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“Who is this?”
“You know who this is. Call him off.”
“Or what?”
“You don’t want to know the answer to that question. Call him off. I won’t tell you again.”
The line went dead. I stood in the parking lot of Clam Diggers momentarily stunned. Whatever James had unearthed had pierced Cain’s armour.
I got in my car and texted Sebastian. You get that?
Sebastian hurried out of the pub and got into a black Cadillac SUV. He pulled out of the parking lot without acknowledging my text.
James needed to know, but with this mountain between us, I hesitated to phone him. Instead, I sent him a text using the second phone. Cain just called. You must be close. He told me to call you off.
Next, I called Sam and relayed Cain’s message.
“I doubt Cain’s call will be traceable. Did you warn James?”
“I sent him a text.”
“A text? Is this disagreement between you two serious?”
“I’m trying to give him some space.”
“This isn’t the time. I’ll call him,” Sam said. “I’ll get back to you.”
I put the car in gear and drove out of the parking lot. I hadn’t driven a full block before my cellphone went off. This time it was a fire-engine ring tone—my condo’s security alarm. With no chance of getting there before the police, I let it go through to 911 and stepped on the gas.
Moments later, my second phone rang. It was Sam. Trouble at my address had triggered a phone call to him. “It might be Cain,” he said, as if that hadn’t been my first, second and third guess. “Be prepared. He knows what you can do.”
A police cruiser with its lights flashing had parked at the condo’s front door. I parked behind it and raced inside. Colin paced a brisk line in front of the desk. The elevator’s doors stood open.
I called to him as I raced by. “What’s going on up there?”
Sirens sounded out front and an ambulance screeched to a halt. Colin had no time to answer me. He ran to open the doors. I sprinted to the stairwell and ghosted then blasted straight up to the top floor and re-formed. I pushed open the stairwell door and looked out past the elevator. My condo’s door stood ajar. I approached it with caution and stepped inside. Immediately, my gaze was drawn down the hallway toward the living room. Lying on the floor, jutting out from the kitchen doorway, were the uniformed legs and sturdy boots of an officer. I raced forward and found a second officer performing CPR on the woman.
“I’m trained in CPR. Can I help?”
“Clear the way for the ambulance.”
I rushed back down the hall and dragged the small hall table into my bedroom then propped the condo’s door wide open. When I returned, I asked what had happened.
“Not a goddamned clue,” the man said. His ears pricked up at the sound of the elevator’s ding. He stopped his compressions and ripped the woman’s shirt open. “Get the AED set up,” he yelled, as the paramedics stomped down the hall. “She’s not breathing. She needs defib right now!”
I backed into the dining room to get out of their way. I glanced toward the balcony door. It was open. Two more paramedics arrived with a gurney, and before they had the officer off the floor, half a dozen officers swarmed into the condo.
One of them approached me. “Who are you?”
“I live here. This is my place. I have ID in my pocket.” After he nodded, I pulled it out and showed him.
“The condo’s alarm gets relayed to my cellphone. I got here as fast as I could.”
“Show me,” he said. I pulled my phone from my pocket and showed him the call log. “Okay. Go with him,” he said, motioning one of the officers over. He kept my phone. “Hold her until we find out what happened here.”
The officer whose name tag read Nowak took me to a meeting room on the main floor. I’d never seen it before. He left me inside. I pulled out my other phone and texted Sam with an update.
An hour passed before the man in charge came down to see me. The first thing out of his mouth was an apology. “I’m Ortez. Jordan tells us you’re one of his operatives.”
He handed me back my phone. “Why is the GPS disabled on this?”
“The nature of my work requires that I take precautions. That’s one of them. How is the officer?”
“She didn’t make it.”
His response jarred me. His words didn’t line up with my she’ll-be-fine conviction. “What happened?”
“The officers answered the alarm, found your door unlocked. Followed procedure. Cleared the place room by room. Officer Ingram radioed in the all clear but as they were leaving, they heard a noise in the kitchen. Ingram went to check it out. Next thing her partner sees is her falling flat on her back.”
“The balcony door was open. Did the officers open it?”
