Kat cried out as something sharp poked her ribcage. She rolled sideways so her back faced the assailant.
“Get up,” the man said in heavily accented English.
Kat pulled her elbows up in front of her face in self-defense. Then she realized: her wrists were no longer bound together. Nathan and Victoria were gone. No Roger Landers either. Instead she faced a turbaned Securicor guard in bright yellow Gore-tex. He stood over her, looking uneasy.
Kat squinted into the beam of light from the security guard’s Maglite.
“I said move along, miss. Now.”
Kat’s mouth dropped open as she scanned her surroundings. Voices echoed as people scurried across the tiled floor to their destinations. She lay on a well-worn oak bench, one of several that bordered the open area. Carved moldings arched above Canadiana landscape paintings of mountains and forests. It took a moment before she realized she was at the Waterfront Train Station in downtown Vancouver. Judging by the hordes of commuters, it was rush hour, maybe seven-thirty or eight in the morning. Monday morning. Only a few hours until Zachary’s noon deadline.
“Sorry, sir. I’m going.” Kat stood and inhaled the aroma of fresh coffee and muffins that wafted over from the Starbucks across the great hall. She reached into her pants pocket, searching for change to buy a coffee. Nothing. She glanced down at her clothes. Same sweats and t-shirt she had worn last night. Thank goodness she had put on shoes before going to the adjoining hotel room.
She reached into her other pocket for her cell phone but came up empty. Of course it was still at the Tides Resort, along with her purse, money, laptop, and World Institute documents. Had Nathan, Victoria, or even Landers found her Edgewater report? She shivered at the thought.
Would they have caught her if she hadn’t gone into the adjoining suite last night? Probably. Landers knew where she was and was obviously cooperating with Nathan and Victoria. Then there was Jace. Gone, perhaps suffering a fate worse than hers.
Jace would never leave without her, despite their argument. The only people that knew his whereabouts were the ones in the room last night—Nathan and Victoria Barron and Roger Landers. Had they dumped Jace somewhere too? Her mood lifted as she realized it meant she would be able to find him. The only question was where.
Kurt’s cabin was a distinct possibility, as it was within hiking distance of Hideaway Bay. Unlikely, since the sub-zero alpine temperatures required winter clothing and he hadn’t taken his jacket. Had they dumped him at the train station too? Then he might have made his way home. And called her, but of course her phone was still at the resort. Finding Jace at home was a long shot but not impossible.
Her spirits lifted when she realized how close she was to home. She just needed bus or cab fare to get there. She might be able to scrounge up some change at her office eight blocks away.
Kat exited the train station, only to be met with a blast of cold air as she pushed the heavy door open. The rain pelted sideways, driven by the wind. Sleet stung her face as her hair whipped across it. Commuters trudged by, faces turned into their coats for protection. She shivered as the frigid air penetrated her thin t-shirt.
A panhandler accosted a couple as they strolled by. The man held out a baseball cap, hoping for loose change. The couple quickened their pace and waved him off. Kat strode through the parking lot towards the street where the vagrant stood. His outstretched hand reminded her that she needed at least a couple of bucks for bus fare home. Forget about a cab.
The panhandler caught her stare and pulled his cup protectively closer, as though she might to grab it. “My corner. Git your own.” He scowled, revealing missing front teeth.
“Huh?” It suddenly dawned on her that he thought she was a panhandler too. Competition. Did she really look that bad? Only eight a.m., but for the second time today she felt utterly worthless.
Kat walked along Water Street to her Gastown office building, arms crossed against the cold. The cobblestone sidewalk was slick beneath her sneakers as the snow turned to slush. It seeped into her shoes, reminding her of her warm boots still at Hideaway Bay, abandoned with the rest of her belongings.
Despite the above-zero temperature, the bite of the wind and rain chilled her to the bone. Her teeth chattered and she shivered as she made her way along the deserted street. Most of the homeless people had gone inside, seeking shelter from the damp cold. She passed the Café Marseilles as a group of vagrants stood against the building, hands wrapped around paper coffee cups.
