Chapter One

 

 

Present Day

Ottawa, Canada

 

“Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Uh, uh, oh, thirty.”

Jack finished the last pull-up and dropped slowly onto the floor of his small, one-bedroom apartment. He huffed and puffed his way through a set of Russian split squats to give his arms a break, then he finished his workout routine with a set of thirty push-ups. He stretched on the yoga mat until his breathing returned to normal, then removed the over-door pull-up bar. He put everything away, turned off the speakers blasting Eye of the Tiger—one of Jack’s favorite workout tunes—and hopped in the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, he dressed in the least grubby shirt he could find in the closet and put on a pair of black jeans. He felt hungry, but didn’t want to make breakfast. There wasn’t much left in the fridge, since he had neglected shopping, like many other things in his life. In the bathroom, he ran his hands through his scruffy black hair, trying to somewhat fix it. It had grown longer, like his beard, which he hadn’t shaved or even trimmed in almost two months. He noticed a few wiry gray strands that stood out.

He shrugged and studied the reflection of his face in the mirror. He ran his hand over the one-inch scar marking the right side of his face, just under his jawline. A memory from one of his operations in China. He still couldn’t set foot in that country. Jack’s eyes were tired, and he had an ocean of wrinkles in his forehead. He shrugged again and sighed. It doesn’t really matter how I look. Nobody cares…

He returned to the bedroom to retrieve his necklace. It was a thin gold-plated chain with a heart-shaped photo locket. He ran his fingers over the engraved cover, but didn’t open it. He wasn’t ready to look at the photos yet. Jack read the small inscription: Love is patient, love is kind. He sniffled and looked away, his eyes welling with tears. Why did this happen to me, oh God? Why?

He put the necklace around his neck, then slid it underneath his shirt. He walked to the kitchen and drank a glass of water. He took his phone and checked his email. Nothing. No text messages or missed calls either. Jack opened the calendar and made a note: Thirty days without a drink. His face formed a small smile. Time to celebrate, he thought. Of course, not with a drink. And with whom?

He thought about calling Tony, his old buddy from their time at the university. Tony had become a successful psychologist, who dreamed of owning his own practice one day. Jack knew it would be sooner than most people thought. Tony worked like a horse, seventy, eighty hours a week. No, Tony has no time for celebrations. Not so early in the morning. He’s always good for a late-night drink, but that ain’t happening…

Jack decided to go out for a walk, hoping some fresh air might make him feel better. It was still early fall in Ottawa, and leaves had just started to change color. The scenery was gorgeous, with vivid colors of green, yellow, and bright red. He used to live in a townhouse in a quiet neighborhood not far from his current apartment. The area had decades-old trees, and the hundred-year-old stone and brick houses. He and his wife used to go for long walks near Parkcliffe Parkway, which stretched for kilometers along the Ottawa River. He was familiar with the sights, which had started to become his daughter’s favorites as well. She loved to watch the ducks, the geese, and other birds nesting and feeding amidst the pines, maples, and oaks. It was one of their favorite pastimes.

He blinked to clear his moist eyes and decided to cut his walk short. Too many painful memories he couldn’t bear. He circled the old neighborhood, keeping his eyes peeled for neighbors walking their dogs. He was in no mood to talk to anyone. He knew they meant well, but nothing they could do or say would comfort him or bring back his missing wife and daughter.

Jack walked absentmindedly for the next ten minutes, then found himself at the shopping center. He looked at the Marble Slab Creamery across the street and decided to go in, against his better judgment. The last time he was here, it was with his daughter, Victoria. They had enjoyed a big fudge brownie delight bowl, which they were supposed to share. Victoria had wolfed down almost all of it, with Jack perhaps getting three bites at the most.

He ordered a small chocolate-dipped waffle bowl, hoping the dessert would cheer him up. He sat outside on the sidewalk, feeling the cool air on his face. The sun had come out, and it had become quite warm for the season.

Jack looked at the inviting bowl and picked up the small spoon. He hadn’t started yet, when a disheveled homeless man appeared tableside. “Hey, buddy. Hey, man. You got any spare change?”

Jack turned his head and studied the yellow-toothed man with a dirty face full of acne and a couple of bruises. He reeked of alcohol, even though it wasn’t even ten in the morning. Jack shrugged. “I… I don’t have any money, man.”

It was the truth. His account was almost empty. If he had any cash on him, he wouldn’t want to give it to the man.

“No money? Nothing?” The man cocked his head toward Jack’s dessert. “How about half of that for a brother?”

A bright smile danced on Jack’s face. He looked at the begging man and said, “Sure, man. Take it all. You need it more than I do…” He pushed the bowl closer to the edge of the table.

The homeless man did a double-take. “You serious?”

