

Outside Forces

Days of Reckoning

Outside Forces, Days of Reckoning, is a book of Fiction. All characters in the story are the imagination of the author, and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 R E Swirsky

Smashwords 1st Edition 2015, License Notes

1st Edition Copy Edited by Kathrin Depue, The Writing Mechanic.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase a separate copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ISBN 978-09878574-8-4

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PART I

CHAPTER 1 Willard

CHAPTER 2 Michael

CHAPTER 3 Richard

CHAPTER 4 Michael

CHAPTER 5 Willard

CHAPTER 6 Michael

CHAPTER 7 Richard

CHAPTER 8 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 9 Richard

CHAPTER 10 Willard

CHAPTER 11 Richard

CHAPTER 12 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 13 Richard

CHAPTER 14 Richard

CHAPTER 15 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 16 Willard

CHAPTER 17 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 18 Richard

CHAPTER 19 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 20 Richard

CHAPTER 21 Tawnie

CHAPTER 22 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 23 Richard

CHAPTER 24 Nathaniel

PART II Lucy's abduction

CHAPTER 25 Lucy

CHAPTER 26 Richard

CHAPTER 27 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 28 Richard

CHAPTER 29 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 30 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 31 Richard

CHAPTER 32 Nathaniel

PART III Lucy goes up the mountain

CHAPTER 33 Lucy

CHAPTER 34 Richard

CHAPTER 35 Jack

CHAPTER 36 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 37 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 38 Richard

CHAPTER 39 Nathaniel

PART IV Top of the mountain

CHAPTER 40 Lucy Kaito

CHAPTER 41 Richard

CHAPTER 42 Richard

CHAPTER 43 Michael

CHAPTER 44 Richard

CHAPTER 45 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 46 Michael

CHAPTER 47 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 48 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 49 Michael

CHAPTER 50 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 51 Richard

CHAPTER 52 Richard

CHAPTER 53 Richard

CHAPTER 54 Jack

CHAPTER 55 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 56 Richard

CHAPTER 57 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 58 Geordie

CHAPTER 59 Richard

CHAPTER 60 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 61 Richard

CHAPTER 62 Nathaniel

CHAPTER 63 Richard

CHAPTER 64 Harvey

CHAPTER 65 Geordie

OTHER BOOKS BY R E SWIRSKY

Outside Forces

Days of Reckoning

PART I

CHAPTER 1

Late June, Friday 08:45 Calgary, Alberta, Canada

A wastrel like Garrod Shaw wasn't difficult to shadow since his release from jail—not for a man such as Willard Mahoney, that is. Willard had spent years drifting from street to street and town to town, living amongst the most vile, contemptible, and directionless group of bottom-feeder drug users the human population had spawned. Living invisible inside the seedier segments of our society was how he earned his living, and Garrod Shaw was just one more wretched miscreant he was hired to track down.

The stubble on Willard's face was spotted with dirt and grime and his shoulder-length hair was greasy and sat in clumps that poked up in odd angles. He sat up, unable to sleep any longer in the sweltering heat of the tiny, second-story bedroom. He tried unsuccessfully to flatten his hair with one hand as he looked across the dingy room. A thin crack of light broke in around the edges of the tin foil that was fastened to the small window with dried up and yellowing Scotch tape. The sun had risen a while ago. A raw, pungent smell of sweat and urine stung his nostrils.

A mattress lay on the floor. His companion from last night lay sprawled out, naked, with one arm hanging limply over the side and stretched out across the soiled carpet. Next to her hand sat an overfilled ashtray, two empty beer bottles, and her bra.

She looked dead.

It wouldn't be the first time he had woken up next to someone who had overdosed.

Her face was turned down into her ragged pillow and her scrawny limbs and buttocks stared up at him. He liked his partners scrawny, small, and lean like him; he liked to feel bone beneath skin as he thrust his hips and pounded away. He contemplated rolling her over for one more go.

What the hell was her name? Betty...Becky...? He shook his head and blamed his inability to recall her name on letting himself slide much too far last night.

Beneath the window, his blue jeans and underwear lay in a small clump. It had been four days since he last had a change of clothes or a shower.

He dressed slowly. There was never any hurry in the world in which he chose to earn his living. Each day began with no future and ended with no past. A different street, a strange roof, ever-changing faces: these were the only always certain things. It was a place where all roads for those who lived down here spiralled inwards to wherever the next fix was eventually found.

His thoughts ruminated on last night's gathering—cocaine, meth, crack, heroin, weed, and an endless array of prescription drugs. Willard always steered himself towards the weed if he could, avoiding the harder, more addictive drugs that rolled in and out the door like fast food at a drive-through window.

But last night was the exception. It was necessary to release the shackles and allow himself to slide nearly out of control. Garrod Shaw arrived, as expected, at this little shit-hole of a house and the deadline his employers gave him for Shaw was approaching.

Shaw had frequented this same drug portal in Calgary's Ogden neighbourhood since he was released from custody a number of weeks ago. Willard was on his tail the moment he placed his first foot back into the free world. He was certain there was nothing left by now but lint lining the bottom of Shaw's pockets.

The white lady was the reason Garrod Shaw showed up at the Ogden house and the reason he always returned. It was the only drug he found that offered instant escape from the sobering real world—the one drug that would never let go.

The whispers down on the street surrounding Garrod Shaw's presence at the drug house started immediately. And one by one, the bottom feeders crawled out for their own look-see at the man who had done the most horrible and unthinkable act imaginable.

The resident master of the shit-hole didn't care what crime Garrod Shaw may or may not have committed, but he also couldn't help but smile each time one of his less frequent customers arrived for a viewing. The price of admission was always a purchase.

Garrod Shaw had almost become legendary with the way he thumbed his nose at law enforcement and cackled in front of the press upon his release.

"You ain't ever can touch me!" he had said with a huge grin. His heavy jowls jiggled as he broke into a laugh. "Yup..." he said while placing his hands together as if choking an imaginary person. He shook them violently up towards the cameras. "...I killed all three of them little bastards." He laughed again proudly. "I did. I just said it now and there ain't a damn thing any of you is gonna do about it." He cackled. "I'm a free man. You heard the courts, I'm free and you ain't ever can touch me—ever."

The tragedy at the small lakeside house came as no surprise to those who knew Garrod Shaw in his teens. Most steered clear; touched was the word most used to describe him.

Infamy did have its benefits—but only in all the wrong places. And the wrong place is exactly where Garrod Shaw was headed.

Willard had been leaning up against the chipped and dirty porcelain sink in the kitchen with his hands tucked deep into his pockets when Shaw ambled in. There was no mistaking the desperation in his shifting, jittery eyes as he scanned the faces of those already inside—seeking out that certain someone who might be open to sharing a fix. The house was crowded. Smoke swirled about and the Stones sang about a girl named Ruby in the background.

It only took a slight nod from Willard across the room as their eyes touched, accompanied by a faint squint with a half-smile, and Shaw was soon smiling and twitching anxiously a few feet in front of him.

Willard motioned down with his eyes as he pulled one hand up a few inches out of his pocket.

Shaw looked down and his eyes brightened.

"You want?" Willard asked and tilted his head towards the short hall that led to the two tiny back bedrooms.

Shaw's eyes were still staring down at the small dime-sized plastic bag containing the white lady that was sandwiched between Willard's slender fingers.

"Yeah." He grinned wildly.
CHAPTER 2

Friday 18:04 Calgary, Alberta, Canada

A gentle breeze from the open apartment window sent small waves of goosebumps snaking across Michael's naked body. Lucy felt him shiver and pulled up the cotton sheet to cover them both.

A smile broke onto his face. It was hard not to smile today.

"That was good," he said.

"Only good?"

A wide grin formed and he kissed her once on the lips. "Okay, it was better than good. It was as if...." He tried to be witty. "...as if God had lifted me up to the gates of heaven, and when the gates were opened, you were there, all naked and sexy. I can never get enough of you." He smothered her slender body with kisses, from her perfectly shaped breasts down to her navel.

"Oh, stop it." She giggled, mussed his fine, charcoal coloured hair and ran her slender fingers down along the curve of his spine. Goosebumps surfaced again and chased the path of her fingers. He loved it when she touched him.

Lucy had texted Michael earlier after completing her final exam of the year. She suggested he come by her apartment once he was free. Michael was very free, having completed the last of his dreaded finals more than an hour before. She didn't have to ask him twice.

Can I come in by the front door now? he texted back.

Yes. It's over.

For sure this time?

She had told him the same thing multiple times over the past few weeks, only to find she still hadn't finished it.

He's left town.

Those were the words he'd waited weeks to hear.

I'm on my way.

Michael was pleased. Having to egress her off-campus apartment by the rear entrance next to the trash bins with the key she entrusted to him was demeaning. Johnny would never have descended to such a level. But she insisted it remain this way until Johnny was out of the picture.

He didn't even really know who Johnny was. He only met him once up close, and that was three months ago. But it was clear that Johnny was everything Michael wasn't: tall and broad in the chest, muscular, and magazine-cover handsome with jet-black hair. He was dark in complexion and had bleached-white teeth that enhanced an already perfect smile.

Lucy had once boasted that Johnny was on the University of Calgary basketball team and a potential candidate for the Canadian Olympic team in mogul skiing.

Yahoo for him, Michael thought sarcastically. And, of course, Johnny was always fashionably dressed.

When Michael looked in the mirror, a pale, scrawny eighteen-year-old stared back at him. He was tall with a crooked smile, and a new zit was always threatening to break through somewhere on his dimpled face. And...was one of his eyes lower than the other?

Michael's awkward adolescent gait still lingered, causing him to look more like a lanky high-school teenager than a young man in his first year at university. He purposely steered clear of team sports and any activity that would place him in the spotlight—he was not the type of guy most popular pretty girls were attracted to.

Though Michael had already resigned himself to owning the gene that made him a bona fide back-of-the-pack follower, it didn't extinguish his desire for what all hormonal teenagers wanted. And that, for Michael, was Lucy. He'd met her fleetingly during the first semester, and she seemed to cross his path often. His knees would buckle and his insides knot up whenever she was near. Her satin hair glistened like she was some princess out of a fairy tale, and her eyes shimmered and sparkled like the blue waters of the Caribbean. When he did attempt to speak to her, he turned punch drunk and could only babble broken, nonsensical sentences. At the end of the day, he'd find himself back behind the protective walls of his dorm feeling a fool; and try as he might to stop himself, just the thought of one day caressing her soft skin had him beating himself silly before he fell asleep each night. He wanted Lucy. He wanted Lucy so very badly.

In the second semester, Michael discovered Lucy was enrolled in many of the same courses he was. The coincidence was an alarming surprise. He immediately began to pick away at Lucy—being polite, offering kind comments, opening the door, helping her with her homework, and even spewing forth the odd lame joke. Lucy was not like other girls, and didn't run away or brush him off when he acted the boyish idiot. Like him, he suspected, she needed a friend, and over time she warmed to him. But he wanted more than just to become a friend or mate. It was all of her that he desired.

The slow pursuit of Lucy continued through the second semester and into the third. It all seemed to be working in Michael's favour until he arrived, the new male campus God named Johnny. It was if he flew in on wings of gold, and as he walked the halls, the eyes of every female turned in wonder as they hoped to catch his eye, but Johnny seemed to have his eyes on Lucy alone. Johnny pursued Lucy day after day, never submitting to her brush-offs, until she fell victim to his spell. And just like that, Lucy was gone.

In the days that followed, Michael rarely saw Lucy around campus, and his heart fell. He'd pick at his food in the cafeteria, waiting and watching the lunch line, the halls, and the criss-crossing paths on campus in search for that slight bounce she had at the end of each step or the recognizable sheen that the sun cast off her golden hair.

Lucy began to miss classes. When she did show, she slipped in late and sat far away from him on the opposite side of the theatre, as if on purpose.

As each day passed by without a glimpse of Lucy, Michael's sky darkened more and more until every day felt completely overcast, leaving his heart saddened under a steady, cold drizzle.

And then it happened. It was a fleeting, spurious moment as he rushed around one corner late to class and nearly trampled right over her. She faked a smile at him, but it was incomplete. Hastily, she turned away and quickened her pace down the crowded hall away from him. He closed his mouth; he was certain his jaw dropped open so far in surprise that it hit the floor. Seconds later, he was chasing after her, pushing madly through the crowd and calling for her to stop until he finally grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

"Lucy, hold up! Please. I want to talk to you. We should get together. I miss studying with you, and just..."

Her eyes said it all as she looked at him and his shoulders sunk.

"...just hanging out with you."

It was the first time she so blatantly spurned him and she turned away without so much as a word.

"Lucy, please stop for a second." One arm reached forward in a wishful gesture.

"Go away, Michael. I'm going to be late for class," she said coldly without even glancing towards him.

"C'mon, Lucy! Like old times."

"I really have to go," she said and picked up her pace.

Michael's next class was in the opposite direction, and he slowed down, letting her move on alone.

"We really should get together soon," he called out. "Call me sometime!"

Many students bumped his shoulders, nudging to get past, as he stood in the centre of the crowded hall and watched her vanish. His pillow captured his tears again later that night as he wept after beating himself out one more time.

And then, a few weeks after the big rejection in the hallway, Lucy called him and asked if she could come over. She had barely sat down in his tiny campus room when she erupted into tears and crumpled into a ball next to him. He knew he should reach out to her, hold her and caress her, but his inner voice trumped out what he knew was the proper response. By the time his mind sorted it out, the moment had passed and she had already moved on. Even in her moment of need, he floundered.

"I made a big mistake with Johnny," she said. "He's suffocating me. I had to lie to him just now to get away and come over here without him following me. He just won't leave me alone. Every minute of every day, he wants to know where I am, what I'm doing, and where I'm going. He was so nice at first, so gentle, but now...he just swears and curses at me constantly."

Michael's heart lifted at the realization that he was the sole recipient of her troubles. Through her trembling words, the softness within each of her breaths sounded like music to his ears.

"I tried to break it off with him, but he won't listen to me. I'm tired of it. He won't leave me alone and he follows me everywhere I go. I just don't know what to do anymore."

Though her pain tore at his heart, he still couldn't find it in himself to reach out to her, to help her, or to even hold her. The best he could manage was to listen and nod every once in a while or follow up with a smile. He was dying inside. He mashed his fists up to his temples when she turned away to wipe her eyes. Think! She needs you now. Hold her! Do something!

"...and what's worse is that every time I try to break it off, I end up giving in to him. Every time."

The hours passed as Lucy talked and Michael listened. When she was done letting her heart bleed out, she picked up her purse and opened his door, preparing to leave, but stopped midway. She turned halfway around and shot a smile at him. As he had done so many times before, he mirrored her smile. Don't go, his heart said, but his lips remained still in their sheepish smile. All the while he knew he was missing the most precious opportunity ever presented to him. Do something before she leaves! Do anything! His mind blanked out and his arms lay heavy at his side.

But she didn't leave. Instead, she placed one hand on his arm. Her touch was light and gentle at first, and then she squeezed, making him want to pull away, but he resisted. A strange energy shot through him, making his legs quiver, and though he still wanted to pull away, he wouldn't do it. Not this time.

A voice screamed inside his head. Just do it! You know you want to! Just do it!

His arms flailed awkwardly out to his sides and upwards as he grabbed hold, pulled her into his arms, and embraced her. It was a most unusual feeling—confining, yet somehow natural and instinctive. Relief followed seconds later as she didn't push him away and instead increased her hold on him as if he was her last hope. Against his ribs, her chest heaved repeatedly in gated breathes as she tried desperately not to cry.

Without a word, she pulled his face to hers and kissed him for the very first time. It was a short kiss—firm and intentional. She wiped away a tear and smiled. The kiss carried with it the many unspoken words of his heart's desire and asked the foreboding questions that lie woven within its roots—questions that were unanswerable within the moment: Are you...? Do you...? Will you...? Am I...? Should we...? Dare we...? all twisted and gnarled into an emotional frenzy.

A raging fire burned deep inside him and it ran away like a freight train driven by a hundred coal-fired engines. The surface of his heart sizzled, and he felt it getting ready to combust. Yes, his heart said, yes to all desire, and yes to the moment.

"Michael," she whispered. She looked deep into his eyes. "I've been so stupid." Her words were gentle and soft, spoken in a manner as if nothing before was ever so clear to her. "It's you...."

Lucy's eyes danced on Michael's, looking from one to the other, until she closed her own and kissed him again. It was enough to cause Michael's knees to weaken and he struggled to stay upright. She placed one hand flat onto his chest and pushed him up against the wall while closing the front door behind her with her foot.

His head bobbed to the side as he tried to speak. No words came out.

"Shhh," she said, and gently touched his lips with one finger. With one of her hands gripped in his, she led him down the short hall to the place he had grown accustomed to bedding down alone with only her image in his mind to keep him company at night.

In the moments that followed, Michael's world changed. They made love and it was if he had ascended to heaven.

It was over with Johnny, and Michael couldn't have been more happy. Lucy wanted him today, tomorrow, and every day, telling him that she had been a fool to ever get hooked up with Johnny. But there was one thing she asked of Michael: Johnny scared her, and until Johnny was gone, she insisted they meet in secret.

Michael accepted her terms unconditionally. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Lucy. If he had to sneak around through the shadows for a week or two, it was a condition he could easily accept.

"No one can know about us, Michael," she said. "No one."

"I understand," he replied.

"No, Michael. I mean it. Until I get rid of Johnny, we can't be seen together, ever! And that means you can't even tell any of your friends. Not yet. You understand, don't you?"

Michael did understand. Lucy was terrified of Johnny and had no idea what he was capable of.

Now, many weeks later, looking back it all seemed like a dream; and Johnny was finally out of the picture.

"...And so, no more sneaking around now that he's gone?" Michael asked.

She offered up a smile, but he sensed she was still worried.

"We won't, will we?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. I told you, he's gone."

"I hope so. Having to sneak in past the trash bins to see you is not exactly what I had in mind. What finally got through to him?"

She shook her head. "He just called me first thing this morning and said it was over. He was leaving for Mexico. He acted like it was his idea to break up all along. After all these weeks of him resisting and cursing at me, he just seemed to give up on us."

"Weird."

She turned and placed her head on his chest. "He was hard and bumpy all over. I like you much better. So smooth and soft."

Michael giggled as she ran one hand across his chest and poked him beneath his ribs in his skinny belly.

"He really was an impossible individual," she said. "I never met anyone like him before."

"And just like that, he's gone?"

She nodded.

"And you don't think he'll come running back?"

"You know who my father is, Michael. I told him I was going home for the summer. Johnny won't be calling me or knocking on my dad's door. That's for certain."

Everyone knew who her father was. Her father's resume was as large and intimidating as the man himself. He was an outspoken, high-profile lawyer who was repeatedly in the news each time he successfully defended another precedent- setting case.

Michael laughed. "You're right on that." He reached out and pulled Lucy in closer. "But you're not going home, are you? For the summer I mean...."

"You know I'm not. Dad's always working and mom's always got these weird projects going on in the summer." She snuggled closer to Michael, gently running one hand across his chest. "She thinks of herself as some art aficionado. She's always at some art show or fundraiser. I wouldn't expect to see much of either of them if I went home to stay."

He kissed her affectionately. "Just making sure. You, me, and ten days hiking the West Coast Trail next week with nothing but what we can carry on our backs. I can hardly wait."

She kissed him back. "And just the one-night stop in Victoria first. Dad's really not as scary as what they make him out to be in the papers. And Mom's a doll. She'll love you."

