Hamilton had the feeling of a college town that had got its college in the nick of time, right before its industry collapsed. Once upon a time I’d applied to McMaster, never having visited there, but thinking college and a change of setting would improve things for me. Lives unled.
I met Kay and Blatchford at the Travelodge. We found a chain restaurant with a decent salad bar and tucked into a corner booth to discuss strategy.
“I want those files,” I told them.
Jet lag had hit Kay, and she downed refills of Dr Pepper. Blatchford leaned over the table, looking somnambulant, as if at any minute he might use the plate for a pillow.
“There’s an eight o’clock mass,” I said. “If Darian leads it, and his assistant has gone home for the night, sneaking in shouldn’t be a hassle.”
“You’re welcome to do it, then,” Blatchford said.
“I figured I’d distract the sentry, keep him outside. Kay attends the service. Leaves you to do the sneaking—if you’re up to it.”
“Of course.” He rubbed his face, waking himself up. “Looking forward to it.”
I leaned out of the booth to check the clock on the wall. Five thirty, two and half hours to kill.
They both wanted to nap, so I walked with them back to the motel, then called Sonia from the lobby.
“How was your flight?” she asked.
“No complaints. Any more bad dreams?”
“A few. They’re not as bad.”
“No other nonsense going on?”
The sound of wind hitting the receiver, a sigh.
“There’s talk of establishing a Chris Chambers Award,” Sonia said. “A scholarship for low-income students studying criminology. Three thousand dollars.”
“Maybe I’ll apply.”
When I returned to the motel, Blatchford and Kay were sitting on the beds in Kay’s room. She looked up at me, stifling a laugh as I came in. I said, “What?”
“Tim was just telling me about when he met you,” Kay said. “You never told me you worked for Aries.”
“I apprenticed with them,” I said. “It didn’t last.”
“You almost got Tim fired.”
Blatchford was grinning. “I was telling her about the time you, me, and Jeff drove up to the Interior. You remember?”
I collapsed into the chair near Kay’s bed. “No one wants to hear that story, Tim.”
“I do,” Kay said. “You never tell me this stuff.” Asking Blatchford, “What was he like?”
“Dave? Just a kid.” Blatchford turned to me: “Two or three months under your belt, right?”
“It’s your story,” I said.
“Aries hired us out to a chemical company. Trademark infringement case. Two farmers in the area refused to buy the company’s genetically modified super-seeds, so the company goes off on them. Trumped-up bullshit—some of their neighbors’ seeds blew onto their land, suddenly they’re violating patents and encouraging others to do the same. Nuisance suits, but they drag on long enough, the bigger company always wins.”
“Shitty,” said Kay.
Blatchford drank and grinned. “Dave thought so, too.”
“What’d you do?”
“We were hired to follow the sodbusters around, wear dark suits and shades, act conspicuous. They go out for breakfast at the local waffle house, we’re at a nearby table watching them.”
Kay looked at me. “You did that?”
“He wasn’t the only one,” Blatchford said. “I was griping to Jeff, us three sitting in the hotel bar, saying maybe we should take pity on them. These sodbusters didn’t have a clue—the company’s got a legal department, for crissakes, while they’re sharing a library copy of Average Joe’s Guide to the Law.
“I say to Jeff and Dave, if someone just told them what they were up against, they could pack it in, sell the farm. Otherwise they’re going bankrupt. Jeff’s nodding, half paying attention. We’re just talking about this as a theoretical. And Dave’s sitting there looking thoughtful.”
“What’d he do?” Kay looked at me. “What’d you do?”
“He showed them the surveillance file,” Blatchford said, “and did the world’s worst job of leaking it. The clients found out and Bob Aries was pissed. He never did pay me or Jeff. Said it was half our fault for not stopping him.”
He paused to see if I wanted to add or dispute anything. I continued changing my socks.
“Anyway, Jeff and I always disagreed over that. He said Dave did the wrong thing for the right reason. Me, I thought it was the opposite—right thing, wrong reason. Because it wasn’t about helping the downtrodden, was it? It was getting to Bob Aries, making him look bad. Right, Dave?”
“It can’t be both?” I said.
He leaned back into the headboard and grinned. I was beginning to dislike that grin.
“I think,” I said, “it was the right thing, for the right reason, just done the wrong way.”
At seven thirty I pulled on my shoes and zipped up my hoodie. I took a swig from Blatchford’s proffered mickey of Red Label, and passed the bottle to Kay. I said to Blatchford, “You coming?”
He slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position.
“Of course,” he said. “Who else is gonna look out for you?”