On Friday morning, Julia Rolstad was enjoying her breakfast when she heard a car in her driveway. She shot a puzzled glance at Mia and asked, “I wonder if Max forgot something?” Upon standing up and looking out the window she said, “It’s a police car!”
Mia quickly stood and saw the RCMP patrol car come to a stop. She recognized Dave Rankin when he stepped from the car as the officer who had charged her. “Oh, I bet he’s here for me,” quipped Mia. “I witnessed an accident the other day and left my name.”
“Oh, you hadn’t mentioned it,” replied Julia. She watched as Mia opened the front door and gave a friendly wave to the officer before approaching him and getting in his car.
“Have my charges been dropped?” asked Mia, bluntly, once the doors to the patrol car were closed.
“Why would you say that?” asked Rankin.
“Because it was bogus to start with. Wasn’t my dope,” replied Mia, haughtily. She then stared smugly at Rankin and added, “There, is that what I was supposed to say?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” replied Rankin, “but your charge of possession of drugs is being withdrawn.”
“Good,” said Mia, reaching for the door handle. “Hope you have a good holiday.”
“A good holiday?” repeated Rankin. “I’m sorry, I don’t … anyway, hold on. The reason that charge is being withdrawn is because a new charge is being laid.”
“A new charge?” replied Mia spinning around in her seat as her mouth gaped open. “What are you talking about?”
“The evidence was reviewed by Drug Section and they feel there is enough to have you charged with possession for the purpose of trafficking.”
Mia’s eyes flashed in anger. “Are you shitting me?”
“No, not at all. I have a summons for you that you may want to pass on to your lawyer.”
“Oh, I see what you’re doing,” she snapped. “This is another shakedown. You really are a bunch of greedy pigs.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” replied Rankin.
“Yeah, I bet you don’t,” replied Mia, sarcastically.
Rankin drove three blocks away from the Rolstad home before parking and getting in the back of an SUV with Jack and Laura. Connie sat in the front seat and Dwight, the Special “O” team supervisor, was behind the wheel.
Rankin relayed in exact detail his encounter with Mia and concluded it by saying, “She was like Jekyll and Hyde. When she came out of the house she was all smiles and waved like we were friends. As soon as she was in the car she acted like she wanted to kill me.”
Jack stared at Connie in surprise. “She doesn’t know.”
“Know what?” replied Connie.
“That anyone was murdered. She thinks someone was bought off.”
“That’s for sure,” said Rankin. “She acted like she presumed everyone was corrupt.”
“Not what you would expect the average Canadian to think,” noted Jack. “This isn’t Mexico.”
“Okay, everyone,” interrupted Dwight as he looked at an open laptop. “We’ve got movement. Her car is out and westbound on Belmont.”
Jack listened as Dwight alerted the team.
“Time for me to split,” said Rankin, getting out of the SUV. “I’ll head back to the office and make notes on everything said.”
As Connie said goodbye and thanked Rankin for his assistance, a female voice came over Dwight’s police radio. “I have a visual. T-1 is alone in the car and southbound on Blanca Street approaching West Fourth Avenue.”
“We’ve got a tracker, so don’t heat her up,” ordered Dwight.
“Copy that.”
Minutes later, Mia parked at the University of British Columbia and Dwight thumbed the radio. “Cheryl, you still taking night classes at UBC?”
“Ten-four. You’re gonna be working for me some day, Dwight.”
Dwight smiled and said, “Get in there and do inside coverage. Take young William with you.”
Connie sighed. “Guess she isn’t in a hurry to run to anyone.” She glanced back at Jack. “How long do you think we should sit on her?”
“I would give her at least thirty-six hours straight,” replied Jack. “Whoever she meets might be busy or there could be a communication procedure she has to go through.”
“If she is meeting someone,” said Connie.
“I don’t see her discussing it over the phone or on email. If she was that stupid, AOCTF would have had some record of her.”
“Yeah, I guess,” replied Connie, looking at her watch.
“Patience, Connie, patience.” Jack smiled, before looking at Dwight and asking, “How about your teams? Can you do an all-nighter?”
“Not a problem,” replied Dwight. “I’m on until three this afternoon, then the next team will take over. If you want thirty-six hours, we’ll give it to you.”
Jack nodded and everyone slouched back in their seats to make themselves comfortable. Minutes slowly ticked past into hours with an occasional report that Mia was taking classes, but did not appear to be meeting anyone other than casual acquaintances.