By the time she reached her building, she was completely frozen. Her hands were so numb she couldn’t feel her knuckles knocking on the glass doors. The building was usually locked in the mornings, particularly in the wintertime when homeless people searched for shelter from the cold.
After what seemed like forever, the building super finally came out of the side door to investigate the noise. He glanced over quickly and waved her away.
“Marcus, it’s me—let me in.” Kat waved at him frantically, but he retreated back through the doorway. Carter & Associates had been a tenant at Hudson House for almost three years. How could he not recognize her? She pounded again on the door, as loud as she could. “Marcus!”
Several passers-by in raincoats and umbrellas scowled at Kat and scurried by. She avoided their eyes, ashamed of her appearance. She didn’t need a mirror to know that her torn clothes, stringy hair, and lack of makeup made her look like a homeless person. Is this what it felt like to have people hate you all day?
Marcus finally reappeared. He stormed towards the door and swung it open.
“Get going or I’ll call the—”
“Marcus, don’t you recognize me? Kat? From upstairs?”
Recognition dawned on his face and he stopped in his tracks. His mouth dropped open. “What the hell happened to you?” He held open the door and motioned her in.
“Can’t talk right now.” Kat brushed past him and shuffled to the elevator as the feeling slowly returned to her legs. She pressed the up button and waited, turning her back to Marcus. She wasn’t in the mood for explanations right now, and he didn’t deserve one anyway.
He trailed after her. “Kat—I’m sorry. I had no idea it was you.”
She ignored him and stepped into the elevator. This was a side of Marcus she hadn’t seen before, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. She pressed the button for the fourth floor.
Nathan and Victoria weren’t getting away with this.
What had they done with Jace, and why had he disappeared but not Landers? She doubted Nathan would take Landers at his word if he simply said the documents were not his. Nathan would want to get rid of them both, as they had both seen the World Institute plans. Unless Landers was already in on the conspiracy, whatever it was. Obviously Landers had cooperated with them. Looking out for himself, as usual.
Nathan Barron had said Jace had met some sort of “accident.” That sounded more ominous than what had happened to her. She was relatively unscathed except for a few bruises and a headache from whatever they had injected her with. Could Jace have suffered a fate similar to Svensson? Despite different occupations, both had spoken out against the World Institute and the power elite. Was it reason enough to die? Kat shuddered at the possibility.
Svensson met his demise shortly after he reversed his position and disagreed from the World Institute dogma. Jace’s disappearance could be related to his exposé on the mortgage fraud. After all, they had been fire-bombed because of it. But Jace’s disappearance had happened at Hideaway Bay. Did that mean the suppression of his real estate story was connected to the World Institute? If so, how? Or maybe the goal was something simpler—like silence of dissent against any of its members. With voices silenced, the WI could carry on with impunity. That was how things worked in the corridors of power. Eliminate the roadblocks. Greed did ugly things to people.
Maybe it wasn’t the World Institute documents they were after. While they were damaging enough, it wasn’t just Jace’s story they wanted to suppress. It was more powerful than that. It was his opinion, his voice. He was a respected journalist people listened to, just as they did Svensson. Their voices could not be discounted or denied. But they could be eliminated.
Although she hadn’t looked at the rough draft he’d been working on at the resort, she knew his World Institute exposé meant to implicate all the World Institute members, although giving star attention to Nathan and Gordon Pinslett in particular—Nathan for diverting investor funds from Edgewater to fund WI’s mandate, and Gordon Pinslett for suppressing coverage unfavorable to WI. It was one thing to try to push through a politically unpalatable theory. It was quite another to profit exorbitantly from it with currency manipulation and insider dealings. Then there was the media censorship and fraud that went along with it.
One thing was clear. Those with the courage to speak were silenced. Jace had been fired, and had his story killed by the Sentinel, which happened to be owned by Gordon Pinslett. Had Jace been silenced in more ways than one? She shuddered at the thought.
Jace was right. It was fine to say nothing until it happened to you. But then no one would defend you either. With silence came the risk of losing your freedom, economic well-being, and right to free speech. If she didn’t take a stand, who would?
Some things were worth fighting for at any cost.