He laughed. The image of him sitting down for dinner with the likes of such a man he knew only from the news and TV was a bit terrifying. But it was only for one night and then they would be off to the west coast part of Vancouver Island for ten days of uninterrupted hiking. The hiking trip was her idea. It was what drove her at times. At every opportunity, Lucy would set out up some mountain, scrambling her way to the top, rain or shine. Sometimes she even ventured out in the snow. Alone or with friends, it didn't matter to Lucy, as long as she was one with the mountains and nature. The more challenging the mountain, the stronger her desire was to climb.

Lucy rolled over onto her side and Michael moved with her, spooning her. Life was perfect. He held her tight and squeezed her gently. The strawberry aroma from her shampoo wafted from her silky blonde hair. It was a smell he'd become accustomed to, and he breathed it in as if it was fleeting and about to vanish. He wanted to savour her smell forever.

They lay there together upon Lucy's bed, coddled against each other, chit-chatting through the details of their trip along the coast. Many of Michael's summers as a young teenager were spent in the Rockies with his father and older sister. He knew how draining it could be at times to hike for days in the backcountry, yet he looked forward to escaping into the wilderness again. And because it was with Lucy, he knew it was to be the beginning of something special.

A sudden knock on the apartment door startled them both. The knock was immediately followed by an unwelcome voice.

"Lucy?" the voice called out. "Open up. It's me."

Another knock quickly followed and echoed in the small apartment.

"Shit!" Lucy whispered. "It's him." She threw the sheet aside, exposing her nakedness, and jumped off the bed, unsure of what to do.

"Who?" Michael whispered back. "Not Johnny?"

"Yes, Johnny."

"Lucy!" Johnny thumped on the door. The front lock rattled as a key was inserted.

"What the fuck?" Michael whispered. "I thought you said he was gone?"

"I thought he was. That's the problem. He's like a bloody boomerang." Her eyes lit with a frantic glow and she searched the room until her eyes landed back onto the bed. "Quick. Get under the bed, Michael."

Michael didn't hesitate. He flung himself off the bed and onto the floor and began to shimmy his naked body into the small cramped space underneath.

"Johnny?" Her voice was timid and fragile. She wasn't sure if Johnny even heard her. He'd asked her for a key four weeks ago, and she stupidly handed over one of her spares. She recalled how annoyed he had been when she asked for it back a week later. He told her he lost it.

The sound of the lock turning and the bolt shunting back caused her to freeze for a second. There was no time to freeze.

"Here! Take these!" she whispered forcefully. She squatted, shoved Michael's underwear, jeans, T-shirt, and socks under the bed with him and quickly scrambled into a pair of jeans and a sweater.

The front door opened and slammed against the chain. She let out a sigh of relief. She had remembered to put the chain across.

"Lucy, open up," Johnny said calmly through the crack.

Lucy moved cautiously out from the bedroom towards the front door as she pulled up the zipper on her jeans and flattened her sweater.

"Please, Lucy. I know you're in there because of the chain. I only need a minute. I'm not here to stay and I'm not going to try to talk you out of breaking up with me. Like you said, it's over. I only need a moment. Please. Just open the door."

Johnny's silhouette shifted eerily as a dark mass within the small crack of the open front door. She glanced back into the bedroom. Michael's elbow protruded from the shadow as he wiggled his way deeper under the bed towards the wall.

"Johnny?" She tried to sound calm. "I was having a nap. What are you doing here? I thought you were going to Mexico today."

Johnny's rapid and heavy breathing made her feel even more unsettled as she neared the door.

"One minute, that's all I need." He lifted a finger up in front his face where Lucy could see it. "Please. Let me say goodbye properly. School's done for the year, and I don't know if I'll ever see you again."

"You told me you lost your key."

Johnny chuckled. "I found it." He dangled it up in the air in front of her.

Lucy hesitated for a moment, released a heavy sigh, and reached up to remove the chain.

CHAPTER 3

Friday 18:10 Canmore, Alberta, Canada

Richard Crowder pulled the chair back for his new wife. She slipped her delicate yet lean athletic body easily into the wicker seat on the patio that overlooked the eighteenth hole.

"A gin and tonic please, Richard." She adjusted her sunhat and sunglasses to shield her eyes from the evening sun.

Richard nodded. He didn't wait for the waitress and headed inside to the bar to place the order. His cell phone rang as he returned to the table. It was his daughter.

"Tawnie. Are you on your way?" he asked.

"I'm just leaving."

"Oh good. I was hoping you hadn't changed your mind about coming." She had never accepted an invitation to come camping or hiking with him since the divorce. This weekend, she agreed to do both: camping at Bow Valley Provincial Park and hiking with him and Michelle up one of the mountains in the valley.

Tawnie sighed into the phone. "I said I'm coming, Dad, so I'm coming."

Richard forced a small laugh.

"Sorry," he said. "Did you remember to bring your good shoes? It's gonna be a tough climb up the mountain tomorrow."

She laughed. "I'm the one that's done the Heart Mountain Loop before. You have no idea what you two are even in for. I hope you've both been keeping up at the gym."

"Well, sort of...."

She laughed again. "You are going to be sore when we get back if you haven't been on the treadmill. What site number are you booked into?"

"C-11. Right on the river." Richard liked to hear his daughter laugh, and he looked forward to seeing her tonight.

"Are you there now?" she asked. "It shouldn't take me much more than an hour to get out there."

"We're in Canmore at the moment. At Silvertip."

"So you did make it out golfing after all. How was it?"

"It's a really nice course and a great day to enjoy it. Not a cloud in the sky. We're just grabbing a quick drink on the patio and then we'll head back to the campground. You'll probably get there before us, so make yourself at home, grab a beer, snacks, whatever. Spare key is in the cooker outside."

"C-11," she repeated. "I'll see you in a while."

"Love you, Tawnie."

"I love you too, Dad. See you soon."

Richard set the phone down just as the drinks arrived. He looked at his new wife. They had only been married eight short months. It was her striking beauty that had attracted him to her when he first spotted her at one of his seminars. Her eyes, deep pools of Caribbean blue, had made it difficult to pull his eyes away from her as he spoke before the small crowd. He didn't know at the time she was wearing coloured contacts, but it was enough to capture his full attention. Today, her eyes were a mottled emerald green, currently hidden beneath her oversized designer sunglasses.

"This will be a first for Tawnie," he said.

"It's about time, Richard. I don't know why she dislikes me so much."

"She doesn't dislike you."

"She doesn't come over to dinner when invited and never drops by."

"That's not exactly true."

"Oh, you're right. She'll drop by when she knows I'm working late or out on assignment."

"And that's not fair, either. We've been over this many times. She took the divorce very personally. She felt like she had to take sides and, of course, took Ashley's side."

"She still doesn't have to be a little bitch to me. I didn't do anything to her. I'm always reaching out to her and I never get anything back. How many times have I invited her to dinner or lunch? She hasn't ever accepted. Not once."

"The word bitch is a little strong, don't you think? And she is coming out tonight and staying for the whole weekend."

Michelle huffed and adjusted her sunhat. "We'll see if it works out that way. She'll probably pack up and leave an hour after we get back."

Richard sighed. "Well, don't push her buttons. You know what I mean."

"I'm not holding back, Richard. If she gets defensive because of me, I'm not holding back from saying something I'd say to anybody else."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you to be sensitive."

"Oh come on, Richard. She's twenty-one already. What she really needs sometimes is a good slap."

Richard took a long sip of his drink. Rebutting her comments would only escalate things. No need to stir up an argument. This was supposed to be a happy weekend away in the mountains.

"You and Michael get along well," he said.

"Now there's a sweetheart. And that boy doesn't talk back like you-know-who does."

"He's three years younger than Tawnie. He was thirteen when all the shit went down with Ashley. He was too young to remember."

"Thirteen? Oh, he remembers. It's just that he's a boy and he's just like his father."

Richard chuckled. "He is a good kid." But Michael was not like him at all. He tried not to think of how difficult Michael's early teen years were.

"Is he even coming at all this weekend?" Michelle asked. "Out to the campsite?"

"I don't think so. He's almost done with his first-year exams. He said he was heading to the coast for a few weeks on Sunday with some new girl he met. I think her name is Lucy, Lucy Carter. He'll be staying with us for the summer once he gets back. I'm supposed to meet up with him next Friday to pick his things up from the dorm." He scratched his head, confused by what he just said.

"Lucy? He's got a girl now? You never told me about this."

"He called me yesterday. The last of his finals is today...." He looked down at his watch—"...was today. The two of them are heading out to the island to do some hiking."

"Island. What island?"

"Vancouver Island. She's from Victoria." Michael's conflicting statements had him thinking again. But then again, girls do strange things to young boys' minds.

"Then they'll be going right by the park if they're driving out to the coast. Surely they'll stop in?" Michelle suggested.

"He said they were flying. Her dad's picking up the fares."

"Her dad is paying to fly them both out to Vancouver Island?"

"It surprised me, too." He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Michael said her dad's loaded and offered to pay for both of them."

"She sounds like a keeper."

He couldn't help but laugh at her perception. "Just because her father has money doesn't mean she's a keeper."

Michelle reached over and patted Richard on the arm. "But it's a good starting point, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess."

His thoughts drifted to his own recent success as a media consultant. One book on the best sellers' list for Educational Literature and a fully booked speaking tour were his results. Another book was due out next month. He leaned back and let the unusually hot June sun bake down on him as he rested his eyes.

But what about Michael? Michael's plans over the next few days didn't quite make sense. How could he pick up Michael from the dorm next Friday if Michael was leaving on Sunday to go hiking along the coast this weekend for ten days with this new girl of his? He must have misunderstood Michael.

Michelle sipped at her drink as she people-watched. Two gentlemen slipped into the seats at the table next to them. One was elderly, large, heavyset, and wore a black cowboy hat, paisley-patterned shirt, and jeans. The other was younger; a thin man, Asian, late forties, with short hair that was greying on the edges. He appeared nervous, and was dressed in full business attire, complete with a blood-red tie. The hot sun beat down on him, making him appear uncomfortable enough to move his chair around to catch part of the shade from the umbrella at the next table.

Michelle tapped Richard on the arm.

"I know them," she said. "Well, at least the one with the cowboy hat."

"What? Who?" Richard lifted his sunglasses and looked around. He recognized nobody. He replaced his glasses, leaned back, and closed his eyes to rest a bit.

"Those two across from us," she whispered.

Richard opened his eyes, took another look but kept his glasses on. He shook his head.

"I know who that is—the one with the hat. It's...um, that Senator."

Richard frowned. The man with the cowboy hat had a dark and weathered complexion. His deep brown eyes were daunting and powerful with a determination that remained riveted in every stare.

"He's native," she added.

Richard nodded. "I don't recognize either of them."

"Senator Diamond, that's his name. He always wears that black hat."

Richard studied the large man across from him. "How do you know him?"

"Senator Nathaniel Diamond," she repeated. "He's a Senator from Alberta now, but he used to be in the Alberta government up north as the Member of the Legislative Assembly for Wood Buffalo. Twenty years I think he spent as an MLA before becoming a Senator."

Richard frowned. Who's who in politics was a matter that he had no interest in whatsoever these days.

"Wood Buffalo's up northeast of Edmonton," she added after catching the puzzled look on his face.

"I know where Wood Buffalo is," he replied.

It was interesting to watch the Senator and his guest. The Senator appeared agitated and the two seemed to be in a debate about something. Parts of the conversation caught his ear as he sipped back on his drink.

"But this one isn't routine anymore, Kaito!" The Senator's voice was raised. "That's the problem!"

The man in the suit, Kaito, dropped his head and loosened his tie at the same time. He mumbled something that sounded like I'm sorry and turned his gaze south towards the mountains.

Michelle grabbed Richard's arm again. "I think I know the other one, too. I've seen his face before, but I'm pretty sure he's not in government. He does something else." Her finger shook in the air as she tried to place his face. "Kaito..." she whispered.

Richard rarely read the news and tried his best not to follow politics.

The one named Kaito stared down at the cell phone he held in his lap. The waitress stepped out onto the patio and a huge smile erupted across the Senator's face. He immediately waved her over in his direction.

"I should go over there," Michelle said.

Richard frowned. "What? Go over? Why?"

"He's a Senator, and I'm a reporter. It's what I do."

"You're on vacation. So is he, probably. Please don't bother the man."

Michelle grabbed her purse and began shuffling through it until she found her cell phone. Her Nikon camera and professional gear she used for work were back at the campsite.

Richard grabbed her arm. "No pictures."

"But, Richard...."

"No!" he said sternly. "You're not working. Just leave it alone. And you're a food and restaurant reporter for Christ's sake. What are you going to do, take a picture of the Senator eating and downing a few drinks?"

She looked hurt as she slipped her phone back into her purse, but she continued to watch the Senator and his guest. A few words drifted their way whenever their voices were raised.

Kaito stopped fiddling with his phone and shot a bewildered look up at the Senator before looking back down again.

The Senator appeared very impatient and eyed Kaito and Kaito's phone.

Kaito suddenly looked up and gave his head two short shakes.

A heavy sigh came from the Senator as he leaned back in his chair, looking very discomfited. He removed his hat and ran his hand through his hair once before returning it to his head.

He mouthed the word "Shit!" What he said after was whispered and indiscernible.

The two men talked quietly for a few minutes until the Senator became agitated again and slammed his fist onto the table. He thrust one finger out at Kaito. "You can't do this kind of thing, dammit!"

"There's no stopping it," Kaito replied. His accent was strong, making some of his words difficult to understand. "They had the go for two days already. You know what that means. I still don't know why you felt you had to fly all the way out here today. It's too late. The first one begins tonight. The one on the mountain...."

"Shut it!" The Senator shouted and thrust his hand forward towards Kaito, palm out, fingers pointed up. "No details, remember!" A number of heads on the patio turned at his raised voice. He faked a smile.

The Senator's drink arrived and he chugged down half of it in one swallow. He pointed at Kaito again, lowered his voice, and talked forcefully.

Kaito shrugged at him as the Senator's voice dropped down to almost a whisper.

"You never tell anyone details. You know that. And what in hell's name gave you the idea that it would be okay to pick your own?" The anger ran deep and the veins at his temples bulged with each breathe. "Damn you, Kaito. You think I like flying all the way out here from Ottawa to sort out this shit? You have to find a way to stop it."

"You know I can't."

"The Summer Session barely finished closing yesterday, and I have to hop on a goddamned economy flight across the country. I'm supposed to be on a flight to France with Diane and the girls today. You know how Diane can be. She's not the least bit happy about flying off alone ahead of me." He polished off the rest of his drink, forced a smile at the waitress, and motioned for a refill.

Kaito shook his head and shrugged pompously again at the Senator. "I did tell you not to come, Nate." He glanced once around the patio at the other guests before pulling a single finger up in the air towards his lips and holding it there, hoping to hush the Senator's volume.

Senator Diamond waved his large hand across at Kaito, dismissing him. He finally settled his eyes on the huge wall of mountains lining the southern side of the Bow River Valley. He pointed at one of the rugged peaks of the Three Sisters.

"So, which mountain is it?"

Kaito shook his head. "It's not that direction and you can't see it from here. Grotto Mountain is in the way." His hand was pointed east towards the mountain at the far end of the golf course.

Both Richard and Michelle knew where Grotto Mountain was. They had hiked Grotto Canyon just last summer.

The Senator moved his stare down the valley and held it. "Down that way, huh?"

Their voices became indiscernible again. "...you away...," was all Richard caught.

The waitress arrived and set down another drink for the Senator. Kaito suddenly appeared nervous and looked deliberately at every person seated out on the patio. He stopped his gaze on Richard and Michelle, who sat closest to Kaito and the Senator, and studied them for a moment.

Richard stared back at him, the focus of his eyes shielded by his sunglasses. He tried not to smile.

When Kaito finally looked away, Richard turned to Michelle. "Creepy, huh?"

Michelle nodded. "They're up to something."

Richard shrugged. "So are we. We're on vacation, remember?" He motioned to the waitress for the check.

The waitress came over. "Our portable debit machine is broken. You'll have to pay up at the bar."

Richard stood up. "I'll just be a minute," he said to Michelle.

Michelle drained the last of her gin and tonic and waited for Richard to return. She eavesdropped again on the Senator and slipped her hand into her purse. After a quick glance to the bar to see Richard fussing with the debit machine, she pulled out her cell phone and snapped two quick photos of the Senator and his guest.

"...the morning," she heard Kaito say.

"...relax until I'm on that plane," the Senator replied.

"...gone by the time the body's dis..." Kaito said causing the Senator to become upset again.

She only caught fragments of their conversation. "...your son in the mid...it's not like he's murdered anyone...."

Richard returned from inside and motioned for Michelle. "Let's go. Tawnie's probably nearing the campsite."
CHAPTER 4

Friday 18:25 Calgary, Alberta, Canada

Michael remained naked tucked against the wall under Lucy's bed feeling very unsettled about Johnny's sudden arrival. He trembled, held his breath, and opened his ears to every sound coming from the other room.

The chain across the front door rattled and clinked as Lucy unlatched it. The squeak on the hinge cried out as the door opened.

"Let's do this, Johnny," he heard Lucy say.

The door closed.

Johnny stammered, "I...I had to come see you, Lucy...before...." He never finished the sentence.

The pads of Johnny's leather soles scraped the linoleum floor as he shuffled about in the other room. Michael continued to stare out from under the bed, his eyes eager to lock onto anything he might see through the open bedroom door. He didn't dare breathe.

"So, what is it you want to say to me?" Lucy asked.

Feet shuffled across the floor out of view.

"It's about us. You know...."

More shuffling of footsteps. Johnny's black shoes suddenly appeared in the bedroom doorway.

"No, Johnny, I don't know." Lucy's voice was steeped in frustration. "...and come back over here if you want to talk to me."

The shoes stopped, shuffled back a step, and turned away from the bedroom towards her.

"Maybe we shouldn't break up," he said. "I really like you. We had a good thing going."

"What? There was no good thing between us, Johnny. There never was."

Johnny turned back towards the bedroom and stepped inside. Michael could almost feel Johnny's eyes scanning the scene inside the bedroom: the two pillows, the blankets pushed off the bed, and only the single cotton sheet laying mussed on top. What would he make of what he saw?

Johnny remained inside the bedroom for only a moment before he retreated out of view towards Lucy. More shuffling.

"Johnny! Stop it."

What was Johnny doing to her? Should he show himself?

"You really should have listened to me, Lucy."

Lucy let out a grunt. "Please don't touch me."

She sounded deeply upset.

More feet shuffled along on the floor.

"I can still make this right. Just say you'll take me back so we can be together. There's still time."

"Time? We've been through this already. It's over."

More shuffling. Lucy grunted again.

Was he touching her?

"Leave me alone!" she shouted. "I told you not to fucking touch me!"

Michael pushed himself a few inches away from the wall. He felt a need to help her. But she hadn't called for him. He readied himself to act.

The shuffling stopped.

"So that's it?" Johnny asked.

"You need to leave."

Silence for a moment.

"What else do you want?" she asked him.

"I...damn it," he said softly.

"Johnny, I really think you need to just go."

"I don't want you hurt, that's all."

"Me? Hurt?" She let out a half laugh. "Just leave already," she said. The sound of her voice changed. Michael sensed she was moving away from the front door towards the small kitchen.

"Damn it, Lucy," Johnny said softly. "Please—you must listen. I...."

"It's not open for discussion anymore," she said. "There is no us and there never will be. I thought you only came to say goodbye."