It was three o’clock in the afternoon and the new team from Special “O” was on the verge of switching over when it was reported that Mia was returning to her car.
Dwight thumbed the radio again and called the other supervisor. “T-1 is on the move. You guys in position?”
“Not quite,” replied a man’s voice. “You take her and we’ll catch up.”
It was soon evident that Mia was not returning home as she was followed into the heart of downtown Vancouver. Jack smiled to himself. Normally surveillance could be difficult in the downtown area, especially with a light rain affecting visibility and the start of rush hour traffic. Today was different. The two teams from Special “O” had united to work in unison with one another until such time as it could be established what Mia was doing or to identify who she met. That, coupled with satellite-tracking on her car, was more surveillance than Jack had ever had the luxury of having.
Dwight eyed the tracking equipment and reported, “Okay, T-1 is stopping on Dunsmuir, half a block west of the Burrard Street Skytrain station. Somebody get an eye.”
“Copy that. I’ve got a visual,” reported a male voice. “She’s parking on the north side of Discovery Square. I’m out on foot.”
Moments later, numerous Special “O” members were walking and reporting Mia’s movements.
“She’s walking toward the Skytrain,” reported a female voice. “Wearing a magenta-coloured windbreaker over dark slacks and carrying a Louis Vuitton handbag. I think her shoes are —”
“Magenta?” asked Jack.
“Bluish-red,” replied Laura and Connie in unison.
Dwight smiled and made eye contact in the rear-view mirror with Jack and said, “Strange, if I want a physical description right down to her weight, how she walks, or her probable bra size, I ask my guys. If I want to know exactly what she is wearing, I ask the gals.”
Jack grinned and sat back in the seat. He was not in a position to see Mia himself, but the sidewalks were packed with people and blending in for the surveillance people on foot was not a problem.
“Okay, looks like we’re taking the Skytrain,” reported a male voice.
“We’ve got lots of people,” said Dwight. “Four of you go with her. The rest back to your wheels.”
Minutes later another report changed the tactics. “Four of us waited until the last moment to get on, but she jumped back out as the doors were closing. We’ll be out of it for a bit until we can turn around at the next stop.”
“No problem,” came another voice. “Have a good trip. Still plenty of us to handle her until you get back.”
Jack quietly glanced at Laura. They each thought the same thing. Mia may not be the naive university student she appears to be …
The surveillance teams continued to report her movement. After leaving the Skytrain station, Mia crossed the street.
“Okay, T-1 is entering the Cactus Club restaurant. Do you want inside coverage?”
“Wait two minutes,” ordered Dwight, “then two of you go in.”
Three minutes ticked by before the radio crackled again. “We’re inside. No sign of her … wait, she was in the washroom … she’s heading back out the front door. Somebody got the eye? She had a good look at us. We’ll be cooked if we leave now.”
“Copy, we see her coming out. Got a visual. Crossing the street back again.”
Jack looked at Connie and said, “At least we know she’s not out buying shoes. She’s meeting someone important.”
Minutes later it was reported that Mia had entered the Hyatt Regency Hotel. Dwight glanced back at Jack. “Good thing we have two teams.”
“Okay, she’s taking an elevator … I can get in with her,” came a hushed voice. Seconds later the voice was no longer hushed. “This lady knows her stuff. She asked me what floor I was on, so I said the top and she pushed the button. She got off on the second. I’m out of it. Somebody got her?”
“I’m heading up the stairwell … damn it, met her coming down,” came another hushed voice. “I’m out of it. Someone get in the lobby quick.”
Several minutes ticked by before another team member reported, “Okay, picked her up again. She crossed the walkway from the Hyatt and is going down into the food court in Royal Centre. Christ, scratch that, she’s doubling back and eyeballing everyone around. I’m out of it. Is someone around to take her?”
“Negative,” came a chorus of voices.
Stress could be heard in various surveillance team members as they tried to cover off exits while other team members went inside the complex to look for her. Ten minutes passed without result as public areas and washrooms were checked.
“Damn it, we’ve lost her,” complained Connie. “The Royal Centre is what, forty-storeys high counting the underground? The Hyatt’s got over six hundred rooms. We’re screwed.”
Jack momentarily closed his eyes while massaging his forehead with the tips of his fingers. Think … I need to think …