“No. And her partner is sure it wasn’t open when Ingram radioed in the all clear. We figure whoever attacked Ingram circled behind her partner and hid until they could escape off the balcony. Easy to do with that kitchen layout of yours and the tiered balconies. We’re checking the units below yours now.”
“I’m sorry about your officer.”
Ortez stiffened, but he was only momentarily derailed. “There’s a possibility Ingram and her partner interrupted a robbery, but given your work, it may have been more than that. You working any cases that might have prompted this? Any enemies we should know about?”
Enemies? Which one? “No.” Cain maybe, but he’d have known that breaking in would be a suicide mission. Hardly seemed likely. A Ghost wouldn’t need to use the door or the balcony. But a Flier would.
“I need you to come back upstairs and tell us if anything is missing. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to stay there until the investigation is complete. It could take a few days.”
Ortez accompanied me back to my condo. This time we donned booties and gloves before going in. The forensics team was already at work photographing the scene and dusting every surface for possible prints. I spared a moment to wonder if the fine black power would wash off.
I sifted through every room with Ortez peering over my shoulder, but found nothing missing. Back in the kitchen, disposable packaging from the paramedics’ efforts littered the floor. An open cupboard door revealed gaps where cereal boxes had been. Several brown-paper evidence bags lined the kitchen island, and a man in a jumpsuit was filling another bag with the contents of my fridge. It looked like a food drive.
“Why are you taking all that?”
“A hunch,” Ortez said. “We’re also bringing in a tech team to check for electronics. Someone was willing to kill an officer to get out of here. There has to be a compelling reason. We’re going to find it.”
Ortez supervised my packing of a small overnight bag. As a professional courtesy, and with my and Sam’s reassurances that I’d be readily available, he let me leave. I left him my contact details and took the elevator down to the main floor. The front door had been propped open and Colin stood beside it looking out on the activity in the driveway. He jumped when I called his name.
He brushed away my apologies then we both stood and watched the activity. The back doors of a large police cube van hung open near our vantage point revealing neatly packed bins and metal lockers that put me in mind of an airplane’s galley. Curious neighbours stood staring at the building. A swarm of officials in every conceivable uniform reminded me that emergency services come out in force when one of their own is killed. Some milled about while others searched the lawn and nearby shrubs.
Police and EMT vehicles occupied every parking space on the street and along the condo’s driveway. My small MGB looked out of place in their company. I warned Colin that I’d be away for a few days then moved my car into the underground and walked back out. It would be easier to hide in the city for a few days without my car. I hiked down the street and caught a bus to downtown.
Shoppers crowded Pacific Centre mall. I slipped into the public washroom and ghosted. I wasn’t taking any chances that someone was following. I drifted outside and around the corner to West Georgia Street and found my destination. I re-formed in a quiet alcove in the Hotel Vancouver. The grand old railway hotel was one of a dozen hotels within walking distance. Might as well be comfortable, I reasoned.
I checked in as Megan Fairchild using my newest fake ID. My former ID, Dana Christopher, had been compromised by ICO. The moment I latched the door to my hotel room I pulled out my phone and dialled Sam.
“Fairchild checked into the Hotel Vancouver. What’s the latest on the break-in?” I dropped my bag on the bed.
“Nothing yet. Good call on Fairchild.”
“It’s a Flier, Sam.” I parted the sheers and looked down to West Georgia Street while I explained my reasoning, but I couldn’t answer the who question.
“Don’t be so quick to dismiss Cain. He may have known you weren’t home so you’d be no threat to him. Maybe he wanted to plant a listening device in your place to stay a step ahead. Someone with his training has the skills to rappel down the building. Would explain the open balcony door.”
“True. Ortez is having my condo swept for bugs. If Cain planted one, he’ll find it. Did you get hold of James?”
“Yeah. He’s working up a profile on Cain’s family,” Sam said. “Figures he got too close to someone Cain cares about in Ottawa. James is flying out there. If Cain’s panicking, he’s gonna make mistakes. James will flush him out.”
“And if it’s not Cain?”
“Your first instinct pointed to a Flier,” Sam said. “You thinking someone in your covey?”
“Not a chance. They were all there with me when the break-in was happening.”
“Think outside the covey, then. Anyone else pissed with you right now?”