Johnny released a deep chuckle. It was an unsettling sound. His footsteps moved slowly about in the other room.

His voice deepened. "You really don't fucking get it, Lucy." He chuckled again. "Do you really think it was just coincidence that I showed up in your sorry life two months ago?"

Lucy made no reply.

"You don't know who the fuck I am at all."

Michael pushed himself out further from under the bed. He didn't like the sudden change in Johnny's voice. He tilted his head to see more through the open doorway, but the angles were all wrong. He couldn't see a thing.

"I know enough to have seen the real you. And I don't like what I saw."

Johnny laughed heartily. "You are such a bitch, you know that? And I'm only here tonight because I was getting to like you. I'm not even supposed to fucking be here tonight."

"Oh, please...."

"Honest, Lucy. I'm supposed to be on a plane hundreds of miles away from you near Mexico. But, believe it or not, I'm here because I still care about you."

Michael's skin crawled.

"Just get out, Johnny."

"You are beautiful... so pretty...."

"Go!"

There was no sound at all for a few moments until Johnny released a heavy sigh. "We really should try to work this out," he added coldly.

"How many times do we have to do this? I don't think I like you anymore. We aren't ever going to be a thing, so I want you to stop contacting me. It's over between us."

Michael heard Johnny release a guttural groan followed by what sounded like multiple deep anxious breaths. He heard his shoes stomp hard across the floor followed by two loud deliberate thumps on the wall. The front door rattled with each thump.

"You're such a skanky bitch. You have no fucking idea what's headed your way."

"Get out!" Lucy screamed.

"Fuck you," Michael heard Johnny say before the apartment door opened and slammed shut.

"And fuck you, Johnny!" Lucy shouted at the closed door. "Fuck you, too!"

Michael waited a few moments to see if it was okay to come out. Lucy remained quiet in the other room. Michael suspected she was watching out the front window to make sure Johnny had actually left the building.

Another few minutes passed when the silence was broken by a loud crunch and bang as the front door burst open and crashed against the interior wall. Michael retreated deep under Lucy's bed again. The loud crash was followed by a flurry of sounds and new noises from the other room. Multiple footsteps, thumping, and one thunderous vibration as the front door slammed closed. Energetic grunts, buffeted with desperate groans and chaotic thrashing, was followed by still more thumping. Something glass fell and broke apart as it hit the floor. There was a small cry that Michael recognized as Lucy. Two more solid thumps were followed by silence—a long, still silence with only minuscule traces of muted and anxious moans.

Blood pounded in Michael's ears and he wished it would stop. He shoved himself back deep against the wall and listened for a sound, any sound. The muted silence terrified him.

And then it came. It was the unmistakable scratchy sound of duct tape being pulled away from its roll. A strange, new voice followed.

"Settle down! Calm down!"

It was not Johnny.

The strange voice sounded youthful, but rough and throaty, as if whoever was speaking had been kicked in the throat one too many times. "Don't just stand there with your finger up your ass! Get it on her!"

The tape was ripped off the roll, and then another was stretched out.

"Stop fighting me!" A few loud thumps sounded as something soft hit the floor. The scuffle continued for a few minutes.

"Done?" the throaty voice asked.

"He's done. Let's get her up." That wasn't Johnny either.

What the hell? Michael thought.

The men in the other room continued to struggle with something, tearing and pulling the duct tape as they worked. It was definitely Lucy.

"What exactly are we doing?" A third, much older voice spoke in broken English. He sounded Eastern European, Russian most likely, but he sounded very shaken and rattled.

"Just do as you're told," the youthful, throaty voice replied.

"Lucy!" Michael wanted to scream her name, but fear and panic overwhelmed him. He remained tucked deep against the wall.

More feet shuffled about, and then he heard her. It was only a guttural moan but it was unmistakably Lucy. He could hear her trying to scream but she was unable to produce anything more than a muffled grunt.

"Okay, Miss. Let's make this quick. Just a couple of things and we'll be gone."

Footsteps moved hastily about the other room. One set approached the bedroom and stepped inside.

"In here."

Michael froze. Terror enveloped him as he watched a scuffed up pair of brown leather loafers slip further into the room and stop just inches away from the bed.

"That yours?" the throaty man called out as Lucy was dragged forcibly into the bedroom.

From his position beneath the bed, he was horrified by what he saw. Lucy's ankles were bound together. A second man stood next to her and the third hung back in the doorway.

"That's the one you always take with you?"

An arm reached down and picked up the large backpack that rested on the floor opposite him.

"What else?"

What did they mean by what else? And where was Johnny?

"C'mon," the throaty voice called out.

Lucy groaned and wheezed through her nose.

Michael stared in disbelief at the duct tape wrapped around Lucy's bare ankles.

"How about these? You take these?"

He could hear Lucy's laboured breaths and grunts. She didn't speak. She couldn't speak.

One of the men rifled through some papers.

"It's here. This is the one. I got it."

"Leave the others," the leader called out.

The other papers drifted to the floor. It took a moment for Michael to recognize them. It was her tourist pamphlets, brochures and printouts she collected detailing the trails she hiked or planned on hiking this summer.

"You're not telling me what this is all about." It was the Russian man speaking again. His voice trembled. "Why are we doing this? What has she done?"

"You have much work to do. Starting with her...." Lucy was suddenly shoved towards the Russian, who stepped away, reluctant to participate. With her feet bound she fell and slammed hard onto the floor at his feet.

So close—just an arm's length away.

Lucy moaned and snapped her head around as she searched around aimlessly until her terrified eyes connected with Michael's beneath the bed. Something made of cloth was stuffed into her mouth and her once beautiful blue eyes screamed out to him in terror. There were red marks up both of her arms and one of her cheeks had a small cut where blood trickled out.

"She's yours now."

"What? I don't...." The voice came from the man at the doorway. He shuffled back one more step, his highly polished black shoes set him apart from the brown leather loafers of the others.

Michael wanted to reach out to Lucy as he kept his eyes locked with hers. Help me! her eyes pleaded at him. But he couldn't move—fear had him paralyzed.

"Pick her up!" the throaty voice shouted.

"Me? I don't do this kind of thing."

"Not when you're sober, you mean." He gave a raspy chuckle.

The Russian man said nothing in response.

"Pick her up, I said!"

The Russian stepped forward, reached down, and gently pulled Lucy back onto her feet. Lucy moaned and grunted her resistance.

"Why are you making me do this?" he pleaded. "What is it I have done?"

No one answered him.

Michael could only watch as Lucy was dragged out of view. Other feet remained and shuffled about inside the bedroom.

A drawer on the desk beneath the window to his left was opened and closed. The scraping sound of hangers sliding on the closet rod snuck down to Michael's ears as someone rifled through her clothes.

"What else?"

The men shuffled Lucy around the small apartment. They moved quickly. More doors, drawers, and cupboards were opened in the front room and bathroom. The fridge was opened and closed a few times, glass clinked, and items were removed. Numerous rifling sounds continued as multiple items were identified and scooped up by the strange men. In less than five minutes, the three men, along with Lucy, were gone, and the apartment fell silent.

Michael remained secluded under the bed. He was afraid to move and confused by everything he had just witnessed. He wanted to act, but his brain seemed to stumble as frantic whispers popped out of nowhere, bursting like soap bubbles and cluttering his thoughts.

He was too afraid to breathe and much too terrified to move.
CHAPTER 5

Thursday 19:55 Calgary, Alberta, Canada (one day earlier)

In all the times that Willard Mahoney and Garrod Shaw both frequented the Ogden house over the past few weeks, only once had they interacted or spoken face to face. And that short discussion amounted to a total of three words Thursday evening, before the two of them disappeared unnoticed into the back of the house.

Willard Mahoney wasn't his real name. He had sported so many names over the years; his real name seemed a distant memory. Appearing forgettable and insignificant was how Willard always operated: he liked to appear like a dirty, unkempt addict living life lower than any stray dog. Those who could own up to remembering him later, if asked, would have said he was nothing more than a drifter—another street person who strayed into the neighbourhood for a few weeks and then moved on.

Most times, he would slip away into some dark corner after purchasing a fix of some sort. Soon he would let his eyes close and his chin drop to his chest. He'd maintain that pose as the hours passed. This was how he wanted the people inside to remember him.

He rarely used the drugs he purchased. He could tolerate the weed and still maintain his focus, but taking other drugs was always a hit and miss on how far from reality he would recede. The purchase he made upon entering each time was just for show, a pretence to complete the deception. After a few hours of motionless, intent listening, matching voice to conversation, he'd perk up and lift his head, only to steal a glimpse of the face behind a voice of interest. Sometimes, as the crowd emptied out he'd perk up again and smile at one of the working girls who crawled in after the streets rolled up. A short conversation and exchange of goods was usually followed by fucking the hell out of her in some back room. Every man has his needs.

Shaw's anxiety remained as Willard led him inside the small bedroom in the back of the house.

Willard closed the door and turned the lock, ensuring they would not be disturbed until the transaction was completed. He sat on the edge of the bed, pushed up one sleeve and revealed a reddened, slightly swollen forearm interlaced with the recognizable track marks sported by all frequent users. Shaw sat down in a wooden chair opposite the bed. He seemed unfazed by the condition of Willard's arm.

Most of the damage on both of Willard's tattooed arms was self-inflicted—a quick gnawing and rubbing a few hours earlier brought out the redness. Monthly poking at the surface of his skin made it bleed and scab over and gave the appearance of repeated needle use.

Small empty glass vials, tiny plastic bags, numerous clumps of burnt tin foil, and ashes were scattered on the dresser and floor of the tiny room. A plastic garbage bin rested next to the door. "NEEDLES GO IN HERE!" was scrawled across it in black felt marker. It was if anyone who entered the room either couldn't read or purposely ignored the instruction, as two recently used needles remained on the dresser and one rested on the floor next to the bin.

Willard knew the risks and had participated numerous times over the years. But he was careful—always extremely careful.

Shaw shifted on the wooden chair next to the bed and a half-smile crossed over his lips as Willard pulled out not one, but two of the small bags from his jeans. A side profile of a naked breast with the words "DAMN HOT" underneath was stamped onto each bag. He tipped both dimes of the white powder into a small square of tin foil he had shaped into a bowl and dribbled in a small amount of water. He began to heat the mixture with his lighter until it began to bubble on the edges.

Shaw licked his lips and rubbed one hand over the other.

It was ready. Willard pulled a Q-tip from the box on the bedside table, rubbed the fuzz off one end, rolled it into a tight ball between his fingers and dropped it into the mixture. He immediately set the syringe atop the fuzzy ball, pressing down lightly as he drew back on the syringe handle to draw the amber-coloured liquid up through the cotton and inside the syringe.

Willard cleared his throat once and lifted the needle up in front of his face. He gave one short push to bleed out the air, clenched his fist multiple times to pump out a vein, and jabbed the needle into his arm. He drew back briefly on the syringe until he saw blood—the only sure way he knew he had hit a vein, and then continued with a slow steady push until all of the toxin was released into his body.

"Oh man," Willard uttered. He hadn't felt a rush this strong since the Halifax job two years ago. The immediate sensation of floating and nausea came hard and fast. He wanted to throw up, and chomped down, holding back against the impulse. He knew the nausea would pass in a few moments, and when it did the rocket ship named euphoria would blast off, taking him up to a place where the air thinned out.

Shaw couldn't wait any longer and plucked the syringe from Willard's fingers.

"New needle," Willard whispered and pointed limply at the box of needles resting on the nightstand next to the bed. The drug was stealing him away and he struggled to maintain focus. He hoped he hadn't overdone it.

Shaw ignored Willard and pressed the same needle back down onto the cotton ball.
CHAPTER 6

Friday 20:25 Calgary, Alberta, Canada

"Shit!"

Michael was back in his tiny dorm room pacing about wildly and bumping into things: his desk, the couch, and many other obstacles. He stared down at his phone in a confused daze. Lucy was gone, snatched away violently right in front of him.

"Voicemail again."

How could he let her slip away like that? The events from a few hours ago pulsated about in a scrum inside his head, and he just couldn't sort through the mayhem of thoughts that spewed forth, tugging and pushing at his emotions.

Leave a message. No, you can't! But you must. Don't do it! Call her again and leave the message! No! C'mon, Michael, make a decision.

He mashed his fists up to his temples and slammed at them over and over again.

"Stop it! Just stop it! Shhhhh! Shut up!" It had been a long time since the voices had thrust themselves up and hovered so vividly above the surface like this, taunting and challenging his every thought and decision.

"It's just anxiety. Shushhh. That's what they said." He slowed his fists and gently massaged his temples to calm himself. It'll pass, it always does. Stop talking to me.

Michael remained under Lucy's bed for nearly three hours. When he finally did come out, he crept out slowly like some cold-blooded lizard, his naked belly slipping across the linoleum and gathering up dust and old dirt with each push. He stole a peek down the short hall outside Lucy's bedroom while stepping one foot into his underwear, nearly falling over as his toe caught the seam of the leg opening. He fell against the door frame of her bedroom to steady himself while he reinserted his foot and stared out at the mess. The front door was ajar, and many splinters of the wooden frame were strewn across the floor. The residue of the violent abduction terrified him, and his mind swirled as it tried to sort out all that had happened. He tugged the elastic waistband of his underwear up tight and rummaged under the bed for the rest of his clothes, finding everything but one sock. He dressed quickly, ignoring the misplaced sock, sidestepped the broken pieces of door frame, and exited her apartment, locking and then pulling the door closed quietly behind him. He tested the door. The lock was broken, useless without the door frame, but the door stayed shut. He moved tepidly down the stairs, listening and measuring each step carefully in case someone was lying in wait down below, but he came across no one.

Michael burst out through the rear entrance and into the night. Blood pulsed and pounded inside his brain. He felt weakened, like he was hungover. The images from earlier seemed to lose clarity with each passing minute, dissolving like fleeting memories from some horrible nightmare. A fog had drifted in and settled upon the root of his thoughts. It had been a long time since the fog settled in so thick, and out of the fog came the sounds he recognized and learned to hate. The whispers had returned.

Now back in his dorm room, he plunked himself down onto the small, discoloured couch, which was stained and soiled with beer, food, and other unmentionable liquids. He dropped his head into his hands. "What the hell...Think!" he shouted aloud. He pounded his fists against his temples again. "Think...."

Michael really had no idea what to do or who to call. He didn't even really understand what had happened. All he knew was Lucy was gone and Johnny was responsible.

Johnny. Find Johnny.

"Johnny who?" he uttered. His words bounced back from the wall and slapped him. He had no idea what Johnny's last name was. How was he supposed to chase down a man with no name?

He picked up his phone and scrolled slowly through all his contacts, looking at each one until he stopped on his father's number.

"No, I can't. Not yet." There was something troubling about Lucy's sudden abduction that made him fear confessing anything about the incident to his father. Hiding under her bed and doing nothing made him feel like he was somehow responsible for what happened.

You just hid there. You did nothing. You should have gone out to help her!

"Shut up," he whispered.

Coward.

More names flicked by as he continued to scroll through the rest of his contacts. With final exams all completed, every friend he could think of had already packed up and left for home. Friday, one more week from now, he too was to be packed up and gone like the others. Was there anyone left on campus to call?

"Damn it." He closed his contact list and stuffed the phone into his pocket.

His thoughts returned to Johnny. How was he even able to point a finger at Johnny if he knew nothing about him?

"I was the last one in her room."

What was said in her apartment now seemed just a bad, hazy memory. He massaged his temples slowly and tried his best to recall.

"Lucy said it was over."

Remember the sound of the door frame exploding and splintering apart?

Everything was a blur. Who could he call for help? Was there anyone he could trust nearby, off-campus?

The ri-i-i-i-i-i-p sound of the duct tape being torn.

Michael shivered at the thought.

Who's going to believe you, Michael? You kept your relationship with her a secret. Why did you do that, Michael?

"Shut...up...."

And then she fell, didn't she? Right in front of you. She fell.

"I said shut up! She was pushed, that's why she fell.

Why didn't you tell anyone about her?

"Be discreet," he mumbled to the empty room. "Lucy said to be discreet. I was discreet, and did exactly what she asked. I told no one about us. No one."

Just another geeky stalker gone bad. That's how they'll write about you in the papers.

The thought horrified him.

His many friends could easily testify to how he obsessed over Lucy since the start of the year. He coveted every glance and passing moment dearly, and boasted and replayed each chance encounter to his mates.

"But I didn't do anything."

You were hiding.

Remember how you used to talk about her to your friends, Michael? You do remember, don't you?

"Shut up."

She talked to me again today.

She said 'hi' to me this morning.

"I said shut up!"

Now what would a girl like her see in a geeky, scrawny guy like you?

"Stop it, I said! Just stop it!" A floodgate of tears readied itself to break open.

Did you tell her how she makes you do that thing at night before you go to sleep. Did you?

"No!" he screamed. "I don't do that anymore!"

Where is she, Michael? Where's Lucy?

"Johnny took her."

But Johnny wasn't there. Remember, Michael?

Was it true? Was Johnny there? Now that he thought about it, he never heard Johnny at all through the fracas.

"But it's Johnny's fault. I know it is."

So what are you going to do about it, Michael?

"I'm going to find her, that's what I'm going to do."

The voice in his head went quiet. He listened for a rebuttal, but it had no reply.

"I'm going to find you, Lucy. I am. Please hold on. Please," he said and wondered where to begin. What did he even have to work with?

"What proof do I even have about any piece of what happened?"

He paused, expecting another whisper from his brain, but again it remained silent. He pondered a moment.

"Proof," he said softly. He slid one hand into the pocket of his jeans. His fingers closed around the key Lucy had given him to her apartment and he knew what he had to do. Only a few hours had passed and the thought of revisiting the scene horrified him, but he knew had no choice.

He slipped out of his room and moved down the hall to the elevator. A quick glance up at the elevator numbers above told him the elevator was on the lobby floor and on its way up. The light indicating the first floor went out and the light to the second floor lit up.

A voice whispered in his ear.

Here comes Johnny.

Panic stabbed through his gut as he realized he hadn't yet pressed the button to call for the elevator.

"No it's not," he whispered, but even as the words came out, he doubted them.

Johnny.

The apartment block was nearly empty of students. He took one step back from the elevator.

Could it be? Could Johnny have known he was hiding under the bed the whole time? Had Johnny spotted him?

The light blinked as the elevator rose up another floor. Only one more to go.

Run, Michael.

This time Michael listened to the voice and raced down the hall into the stairwell. The ding of the elevator chimed just as he slammed open the door and flung himself inside the concrete stairwell. He didn't dare look back to see who came out and charged down the five flights of stairs, taking them two and three at a time until he was at the bottom.

Michael burst out from the stairwell into the small lobby. It was empty. He moved cautiously towards the glass front doors and peered outside at the walkways, benches, and grassy areas. All were eerily deserted under the night sky, lit only by the street lamps that lined the campus pathways. Michael pushed open the door, stepped outside into the cool dark of night, and ran. He dared not look back, his feet carrying him as fast as they were able until he was completely off campus and blocks away towards Lucy's.

Run, Michael!

***

Michael pulled open the backdoor to Lucy's apartment building and stuck his head inside. The single fluorescent light fixture in the narrow hall flickered and buzzed, threatening to plunge the short hall into blackness. Once over the threshold, he took one last glance over his shoulder into the darkened alley, let go of the spring-loaded fire door, and moved further inside and down the short hall. The answer to finding Lucy's whereabouts had to be up the three flights of stairs in her apartment.