“Sure, go ahead.” He placed the spoon next to the bowl. “Haven’t even touched it.”

The man hesitated a split second, then snatched the bowl and the spoon in one smooth move, as if wondering if Jack was going to change his mind. The man licked the top of the ice cream bowl, then gobbled up a big chunk. Some of it dripped down his chin and the front of his rumpled shirt, but the homeless man couldn’t care less. Jack offered him the napkin still on the table, but the man shook his head. He gave Jack a thankful look, nodded at him, and mumbled something with his mouth full.

Jack waved at the man, who hobbled away. He sighed and leaned back on his seat, soaking up the warm sunrays. He pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. The wallpaper was a family photo. It was slightly cropped, but he could see Victoria’s bright eyes and the warm glow on his wife’s face. They were the perfect family. He had a great job with the CIS. Agnes was an English teacher in a local junior high school. Then it all changed. All due to the Danish incident that shattered his world.

He checked his email. Still no new messages, but a pop-up reminded him about a couple of bills he needed to pay. Gas and electricity. Roughly a hundred and thirty dollars in total. They were due in two days. I get paid next week. His lips formed a sad grin. He had only thirteen dollars in his bank account. Well, nine dollars and fifty-seven cents, after paying for the ice cream. He had spent most of his savings, including the money from the sale of the townhouse, looking for his wife and daughter. Hiring search and rescue divers to cover a wide area and securing actionable intelligence had exhausted all his resources. All leads had taken him to dead ends. The Cessna had disappeared during the flight somewhere over the North Sea. Deep down, Jack was sure his family wasn’t dead.

He was about to get up, when his phone rang. Jack glanced at the screen, and a frown creased his forehead. He thought about not answering it, but he knew it was going to ring again. If not right away, then later that day. Preacher Lefebvre was very persistent when it came to the straying sheep of his small flock. Jack sighed and answered, “Yes, Lefebvre. This is Jack. How can I help you?”

“Good morning, good morning, my brother. How are you enjoying your blessed day today?” Lefebvre asked in his trademark cheerful and booming tone.

I wouldn’t say it’s blessed, Jack thought but didn’t share that with Lefebvre. Jack wasn’t ready for a sermon. It was Tuesday, not Sunday, and he hadn’t been at the worship services over the last month. “Uh, I’ve had better days, preacher.”

“Well, you’re alive and well. Drawing breath and enjoying a new day by God’s grace.”

Jack nodded. The words came across as hollow, offering little comfort. His wife Agnes had been the one strong in faith. Jack believed in a supreme being, the creator of everything, but after the disappearance of his family, his faith had suffered a severe blow.

“I know you’re going through tough times, Jack. I can’t even start to imagine the pain you must feel,” Lefebvre said in a low voice. “I know I can’t be of much help. Nothing I can say or do will bring back your family. But I wanted you to know that God can provide for you. He loves you and cares for you. Perhaps, it’s time you start trusting Him again. And that you start trusting people too.”

It’s easy for you to say that, preacher. You’re not surrounded by lying cheats, who wouldn’t think twice about killing you. Your friends don’t abandon you, never returning your calls. Jack wanted to say all this, but instead listened quietly and occasionally shook his head. He let Lefebvre speak and give his sermon.

At some point, Lefebvre said, “Jack, you’ve got to start believing in yourself. Our good Lord has given all of us talents, and he expects us to use them. You’re a strong man, Jack.”

Jack shrugged. I used to be, he thought, but said nothing.

Lefebvre’s voice had a soothing tone; the words not so much, but Jack didn’t mind it. They talked for about ten minutes, with Lefebvre offering to help Jack if he needed to be driven around or anything else. At the end of the call, preacher Lefebvre said a short prayer for Jack and invited him over for supper. Jack politely declined with the excuse that he had something to do. He had nothing to do, but was willing to find something, anything to stop thinking about the past.

Once he ended the call, Jack decided to walk back home. He didn’t have much planned for the day. Out of work because of administrative leave, every day for the last three weeks had been the same. He had used up all his money and had pulled in all favors. He had grown bitter and distrustful toward his friends who subtly or not-so-subtly had advised him to move on. They might have been well-intentioned, but they weren’t helpful. Jack didn’t need people to tell him to forget everything he’d loved and cared for over the last seven years. He wasn’t ready to move on. Perhaps he’d never get to that point. He needed friends he could trust to hear him, help him, cry with him…

When he came to the apartment complex, he saw Nora walking to her car. She looked at him and slowed her steps. Nora was one of his neighbors, a gorgeous woman in her early twenties, perhaps three or four years younger than Jack, who lived three doors down. She lifted her sunglasses to the top of her blonde hair and turned her slender body toward him. She was dressed in tight black jeans, a light-blue top, and a cream-colored sweater.

