THEN I MADE MY PLANS for next day. They involved many phone calls and some leg work. I got both my Calgary contacts at first try.
Willy was a compulsive gambler and a pretty fair informant and go-fer. Just back from the track, he was about to leave for a charity casino — an Albertan specialty — when I caught him. I described Huber and for a price he promised to have the Lipman/ Matakoff building staked out — front and back — until 9 a.m. next day and let me know right away if and when Huber showed.
Lester was an American ex-G.I. who split after Cambodia, moved to Calgary, married a local woman and now drove an airport limo and still dreamed of homesteading in the Peace River. He’d been training as a jockey when the draft got him. Now he concentrated on being the best wheelman, with the fastest vehicle and the best knowledge of streets and roads in and around Calgary. He was happy to make his skills available to me next day.
All complications aside, I counted this a lucky day. By 10 p.m. that night I had done all I could to be reasonably sure that next day I would get my hands on both Huber and the money.
I left my motel at 8 a.m. next morning. Earlier Willy had reported no action on the Lipman/Matakoff front either coming or going. Presumably Huber would only arrive that morning, or else was sacking out somewhere else. Of course he could have phoned them; I had no way of having their phones tapped on such short notice. It was a chance I took.
Scene in front of the downtown bank was the usual morning rush-hour bustle. I found a coffee-shop with a view of the front door and was lucky to grab a stool from under an indignant Calgarian. Over a stale coffee and fresh danish, I watched the crowds and the traffic. At 8:40 a blue stretched limo with a small uniformed chauffeur drew up and parked illegally across the street from the bank. The driver was alone. He pulled out a paper and absorbed himself in it. At 8:55 I walked past him, crossed over to the bank and went up the steps to the door. For a few seconds I stood there with a clutch of employees until let in by a young man with an obvious hangover. He tried to keep me out but my old friend Mr. Bridgeman was on the case and rescued me most gallantly. We repaired to his office to await Mr. Misurali. I was offered coffee and kind inquiries about business in Vancouver. Then we got onto the weather. Bridgeman was tense and worried. I hoped it was nothing other than the natural nerves of a man out of his depth.
At 9 06 the phone rang. Mr. Misurali’s party waited outside. Party? Instinctively I patted my new expensive briefcase. Bridgeman bustled forward as the door opened. First person into the room was Carol, followed by Huber.
“Mrs. Misurali?” Bridgeman said uncertainly.
Carol just smiled and said nothing. As the door closed Huber glanced around the office. Nothing registered on his face when he saw me. He was going to play this one right through. There was $600,000 and his safety riding on it. To get his hands on the money he had to prevent Bridgeman from smelling a rat. Meaning that Huber couldn’t just blow the whistle on me. In fact nothing crude or suspicious could happen as long as the money wasn’t in his possession. After messing up the Kootenay operation, for which he would have to take responsibility regardless, he couldn’t afford to make any more errors or incur any other losses.
We looked at each other with total understanding. Both of us had made our preparations before coming into the bank. Doubtless he had Matakoff stashed somewhere awaiting developments. I had Lester and his limo. The joker was Carol. Even though he knew by now that she wasn’t Sara Ann she had managed to work her way somewhere into his plans. And so stay alive and healthy Amazing, the survival capacity of this woman.
By now Bridgeman was behind his desk again fiddling with the file. Carol had sat down in the prime customer chair on the other side of the desk which left Huber and me to perch side by side on two little straight chairs near the door. It wasn’t a big office. Our elbows touched.
“I’m Jessica Tsukada, Mr.Misurali. It’s a real pleasure to meet you at last.” I said, giving him his cue. “Did you have a good trip from the states? I understand that after this primary Senator Raymond has the Republican nomination all sewn up. That should be good for business.” Huber’s face went even more rigid, if that was possible. I was getting under his skin, and we had barely begun. I glanced at Carol. The smile was still stuck on but her eyes were bright and knowing. She gave the impression of tightly restrained energy just waiting to be released. Now Huber and Bridgeman were talking to each other, apparently ignoring us. Bridgeman apologizing for mislaying his instructions to deal with me and Huber patiently humouring him.