It was only a matter of minutes before he was up on the third floor, through the broken door, and back inside her darkened flat. The afternoon sun had a bad habit of heating the apartment like a sauna if the drapes were left open. With the exception of the single open window in her bedroom, all drapes were pulled tight and all windows closed. The gloomy darkness encapsulated him. He moved slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust.

A small crunch under his shoe caused him to freeze. He lifted his foot and looked down. Broken glass. He turned on the small lamp on the table next to him, bent down, and picked up a wooden-framed picture from the floor. It was the photo of Lucy taken earlier this spring. She was standing with her arms spread out wide on top of Moose Mountain just west of Bragg Creek. Pockets of snow littered the cavities and crevices of the mountainside around her feet and capped the long stretch of Rocky Mountains behind her.

Lucy looked happy in the photo. Anything to do with hiking always made Lucy smile. Her grin was wide, her eyes piercing, and her expression one of great accomplishment. She wore it proudly as if she was invincible. It was impossible for him to comprehend that the confident girl in the photo was the same terror-filled Lucy he watched from beneath the bed with a rag stuffed in her mouth and both hands and feet bound with duct tape.

Wasn't she so pretty last night, Michael...?

He dusted away fine particles of glass that remained on the photo. The frame was still intact. He carefully reset the picture on the table and picked up the shards of glass from the floor, along with the splinters from the door frame, and deposited them in the trash bin next to the small table.

...while you hid beneath her bed?

Michael jerked up at the thought and stared down the short hall to where the only light in the apartment entered from the streetlight outside: Lucy's bedroom. The window was still open. As much as he didn't want to relive what happened last night, he knew he would the moment he stepped inside.

Go on, Michael. Don't be afraid.

The breeze from the open window chilled him as he entered her room. He remembered how quickly his happiness from her touch had morphed into panic and ultimate terror. His heart thumped heavily inside his chest and a sudden desire to flee overwhelmed him.

He turned on the light.

Run, Michael.

Every surface his eyes touched opened his mind to the horror of what occurred.

"Stop it," he whispered and took another step into her room.

The sounds and images returned immediately: sliding of hangers in the open closet, shuffling of feet across the linoleum, slamming of drawers, the thump as Lucy hit the floor only a few feet away, and then voices.

Do you hear them, Michael?

The voices swooped in and clouded his mind. "Which one?" he whispered as his eyes dropped to the floor. There on the floor lay Lucy's many hiking trail documents. The men had taken only one. He knelt down and picked up the scattered documents one by one. "Why would anyone want any one of these?" He didn't understand it. He tucked and straightened them into a small pile and shoved them into his back pocket.

Who pushed her, Michael?

The spot against the wall next to the closet looked naked. It was where she kept her larger, more expensive backpack she used only for hiking, sometimes for overnight trips. He'd helped Lucy place a few items inside only two nights ago in anticipation of their hike along the coast. Why would they take her backpack?

What else had they taken? Michael moved throughout the apartment checking room by room. In the bathroom, he began to understand.

"Where is your toothbrush?" He pulled open the drawers and cabinets. He rubbed his chin as he thought.

You let them take her, didn't you? Why didn't you stop them?

"...and your toothpaste?" He paused a moment and then rummaged some more. He held back a laugh. It seemed almost funny.

"They want everyone to think you've gone away. Hiking."

Michael soon found other items of hers missing as well; a light, water-repellent raincoat he'd seen her often wear on campus, her cell phone, purse, and camera bag. There were only two pairs of sport socks in her drawer and none in her dirty laundry, suggesting some of her socks were missing.

What other sounds had he heard while under the bed?

Do you masturbate to her image every night she's not with you?

"Shut up," he muttered. It was becoming difficult to focus with the rambling voices.

Well? Do you?

In the kitchen, he opened the small fridge and stared inside. The two Red Bulls he purchased on the way over yesterday were missing. He recalled moving a bottle of water to the side when he placed the drinks in the door tray. The water bottle was also missing. He couldn't tell if there was anything else missing from the fridge.

Will you tonight?

He opened the door to the storage room again. Sandwiched between a large suitcase and some cardboard boxes were more camping supplies; a small stove, rope, and tarp. All were items for their trip along the coast.

Remember the blood? How did she get cut, Michael?

The final semester was ended and it seemed to him that all of her course books sat untouched exactly where Lucy had last placed them. Next to the couch lay Lucy's much smaller, cheap backpack she'd picked up at Walmart at the start of the school year. The small backpack showed the wear and tear of the school year. It was scuffed on the sides and the bottom was soiled. The beading along the edges was cracked and split in places, and he was surprised she hadn't tossed it into the trash already. He looked inside.

"Shoes..." He recognized the white cloth shoes immediately.

She wasn't wearing shoes, was she?

"Eff off already," he whispered. The voices were on at full blast.

She wore duct tape.

Lucy would often switch into the cloth shoes when she arrived at University and leave the other pair in her locker until the end of the day. He looked towards the front door.

"Where are your hiking boots?" he whispered softly. "Those are gone, too?"

Now we're getting somewhere.

They weren't by the front door nor in the front closet. They weren't in the storage room, either. He checked everywhere, even under her bed in case he'd pushed them against the wall as he scrambled under last night. Her hiking boots were definitely missing, but in the far corner behind the bed leg, he spotted his missing sock. He snatched it up and stuffed it into his other back pocket.

"Why would someone kidnap you to take you hiking?"

But it did make sense. Everything he had heard and seen supported what he was thinking. Michael pulled out his cell phone and began to take photos of every room. He even opened the fridge and freezer and took photos. It was the storage room that caused his brain to run itself in circles again as he recognized more camping items were missing. He scratched his head. "No sleeping bag, no foam mattress..." He looked around. "...and no tent." He snapped another photo.

Don't forget under the bed, Michael. You can show everyone where you were hiding.

"Hiking, not hiding." He stated it as a fact. "I was...I mean she was hiking...they've taken her hiking."

Who? Johnny?

"Of course, Johnny," he said and made another sweep of her small apartment, but there was nothing to connect Johnny to her abduction. Nothing. In fact, there was not one item he saw that even suggested that there was a Johnny in her life.

You said there was a Johnny. Johnny who?

The thought disturbed him. "What the hell?" he asked himself. He fumbled through her important notes and papers that she kept tucked in a wicker basket on the kitchen counter. There was no mention of Johnny on any of the documents. There was no mention of Johnny anywhere.

Michael walked quickly around the apartment looking in drawers, closets, the pockets of her coat, for anything that might prove there actually was a Johnny. He suddenly stopped midway through one of the kitchen cabinets.

"Uh, oh," he uttered. He spewed out a nervous laugh as he backed away from the cabinet and lifted his hands, palms exposed, into the air as if he was caught red handed. His fingerprints were now everywhere. "What did I just do?" Of course his fingerprints were already in her apartment before today, but these fingerprints were now on every surface and lay atop any others that may have helped identify the abductors.

If fingerprints weren't enough, her cell phone would point right at him, if found, as a person of interest before and after her disappearance. It was only a matter of time before someone came calling for him. Michael's anxiety grew at an alarming rate.

Run, Michael.

"I'm not running anywhere."

Michael spotted her laptop resting on the coffee table. Lucy didn't use a password on her computer. In minutes, he was logged on and in her mailbox. One unread message. He opened it. The message was short and to the point.

Run, Michael.

"Shush, already." He read aloud. "Miss Lucinda Carter, Please find attached two airlines tickets for you and Michael Crowder...." The rest was flight details. "Sent by your dad's secretary, no doubt," he mumbled.

He opened the attachment of airline tickets in each of their names to Victoria on Sunday. Michael marked the message as unread after recording her father's office number into his cell phone. He had a feeling he may need to call him at some point. He quickly scrolled through the others; none were to or from Johnny. He signed off.

Michael had seen enough. His thoughts were still on the lack of messages to or from Johnny when he paused, went to the front picture window, and opened the drapes for a quick peek outside. "No!" he cried out.

A police car was parked in front of Lucy's building. Michael dashed madly from her apartment and down the short hall into the stairwell.

"Damn it!" he said when he was halfway down the second staircase. Lucy's key remained clutched in his fingers. He had forgotten to lock her door. His indecision lasted only a second. There was no way to lock her door with the broken door frame.

Run.

He continued down the stairs, pushed open the staircase door to the inside lobby, and prepared to beat a path out to the back. He nearly fell over the two uniformed police officers standing next to the doors of the elevator. They both turned their attention towards him as he stumbled out next to them.

"Shit!" he mumbled aloud and staggered to the side to veer as far around the officers as possible.

"Hold it!" one of the officers called out after hearing his mumbled curse.

Michael attempted to manoeuvre himself past the two officers towards the side door that led out the rear of the building, but one officer stepped over, reached out, and grabbed his arm to spin him around. The second officer moved back towards the front door, blocking the only other exit.

"What?" Michael asked timidly.

Do you think she's hurting, Michael?

"What's the hurry?"

"Hurry?" He pointed at the back door. "Uh...I just, uh...no hurry."

"Do you live here?" The officer's demeanour screamed of authority, igniting Michael's flight mode even higher. His brain spun away on him.

What are you waiting for?

It was hard to think. He felt his face flush and he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. "Nothing! I mean it's a friend...I have a friend."

"A friend?"

"Uh huh. My friend lives here." One school mate did live in this apartment block. "David. He's in one of my classes at university." The voices swirled in his head and he slammed one fist up to one temple and pounded it twice.

The two officers glanced at each other, one frowned and the other smirked at his odd behaviour.

The elevator chimed and the doors opened.

The officer let go of Michael's arm. "David, huh?"

Michael's brain slowed down and he almost felt a thunk inside as the voices began to fade and he found control of his words.

"Yes, David's my friend from university. Who is it you're looking for?" It was all he could think of saying to steer the officer away from him. He had no idea which unit David even lived in.

"She's a young lady, probably about your age."

Don't say her name. Please don't say her name. Not Lucy. Please, God, don't let them say Lucy.

"Lanna Sheaver. In apartment 319."

Michael's heart nearly exploded. At first he was sure the officer said Lucy Carter. But he remained in control and forcibly shook his head in response. "No. I don't think I've ever heard of her. My friend..." He pointed up. "David...he lives on the second floor."

The officer nodded, but his eyes remained pinned to Michael's. He seemed unconvinced, like he was studying him in attempt to peel back the layers of deceit. "Where are you heading at this time of night? It's late and everything's closed."

"Back to my dorm. At the university." Michael's heart continued to pound away fiercely. "It's only a few blocks."

The officer blocking the way to the front door moved towards the elevator nudging the other on the arm. "Frank, we need to go. The elevator's here."

"Yeah, okay." The officer gave a condescending nod to Michael to dismiss him. He turned away and both officers disappeared into the elevator.

Michael remained in the lobby, watching the doors to the elevator close and thinking how close he had come to exposing how deep in the middle of this he had gone.

As he stepped outside, the sight of the police cruiser on the street caused him to pause. Maybe he was going about this all wrong. Maybe he should be going straight to the police and telling them everything.

He turned and faced the building. Whispers and words funnelled down and spun about inside his head as if they were trying to organize themselves so they could spit out a coherent comment, but they remained incomplete and fractured. His eyes moved up to the third floor where the two officers were headed. Why was he running away? What had scared him so much last night that made him feel he could trust no one, not even the police?

He continued to gaze up at the building. Up there, behind the closed drapes, was where the bejesus was scared out of him. Underneath her bed, the creepy crawlers still swarmed; the sudden and horrific way Lucy was seized, the busted door frame, Johnny's creepy chuckle, the voices, the strange Russian man, and his multiple messages and missed calls lay in wait for someone to find on Lucy's cell phone.

"Shhhh...." A murmur of words still stirred about and rose in small segments above the fog—some coherent, others partial.

...Run you is hiding undo thish...bed room runt...away...to door farmen exploded...fridge...her masturbate...inish...thike...it come to...Michael it...is run...hide...you...run...

"Oh, God, just stop, please," he called out to his voices.

It was all because of Johnny. He seemed larger than life only yesterday and now he didn't even seem to have a shadow. He continued his gaze up at Lucy's window. Johnny seemed a ghost.

His eyes caught movement in the window of the apartment next to Lucy's. Fingers slipped through the crack between the drapes and suddenly the drapes were pulled wide open.

Michael wanted to scream.

The officer from the lobby stood with his face pressed up against the glass, staring down at him.

Run!

Michael turned and ran.

***

By 2:00 AM, Michael had Lucy's brochures and papers laid out in front of him on the table in the campus cafeteria. The cafeteria was open 24 hours a day for another week and he wasn't about to be high-tailing it back anywhere near his dorm any time soon.

Dishes and glassware clanked intermittently in the background as the night staff cleaned and began the prep for the much smaller breakfast crowd that would begin arriving in about four hours. He sat alone in the corner, leaning up against one of the glass windows, feeling safe for the moment. The manic voices in his head had abated over the last hour. There remained just barely a whisper, and for that he was glad. He hated that the voices had returned, but he clearly understood why. Until he sorted what happened to Lucy, the voices wouldn't be going anywhere.

"He said I got it," Michael whispered as he rifled through Lucy's papers.

Michael scratched his head and stared at the documents. For every trail Lucy hiked recently or dreamed of one day hiking she kept a map or trail guide, even if she had hiked it a dozen times. Maps, photos, trail guides, tips, updates: there were multiple different documents. All were from up and down the eastern slopes of the Rockies; Kootenay National Park, Yoho National Park, Bow Valley Parkway, Jasper National Park, Kananaskis Country and others. When driving out from Calgary, many could be hiked in a single day, and hikers could still make it back home for dinner.

"There's no way I'll know which one they took," he said and shook his head in dismay. His eyes watered and his belly rumbled. He hadn't eaten since noon yesterday.

"...but they did come for a specific one." He shuffled through the pamphlets again, studying each one carefully. "There must be hundreds of trails out there." Even as he said it, he knew it was more like a thousand.

"Jesus." The pamphlet from the West Coast trail on Vancouver Island's west coast caused him to pause. He glanced at his watch and let a short laugh that seemed to gurgle up from someplace deep. A very large speed bump had been tossed into their carefully made plans to hike the 75 kilometres along the coast. The flight, her father meeting them at the airport, the ten-day hiking trip was all in jeopardy unless he found Lucy before they had to leave for the airport. And he still had yet to make new arrangements to pick up his belongings from the dorm before next Friday.

He sighed heavily and counted the brochures again. Fourteen. There were many others back at the apartment stuffed inside two shoe boxes that sat under the window atop her dresser. He shuffled through each of them one by one: Mount Bourgeau, Eiffel Peak, Mount Lady McDonald, The Wedge, Mount Tyrwhitt, Castle Mountain, Ha Ling Peak-Ha Ling Peak she had hiked only three weeks ago with Johnny. There was Mount Yukness, Nihahi Ridge, and a few others. He recognized them all.

"So which one is missing?" The answer didn't come. He gathered up the papers and stuffed them back into his pocket.

His belly rumbled again, demanding he pay it some mind and eat something. He had been up for too many hours and his eyes burned and demanded rest. They weren't about to get that. Not yet. At this time of night, the food choice was limited to juice, fruit, and some baked goods left over from the day before. He settled for a bagel and was soon wandering around the deserted campus while he decided what he should do next. His dorm was out of the question. Finding Lucy was the only thing that mattered. A wave of worry and loss swirled about, ready to spew forth tears, but he pushed it back.

"One trail. But which one?" A voice replied in his head, but the sentence was garbled and incomplete.

"They came looking for one. Why? And how did they even know she had trail guides and maps?"

The answer was obvious.

Johnny.

He shuffled himself under one of the pathway lights, pulled out the bundle of papers, and rifled through each one again, deciphering the puzzle of which one was missing.

"Of course," he said as it seemed so obvious now. "Lucy would have told Johnny."

Michael snatched opened his phone and scrolled though his list of contacts again. It seemed every friend from school had already pulled out over the past two days. But one name popped out at him.

"Jordan." He didn't even remember adding Jordan's number into his phone. Jordan still lived at home with his parents in the northwest part of the city, and though he always caught the C-train to university each morning, it was common knowledge Jordan owned a car.

Did he dare call in the middle of the night? He dialled Jordan's number. The phone rang a number of times and Michael was about to hang up when Jordan answered.

"Hello?" His voice was raspy and whispery quiet.

"Hey, Jordan. It's Michael. Sorry for calling so late...uh early really, but I need a favour...."

"Fuck..." he sighed, "What?" he asked and groaned. "I'm in bed. What's up?"

Michael kept it short, explaining his need for a ride and exactly where he wanted to go.

"It's two in the effing morning, Michael. I'm not driving all of the way out there now. Call me back tomorrow and I'll consider it. Right now all I want is sleep."

"Jordan, please," Michael insisted. He knew Jordan was an avid gamer and it wasn't unusual for him to still be knee-deep in a game when the sun came up. "You probably weren't even in bed."

"Yeah, so? I'm tired now and I'm done for tonight."

"C'mon, man. I really need your help. I can't go back to my dorm. Please, Jordan."

"Why?"

Michael couldn't tell him about Lucy or Johnny. He made up some story about a fire alarm. He said he really needed this ride. Jordan finally gave in.

"Okay, okay. Just quit pissin' at me. I'll pick you up outside the dorms."

"Not the dorms, no. Meet me at the south entrance, on twenty-fourth. I'll be waiting."

"Yeah, okay." He paused and grunted heavily. "I'll be there in about twenty. And you're paying for the gas," he said and hung up.
CHAPTER 7

Saturday 07:04 Bow Valley Provincial Park, near Canmore, Alberta, Canada

It was the longest day of the year, and the sun had been dancing above the horizon to the east for the better part of an hour. Breakfast was over and the sun was still casting its warm tentacles through the forest down into the campsite when Michelle suddenly had a change of heart about participating in today's hike.

"You sure you don't want to come with us?" Richard asked. He sat bent over at the picnic table as he laced up his hiking boots.

"I'm really not up for an all-day hike today, Richard," Michelle replied. "You two go on. I'll clean up here and find something to do. I did want to spend some time alone taking photos this weekend, remember? Maybe I'll drive up to Middle Lake. I should get some nice shots up there, don't you think?"

"We're not doing an all-day hike. Just six or seven hours," Richard said. "You should come with us. You'll get much better photos from up top the mountain."

Michelle raised an eyebrow at him and he knew exactly what that meant. She simply didn't want to go on any hike up any mountain. She turned and smiled at Tawnie. "And can you leave your keys for me, Tawnie?" she asked presumptuously.

"You can walk to Middle Lake from the campsite," Richard responded. "You don't need to take Tawnie's car. It's only a mile or so."

Michelle reached down next to where she was seated and grabbed her tripod from the gravel—"...and carry this and all my lenses? No thank you, Richard."

"Suit yourself," he replied and finished tying his boots.

Tawnie moved up next to Richard with her backpack in one hand. A tripod stuck out the top and the pack bulged from the multiple lenses, water bottles, and sandwiches she prepared for the three of them. She rolled her eyes as she dug the keys out from her pocket and threw them onto the picnic table.

Last night wasn't exactly the perfect evening. He knew it wouldn't be. But Michelle at least didn't open up all cylinders on Tawnie, and Tawnie was polite enough to put up with the little digs Michelle planted in front of her repeatedly. Richard was proud Tawnie was smart enough to recognize them for what they were and never rebutted or challenged Michelle.

"I guess it's just the two of us," Richard said energetically. He winked at Tawnie.