“In connection with me taking that seat, maybe, but I can’t think of anyone in particular.”
“All right. Hang tight. Let’s keep in close contact.”
After ending the call, I dialled Avery and told him about the break-in. “It’s best I don’t join you for dinner tonight. I’m going to lay low until we figure it out. Tell Eden I’ll call her when the dust settles, would you?”
“I will, but I’ll guarantee you Eden’s not going to wait for the dust.” Avery then asked me for the details I’d promised on why I took the seat. “For what it’s worth, I think you made the right decision,” he said, after I’d explained everything. It was worth the world to me.
I lay on the bed and flicked on the TV. My building was all over the news. The crawl read Local police officer killed attending B&E at an upscale condo. I listened to a reporter interview Colin and a few of my neighbours. Constable Ingram’s official police photo flashed on the screen. She was a mother to two young children. I turned it off before I melted into tears.
Outside, the sky darkened. My thoughts turned to Cain’s threatening phone call. In the melee surrounding the break-in, I’d put it out of my mind. I fetched the phone he’d called me on and saw I’d missed two calls from Sebastian. Shit!
I dropped into a chair by the window with my finger hovering over the call-back icon. The crushing dread I felt was a response born of our old relationship. I took a deep breath, envisioned the new respect between us and hit call back.
“Where are you!”
My hackles shot up. “I’m safe.”
“Well . . . good. That’s good.”
I breathed a sigh as his tone softened. “You saw the news?”
“I did,” Sebastian said. “When you didn’t answer my calls I expected you were dealing with the police.”
“They’ve cordoned off my condo. I can’t go back there for a few days.”
“Come stay with us. You’ll be safe here.”
After picking up my jaw from the floor, I told him I’d already found accommodation. He didn’t pry. We both knew the rules of the game. Tell no one.
“Going into hiding is prudent but probably not necessary,” he said. “As you know, high-end neighbourhoods like yours are tempting targets for thieves.” When he was my mentor, we’d spent time identifying high-value houses with security features he’d taught me how to breach. “The police likely interrupted a break-in.”
“There’s more to it,” I said, and filled him in about the balcony door. I told him I believed a Flier was responsible.
He didn’t agree. He reminded me not to complicate the situation. “If it looks like a duck,” he said.
“Were you able to glean anything from Cain’s call?” I asked.
“Not much. He’s in Ontario, but we can’t narrow it down any further.”
“Ontario? I thought he was in BC.”
“No. Ottawa is my guess. He’s lived there for years, has family there. He’ll be trying to re-establish a support network.”
“Detective Jordan figures Cain panicked or he wouldn’t have called.”
“I wouldn’t use the word panic. Men like Cain don’t panic. He’s military; a strategist. The call will have been calculated to throw us off. James has a bead on Cain’s sister in Ottawa. He thinks Cain might try to relocate her. James is heading there now, but I imagine you already know that.”
Perhaps if I’d had the cojones Danny credited me with, I’d have heard it from James rather than Sam. Truth was, I was a coward, afraid my next conversation with James might be my last.
After we hung up, I couldn’t get Cain’s being in Ontario out of my mind. Was the break-in at my condo Cain’s attempt to make us think he was in BC? What if Cain wasn’t in Ottawa but in Toronto doing his own digging to find my mother?
The extra layer of protection between Mom and me had never felt so important. I left her a Viagra message and waited an excruciating ten minutes to call her. No video this time. I didn’t want her to know or even guess where I was.
She hadn’t caught the local Vancouver news. The officer’s death in our kitchen hit her hard. Before she jumped all over Jolene and her gift again, I reminded her it was most likely an interrupted B&E. I even used Sebastian’s walk like a duck line. I should have known it wouldn’t work. She immediately suspected Cain, and her second suspect was someone on the Tribunal. I couldn’t fault her on her analytics.
“Just to be safe, Mom, why don’t you stay with a friend for a few days?”
Thankfully, we agreed on that. I ordered room service and watched mind-numbing TV until I felt drowsy enough to sleep.