“That’s quite all right, quite all right. These things happen in the best regulated organization. As a matter of fact this delay permits me to meet the delightful Miss Tsukada.” Huber just oozed patriarchal charm in my direction. Then he cut it. “Now that we are all here our business can be concluded all the more speedily. Gold certificates for $600,000, 1 believe that’s correct?” Without waiting for Bridgeman’s affirmative answer, Huber proceeded. “I will require them right away. Let’s get all the necessary paperwork out of the way at once. Must catch the next Air Canada flight to Edmonton. Urgent business, you see. Which is why I put you to the inconvenience of meeting us at such an early hour.” Huber was talking too much. Realizing that, he stopped. Bridgeman was on his feet, more than eager to follow any instruction which took him out of the tense atmosphere of his tiny office.
“That’s $100,000 for us, remember, Mr. Bridgeman.” I said. Again before the banker could answer Huber chimed in.
“Yes, yes. Of course. Mr. Bridgeman knows that.” Huber wanted to expedite the transaction and get out of there. Was he really going to let me walk out with 100 big ones? No way! Something nasty was waiting for me the minute we were out of here. Then he would have his money back.
“I think I would rather have a cashier’s cheque, ‘For deposit only’ to our office account in Vancouver, J. Tsukada, Barrister and Solicitor. Those gold certificates are transferable. It’s not safe to travel with them.” There was no reason to make it easy on Huber. He was about to lose $100,000.
Not able to think of any reasonable excuse to prevent the money being transferred in this form, Huber grimaced and nodded as Bridgeman disappeared behind the door. There was a stifled sound from Carol. She was laughing! Huber ignored her and turned to me. I had a bet with myself about what his first words would be. “It’s a great mistake to get in my way, Helen. A mistake you will regret.” I gave myself no marks for being right.
“You’re a pompous ass, among other things, Huber. Take it easy. You’re about to take off with $500,000 anyway. Unless you make waves, that is. And you wouldn’t want to screw-up anything else after the Kootenay fiasco.”
“My dear Helen, this is all small change. And that Kootenay operation including the Terra-One base, was just a minor issue. You should’ve known that by now. My real job has been here and in the states. And that’s gone very well. We have a deal which makes us silent partner of the President of the United States. Even without all that stupid business with Carol.” Huber apparently couldn’t resist boasting.
Carol looked at me fixedly, a small smile still on her face. I shook my head.
“Not yet, Huber, not President yet. Either you are conning me or you’ve been conned. But just to humour you, I’ll ask the big question. What did you promise to deliver to this ‘leader of the free world’?”
“Raymond wants ‘self-sufficiency’in vital natural resources. He promised it to the American people. For a start that means a reliable oil supply from Canada and Mexico. We will deliver that.”
“Raymond is an exemplary politician. He fulfills his campaign promises. Then I take it that there is a similar operation going on in Mexico.”
“Right. Much remains to be done there. But here we are well underway. Continental resource policy makes a lot of sense. Even Ottawa now understands that, witness the free trade agreement. But so far it’s just words on paper. We will make it real.”
“I see. The free trade deal has been a mixed blessing for you guys. It sent up too many warning flags in Canada. Direct political pressure could backfire on the Americans. Raymond needs you people to do the dirty work for him. And you will be happy to do it. Have him in your pocket for ever.”
“Exactly. And everyone benefits really. It’s a good deal all round.”
“So you’re a success?”
“Exactly. And it’s in the bag, as they say. It took three years. But, eventually everyone who matters saw things our way.”
“I’ll bet. Congratulations. And your payoff from Raymond is a piece of the action.”
“Just a piece of the action, yes.” Huber smiled at me benevolently.
“And water is next …”
Just then Bridgeman came back in, followed by a curious underling carrying another file. She put it down on the desk, gave us an interested glance and reluctantly left. Then Bridgeman proved capable of opening the file all by himself, removing what looked like a regular withdrawal slip and handing it to Huber. Huber signed quickly. Bridgeman in turn took out a cheque and handed it to me. I stood up.
“Perfect. Thank you. Well, Mr. Misurali, it’s been a pleasure. Our client will be in touch very soon. Count on it. Thanks again. I’ll leave you gentlemen to complete your business. Goodbye.” I moved to the door. Suddenly Carol was on her feet.
“I need some air. It’s so stuffy here and you know how I hate your silly business meetings. I’ll wait for you outside.” Huber didn’t bother to reply, concentrating on the gold certificates which were due to pop out of the magical file. Curiouser and curiouser, I thought. He doesn’t care whether Carol or I leave before him. As I walked out the front door with Carol close beside me, I understood. A sharp poke in the ribs. A gun in Carol’s hand. And parked two doors down the block, a Mercedes with Peter Matakoff at the wheel. I stopped and faced her.