Tawnie shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"I saw that," Michelle called out.

"What?" Tawnie replied.

"You know what."

"Come on, you two," Richard interjected.

Tawnie raised her backpack into the air and shook it at Michelle. "You just don't want to go because of me."

Michelle sprung from her chair. She pointed her finger at Tawnie. "Don't you go start telling me what I want or don't want!"

Tawnie stood her ground. "But it's true, isn't it? You dug into me all last night about not coming around or being too busy to spend any time with Dad whenever you're around. Now we're all ready to go hiking, pretending to be one big happy family, and now who's the one pulling out?"

"Tawnie, please," Richard said.

Michelle interjected. "No, Richard, it's alright." She hesitated a moment and splayed her hands up above her. "As a matter of fact..." She flashed a glare at Tawnie—"...she is damn right." Her hands fell to her sides with fists loosely clenched. "I really don't want to spend all day with her on some stupid hike up some stupid mountain."

Tawnie threw up her arms. "See?" She looked at her father for a response. "What's the point?"

Richard stared at Michelle and sighed heavily. It was moments like these that challenged him. He would never deny that he loved Tawnie's mother, Ashley, in the early years, but when the issues with Michael surfaced, their marriage eroded as if an incurable cancer had been planted between them. It felt like a knife had been jabbed and twisted into the heart of their relationship, causing irreparable damage. Michelle's arrival had been like the sun bursting out across the sky after many years of cold and gloomy weather. With the exception of how she was currently behaving towards his daughter, Michelle was everything he had always wanted in a partner. Until both Tawnie and Michelle warmed to each other, the ugly moments would continue.

"I wish you hadn't said that, Michelle," Richard said. "It's not helping anyone."

Michelle raised her eyebrows at him. "I told you yesterday I'm not holding back how I feel."

Richard was at a loss for words.

Tawnie shoved past Richard, who was still seated at the picnic table, and moved hastily down to the edge of the gravel beyond the far end of the travel trailer. She hopped into the passenger seat of Richard's truck and slammed the door.

"She started it," Michelle said.

"She didn't start anything." He walked up and kissed her once on the cheek. He looked at his watch. "It's twenty after seven now...." He counted in his head. "We should be back around three this afternoon."

She gave him a look and he knew she wasn't pleased. She faked a smile.

"Please be nice when we get back," he said.

"I'll be nice if she's nice. You have seven hours to teach her how to do that before you get back."

***

Richard's truck rolled to a stop in the gravel parking lot where the trail up Heart Mountain began. Tawnie stared out the passenger window. She hadn't said a single word during the entire twenty-minute drive.

"Well, we're here, and it's a beautiful sunny day," Richard said cheerily as he put the truck in park and killed the engine. "And look," he said pointing across the lot, "only two other vehicles. Looks like we might be one of the first to reach the top today."

The two other vehicles were parked at the south end next to the trees. A single occupant sat inside the nearest car, busy studying a map or trail guide.

Tawnie finally broke her gaze away from the window and looked at her father, who responded with a smile before stepping outside. She shook her head at him, slipped out the passenger side, and slammed the door.

"Why does she have to be such a bitch to me?"

He hoped she had let it go already. He sighed and shrugged. "I don't know."

Tawnie shouldered her backpack, pointed to the trailhead across the gravel lot just past the outhouses, and started walking.

Richard followed behind her as she continued ahead into the heavily treed path. The right words evaded him. She had grown so much since they last hiked anywhere together. Tawnie was what he would have called handsome for a young lady: slender and lean with rich, dirty-blonde hair that she always kept cut so it lay just above her shoulders. Her skin was dark in complexion and she bore rugged and chiseled facial features like his. He almost chuckled when he thought about how much like him she was in other ways: passionate, outspoken, and always determined to a point of bullheadedness. If he could understand his own reason for doing anything in his life, then he knew he could understand Tawnie, too.

"You are entitled to feel the way you feel, you know," he said.

She kept walking. Her pace picked up.

"Tawnie," he called out to her. "Whatever Michelle has done or hasn't done doesn't change things between you and me. If you feel upset being around her, I understand, and I certainly don't dislike you for it."

She stopped in her tracks and turned around.

"I just don't see what it is you see in her."

He frowned. If he said anything in response that praised Michelle, he knew Tawnie would take it as a jab at her mother. "C'mon," he said. "Just let it rest for now. It's going to be a long day and we need to keep moving." He looked up at the clear blue sky above. It really was the perfect day for a hike.

The trail meandered through the trees parallel to the highway, across Heart Creek, and down an old river bed. Richard heard a small buzzing sound off to his left near the highway. He only noticed it because of how extraordinary it was. It was unlike any vehicle, and it sounded more like a small aircraft. The trees opened up and Richard pointed towards the highway a couple hundred feet off to the left and hollered at Tawnie.

"Tawnie! Look at that!"

She looked. "It's a drone. So what?" she said with indifference. "They're all over the web these days." She was clearly still perturbed with him.

The drone was small and sleek looking, with pointed wings protruding out at odd angles. It hovered high above the highway traffic momentarily and then accelerated, moving along with the flow of vehicles, until nearly disappearing from view before zooming back.

"I've never seen one close up before, that's all."

Tawnie shrugged and kept walking.

"That one really moves fast."

He watched the drone whizz down the highway in one direction about a quarter of a mile before turning around and coming back. "I didn't know they could go that fast. Look at that..." he turned with the drone as it zoomed past. "That drone goes as fast as those cars."

Tawnie was too far ahead and had already disappeared around a bend in the trail. "Tawnie, did you see...Tawnie?"

Tawnie apparently didn't care about any drone flying down the highway. He jogged to catch up to her. Another fifteen minutes passed before a T-intersection introduced a new trail to the right. They turned onto the new trail and started to ascend immediately. The trail climbed rapidly up along the western ridge of the mountain, and Richard immediately felt the effects of the sudden ascent. His heart began to pound.
CHAPTER 8

Saturday 08:05 Calgary, Alberta, Canada

Nathaniel Diamond was still visibly upset with Kaito as Kaito pulled his BMW into the passenger drop zone at the airport. He looked down at his watch. Still plenty of time to catch his flight back to Ottawa. He turned to Kaito and started in at him again.

"I thought I knew you, Kaito, but to do this...." He shook his head once. "This was a total collapse in judgment."

As a man who currently sat with great confidence as CEO of AltaCan Pump, a quarter-billion-dollar corporation, Kaito was used to being challenged. "I don't know why you're so upset," he said.

The Senator shook his head and chuckled angrily. "I'm just worried I made a grave mistake in recommending you. I put my neck out for you and the first thing you do is pull this crazy stunt. Do you know how scared what you've done makes me? This whole business we have going may suddenly come crashing down on every single one of us because of what you've done. Do you even know how far back this goes? Do you?"

"Nothing is going to happen, Nate. Relax already. I've got it well under control."

"I asked you a question. Do you even know how long we've been doing this?"

"I know how long. Decades."

"Four decades! Since almost before you were born! How could you do this after everything you were told? Christ, Kaito. This is sensitive business we are involved in. One slip-up and..." he shook his head.

Kaito smiled. "It's only Taka we're talking about. You know what he's like. We can trust him. Maybe I shouldn't have told you about him."

"Well you did, and it's not about trust. It's about the damn rules. Rules and protocols. And we all follow them. You've left a trail by bringing your son into this. If anyone identifies or connects your boy to this, then it leads straight up to you. First you, then me! I don't like this!"

"He's clean, and he's not even in that deep. I'll talk to him again if it makes you feel better."

The Senator huffed angrily. "No you won't. From here on, you won't do a damn thing. Using your son in any operation crosses a line we do not need to cross. He's not qualified, and has never been screened. And because of that, I've done what I had to do to take care of you crossing that line."

Kaito seemed only mildly annoyed. He said nothing and seemed much too calm.

"I made some calls last night," Nathaniel added.

That got his attention. Kaito turned and stared with incredulity at the Senator. "Calls? Calls about what?" His surprise and indignation was clear.

"Calls." Nathaniel said simply and shoved his finger towards Kaito's chest. "Calls about Taka. You put him in way too deep. You won't be seeing him for a while."

"What?" Kaito was immediately infuriated and his voice rose. "My son? What did you do to him?"

"What I had to." Nathaniel wore a granite stare. He was impermeable.

"Nate! We're talking about my son! What did you do?"

"Taka's been removed. That's all you need to know."

"Removed? You can't do that. This one was mine. I didn't sign up for you to use my family as pawn pieces, goddamn you!"

The Senator laughed boldly. "Pawn pieces? He wasn't a pawn until you tossed him carelessly onto the centre of the board. You knew the rules coming in. We have rules and we never waiver from those rules. Ever."

"So what are you saying? When will I get to see him?"

"I'm saying none of us ever gets involved directly in any part of these operations. There is no need for you or me to be so embedded in the real work out there. Arms distance. That's how it works, and that's why it works. Work only one link down the chain. And here you go and inject your son right down at the bottom on this one, creating a line right through everything we've built. Right up the damn middle and straight to the top! Why the hell would you do something so foolish as place Taka in the mix with our field operatives?"

"Where's my son, Nate?" he asked, ignoring Nathaniel's rant.

Nathaniel carried on. "We have worked bloody hard to create this network of men who work discretely in the shadows for us—men who know the rules, trust us, and will do anything we ask of them without question. And I mean anything. Mixing your son out in front with them was just about as foolish as you can get." He shook his head in frustration.

"He helped me get to the information I needed. And fast. You saw how fast I was able to make this happen."

"You pompous ass! Justice is never fast! We bide our time carefully and with precision. No one can ever to know or even have a hint that outside forces were involved. And we never mix targets together. After what you just did...." He shook his head, "...even I can't protect Taka now."

Kaito seemed to be at a loss for words. He stared at the Senator, looking helpless as he digested the Senator's words.

"Protect Taka? Why would you have to protect my son?"

"All I will tell you is that he was picked up last night. He's good, I'll give you that. He's denying any connection to any of this so far. Our men almost believed they had picked up the wrong kid for a while, but he is your son."

"Jesus, Nate. We're friends. You have no business...."

"Friends," he puffed, interrupting Kaito. "Consider him potential collateral damage now, and if this one goes sideways, Kaito...." He looked Kaito squarely in both eyes to make sure Kaito was understanding him. "If this goes sideways, I do not care who your son is."

Kaito began to blink rapidly.

"You knew what you were getting into," Nathaniel added.

"But not my son," Kaito pleaded. "He knows nothing about what happened last night."

The Senator stood his ground forcefully. "The first sign I see that this is going off the rails, I'm cutting him loose."

Kaito reeled and shook his head at the Senator. "You can't do this! This one is not yours!"

"I can, and I will."

Kaito swallowed hard. "You wouldn't. You can't."

"There are always casualties in this business. That's why the outcome has always been so effective. Those we allow to survive and redeem themselves have become worthy contributors to our society afterwards. Those we don't, well...it's for the good of the people—the nation. Your son...he...." He shook his head again. "We don't know where he stands at such a young age, now do we?"

The Senator stared at the man he had thought was a good fit for the organization. He still believed deep in his heart that he was an appropriate candidate, and this was just a rookie error.

"Nate...."

"You were trusted to handle this one—in charge with full control over twelve men on two targets. Twelve of our best."

"C'mon, Nate...."

"No! How many of our men did Taka come in contact with?"

Kaito dropped his eyes, stared out the window, and said nothing.

"All twelve of them? Really?"

"Not all twelve," Kaito said. He turned and glared at Nathaniel as if Nathaniel was the one out of order. "Not all twelve...."

Nathaniel shook his head. "How many, then? Ten? Eight?"

Kaito gave a half nod. "Four," he said. "Maybe five."

"And you say he knows nothing. We're done here. Don't call me. Don't call anyone. And Kaito...do not even try to find your son. Someone will be in touch. Five goddamned men." Nathaniel Diamond stepped out of the car and, without turning back, walked steadfast into the terminal to check in for his flight.
CHAPTER 9

Saturday 08:34 Heart Mountain, near Canmore, Alberta, Canada

Richard lifted his shirt and wiped at the sweat dripping down into his eyes.

"Wow, Dad." Tawnie laughed. "You were not kidding when you said you sweat a lot."

Richard only nodded and smiled at her. He was much too tired to respond orally.

They had been climbing straight up for the past hour, only taking breaks every twenty minutes to refill on water and take photos. Access to the mountaintop was only achieved by holding on and moving from tree to tree in some places. In other spots, the trail crawled and divided into multiple barely discernible paths. It appeared to Richard that there really wasn't a true trail to the top at all. Just point yourself up and grab onto trees, stones, rocks, or whatever appeals to you to ascend one more step higher. He found himself drifting off to the right to what appeared an easier, more open route, but his choice soon proved unwise as the surface was often too steep to gain a good footing on the smooth stones. Where it wasn't smooth, the rocks were sharp and jutting, and fine scree was scattered across the surface, making the surface slippery. The mountain dropped off many hundreds of feet on the right side, and every route along the edge always dwindled away to nothing. A new choice of path had to be selected every dozen yards they moved higher.

"We're there."

Tawnie had found her own path to his left and was now a couple dozen yards ahead of him.

"The top?"

Tawnie laughed. "Not the top, Dad."

He paused, wiped the sweat away again, and continued to climb up behind her.

"What, then?" He stopped to catch his breath. His heart continued to pound away.

"The Crux."

"Oh." She had told him about the Crux before they started.

Richard scrambled up and over a large boulder, careful of his foot placement, and looked up at the wall of stone above him next to where Tawnie waited for him.

"I see now why you called this kind of hiking a scramble," he said. He puffed heavily.

"Twenty-six hundred feet to the top and nearly straight up," she replied.

The sparsely treed trail levelled off a few degrees and the difficulty of the climb eased as he approached the rock ledge known as the Crux.

Richard stopped and looked at the long wall of stone that stretched from the left and ran off into the side of the mountain cliff a few hundred yards to the right.

"That's it?" The stone face rose almost a dozen feet above them in places. A number of splits and cracks could be seen at different points along the wall.

"We have to go over it," Tawnie said.

The stone wall was nearly vertical, and even leaned outward in some sections. An obvious trail ran along the bottom of the stone wall off to the right and up a scree slope that disappeared around the side of the mountain a few hundred yards to the south. Richard moved over onto one of the many fragmented paths that connected to the trail beneath the wall.

"No, Dad, not that way." She patted the stone wall directly in front of her.

Richard responded by pointing at the stone-packed trail below the ridge to his right. "This looks like a well-used trail over here. Maybe we can go around the wall this way."

She shook her head. "You'll only get lost going that way."

"But the path goes this way." He pointed down along the path.

"That path is only there from people trying to find another way over the wall. It goes nowhere and just dwindles out halfway up the face of the cliffs over there. It's a dead end that way."

He stared up at the wall above Tawnie. It looked impossible to scale. Multiple large stones and scree led up to the base of the Crux. He studied the array of stones for a possible way over.

"It's called the Crux for a reason," she said. "This is the pivotal part of this entire hike. You make it over and you've practically made it to the top. If you can't make it over, you'll have to go back down the same way we just came up. If you try to go around it by following that trail you're looking at, you'll be defeated that way, too. Many have tried, I'm told."

"The Crux," he said.

"Many hikers just come this far up the mountain and turn back satisfied. It's high enough. Just look at the view from up here."

Richard scanned the valley deep below and looked back at her. "But it's not the top."

"Exactly." She pointed up to where she wanted to go.

Richard studied the face of the mountain to his right again. To him, the trail below the Crux seemed to go off deliberately in that direction. "Did you ever go over that way? To see if there is an easier way?" He followed the trail with his eyes as it climbed up a steep scree slope and disappeared around the far side of the cliff face to his right.

"This is the Crux." She shook her head and pointed at a small metal tag of about four square inches that was anchored into the stone wall. It was red in colour with a small white arrow pointing up. "It's right here. It's the only way to the top."

He chuckled. "That has got to be the smallest marker I've ever seen. Where are we supposed to go? Up and over? How do we do that?"

Tawnie pointed at the wall above her. "That gap right there."

It was a small crevice in the top of the wall a few feet above where she stood. It wasn't big, but it looked to be the easiest option. "You give me a foot up, and I should be able to pull myself up into the gap then up over the top." She removed the backpack and set it on the ground.

"Hoist me up."

Richard scrambled up over some large stones and scree until he was standing next to Tawnie. He interlocked the fingers of both hands and Tawnie stepped up into his hands. She reached along the smooth stone surface of the wall as high as she could until she slipped her fingers into one of the few small crevices high up above her head. She tugged and pulled as Richard lifted her higher. Suddenly she was up into the small gap and on top of the wall.

"See. It's not that difficult."

"Here comes your pack," Richard said. Tawnie caught it easily and placed it off to the side. She knelt on the wall and reached one hand down towards him.

"Grab my hand, and place your foot up on that ridge. I'll pull you up. Grab over here onto the crack in this stone and I'll have you over in a snap."

He grunted, lifting his right foot as high as he could manage, until it rested on a tiny protrusion on the side of the stone wall. He grabbed her hand, and in one quick pull, he was yanked up and over the Crux.

"Thanks," he said. He looked back down over the short wall. "We don't have to go down that way, do we?" He couldn't manage the thought of having to do the reverse of what he just did without collapsing and tumbling over the sharp scree and boulders that lined the slope below the Crux.

"We're descending the other side of the mountain. It's a loop hike. C'mon," she said as she shouldered her backpack.

"People actually climb over that wall themselves? Alone?"

She nodded. "Some do. But it's easier and much safer if you have a hiking partner."

He gazed back over his shoulder at the top of the Crux. "Yeah, and if you're lucky enough to even see that marker," he said.

She laughed. "Come on, Dad. We need to keep moving."

She urged him higher. "And there's really no trail at all from here on up to the top. Lots of climbing on your hands and knees in places. Just follow me."
CHAPTER 10

Saturday 11:05 Trans-Canada Highway east of Calgary

Garrod Shaw was slumped against the passenger side window with his chin tucked down against his chest as the truck rolled down the highway headed east. Willard was driving.

The truck was old, an early nineties extended-cab Chevy with a cracked wind screen and extensive rust on the fenders and rear bumper. The tires were balding and the wheels were out of alignment, requiring Willard to keep the steering wheel pulled to the left to compensate for the drag. Adding to the discomfort, at least one of the tires had thrown a weight and the truck shimmied terribly at high speeds.

Willard had secured the truck three nights ago from a farm on the eastern edge of the city. There were dozens of vehicles stored on the far side of the barn facing the rural gravel road, far away from prying eyes of the main house. Many of the autos were just empty carcasses, stripped down for parts and resting on blocks. A few had their hoods lifted, looking like nestlings crying up skyward for a much needed feeding. Others that weren't stripped just sat there with their headlights staring out towards the highway like old men in white tank tops reminiscing about some sweet girl who once warmed the passenger seat.

Willard knew the old Chevy was in running condition the moment he saw it tucked next to the barn alongside the others. It was the recently cut grass beneath the truck that gave it away. The farm work truck: most farms had at least one. He was pretty sure this one wouldn't be missed by its owner for a number of days or weeks, maybe not even until harvest season started in late August. As a bonus, the owners had left the keys in the ignition, which didn't really surprise him. The only task that remained was to secure a plate, and he stole that from a similar looking truck in the casino parking lot on the south end of town.

Willard reached across the seat and nudged Shaw on the shoulder. "You okay, man?"

