It was eleven o’clock in the morning when Jack drove around a bend in the road and was finally at a place where he could make contact with Laura’s phone.
“Hey, it’s me,” he said. “I’m free to talk.”
“It’s Jack!” he heard her call out, then say to him, “Where the hell are you?”
“Settle down,” he said. “I didn’t shoot any little pigs. Neither did anyone else.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m driving Giuseppe’s truck and am guessing I’m about fifteen minutes out of Sant’Agata del Bianco. Are you still in Reggio?”
“I’m not upset about the pigs,” she spluttered. “We’re in the Aspromonte Mountains looking for you! We found out that Carina is the Ringmaster!”
“Yes, I figured as much,” Jack said.
“She saw Maurice last night and we were afraid she recognized him,” Laura went on. “She took off soon after with … You figured as much? Did she show up there?”
“Yes, and she wasn’t happy.”
“What did she say to you?”
“It was more the body language that caught my attention. I’ve been around long enough to tell by a woman’s hands when she is angry.”
“By her hands?”
“Yeah, like when they’re holding a gun.”
“Damn it, Jack, this is no time for jokes.”
“Sorry, I feel giddy,” he replied in a high-pitched voice.
“Giddy? We figured you were dead. Paolo is driving like a maniac along icy roads. Hang on.” She paused. “He says we’re also about fifteen minutes out of Sant’Agata del Bianco.”
“On the opposite side from me,” Jack said rapidly.
“What’s going on with Carina?”
“She has what I would call a split personality. Mind you, it might’ve been me who gave it to her. I split her head open with a hatchet.” His voice was still high-pitched.
Laura realized the reason for Jack’s odd-sounding voice and black humour. He was fighting to maintain control. For undercover operatives, maintaining control in a conversation became a natural habit, but in this case, she knew he was fighting to control his own emotions. Often, when you’re fighting for your life you’re too busy to think of the consequences. It’s after the event is over that shock and the what ifs set in as your mind tries to cope with the horror you endured.
“Wolfgang, Roche, Anton, and some guy called Yakov are dead, too,” Jack continued in a shaky voice. “I’m still alive, though. Damn near froze my balls off, but I’m still alive. Don’t know why anyone would want to join one of those polar bear clubs. I gotta go. I wanna phone Natasha. Let her know that … well, that everything’s over.”
“Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t phone her yet. Wait an hour. You need to calm down.”
“What do you mean? I’m fine.”
“Hey, tough guy, it’s me you’re talking to. Don’t lie. Carina may be dead but it’s not over until —”
“Yeah, the fat lady sings.”
“No, until the nightmares stop. Which from my experience of working with you might be never.”
Jack’s sigh was audible, then he said, “I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not. I can hear it in your voice. Natasha knows you a lot better than I do. If you don’t want her to worry, wait until you’ve calmed down.”
A few seconds passed in silence, then Jack said, “Laura?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Laura smiled grimly. His voice sounded tired, but she knew he would be able to cope with the reality of their world. He always did. So did Natasha, for that matter.
* * *
It was Monday morning in Vancouver when Staff-Sergeant Rose Wood walked into Assistant Commissioner Isaac’s office and took a seat. He was reading a report, but looked at her over the top of his glasses. “Anything further to add to what you told me on Friday?” he asked.
“Yes, Corporal Taggart was cleared to go by the Italian police. Forensics verified everything happened the way he said it did. He acted in self-defence.”
Isaac leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “What about the men he gassed with carbon monoxide?”
“They ruled that as self-defence, too,” replied Rose.
“I knew this would happen,” replied Isaac, shaking his head. “I wasn’t the least surprised.”
“Sir, it really was self —”
“I’m sure it was, but to kill all of them?”
“Not all,” Rose said. “Bojan Buchvarov was arrested in Bulgaria.”
“The fellow who was shipping the drugs and stolen jewellery to his parents’ address?”
“Yes.”
“Lucky for him,” said Isaac dryly. “I also have a question concerning the story Carina Safstrom told Taggart about some Russian philanthropist whose wife died of cancer and was connected to the theatre and the arts. An original report from you indicated he might have been the Ringmaster. Could he have some of the stolen paintings? Or was he just someone Safstrom made up to deceive Taggart?”
“That has since been checked out. That man does exist and was someone who Carina Safstrom had restored paintings for. He’s a well-known philanthropist and his only connection with Saftstrom was that he hired her do some restorations for him. The man is said to be totally honest. Safstrom did lie to Jack about him, but only by saying that was how she met Roche Freulard.”
“I see. So where are Taggart and Secord now?”
“Laura arrived home last night. Jack put in a leave request and went to Paris to —”
“Paris! After all this? I want him back here immediately, and tell him to make sure he pays for his own ticket!”
“Sir, he went to pay his respects to Gabrielle Bastion. She was Kerin’s wife. He thought he should —”
Isaac put up his hand for Rose to stop, then said. “I’m sorry, I should have clued in. Do you know when her baby’s due?”
“She had it Friday night. A girl.”
“Tell Taggart to take whatever time he needs.” Isaac’s voice sounded gruff, but his eyes were moist. “Consider it official business. You may go.”
* * *
It was ten o’clock Monday morning in Paris when Maurice dropped Jack off at Gabrielle’s apartment building.
“Aren’t you coming in?” Jack asked.
“I saw her Saturday night while you were still in Italy,” Maurice replied. “She asked if she could talk to you alone. She feels she would get to know you better that way.”
“Her English —”
“Is better than mine.” Maurice smiled. “Call me when you want a ride.”
Moments later Jack was buzzed into the apartment building. Gabrielle stood waiting for him in the doorway holding her baby, swaddled in a pink blanket. She invited him inside, where she offered him a coffee. He accepted and tried to hide his discomfort when she passed him the baby to hold while she made the coffee.
“Her name is Camille,” Gabrielle said.
“Beautiful name for a beautiful baby,” Jack said, fighting to overcome the anguish he felt.
Gabrielle looked at him. “Are you married? Do you have children?”
“Yes. My wife, Natasha, and I have two sons. Mike is nine and Steve is eight.”
“Then you should be used to babies,” said Gabrielle, “but I can tell you don’t feel comfortable, so tell me why.”
Jack nodded. “I’m sorry. Your husband died trying to save my life. I don’t know what to say.”
“You seem like a nice man,” Gabrielle said. “Mind you, I know it would not have made any difference who you were or what you did.”
“I don’t understand.”
Gabrielle looked surprised. “You should. You’re a policeman. So was Kerin. He would have risked his life to save a wino in an alley if he thought the person was in danger. Isn’t that what police officers do? Serve and protect us? All of us?”
Jack nodded.
“That was what Kerin was doing — the same as you. I loved my husband and respected what he did. I want you to know that I respect you, as well, and do not blame you for what happened. I know you would’ve done the same for him. From what Maurice told me, I know you already have.”
“Thank you.”
Gabrielle paused, looking at Camille. “Her eyes are open. I think she’s smiling.”
Jack gazed down at Camille and felt Gabrielle rest her hand on his shoulder, as she stroked Camille’s chin with her other hand. Somehow the weight of her hand on his shoulder alleviated the weight he felt in his heart.