to lean on Jencks ... hard. If anyone’ll know, or have an idea, it’ll be him.”
“What about Butler? I sorta made a promise to cut him a deal if he talked.”
“What kind of deal?”
“I said we’d try an’ see he didn’t do any time, at least not hard time. I had the warden put him on ice.”
“Yeah, okay, I can live with that. After all, he wasn’t involved with the killing and did make a break for it when he could. I’ll pass it by Morrison, see if he agrees an’ get him to talk to the Crown.”
I looked at my watch, two-twenty. I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and was hungry. I invited Pete to join me at a diner not far from the station, my treat for a good job. I left feeling pretty good. Looked like things were turning our way on the murder and the pilfering on the docks. Little did I know...
* * *
Ed Kline was lying on the bed under the window when he heard a car pull in. He got up and went to the window. Parting the curtain, he looked down in time to see two men getting out of the car. He recognized one as one of Laurier’s henchmen. He didn’t recognize the other man. A sudden sense of fear and danger gripped his mind.
Something wasn’t right, he thought.
He turned away from the window and went to the door, cracking it open. He heard a woman’s voice from the bottom of the stairs as he stepped into the hall.
“You must be the man Maurice sent?” Shirley Halliday asked, closing the door and sizing him up. It was an automatic reaction she had developed when letting a new man into the house. Nature of her business.
Gagnon simply nodded. “Where is he?” he asked, his voice as cold as the air outside.
“Upstairs. Second room at the end of the hall on the right.”
“Stay here,” he said nodding to the man with him to stay put as well and pulling out his gun. He screwed the suppressor onto the end of the barrel as he slowly climbed up the stairs.
Kline had heard enough. He darted back into the room and grabbed his hat and coat. He quickly put them on as he hurried back to the window. He opened it and leaned out looking for something to help him escape. The drain pipe at the corner and was within his reach. He swung his legs over the window sill and stretched his hand to the pipe. There wasn’t time to test it, so he shifted his body and rolled over to it leaving everything to luck. It held.
He slid to the ground. Once his feet hit the bottom, he took off at a run to the end of the driveway then, turning right, he fled down the street at a dead run.
Shirley and the man stood at the foot of the stairs looking up and listening. A few minutes later they saw Gagnon coming running back.
“Out of the way,” Gagnon said harshly, as he took the steps two at a time.
“What’s the matter? What happened?” Shirley asked nervously.
“He left by the window.”
“Wha...?” she started to ask.
“It was opened.”
“But why? He had no idea...”
“He saw us when we pulled in the drive and put two and two together,” Gagnon said as he opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He looked both ways and spotted his target about a half a block away running for his life. He raised his arm and squeezed the trigger.
Kline was almost to the end of the block when the first bullet hit the tree just behind him. Looking over his shoulder he saw the stranger aiming a silenced gun at him. He instinctively ducked and jigged sideways as he two ‘zipping’ sounds passed his ear.
Gagnon cursed under his breath as he lowered the gun and went back into the house.
“Missed him.”
“Shit,” the other man said, speaking for the first time. “Da boss ain’t gonna like this.”
“Let’s go,” Gagnon snapped, turning for the driveway.
Back in the car, Gagnon asked, “You know this man?”
“Not much. Why?”
“Where do you think he’ll go?”
“Dunno,” he said, inserting the car key and starting the car.
“Merde,” Gagnon snapped. “Go, go. Follow him.”
He held the silenced pistol on his lap and stared out the windscreen as the car backed out of the driveway and headed down the street in the direction Kline disappeared.
Meanwhile, Shirley closed the door and went to the phone and dialled.
“Is it done?” Laurier asked when he heard her voice.
“No. There was a problem,” she said.
“Whaddya mean...a problem?”
“Kline wasn’t there when your man went up. He thinks he must’ve heard the car come in, saw them and put two and two together. Figures he skipped out through the window.”
“Jesus. I wouldn’t ‘a figured Kline to be that clever. Tabernac. Where is he now?”
“Who?”
“The shooter.”
“Him and the other man took off after Kline, at least that’s what I heard your man tell the other man,” Shirley answered. “What do you want me to do now?”
“Nothing, chere. You’ve done as much as I needed. No need for you to be involved any further.” Laurier said.
“Okay. Good luck.”
“Thanks. I’ll call later.” They both hung up.
* * *
Kline’s mind raced as panic triggered his adrenalin, adding speed to his flight. Wild thoughts ran through his mind: had Laurier set him up to be killed? If so, then what was he going to do? Where could he go? Who could he trust?
After three blocks, he stopped and stepped into an alley between two houses. His heart was pounding rapidly, and his chest hurt as he gasped for air. An icy chill sent a shudder through him as beads of sweat ran down his back. He slowly regained control of his breathing and tried to clear his thoughts. It made no sense, he reasoned, why would the boss want to kill him? He was a trusted member of the gang. This was supposed to open up some new opportunities for him, not make him a marked man.
He shook his head, as if that would dislodge the questions he couldn’t understand or answer. He had to deal with his present situation: find a safe place to hole up until he could figure out what was happening. Kline shoved his hands into the pockets of the overcoat and stepped back out onto the sidewalk. Okay, he thought, where to? A place no one knew about, especially any of Laurier’s bunch. Suddenly, it came to him ... Helen’s place.
He looked at his watch — ten to four. If he remembered rightly, she would still be at work until at least six and he knew where she kept her spare key. He made another quick scan of traffic and still didn’t see any sign of the car. Nothing.