Shaw grunted once and ran one hand up across his stubble-ridden face. "Yeah," he wheezed out. His eyes remained closed. He shifted his head further into the window, appearing annoyed.

"That was some good shit last night."

Shaw responded with another grunt.

Thursday night was the teaser. Addicts were like little sluts when it came to their drugs. When it was free, they didn't care who was offering or where it came from. One dime was all he'd set Shaw up with on Thursday before he staggered out to find his own corner to settle down and ride the wave, leaving Shaw alone in the back room on his own magic carpet ride. By the end of the night, the euphoria had dissipated, leaving him feeling dry and edgy. It didn't take long before he was upstairs shagging the scrawny brunette with the bad tattoos and black nose ring. Where Shaw ended up at the end of the night he didn't know. He only knew that at some time tomorrow, Shaw would return wanting more—they always do.

And Friday, like the little drug slut he'd become since his release, Shaw was there, panting like a dog, as Willard stepped back inside the Ogden house. Willard worked Shaw, dribbling out a small sampling at a time, making sure he knew there was more—plenty more. By late evening, Willard mentioned he was leaving early Saturday for a quick overnight job in Saskatoon and asked Shaw if he was up to keeping him company for the drive.

"Uhn. What kind of job?" he asked.

"A delivery. We'll be back Sunday afternoon."

He shrugged and scrunched up his face as he looked about the room full of nameless strangers. "Sure," he said and laughed. "I ain't got nowhere special to be." He laughed again. "I'm free." He lifted his arms into the air and shook them about. "I can goes anywhere I want." He grinned again and flashed his yellowing teeth at Willard.

As long as there were drugs, Shaw was eager to follow.

Willard had spotted one undercover tracking Shaw as he made his way to the Ogden house upon his release. He suspected the police were upset about the Supreme Court decision ordering Shaw's release and were determined to find any reason to put Shaw back behind bars where he belonged as soon as possible. He almost suspected a possible police raid of the Ogden drug house, but drug possession was a minor offence and not worth the risk if the police were already inside working on a much bigger target.

Because of a possible tail, Willard kept all contact to Shaw limited. A few hours ago, Shaw hopped onto a C-Train as the sun broke the horizon, riding first out to the suburbs and then back into the city core. This was followed by a few transfers on city buses. His final destination was back in Ogden at the local farmers' market where Shaw walked in the front door and out the back, hunched over, straight into Willard's waiting pickup truck. He remained hunkered down against the floor until they were clear of town.

"Why did I have to ride so many buses? I could have walked here."

Willard didn't lie.

"I need to be sure you don't have a tail."

"Oh, I guess," Shaw replied and scratched his head. "But I'm free. So they can't charge me with those murders ever again. The courts said so." He was clearly puzzled.

Willard chuckled. "But they can throw you back in jail for other things. That's why they're watching you."

A frown crossed Shaw's face as if he didn't understand.

"They're watching you, Garrod. They want you back in jail."

"But I'm free," he repeated.

He just wasn't getting it. He seemed more like a juvenile than a fully grown, thirty-two-year-old man.

He chuckled. "Yeah, okay, Garrod. You're right. You're a free man. Just like me." He flashed a grin.

Shaw smiled back, but it seemed forced.

As the truck rolled east, Shaw snoozed. Willard checked the time. He was far ahead of schedule.
CHAPTER 11

Saturday 10:15 Heart Mountain near Canmore, Alberta, Canada

Richard posed next to the inuksuk, the first of four stone cairns staged at the highest peaks along the Heart Mountain Loop. The Bow River Valley, Lac Des Arcs, and the southern part of the town of Canmore lay below them in the valley stretching out to the west. The rugged peaks of the Rocky Mountains reached out everywhere behind him in a picturesque backdrop as seen on a postcard. He squatted alongside the small stone figure.

"Smile," she said.

Tawnie snapped a number of pictures.

The top of the mountain was wide open, denuded of trees, and the surface was stony and much flatter than he expected. It almost appeared like a miniature rocky meadow was carefully placed atop the steep-walled mountain. To the south, the rocky meadow narrowed, and both sides fell away into the valleys below on either side. Numerous evergreen trees lined the area where the trail continued south on its loop, traversing the four peaks along the two-mile-long ridge that made up the top of the mountain.

Richard was taken aback by the sheer beauty that encompassed him. It had been many years since he last hiked up so high in the mountains. He gazed around in awe and let an exhilarated smile wash across his face. Tawnie returned her tripod and lens back into the pack as she readied herself to move on.

There was no trace of wind. The sun was up high and the only discernible sound was that of vehicles travelling the highway in the valley below. It was the perfect day to be on any mountain.

The near perfect silence was suddenly broken by a short muffled high-pitched scream from somewhere down the side of the mountain below them. An icy cold shiver travelled down Richard's spine.

Tawnie stared at Richard with her mouth agape.

A shrug was all Richard could offer. Both moved quickly towards the edge of the mountaintop and looked down. Neither could see what sat below. The drop-off was much too steep.

"That was a scream."

Twenty yards down the mountain's western edge, it was still impossible to see anything right below them. The western side of the mountain was a solid wall of interlacing vertical drops that fell away to the valley floor nearly a half mile below, and the natural curve at the top of the mountain limited any view directly below.

Richard cupped his hands around his mouth. "Hello!" he shouted.

There was no reply.

"That did sound like a scream."

Richard nodded. "I didn't see anyone behind us on the climb. Did you?"

Tawnie shook her head. "Not behind or ahead of us. I haven't seen anyone."

"Well...there were two other vehicles in the parking lot."

The two of them stared into the valley below. Was it really possible that someone just fell off the mountain?

"If they got too close to that right side coming up, then...."

Richard shook his head. "Don't even suggest that."

"What do you think we should do?" Tawnie asked.

Richard shrugged. "I don't really know what we can do."

"But it was a scream, wasn't it?"

"It sure sounded like one," Richard replied. But he wondered.

Richard and Tawnie retraced their path along the ridge, looking down the western edge of the mountain for the next half hour. Only the lower part of the path near the valley bottom was visible but was much too far away to see clearly. And then, only small snippets of the trail were visible where the trees opened up.

"Look!" Tawnie shouted. She pointed at an open section of trail over a thousand feet below.

"Where?"

"There. On the path. Someone's going down."

"I don't see anyone."

"Over there—near the edge where we came up. Right where it opens up and runs along the cliff way down below the Crux."

"I don't...."

"Along the ridge right there before the trees thicken up." She pointed. "He's dressed in dark clothes. Dark blue, I think"

"Okay, I see him."

Richard cupped his hands around his mouth. "Hello!" he shouted.

The hiker stopped, turned and stared up towards Richard and Tawnie.

Richard waved an arm back and forth above his head.

The sole hiker returned a brief wave, turned away and carried on with his descent down the mountain. Seconds later, another hiker similarly dressed came out into view from the trees and followed after the first.

"Well, he definitely saw us."

"Uh huh."

"They're not moving very fast."

They watched the hikers descend for another few minutes as the tiny stick-like figures popped in and out of the trees until the denser trees swallowed them up.

"Maybe they didn't hear anything," Richard suggested.

"Maybe it wasn't a scream."

"You heard it," Richard said. "It was definitely a scream." He turned away and motioned back towards the top. "C'mon, let's move on. We've just wasted forty-five minutes here. They were probably just horsing around down there." Tawnie followed close behind as he turned around and ascended silently along the path back up to the top.

"See? That's what I was saying earlier about the Crux. Some people only come up that far before turning back."

"Uh huh," Richard replied. It seemed odd to him that someone would actually only come that far up the mountain and turn around and go back down without reaching the summit.
CHAPTER 12

Saturday 10:45 Somewhere over Manitoba, Canada

Senator Nathaniel Diamond was cruising at 34,000 feet over Lake Winnipeg on his way back to Ottawa. He couldn't wait any longer and placed the call using the air phone.

"Senator Leboeuf, it's Nate again." He'd called him just prior to boarding the plane and tried to explain what Kaito had done, but Leboeuf was in the middle of something and after hearing what it was about, asked Nathaniel to call back in two hours.

"Uh huh." His displeasure was clear. "So what's this about? You said Kaito Hui's created a breach?"

"Yes, and I think we need to meet as soon as possible."

He heard Francois Leboeuf sigh loudly. "Where are you now?"

"Somewhere over Manitoba at the moment."

"How bad is it?

"Bad. That's why we need to meet. Can we meet at Val David? The usual place?"

Leboeuf sighed again. "You know, Kaito's had a few of us on edge from the beginning. You do understand my position?"

"I do. That's why we need to meet."

Francois breathed heavily into the phone without responding. It was what he always did when he was uncomfortable. He didn't answer.

"Senator, Leboeuf? I'm catching a flight back to Montreal as soon as I land in Ottawa. I can be at the lake by eleven tonight."

Francois continued to breathe heavily. "You do know that place closed down last December."

"Closed down? Hotel La Sapiniere? Really?"

The Senator didn't respond.

"Well, have it opened back up. We can meet in the bar."

"Open it? You make it sound easy."

"We don't have time to find a new place. Everyone knows the protocol involved in meeting there. And it's discreet—maybe even more discreet with its doors closed."

Leboeuf breathed heavily again.

"And get as many as you can to come," Nathaniel added.

"I was against bringing Kaito in from the beginning, Nate. A few of us were."

"I did hear that, yes."

"Then why call me? Of all people, I'm the least on your side when it involves Kaito Hui."

Nathaniel Diamond laughed. "And that's exactly why I am calling you. If I can't get you on my side, then this whole business might just be finished."

"Damn you! I've kept my neck clean working at this business for far too long to have it shredded by the likes of one Kaito Hui." His French accent erupted when he was angry, making his English hard to understand.

"I understand, Senator," Nathaniel replied. It was his respect for Francois and his lengthy career in the Senate that made him always address the Senator by his title. Only three other senators had longer careers than Francois Leboeuf.

"No, I don't think you do!" The word "think" was pronounced "tink." "Nate, you are a damned good man, and I regard you with the highest of compliments, but I still think you were wrong introducing Kaito Hui into our little group! I should be castigating you right now instead of engaging in this conversation with you." Nathaniel admired how the French-Canadian accent exerted such explicit passion into every conversation.

"I only pitched for him. He was voted in on a consensus."

"It was on your word. He wouldn't have stood a chance without your endorsement."

"Well, he's in, and we now have a problem."

"'Breached' you said."

"Not just breached—well, not yet, anyway. We don't know for sure where we are. That's why we need to meet. I took care of the problem I uncovered last night. Sent a package overseas."

"You did, did you?"

He sounded disturbed by this news.

"How many packages are we talking about?"

"Only one at the moment, and I want to keep it at one."

Leboeuf released a sigh that sounded full of relief. "One's easy."

"Yeah, one's easy," Nathaniel repeated, but he didn't like dealing with packages. The outcome was never certain.

"Packages disappear overseas all of the time. Nothing abnormal about that."

But this package was different than the any other Nathaniel had been responsible for sending overseas. He didn't want this one to disappear with a simple command or stroke of the pen like others in the past.

"And what about Kaito?" Leboeuf asked.

A waitress moved towards him down the aisle in first class. Senator Diamond nodded and smiled at the waitress as she approached. He held up his crystal wine glass for a refill.

"Kaito's upset."

"He's upset? Why is he upset? Isn't he the one causing all of this bloody scrambling?"

Nathaniel hesitated in his reply. "The package was his son."

Francois began breathing heavily into the phone again. He was clearly upset. "Damn."

"His son...."

"Hush!" Leboeuf interrupted sharply. "I don't even want to guess how that could happen! Bloody sakes!"

"I'll break it down when we meet."

Senator Leboeuf sighed. "I'll need to think on this for a while before I decide who to call. How's midnight in the same unit as last time? Everyone knows which one it is."

"The time is perfect for me, but it'll probably much easier to just open up the main building and meet in the bar if the power's been cut. There won't be anyone around to see us on the lake anyway. It's very secluded."

"This is bad, Nate. Very bad. But it was only a matter of time before something like this happened."

"I am sorry."

"Bah," Leboeuf scoffed. "Being sorry doesn't help a damn thing here. If not Kaito Hui, then someone else eventually. We've had sticklers before and always found our way through. A package is still just a package."

Leboeuf's words cut him deep. He knew Kaito's son personally, and he wasn't just a package.

"You are a good man, Leboeuf." Nathaniel chuckled. "You always have been." He hoped he could say something to change things this time. He couldn't think of anything.

Leboeuf slipped a small chuckle back. "We are all good men, Nate. That's why we put ourselves through this shit over and over again."

Nathaniel debated saying what he really wanted to say to Leboeuf. Leboeuf was a serious man who trusted few but was trusted by many. Asking Leboeuf to look away on this package was simply out of the question. "I will text you if I am delayed."

"I doubt I can get who I think I need on this one. We have to keep this very tight."

"Please, just get who you can. If it's just you and me, so be it."

Leboeuf chuckled again. "You and me? I really don't think so. I'm not getting involved in this one."

"But, I thought...."

"No, Nate. I'll get you some help, but I'm staying far away from this one and even further away from your friend Kaito Hui."

"I appreciate anything you can do."

"And you should. Have you told anyone else about this?"

"No one."

"Then this conversation stops here—right now. You speak to no one about any of this until we meet."

"Of course, Senator."

CHAPTER 13

Saturday 11:06 Heart Mountain, near Canmore, Alberta, Canada

Richard's profuse sweating eventually stopped as they headed south along the ridge between the peaks. The gradual climbs and descents along the narrow path that took up the next hour were much easier accomplished than the original ascent from the valley bottom. The mostly tree-lined trail followed the ridge line between the two valleys on either side of the mountain and narrowed to only a half dozen feet in many places with both sides falling away thousands of feet to the valley floors in treeless stone-faced chutes. The Heart Mountain Loop Trail was not for anyone with a fear of heights.

Neither Richard nor Tawnie spoke of Michelle as they moved carefully along the ridge. Richard knew it would only need to be discussed for a necessary few moments before they arrived back at the truck. For now, it was just the two of them, and he was okay with that. He was enjoying every moment with Tawnie. Being atop a mountain with her seemed the right place to be today.

Richard stumbled as his boot caught on the ridge of a protrusion from the ground. He grunted out loud and Tawnie turned back to see what had happened. He had already regained his balanced and waved her on as if nothing untoward had occurred.

"Jesus, Dad. Watch where you're stepping."

Richard grimaced when he stood up straight and stared down the steep drop down the side of the mountain. Any little stumble could be fatal.

"It was just a root."

"Just be careful. Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm being careful."

Frequent stops to take in the view or pose for a photograph slowed them considerably, but sharing each other's undivided attention was something they hadn't done for years. It seemed, to Richard at least, that Tawnie was enjoying herself as much as he was.

Another hour passed before they stopped again. The trail widened as another ridge intersected from a small range to the south. The small, stony plateau was the second high point on the trail and was marked by a much larger pile of stones. He sat down alongside the marker to rest. Tawnie dropped her backpack next to him and strolled off to the southeastern edge to set up her tripod. It was the halfway point and offered the first view of the valley on the backside of Heart Mountain. Barrier Lake and the northern part of the Kananaskis Valley lay spread deep beneath them. A cool mist flowed through the valley above the lake.

Richard removed one of the sandwiches from Tawnie's backpack. He had just taken his first bite when his cell phone rang, surprising him. He didn't expect to have cell service on top of the mountain. He looked at the number. It was Michael.

"Hi Michael," he said with an easy calmness. He stood up and wandered away from the Cairn towards Tawnie where she was busy photographing Barrier Lake. Life felt good today and it seemed the entire universe was in perfect order.

"Dad," Michael said. His perfectly aligned universe began to spin and all the stars recoiled inward as the tone of Michael's voice pulled him back to earth. Michael sounded different; he sounded stressed.

"Michael?"

"Dad. I...something's happened."

"What is it? Are you okay?"

Tawnie continued to fuss about with her camera.

"I don't know what to do...." His voice was shaken—broken. "I...Dad, she's...."

Michael sniffed. Was he sobbing?

"Michael? What's wrong?"

"I don't know what to do. Where are you right now? I need to see you."

"Jesus, Michael. I'm on top of a mountain with Tawnie."

Tawnie turned towards him at the mention of her name. She lowered her camera and moved up to listen in. "Michael?"

Richard nodded. "Michael, what's wrong?" he asked again.

Michael sniffled again. "Mountain? I am...it's not me, it's Lucy, but...I don't want to say. I don't even know what happened. Last night I...me and her, we...."

Richard frowned. "You're not making any sense, Michael." He passed a bewildered look at Tawnie.

"Is he okay?" she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders at her.

"I need some help with Lucy...can you come get me right away? She's...um..." Michael said.

"We're camping and not heading back until Monday."

"Monday..." Michael echoed. "No, Dad. That's too late. I need someone now, today...."

"Too late for what? I thought you were heading out hiking with that new girlfriend of yours tomorrow. Lucy? Is that her name?"

"Dad, shhhh! Don't...!"

"What? Michael...I don't understand."

"Just don't say anything! Please! Just listen to me! Don't say anything!"

Michael was getting stranger by the moment. "I can come get you, but it's going to take us a while. We'll be down the mountain in...uh...." He looked at his watch and then at Tawnie.

"Jesus...just stop talking..."

Tawnie responded to Richard. "It'll take at least two hours to get down from where we are if we don't stop. Maybe three."

"...three hours or so, Michael. We can pack up camp and be back home in Okotoks by six tonight." Okotoks was home, a small community a half hour's drive south of Calgary.

"Six? No, Dad, that's way too late. Maybe...uh...no. Just stay away, maybe...I...I don't know. I might go back to her apartment again...."

"Who's apartment?"

"Shhh!" Michael replied. He groaned.

"Michael?"

The phone went quiet.

"Michael? Are you there? What's happened?" He heard Michael sniff again. "Michael?"

"This isn't going to work. I can't wait that long...."

"Michael, you have to tell me what's wrong."

Michael began to ramble on like he did when he was younger, not listening to a word Richard said. "I need to do something now, can't go back, to my dorm I mean. Shhh. Lucy's apartment...the door's broken...I have to go now, so, I'll figure it out, I will. Just...I'll call you tomorrow, okay?" The phone went dead.

"Michael?"

No response.

"Michael!"

He pulled the phone away and stared at Tawnie.

***

"Calm down, Tawnie," Richard said. "I don't know anything more than what I've already told you."

He puffed away as they climbed forward up the narrow ridge towards the third peak, having picked up their pace after Michael's call. Richard repeated everything Michael said, but Tawnie still probed for more.

"Call him again."

He huffed. "It'll probably just go straight to voicemail like before."

"Please call him again. For me, Dad. Please."

Richard placed the call and waited. He shook his head. "Voicemail."

"Did he say where he was, at least?"

Richard puffed as he followed behind Tawnie.

"All I know is he's probably still in Calgary somewhere because he asked if I could come see him. He seemed disappointed we were so far away."

Tawnie's pace was fast and Richard began to fall behind. There were two more peaks left to cross before they began the long descent down the eastern slope to the valley bottom.

"He was supposed to go hiking on Vancouver Island for a few days with this new girl of his tomorrow, Lucy. Whatever it is that's got him upset, it has something to do with her."

"He's never had a real girlfriend before," she replied. She looked behind her and saw her father struggling to keep up. She stopped and waited for him.

"What about Stacey?" he said and puffed heavily. "He went out with her for quite some time."

Tawnie laughed. "Stacey? She was never going to be his girlfriend."