Nora worked as a head waitress at a posh Italian restaurant a five-minute drive away. She had invited him to the restaurant a couple of times, but he had politely declined because of work assignments. He had told Nora he ran an online troubleshooting business from home, without giving her too many details. “Jack, how are you?” she asked with genuine excitement. “Good to see you.”

Jack offered a small shrug. He tried to smile, but his lips barely moved, forming an awkward grin. “I’ve been better,” he said in a low voice.

“Come over to my work for lunch. It’ll cheer you up. We have great specials today.”

“Too tired, Nora, but I appreciate it.”

Nora pursed her lips. “Supper, then?”

Jack hesitated. “Nora, you’re very kind. I’m just… It’s just not a good day.”

Nora stepped closer to Jack and gave him an understanding smile. Her eyes had a reassuring gaze. “I get it, Jack. You’re going through some rough times. Why don’t you let me help you with it?” There was true concern in her voice.

Jack shrugged and looked down. He had rehearsed a reply he planned to use the next time they met, but it didn’t feel right to lie to Nora. He was already pushing her to the side. I should just explain everything to her. But not here, not right now. He tried to smile and said, “Another time, Nora. Raincheck?”

She returned a sad smile. “They don’t do those things anymore…”

“They don’t?”

“No, but I’ll take one.” She lowered her sunglasses over her eyes. “Have an awesome day, Jack. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Yes, don’t work too hard.”

“Never.” She waved, and a smile brightened her face. “Take good care of yourself, Jack.”

He raised his hand half-heartedly and gave her a small wave. He sighed and shook his head. I can’t do this. Not while my wife and daughter are still alive. I know they’re still there, like the air I breathe… The airplane wreckage was never found. I will find them. I will.

He nodded to himself and climbed the stairs to the third floor. He plopped himself onto the couch in front of the TV. After ten minutes of channel surfing, he found nothing even slightly entertaining at this hour of the day. Boring cooking shows, stupid reality TV series, or re-runs of old shows he had never cared for.

Jack thought about binge-watching a new sci-fi series on Netflix, but felt exhausted. He remembered that he hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, and it was now almost eleven. He stretched on the couch lazily, turned off the TV, and stared at the ceiling for a long moment.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he must have dozed off, because he woke up at the sharp ring of his phone. He groped for the phone he vaguely remembered leaving on the end table. The phone slipped through his sleepy hand and fell onto the carpeted floor. The phone rang another time before he picked it up and said, “Yes, this is Jack.”

“Jack, I’m Calvin Slayton, CIS Director of Counterintelligence for the Gulf Region.”

“Uh, okay.” Jack stifled a big yawn and moved the phone away from his mouth. He sat up on the couch and tried to clear his mind. He couldn’t remember who Slayton was or if they had ever met. Why isn’t my boss calling me? Does he know about this Slayton character? “How… what can I do for you?”

“Would you be able to come to HQ? We have a few questions, and we hope you’ll be able to answer them.”

Jack’s eyebrows rose in a look of concern. “What’s this about?”

“I won’t discuss it over an unsecured line. When can you be here?” Slayton’s firm voice became impatient.

“Is it an emergency?”

“It will become one soon.”

Jack glanced at the clock on the wall. It showed twelve, but he didn’t think he had slept that long. He looked at the phone. It was ten minutes to twelve. “I can be there in half an hour.”

“Good. We’re in the Confederation Boardroom.”

“I know where it is. Will Gilson be there?” Jack asked, referring to his boss, Steven Gilson.

“Of course. He’s fully aware of this meeting, if that’s what you’re asking…”

Jack nodded, but said nothing.

Slayton said, “Okay, so we’ll see you there.” He ended the call without another word.

Jack put the phone on the couch next to him and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Why do they need me? What’s the urgency? Is this about my last psych eval? The assessment hadn’t gone as well as he had expected. Jack still had a lot of unresolved anger and distrust issues, but he didn’t need a psychologist to tell him that. I hope they’re not talking about reassigning me to some desk duty. I don’t think I’d be able to read reports for the rest of my life…

He shrugged and stood up. He walked to the washroom to freshen up, then to the closet and picked one of his suits. It was a solid pattern charcoal one that had been one of his wife’s favorites. She said he looked like a knight in a shining suit of armor, because the jacket had a sheen on it. He hadn’t worn it for a few months and found it a bit tight around the waist. I need to lose a few pounds.

Jack got into his car, an old model BMW, and headed toward the HQ on Ogilvie Road in Gloucester, a short drive away. His mind was still trying to figure out the motive for this sudden call to the headquarters. He tried to suppress the anxiety overtaking him. Relax, Jack. You’ll learn it all in a matter of minutes.