“You aren’t going to shoot me. Not right here on the sidewalk in front of the bank with Huber still inside. In fact I don’t think you are going to shoot me at all, anywhere. Why would you want to?”
“I don’t. But I want to live even more. As long as I am useful, I live.”
“Not much of a life. Why don’t you split?”
“I haven’t a dime, no passport, not even a credit card. How far would I get?”
“Fair enough. So let’s take Huber’s piggy-bank away from him. $500,000 is good travelling money.”
“I don’t think I have the nerve. Not after … all that happened. And Peter is watching us, you know. It’s too dangerous.”
“What’s your choice? Huber will get rid of you any day now.”
“I’m getting a posting to Mexico. I can be useful there.”
“A posting, eh. Like the diplomatic service. Well, if you believe in the tooth fairy you can buy that. Why don’t we just stroll over to Peter and see if we can’t persuade him to cooperate. Then when Huber arrives we will take away his marbles,” I said and began walking towards the blue Mercedes through the mid-morning crowds, swinging my briefcase. Across the road Lester put down his paper, yawned and started the big limo.
Action at the Mercedes was soon over. At the time, of course, it always seems to be in slow motion, but in fact it’s too fast for unsuspecting passers-by to grasp. As I approached, followed by Carol, Peter leaned over from the wheel seat to open the passenger door for me. I was in like a flash, the long clumsy barrel of my gun pointing at him. At the same time Lester double-parked alongside, was out of the limo and at the Mercedes driver’s door. Some quick work with a leather cosh and seconds later we were helping a stunned gentleman into his private limousine. The pint-sized chauffeur was already behind the wheel ready for a quick exit. The whole episode didn’t take 40 seconds.
It was all ridiculously easy and fast. Only worked because of Matakoff’s touching faith that Carol had a gun on me and would use it. An experienced operator — like Paul had been — would not have let himself get trapped that way but then Matakoff was in fact a construction foreman, not a street-smart urban guerrilla. Lipman, if he was around, was also unlikely to be a skilled gun. Huber might fancy himself a mover and a shaker on an international scale, but the quality of his current support staff left much to be desired.
Lester’s limo with its unconscious passenger was out of sight, heading for a predetermined rendezvous point, when Huber appeared out of the bank. By this time Carol and I were both in the back seat trying to look like captor and captive. Huber frowned at Matakoff’s absence but without thinking slid into the front passenger seat.
“Where’s Peter? I told him to stay with the car no matter how long it took.” His angry, commanding voice boded ill for Peter.
“He’s been unavoidably called away,” I said. “Move over behind the wheel and drive.” I leaned against the back of the front seat, just by his head, and briefly showed him my gun.
Have to hand it to Huber. He took it like a pro. Without a word he slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Simultaneously I rushed out of the back and into the just vacated front passenger seat. Again, nobody seemed to notice the gun in my hand. The only way to go in situations like that is open and fast. Being clandestine on a busy street takes precious moments. Unless a shot is actually fired, nobody is likely to notice even totally outrageous things if they happen fast enough.
With my gun pointing at his vital parts and a silent but wary Carol at his back, Huber pulled away from the curb. Following my instructions we were going west in the direction of Banff. It was a bright cool morning. The road is one of the most scenic you can imagine. Perhaps overcome by the beauty of nature, Huber slowed down a little and attempted to engage Carol in conversation, ignoring me completely.
“I am really sorry, Carol, that you are signing your own death warrant like this. But it’s not too late to reconsider. You have a gun. Use it on Helen. Shoot. I will take my chances with her gun.”
For a moment I didn’t think she would reply, but she did.
“No, I’ll take my chances with Helen. You’ve already signed my death warrant. I sure owe you nothing.”
During this dialogue I moved swiftly under Huber’s suit jacket and relieved him of the gun in his shoulder holster. He probably had some other hardware stashed on his body but I didn’t want to take the unnecessary risk that he would grab or hit me as I was frisking him more thoroughly. Shoulder holsters are the most accessible.