Richard frowned. "Why do you say that? I thought he liked her," he said. His words were short and broken.

"Oh, he liked her. A lot. The problem was she didn't like him that much."

"How do you know all of this?"

Tawnie started walking again as soon as Richard caught up. "Michael and I talk, Dad. All the time."

"But he went out with her many times."

"The two of them went out to the movies and partied together, but that was about it. He tried very hard with her but Stacey was all about keeping her options open."

"I didn't know that."

Sweat dribbled down Richard's brow.

"You know how Michael is. He's timid and reserved."

Michael seemed a very normal child in his early years—outgoing, active and talkative. All that changed when he was ten; he often became quiet—mumbling, and saying words or replies that made no sense, as if he was having some private conversation with an imaginary friend.

"Stacey definitely liked him but I think she wished he was bolder and more outgoing," Tawnie added. "I don't think he's even talked to her this past year."

"Shunned" is how Richard would describe Michael's early teen years. Kids everywhere shied away from him and labelled him a freak because of his mumbling and random outbursts. It was after the incident where his timidness became deeply embedded.

"I think he really wanted to be more outgoing, but he just couldn't put himself out there. He told me once...."

The sound of a helicopter nearby in the valley broke the silence. Both turned as a red helicopter rose above the ridge a mile behind them and headed towards them.

"Wow. He's flying low," Tawnie said.

"They do helicopter tours out here every day."

Tawnie pointed. "That doesn't look like a tour. He's flying far too low and so close to the mountain. The tours always stay in the valleys. I've watched them many times while hiking."

"Maybe so...."

The helicopter passed over and banked sharply to its left before it circled around, slowed, and hovered off to their left a few hundred yards. Someone in the passenger seat with a headset was talking and pointing down at them.

"What do you make of that?" Richard asked.

"I don't know," Tawnie replied. "Doesn't look like a tour." She waved up towards the chopper.

The man in the passenger seat wearing headphones acknowledged her wave and pointed down. The chopper moved slowly across the sky and came around behind them and paused even closer. A breeze kicked down across them and stirred some of the grey dust up from the path, swirling it around their ankles. The passenger pointed down with one finger.

Tawnie lifted her hand and pointed down mimicking his motion.

The man in the chopper nodded, gave her a thumbs up, and the helicopter immediately banked away, moving further down the mountain.

"What did you just do?" Richard asked.

She shrugged. "It looked like he wanted a response from us so I gave him one."

"By pointing down?"

"I don't know...maybe he wants us to get off the mountain."

The scream from earlier caused goosebumps to rise across Richard's neck. "Shit," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing. Let's keep moving." He wasn't about to tell Tawnie what he was thinking.

***

Many hours passed as Richard and Tawnie worked their way around and down the mountain's eastern ridge. They only captured relief from the hot sun once they reached the heavily treed forest halfway down the far side of the mountain. The going was slow, and Richard felt an increasing discomfort in his knees with every step down. This part of the trail was nearly as steep coming down in places as the hike was going up. His knees took the brunt of the torture down the steep incline.

"I need a break," Richard said. "Ten minutes." He reached his hand out to Tawnie gesturing with his fingers for his half-empty bottle of water. She handed him the bottle from the side pouch of her pack.

"We're almost down," she replied. "Another fifteen and we'll be on the bottom of the mountain. Twenty more after that and we'll be back at the truck."

"Good," he replied. "I'm feeling it in my knees right now."

"Coming down is always harder on the body. Especially the knees. We can slow down if you need."

Richard gulped back two large swallows and handed the bottle back to Tawnie. She tucked it back in the pouch.

He nodded. "Maybe so. I don't think I can keep up this pace." He took a couple of deep breaths and released them slowly. "I'm not sure if Michelle would have been up to this hike. This is really hard."

It wasn't his plan to bring up Michelle's name, but he knew he'd have to before they got back to the truck.

Tawnie grabbed her own water and downed a few swallows. She looked away, across the trees into the valley below without responding to his comment.

"I can barely walk right now. My legs feel like jelly," he added.

Tawnie turned to him with a disconcerted look.

He grinned sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset."

"I just thought—you know—mentioning Michelle. I thought I upset you just now."

"Jesus, Dad. I told you I'm not upset."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. She and I just don't get along. We haven't from the start."

Richard smiled.

"She digs at me just to get a rise out of me. It's what she does. I'll never do right by her."

"She can be complicated."

"Complicated? Wow, Dad. You really won't take sides will you?"

Richard started walking again. Tawnie followed behind him.

"It's not about sides. There are no sides."

She laughed. "There are from where I am sitting."

"So, what exactly do you want me to do? The last thing I want is to see you two going at it every time you get together in the same room."

"I would like you to defend me once in a while. That's all."

"I thought I was."

"When have you ever defended me in front of her? I can't think of any time you ever told her to back off in front of me."

It hurt to hear that his daughter expected such a reaction from him against the woman he loved. He thought he was being fair.

"What about this hike?" he asked.

"What?" She laughed with disbelief.

"This hike we're on. Michelle didn't want to come, but I still came. I wanted to be with you today. To me, that's standing up for our relationship. I chose to be with you over her today, and believe it or not, no matter what words Michelle may have used back at the campsite this morning, she understands that this hike is important to both of us."

"Oh yeah. Some stupid hike of hers up some stupid mountain. Isn't that what she said?"

Richard was at a loss.

Neither spoke again about Michelle as they continued on down the mountain. As they came upon the Heart Creek intersection, close to where they started the hike, several people were gathered on the trail. Two police officers were part of the group. One moved towards them, his head bobbed up and down as he approached.

"You two...." One arm was stretched out and pointed up to the top of the mountain to the south. "Were you up hiking this way today?"

"Yes, we were," Richard replied.

Tawnie craned her neck and shielded her eyes as she watched what looked like the same helicopter zoom across the sky from the north to the south up Heart Creek.

"That helicopter spotted two people on top of the mountain earlier."

Richard and Tawnie both nodded. "That was probably us. It came right up close to us and the man inside pointed down at us." Tawnie pointed down mimicking the action she had given to the helicopter.

"Then I'll need you both to come with me." He motioned with his arm over to where the small group was gathered.

The crowd watched with interest as the officer led them back into the small gathering. The group was composed of a number of emergency personnel, wildlife officers, and a few others.

"My God," Tawnie said and tugged her father on the arm. "Someone really did fall off the mountain."

The officer heard her comment. "What did you just say?"

"I said someone probably fell off the mountain."

He gazed at her with a curious look. "Why would you say that?"

Unsure if she should say anything more, she turned to Richard who nodded at her. "We heard a scream when we were on top of the mountain."

"Come, please," he said. "Someone did fall." He turned and started walking towards the small group.

"Are they okay?" Tawnie asked.

The officer kept walking. "We've got a team trying to get up there right now. It's not an easy place to mount a rescue."

An hour and a half later, Richard and Tawnie were finally back in the truck at the parking lot after having given a complete and detailed account to the police of what transpired on their hike up the mountain, starting with the two vehicles they spotted parked off in the corner of the parking lot when they arrived. One of the vehicles was still there and an officer was posted next to it.
CHAPTER 14

Saturday 17:55 Bow Valley Provincial Park, near Canmore, Alberta, Canada

Michelle poked at the foil-wrapped potatoes baking in the fire pit with a long stick. "You see? That's why I decided to stay back down here at the campsite today. You're both lucky you didn't fall off the mountain yourselves."

Richard laughed. He chugged back a gulp from his can of beer. "It wasn't like that. The trail is very safe."

Michelle waved the stick in the air. The tip smouldered and left a smoky trail. "Safe? How can it be safe if someone just fell today? I've heard that there are dozens of people every year that fall from these trails. And that's just on the mountains I can see from my chair." She made a wide sweeping motion with her arm across the mountain backdrop.

Tawnie was seated next to Richard. He could see she was trying desperately not to jump into the conversation.

"Mountain climbers," Richard said. "That's who fall off mountains. These guys think they are invincible and can climb up without ropes or tethers, and wham! Suddenly they find themselves falling hundreds of feet down onto an outcropping of rock. Even with ropes and tethers, it's one big splat when they hit the rocks. Very dead and very messy."

"Jesus, Dad," Tawnie responded. "Graphic much?"

Richard smiled at her. "I certainly wouldn't want to be the one cleaning up after someone fell."

"Stop it, Dad."

"Imagine a watermelon falling all that way and...."

"Dad!"

Michelle shook the stick about until the ember died away and sat down in her chair next to the fire. She buried the tip of the stick into the gravel to kill the remaining heat. "I would just prefer to stick to the trails in the valleys from now on."

Richard nodded. "Sure. If that's what you want."

She picked up her gin and tonic and leaned back in her chair. "It is what I want. I was really worried about you two all day. And then you were late...."

Tawnie's gaze shot up towards Michelle.

"I heard sirens travelling up and down the highway in the direction you two went hiking. And then you didn't show up at three like you said you would. I had a bad feeling something went very wrong. An hour later it just—it just really got to me."

"We had to file a report with the police about what we heard."

"I understand all that. It's just that while I was sitting back here all alone at the campsite waiting, I couldn't bear the thought of either of you being hurt up there."

"Why didn't you just call us?" Tawnie asked. "We both took our phones and the signal is strong most everywhere in the valley."

Michelle sipped on her drink. "I'm not sure." She hesitated for a moment. "I guess it's because I didn't want to know. Not knowing somehow seemed better at the time. And to be honest..." she focused her attention at Tawnie, "...I was so out of order with you this morning."

Richard raised his eyebrows.

"I mean it. I had a lot of time to think down here on my own after you left this morning."

The corner of her mouth lifted up as if she was holding back from saying too much and she bit down on the corner of her lip.

"I did go up to Middle Lake like I said I was going to. I managed to get some really good photos. I think a few will touch up nicely once they are edited." She gave Tawnie a limp smile and reached for her camera.

"Come. Have a look," she said to her husband. She scrolled through some of the photos, stopped on one, and handed the camera over to Richard. "See?"

He chuckled. "You walked up to the lake?" He passed the camera over to Tawnie to see the photo Michelle had taken on the trail atop the medial moraine ridge half way up to the lake.

"Very nice," Tawnie said.

Michelle gleamed with pride. "Yes, Richard. I walked. After the grilling you both gave me, I felt I should at least give it a go." She smiled at Tawnie. "I am so sorry for being such..." her voice dropped to a whisper, "...a little bitch this morning." She winked at Richard.

Richard was taken aback at the sudden change in Michelle's demeanour towards Tawnie. It was obvious that Tawnie was just as surprised; her mouth dropped open for a second before she closed it. She shuffled and sat upright in her chair. It was clear she didn't know how to respond. She looked over at Richard, but he just raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"Oh, come, Tawnie. I said things I never should have said." She sipped at her drink. "I was out of order...and I am very sorry for that."

Tawnie nodded back and accepted her apology. "It's okay. I was a little rough on you, too."

Michelle shook her head. "Don't you go apologizing. Richard and I had words over this just the other day. I have been unfair to you and I really should be more understanding."

Richard's heart reeled at her choice of words. He wasn't sure if this was just another setup.

"Understanding?" Tawnie asked. "Understanding of what?"

Michelle set her drink down and began poking at the embers in the fire again. "Richard's always been your father and well...I'm just the new wife."

"Just the new wife? What does that even mean?" Tawnie asked.

She stopped stirring the embers. "It means I didn't stand a chance with you. Right from the start."

Tawnie rolled her eyes and whispered one word, "Fuck." It was all she could muster. She ran her hand through her hair, looked away and dropped her head.

"...and I can accept that now. Really. I did a lot of thinking while you two were on the mountain."

Richard could see Tawnie was struggling to keep her cool.

"Well, thanks," Tawnie replied. She forced a weak smile at Michelle and stood up. "I'm going for a walk along the river. I'll see you both in a bit," she said and disappeared through the shrubs along the river path.

"You keep pushing her buttons," Richard said once he was sure Tawnie was out of earshot.

Michelle seemed surprised. "What? Me? I'm not pushing anything."

"I've a mind to go for a walk along the river, too."

"Oh, c'mon, Richard. What did I say?"

He shook his head, chugged back the rest of his beer, and crushed the can in his hand.
CHAPTER 15

Saturday 23:25 Val David, Quebec, Canada

The large, three-story wooden building on the edge of the small lake loomed like an eerie monster under the moonlit sky. Nathaniel had never seen Hotel La Sapiniere basked in such complete darkness. Each naked window pane was shrouded in its own black veil of mystic silence. The total cumulative effect was permanent and it resonated deep in his chest. The once vibrant star of Canadian cuisine and hotelier nestled in the Laurentian Mountains north of Montreal was now a beast that was most certainly dead.

"It's a damn shame," Nathaniel mumbled.

He'd become accustomed to his many trips up to Hotel La Sapiniere over the years. His very first ski trip to the small town known as Val David had changed the entire course of his life. It never really was a ski trip, but that's what he had told his friends at the time, and years later, he would tell his young wife, Diane, the very same thing. It was the rare opportunity to be accepted into the eclectic group known only as the Order, a highly secretive group created for the sole purpose of correcting miscarriages of justice. The concept was simple, right the wrongs committed against the common people when the courts and justice system fail to do so. He was young back then; most, like Nathaniel, were only in their mid-twenties, while other more influential members had children older than him. It was an exciting time—full of mystery and purpose.

The exclusive annual ceremony always culminated with a grand dinner prepared by Canada's very own world-renowned chef, Marcel Kretz, head chef at Hotel La Sapiniere. Marcel himself was a mystery to Nathaniel. He was never seen, never heard from on most visits, but his presence was always undeniable in the background as his wait staff served the Order the finest of meals to be found anywhere on the continent—from coast to coast. In 1998, Marcel was inducted into the Order of Canada for his culinary skills, the only Canadian chef to ever receive such an honour.

Being a member of the Order of Canada was one thing, but the privilege of being asked to be part of the Order was an honour of another dimension. The group was small, discreet, and selected from a most carefully cultivated pool of candidates. Senior members came from many places, some wearing the honour of the Order of Canada and others working as Senators like Leboeuf and himself. Still others were successful entrepreneurs, doctors, professors, lawyers, and even one well-known artist. Each had something to offer: great influence, enormous power, intellect, or wealth. But nothing was more evident than the duty each felt to participate in making the country a better community for all citizens. Nathaniel often wondered if Marcel himself had been a member of the Order, but he knew better than to ask such a question.

A small shimmer of yellow light refracted out from one of the side windows, stretched across the wild, overgrown lawn, and splashed onto the crumbling pavement of the parking lot. The premises was caught tragically in an unnatural state since his last visit. It was unkempt and in disrepair. He drove past and over the golden splash of glowing light and parked his SUV next to the other four vehicles. The small glow ignited a fire in his belly. There was a strange comfort in the tension that was bound to be present in tonight's meeting, and as tired as he was from travelling all day, the burn inside was enough to grant him the focus he knew he'd require to get down to business. He entered through the delivery entrance near the kitchen.

Nathaniel paused as he passed the double doors to the large kitchen. He thought of Marcel Kretz again. The fate of the Hotel La Sapiniere was doomed the day Marcel handed in his resignation to recede quietly away into retirement so many years ago. He knew Marcel had vigorously trained the chefs that would follow after him with a stern yet silky mannerism, but few could master, even after years of practice, what Marcel came by naturally with instinct and his exceptional palate. The quality of the food became inconsistent, even subpar at times. Chefs would come and go; some stayed and learned from Marcel, but the best always moved on to spread their wings to other cities across Canada. Over the past few decades, the clientele waned, but the Order still came for its annual meetings as it always had—year after year. Now, the darkened kitchen almost made him weep as his memories of this grand retreat were about to become a closed book. Tonight was its final chapter for Nathaniel. He would definitely miss this place.

Short chuckles and quiet laughter echoed against the barren walls and bounced down the hall towards him. He moved quickly down the short passage. The chuckling stopped and all eyes turned towards him as he entered the dimly-lit room. Nearly all the furniture and decorations had been removed. Shadows bounced and danced perversely along the stark wood panelling from the four candles on the bar—the only source of light. Three of the five stools along the bar were occupied. Five short glasses and one large bottle of fine Canadian whiskey rested on the bar. Four of the glasses were partially full. Senator Leboeuf's hand was wrapped around one glass as he leaned against the bar at the far end. He whisked it quickly in the air and toasted Nathaniel's arrival.

"Nate!" Leboeuf's smile was wide and he straightened his posture with his glass raised. "You made good time."

"Not so bad," he replied and glanced down at his watch. It was 11:25. He had planned on arriving more than a half hour ago, but traffic was much heavier than he expected it to be at this time of night.

The other three elderly gentlemen followed Leboeuf's lead to greet Nathaniel. He knew only two of them, and the customary handshakes and salutations were quickly exchanged.

"Well, you have certainly got us all worked up tonight." Leboeuf was not smiling. "Our anticipation borderlines on deadly here, Nate." His voice was austere and frosty.

He nodded. "I can imagine."

Leboeuf stretched out one arm as he motioned Nathaniel to one of the empty stools. His eyes appeared resolute and showed the seriousness of tonight's business. "Come, sit," he said. "It is time to divulge to the others the reason we are all gathered here tonight."

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows, eyed the other three members present, and turned to Leboeuf. "You haven't told them why we're here?"

Leboeuf's steely expression finally broke and he slipped in a small smile. "They know enough..."—He acknowledged his comrades with a quick glance—"...or they wouldn't be here. Remember, I am just the facilitator of tonight's meeting."

Nathaniel Diamond shuffled himself onto the uncomfortable stool, removed his cowboy hat, and gazed again at the three men opposite him across the wooden bar: Geordie Hammersmith, Lucas Peltier, and Jack Duck. In the decades he spent as a member, he had never formally sat down with any of these gentlemen before tonight. All were senior members of the Order.

Geordie Hammersmith was, as far as Nathaniel knew, the highest ranking member of the Order. He was a frail-looking man who barely weighed in at over one hundred pounds, but it was easy to see that his diminutive size meant nothing in terms of his worth. His gaze was fierce, and it was hard for Nathaniel to not clearly avoid meeting his gaze. It was awkwardly uncomfortable—not what he had unexpected from a man approaching ninety years of age.

Lucas Peltier was different: robust in size and very average looking with small beady eyes and button nose. His silver grey hair was thin and seemed to wrap around the top of his skull in broad wide circles—oddly resembling the cartoon character Charlie Brown. Lucas was approaching seventy years old, but there was a softness to his face that made him appear much younger.

Jack Duck, in his mid-sixties, was widely known in the art world for his incredible wildlife oil paintings. Renowned as one of the finest nature artists in Canada for the past few decades, he was well known by all members. His art was often compared to those of Robert Bateman, but that was where the similarities ended; Jack was nowhere near as prolific, accurate, or detailed in his work. Nathaniel owned one of Jack's numbered prints—the original canvas was far out of his price range. To see Jack Duck here today to discuss the issue at hand was an unexpected surprise.

Nathaniel would never be privy to all members of the Order, nor would he know each member's true role within the organization. It was understood that the Order worked better this way. It kept Nathaniel focused; every minute of every day his toes needed to be pointed in the right direction because the Order had its eyes everywhere. Accepting into such scrutiny was natural for Nathaniel. His early years in government were spent voting and arguing for what he thought was right, but there were many times when his hand was forced by other politicians to bow down and conform or risk being ostracized. At least with the Order there was no conforming or politicking; right was right and wrong was wrong.

Nathaniel pushed the empty glass in front of him towards Senator Leboeuf. "I guess it's best we get to it."