In the morning, I donned a baseball cap and left my room to find the hotel restaurant for breakfast and a change of scenery. I scrolled through the news on my phone while waiting for my meal. No new details on the break-in had been reported, but Constable Ingram’s profile had been filled in. Christine Ingram left behind two boys, Christopher, aged six, and Kyle, aged four. Her husband appeared glassy-eyed, numb, and far too young to be a widower. I set my phone down and stared out of the window. His wife had died in my kitchen answering my alarm. Logically, I knew I wasn’t to blame, but it was a struggle to not wear the guilt.
By the time Sam called, my table had been cleared. “I have good news, bad news and bad news. Which do you want first?”
“Glad I finished my omelette,” I said. “Good first.”
“The Mansfield Group started their grid search at seven this morning. They’ve hooked me into their system so I’m getting real-time information.”
“That’s impressive. What’s the bad news?”
“Ortez found no evidence of someone rappelling off your balcony. Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, just means they were good enough to not leave a trail.”
“Cain might be in Ontario, but he could have sent someone else,” I said.
“Yeah, you don’t reach his level without skilled connections, and he had those long before his association with ICO. But a Ghost or a Flier wouldn’t have left a trail either.”
“What I wouldn’t give for a little taste of normal right now. What’s the rest of the bad news?”
“I cleared the stockbroker. The unhappies sued his estate but went away empty-handed when the broker was cleared of professional misconduct. The government confiscated his overseas account. I’m afraid that leaves only your father.”
“Damn. I was so hoping there’d be someone else to blame if this turns out to be sabotage.”
“Even if I find something in your dad’s background, and there’s no guarantee I will, it may have nothing to do with the Reynoldses.”
“Thanks for that. It’s what I’m praying for. Have you told my mom?”
“Not yet.”
“I’d like to tell her. If you don’t mind.”
“Okay. I’ll get started on your dad.”
After we hung up, I returned to my room and arranged a call to Mom. Her curiosity blossomed at the news of Mansfield providing Sam with real-time reporting. “Skype him, Mom. He’ll be able to share his computer screen with you.”
Then I told her about Sam clearing the last passenger. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she said. “I know this isn’t what you imagined.”
“No. You’re right, but here we are.” She asked for news about the break-in. I ran through my discussion with Sam, which didn’t answer any of her questions, but I was glad to hear her confirm she was staying with a friend.
“Be extra vigilant, Mom. It won’t be for long,” I said, hoping that was true. “I love you,” I said, and we disconnected.
I kicked off my shoes and lay on the bed. I’d nearly worked myself into feeling hemmed in when the phone rang. It was Eden.
“I wish you’d told me what was going on,” she said. “You don’t need to shoulder everything yourself, you know.”
“My intention wasn’t to shut you out. I know how you and Alex feel about the Tribunal. I didn’t want to drag you into that, especially when you’re so far away. Besides, it’s not like I can talk about most of it.” In fact, there was very little about the Tribunal that I could reveal.
“I’m glad you took the seat, even if the prospect of you being involved with them frightens us. I think it was terribly brave.”
Her kindness was just what I needed. I desperately wished I could tell her about Cain and ICO, but those subjects were off limits. What wasn’t off limits was Mansfield’s search for my dad’s plane wreckage. I told her the whole story, right from the beginning. It was an unburdening, confiding in a good friend who understood how I’d come to care for Mason and Stuart. She knew without my saying how much it hurt to think they might be responsible for my dad’s death. And she’d known about Jolene as long as I had. She didn’t take a side, just listened, which I appreciated more than she could know. It felt as if she’d never left for Seattle.
When I’d talked the subject out, she told me she and Alex had decided to move back to Vancouver.
“I’ve already talked to the HR people at the hospital,” she said. “They’re short of nurses. Alex is talking to the guy who’s been running his paint shop. He wants to make him a partner and go into business together.”
We must have talked for an hour. After we said our goodbyes, I jumped up and opened the drapes feeling grateful. I had my confidant back, and soon we’d be in the same city again. The day didn’t feel so bleak any more. The phone rang and I reached for it.
“What’s up, Sam?”
“Brace yourself. I have more news. The milk carton in your fridge was laced with enough opioids to kill you with your morning cup of joe.”
My voice dried up. It was a hard feeling to place, knowing someone hated me enough to want me dead. You should be used to it by now, I thought bitterly. I wasn’t.