Huber had nothing to say to Carol’s statement. He had no card. Nothing he could offer her. Which meant that he would have to make a move himself, sooner or later. He didn’t know that we were meeting Lester very soon in a rest area just off the Banff highway. He didn’t know Lester existed. I imagine he intended to wait until we stopped and he could get at me somehow. On impulse I checked the glove compartment. A nasty little .32. One-handed I threw it into the back of the car. “Unload it,” I asked Carol. She did. Next I moved the gun into my left hand and keeping my eyes on Huber, leaned over and felt under the car seat. A Coke can, a cigarette pack, an oily rag, a torn piece of paper. Lousy upkeep. I couldn’t reach any further.
“Carol,” I said, “know of any other hardware in this car?”
“We didn’t arrive with Peter. I never saw this car before.”
“You better check under the seats from your side. I can’t reach.” Obediently she disappeared behind the seat. My gun was in my right hand again, steady and pointed at Huber. He’d increased speed again.
“Slow down, slow down.” Obediently he eased on the gas.
“I can’t see very well this way.” Carol was down on the floor of the car at the back.
That’s when Huber made his move. In one urgent turn of the wheel he swerved sharp left into the empty passing lane. This threw me towards him; instinctively I steadied myself with my gun hand. Immediately he spun the wheel right with his left hand at the same time grabbing for my gun with his right. I pulled the trigger.
It almost worked. Two inches out and the bullet would have missed his thigh and gone harmlessly into the seat. By then he might have gotten the gun away from me. But I didn’t miss. There was a muffled thump, the gun jumped and my hand was covered with blood, and bits of brown wool from Huber’s suit. He cried out incoherently and his foot fell useless off the gas pedal. I grabbed the wheel and we coasted off the pavement onto the shoulder. Again, it seemed at the time to take hours. In fact it took seconds; less time than it takes to describe.
Once the car stopped, I set the hand-brake, and put her in park. Huber was barely conscious from shock and was losing blood. Carol and I pulled him out and laid him down, sheltered from the highway by the car.
“Get a tourniquet on that leg, Carol. He’ll be all right, you know. Don’t feel sorry for him. He’d have killed both of us without a qualm.” I should have known better. Carol worked like a demon to stop the blood flow but wasn’t wasting any sympathy on her erstwhile boss and torturer. Meanwhile I searched him, found the package of gold certificates, a gun strapped to his calf, a knife in his sleeve, two passports and $630 American.
“Let’s get him into the back and this car on the road again before some curious Good Samaritan shows up. Or a Mountie stops to investigate.”
The tourniquet was a piece of Huber’s shirt twisted with the .32. Good use for a deadly weapon. We stretched Huber on the back seat, and Carol got in beside him.
I remembered to kick dirt on the bloodstain on the ground but the mess on the car seat would have to wait. Spreading Huber’s jacket over it, I sat down and got us on the road again.
We drove for the next few kilometres in silence while our pulse rates moderated. What had been started had to be finished soon. I glanced at Carol in the rear-view mirror and spoke very calmly and softly.
“We will be meeting up with Lester, that’s the limo driver, soon. A decision has to be made about Peter Matakoff. What’s to be done with him?”
“Done with him?” Carol repeated. She hadn’t been thinking of Matakoff. “Let him go home, of course.”
“He’s part of the Terra operation. He was here with Huber. He has some responsibility for what happened.”
“He’s a victim who chose this way to strike back at his oppressors. You cannot hold him responsible. It’s not fair!”
“It’s quite fair. Anyway what’s fair got to do with it?”
“Are you holding me responsible then? As you do Peter? ForTerra and Huber? Are you going to turn me in to Ronald Walters again? So all that talk about travelling money was just a con.”
“No con. Take the money and run. Your situation is a bit different from Matakoff’s. You’ve got nowhere to go back to. A lot of people will be looking for you. Huber’s people, Walters. And those stateside hoods who picked you up once before.”
“You mean the young Raymond brothers and their heavyweight back-up. The way I see it, Raymond’s sons really believed that Huber was out to scuttle their father’s chances of election by using their sister Ray. So they tried to find her by following you. First by themselves; when that didn’t work by hiring some hangers-on of their father to come here and snatch Sara Ann — that is me — away from Huber. They aren’t serious or dangerous.” Carol was thinking aloud
“Yeah, real pathetic young lads. Fully justified in waving guns, kidnapping and threatening people. Just helping out dear old dad. Don’t you just feel for them.”
“Oh, stop it, Helen. They aren’t worth it. They know by now that I am not Sara Ann. Forget it.”
“OK. I will. Anyway, here’s Lester. We’ve arrived.”