Leboeuf topped up Nathaniel's glass.

"A toast first, Senator," Nathaniel said. "To this great country of ours." He raised his glass high into the air.

The toast was his way of binding the group before he revealed the mess he felt partially responsible for.

"To Canada," Jack Duck replied with a smile.

"Aye," Geordie said. His expression remained stoic through his response.

"Yes, Senator Diamond." Lucas Peltier spoke softly. "To Canada: a responsibility we all hold very dear."

Francois Leboeuf only nodded. He had facilitated this meet at Nathaniel's request, and it became immediately clear that he was prepared to stand quietly in the background.

All five raised and clinked glasses before sipping back the whiskey that offered a warm respite to the reason for tonight's meet.

Nathaniel understood that it was his responsibility to lay it out. He was the one who stood up and proselytized for Kaito Hui's admittance. With such a strong endorsement, he felt that a very generous portion of his reputation was now on the line if the current situation suddenly snowballed out of control.

"Kaito Hui got away on us this past week," he said. He studied his audience for a few seconds, reading them carefully, before uttering his next words. "He did not follow protocol, and now he's left us potentially exposed."

Jack lifted his left eyebrow and shuffled in his seat. Geordie returned a cold, undiscerning stare and appeared annoyed.

"As I am sure you recall last time we were here at our annual meeting, Kaito was given two targets to oversee: 471 and 442. I have the abstract on each subject if you need."

Lucas and Geordie both shook their heads.

"I reviewed them again this afternoon on the way out," Jack replied.

Nathaniel nodded and continued. "Kaito has done something we never do. He has merged the taking of two targets together."

"Joined them together?" Lucas Peltier responded.

"Yes. He's combined two targets together—using the same operatives and overlapping the hits."

"The fool," Jack uttered with disgust. He shook his head. "How bad is it?"

Nathaniel stood up from his stool.

"The operations were underway yesterday afternoon. I expect both are being taken care of tonight, possibly already completed by now, but I haven't seen or heard the results. Might be tomorrow before we know for sure." He tapped his pocket. The others knew he was referencing his cell phone from which he had the battery removed back in Montreal per protocol prior to heading to tonight's meet.

"He's taking these two men out together? That makes no bloody sense!" Jack said.

"I didn't say he's taking them out together. He's just combined them somehow."

"How has he combined them?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "I don't know, exactly. He didn't tell me the details."

"I see," Jack said crassly. He was perturbed. "So why the panic? Why get us all wound up like this if you have no concept of the extent of the damage right now? This sounds incredibly premature." He shot quick glances at all those gathered and pointed at Nathaniel. "Maybe this all went down without any hiccups. I put aside some important meetings this afternoon to get my ass out here!'

Nathaniel downed the shot of whiskey if only to buy a few seconds of time before responding, and set his empty glass on the bar.

Francois Leboeuf lifted lift his hand and pushed it out at Jack to slow him down. "Give him a bloody chance, Jack. Nate wouldn't rush us all away from our families and business meetings if was that simple." He turned towards Nate. "Let's hear the meat, Nate."

"The meat," Nathaniel repeated, and rubbed his hands together. His large frame jiggled. "I like that. The meat on this one is still fresh and still very much on the bone. And it is not from the most tender of cuts, either. Not only did Kaito mix two targets together, he added a third target of his own—one not from our list."

Jack gasped. Lucas whispered, "Jesus," under his breath and rubbed one hand through his hair. Both were clearly troubled by the news.

"Ahem...." Geordie uttered from the far end of the bar. He had yet to say a word. He was always like this in such meetings. His quiet mannerisms were often attributed to his old age, making it easy to overlook the sharp, calculating mind that loomed behind the almost dead-looking eyes. When he spoke, the room quieted and everyone listened.

Every eye turned upon Geordie.

"Do you know who this new target is at least?" Geordie asked.

Nathaniel nodded. "He is number 399 on our watch list of potentials. Harvey Metcalf."

Jack chuckled. He shook his head in disbelief.

"The lawyer, Harvey Metcalf?" Lucas asked.

"The one and only," Francois said.

"C'mon guys. We all know who Harvey Metcalf is. That Supreme Court decision's been headlining all the papers for the past two weeks," Jack added.

"But he is not a target at this time. He's only on the watch list."

"The way he's behaving, he should be on the target list," Jack uttered.

"No!" Geordie interrupted loudly. He sprung from his stool, as best a man of his age was able, and stood to face the others. The meeting was starting to get off track, and nothing annoyed Geordie more than the wasting of his time on side issues and factless rumours. "Gentlemen, we do not consider anyone a target until they have been officially placed onto the target list. Ever! And you know it's not simple to move anyone onto that list these days." Geordie's arms thrashed about as he spoke. "This is not the forum to offer such opinions and conjecture so frivolously. Let's stay on track. Do not go off with innuendos and bullshit speculation."

"If he keeps on fucking up our justice system, then he is well on his way to the target list. Do you know how many convictions may have to be overturned because of that ruling?"

"Damn you, Jack!" Geordie shouted. "We all know the repercussions of the Supreme Court decision." He sat back onto his stool and followed with a heavy sigh. He nodded at Jack; he was in full agreement with Jack's observation of Metcalf. "Granted, you are right to be upset. We all should be," he said. "His actions lately are disturbing." He slowly calmed down. "This week's decision from the Supreme Court on the Garrod Shaw case is a huge potential blow to our justice system. Harvey Metcalf seems to be purposely litigating against what we all believe is best for Canada, but it is still premature to label him an opponent."

"I'll accept that," Jack replied apologetically, "...for now."

Geordie raised his hand in the air and swept it slowly out at the four men around him with his index finger extended. "Metcalf may have just exposed the true strength, or weakness if you will, of our constitution. There is no crime against such exposure."

"Hence, target 471," Nathaniel said.

"Exactly," Geordie replied. "Target 471, Garrod Shaw. The very same Garrod Shaw that Metcalf defended and is named in this week's ruling by the Supreme Court. And it still grates on me terribly." He waved his hand in the air around him again to emphasize his point. "That ruling disallows law enforcement to use Shaw's confession of murdering his three little girls up at that lake in Alberta seven years ago in a new trial. You all know the first trial was left hung because there were no bodies and no solid evidence linking him to the murders of his children. It was only since that first trial was done and over with that Shaw confessed to the murders in an undercover police sting...murders everyone already suspected he committed." His hand waved wildly in the air and then he chuckled. "He confessed where the bodies were to a 'Mr. Big' crime boss in that undercover operation. Told him precisely where they could be found, a location no one had checked and that had no evidence linked to it in any way. Now with the Supreme Court ruling that the method used to secure this confession was unconstitutional and illegal, there is no chance of a retrial, even though it was Shaw's very own words in that confession that pointed exactly to where those children's bodies were eventually recovered."

"That crime was tragic," Jack said. "Murdered his own children, and what was left of those poor kids after three years of being under that lake—it's just awful."

"It's also believed that he sexually abused those children before murdering them, but that can never be confirmed."

"It is a shame," Lucas said.

Geordie stared at Lucas. "It is a shame," he echoed seriously. "It is for these crimes, and others that followed since, that Mr. Shaw is one of tonight's targets. Don't any of you forget, Garrod Shaw was placed on the list over a year ago prior to this week's ruling by the Supreme Court. This week's ruling has nothing to do with his status on the target list, and it's just coincidence that he is to be erased only days after getting his get-out-of-jail-free card."

The room went quiet for a few minutes. Nathaniel wasn't sure if they were quiet because they were thinking about the horrible murder of Shaw's three children or because they all had some part, albeit small, in placing the targets on tonight's menu.

The manner and timing in which a target was taken out was up to the member who was assigned the task. Once it was handed off, it was his or hers alone to work with the field team to decide how and when it was to be executed. Options were discussed, personal and private information, family history, medical history, friends, assets, interests, and everything else about the target was handed over. No one would ask, no one would follow up, and no one would question the manner in which the execution or correction occurred. The usual course from handoff to execution took many months, sometimes even a year or two, before it was completed. Plausible deniability was tantamount in all aspects of the Order, so the individual assigned held complete ownership. The only thing that mattered was the take-out was to appear natural or accidental, as if no outside intervention was connected to the cause of death.

"Shaw became a target nearly a year ago," Geordie said, breaking the silence. "This latest ruling by the courts only adds credence to his selection. You all witnessed his comments to the press. He is guilty of murder by his own admission, and with this ruling, he will never be tried in a court of law. He is now free to continue to live as a recluse and a risk to those in the community. It's the children I worry about."

"On a side note, did you know Metcalf was also part of the defence for the four Muslim extremists that were caught conspiring to blow up airplanes in Calgary three years ago?" Jack asked.

"Metcalf was on that one? I didn't know that," Geordie said. He stared at Jack. "But it's not a crime to solicit a defence for anyone."

"All four were guilty. It's in the file—their movements, maps, phone calls, everything. Facts are facts." Jack was clearly upset over Metcalf's actions. "I read the trial transcripts and it was Metcalf again who was key in arguing procedural law to get much of the evidence, statements, and testimony thrown out. It's similar to what he did in the Garrod Shaw case."

"Let me make this perfectly clear," Geordie said. "Metcalf is not a target. His finding loopholes in our legal system does not make him a target. It's just business for him, and he is good at what he does."

"I don't like the man," Jack replied. "And it cost thirty million taxpayer dollars to try those four—all wasted because of Metcalf's legal manoeuvring. He works against all of the good we are trying to do here."

"Agreed, it does appear that way, Jack," Geordie said. "But until he crosses a line, he remains off the list."

Lucas nodded. The room went quiet as the men pondered the circumstances so far. A few sipped at their whiskey.

"But Metcalf is a target," Nathaniel reminded them all. "Kaito Hui made him a target."

Geordie cleared his throat again and grasped everyone's attention.

"So we have three going down, not two," Geordie said rhetorically.

"That is correct," Nathaniel replied.

"So it's Garrod Shaw, Harvey Metcalf, and—who's the other one again?" He looked at Nathaniel for the answer.

Nathaniel smiled at Geordie. "You remember our Russian friend from the consulate?"

"Oh, yes. Of course," Geordie replied. "The Flushing Russian."

Lucas smiled.

Jack frowned. "I never did have a chance to meet him, but I still can't believe he's never spent a day in jail."

Francois Leboeuf stood up. "I met the man. A few times at the Russian embassy and at one of our own functions. A bloody sanctimonious drunk he was, running around Ottawa like some big celebrity, drinking and showing his face at every function he could as if he was something special. A real princess." He grunted. "But he'd only show any interest in being there if the function served liquor."

"I met him as well," Geordie added. "It was before he ran over and killed that girl while driving drunker than a skunk. I made a point to steer clear of him after that."

"Diplomatic immunity," Jack said. He shook his head. "My God, how do we let things like this happen?"

They all nodded and shook their heads in disgust.

"And not once but three times he did this," Lucas added.

Geordie corrected him immediately. "No, not three times. He ran over and killed that first girl eight years ago and although they tried to bring him to trial in Canada, he pleaded diplomatic immunity and was recalled back to Russia to face trial before we got our act together over here."

"And where did that go? Nowhere," Lucas interjected.

Geordie agreed. "You are correct. Once back in Russia they did proceed with a trial but the end result amounted to nothing more than a scolding." He shook his head. "Now he's back in Canada and has had two serious incidences while drinking and driving since he's been back. One was within three weeks of his return. No one hurt but a bus shelter. That incident elevated him to our watch list. But it was the next one, a pregnant mother pushing her young baby in a stroller, that really caught him in our headlights, and we've been watching him ever since. He's damned lucky he didn't kill either of them. This guy thinks he's above our laws, and he continues to laugh at our justice system while putting our citizens' lives at risk."

"How the hell did he get back into Canada after running over and killing someone here?"

Geordie shook his head hard. "Don't get me started. Why he wasn't expelled the moment he stepped one toe back onto our soil is criminal. And after that second incident, we still failed to expel him." He raised one arm and pointed out the window into the darkness. He shook his finger. "He's still out there somewhere, and he's still drinking and still driving. Eleven times this son-of-a-bitch has blown over the limit since he made our list. He screams 'diplomatic immunity' and we roll over."

Lucas gestured a toast with his glass. "Not anymore," he said and smiled. "Not after this weekend."

Nathaniel nodded. "And you do know who was there waving the immunity flag with him every time?"

Jack's mouth dropped open. "Not Metcalf again?"

"Harvey Metcalf seems to have a habit of finding his way into these high-profile legal decisions."

Jack shook his head. He seemed confused. "So all three of these gentlemen are somehow entwined?"

"It gets better," Nathaniel said, "...or worse, I guess you can say. I haven't explained exactly how Kaito Hui fits in on all of this, and I'm not sure if I can. I'll just give you what I know."

Francois topped off a number of the empty shot glasses and listened to Nathaniel explain.

"Who defended Garrod Shaw?" Nathaniel asked rhetorically.

"Harvey Metcalf," Jack replied.

"Right. And did you know what happened to Shaw after he murdered his children and the first trial ended in a hung jury?"

Jack and Lucas both shook their heads.

"Shaw became recluse—somewhat of a bum. After he survived the first trial, he was released a free man. In a nutshell, no bodies were ever found at the time, and there was not enough physical evidence to convict him. He wasn't the sharpest to start with, but with the accusation that he murdered his own kids and the long, drawn-out trial that ended up hung and resulting in his freedom, of course he lost his job. With no money, he quickly slipped away into the shadows. He was soon hanging out and sleeping anywhere he could just to get food and shelter. The media and public were all over him anytime he showed his face. There is no place for the likes of a man such as him."

"And there shouldn't be," Jack added.

"Spends most of his time these days on the seedier side. Hanging out with ex-cons, druggies, boozers, and that lot."

Jack shrugged.

"In the years that followed that first trial, Shaw was accused of accosting three children, and he still remains a suspect in many more cases. One girl in particular is of importance here tonight. The details are sketchy, as all cases are sealed to protect the identity of the child, but this girl was just ten years old when she was grabbed outside her school in southwest Calgary. Shaw had been on the prowl for a while. The first two girls he was accused of assaulting were picked up and molested near where he was living. He was questioned, but there was insufficient evidence to lay any charges on either case. This third victim was different. Shaw picked up this girl in an affluent area of Calgary and had his way with her for three full days, finally dropping her off at a mall near her home once he was done with her. This ten-year-old girl collected some very particular details about him and what was inside the van used to drop her off. Video from the mall surveillance identified the van. The van was registered to a friend of his, and with the girl's testimony and the video, Shaw was arrested and charged with kidnapping and child molestation. With all the evidence collected, this one should have stuck. He was positively identified by that little girl. But amazingly, he got off on a plea deal with no jail time and was back on the streets in days."

"That's abhorrent," Jack said. "How the hell can you get off when there's evidence like that?"

Lucas added his own comment as he rubbed his head. "Bastard."

"Of course you can guess who pleaded in his defence...."

"Metcalf," Jack said. He was very annoyed.

"Metcalf defended Shaw successfully at his trial, so of course he was the first one Shaw called."

"I'm really not liking this Metcalf the more I know about him."

Nathaniel stared at Jack. His grin widened.

"What? I don't like the man."

"Okay, Jack. So you don't like the man." Nathaniel continued to grin. He glanced at the others. All eyes were on him. "But the real question here is not about Shaw at all. The history I told you just binds Shaw's and Metcalf's paths together. The question is why did Kaito Hui pick Metcalf as his own target?"

"Maybe Hui thinks like I do and just jumped the gun on the man. Metcalf's destined to make our list sooner or later."

"I don't like this kind of talk." Geordie said. He glared at Jack. "What we do is measured and calculated. What Kaito Hui has chosen to do is...well, you know what I'm talking about. There's a line we do not cross. Hui seems to have crossed it."

"I'm sorry, but it's how I feel. Metcalf is bad news," Jack said.

Geordie's face began to redden and his agitation was clear in every move he made. Nathaniel thought the blood vessels along his temples were sure to burst when Geordie stuck out his finger at Nathaniel and let loose.

"You brought this son-of-a-bitch into this organization! You! How much did you even know about this man? Anything?"

Nathaniel reeled at Geordie's accusation, but stood his ground the best he could. He stammered out his response. "We unearthed everything we could find about him. He is the most ethical businessman I've ever known. He's a family man, with a son and daughter...I mean just a son—his daughter passed away last summer...accident, drowned in their backyard pool. They've lived in Calgary for the past eleven years. His wife is on numerous committees, he's been...."

"You knew shit about Kaito Hui!" Geordie screamed. "A man doesn't get into our organization unless he's clean! And I mean clean! You think you knew this candidate of yours? Jesus, Nate. We don't just go by your word on a man, for Christ's sake. I had a team comb over this man's life. This goddamned man is just as clean as you and I am for Christ sake!"

Nathaniel hated being grilled by anyone, let alone the highest person in the Order. He could feel the perspiration accumulate on his forehead and he hoped it wouldn't break in beads down his temples.

"We also know how very close you have been with Kaito and his family—dinners, golf, vacations. And yet you paraded him through here as if he was just another candidate to be looked into. That's what annoyed me about this whole thing from the start." He extended one long finger out at Nathaniel. "This man is a friend of yours." He shook his head. "I don't like friends. Not in this business."

The room went silent. Nathaniel hadn't felt so undressed by anyone in decades. The truth was, he had been very close to Kaito and his family, but that was years ago. Moving to Ottawa had a huge effect on how and when the two families could get together. It had been well over a year, almost two in fact, since they had vacationed together. He'd wanted to go to Reina's funeral, but Kaito insisted it only be attended by immediate family. Diane was hurt when Nathaniel told her they couldn't go and took it upon herself to even call Lena, but Lena echoed Kaito's response. It was to be family only. Diane had not heard from Lena since.

"So when exactly did you know about this third target of his?"

Nathaniel cleared his throat. "Kaito called me out of the blue late Thursday night. He was excited—much too excited. I think he thought I'd be proud of what he was doing in going after Metcalf. He just said he pulled the trigger on the targets of his very first assignment and that included that son-of-a-bitch Metcalf. I told him Metcalf wasn't a target. I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing."

"And he said what in response?"

"He said Metcalf had a date on top of a mountain. I immediately asked him to stand down, but he said it was too late."

"A mountain. He said that?"

"Yeah. A mountain. Of course I expressed my opposition to everything he was suggesting and told him I was catching the first plane west. My intent was to try and put a stop to it, but everything was already in motion. You know how these things work. There is no easy way to step in and stop what was already in play."

"And he never told you why he decided to go after Metcalf?"

"Why? Uh...no. I didn't think the reason was a relevant piece of information at the time. I just wanted to get face-to-face with him and put a stop to it."

"Not relevant?"

Geordie didn't have to say anything more. No one had ever made Nathaniel feel so small and vulnerable. He eyed the bottle of whiskey and motioned to Leboeuf for a top-up.

"You flew all the way out west, met with him for a full day, and you never asked him why he added this new target of his?"

Nathaniel fell back onto what was preached as the number one rule—plausible deniability. "Of course I didn't ask him for details. My interest was in getting him to call off whatever he had planned for Metcalf. He seemed eager to tell me details." He paused. "I told him to keep his mouth shut about them." He stared at Geordie and expected another tongue-lashing.

Geordie's glare deepened as he stared down Nathaniel and tapped his fingers on the bar. He was deep in thought. He said nothing for what seemed an endless amount of time. His head nodded up and down slowly. He eventually smiled and turned to the others. "See," he said. He pointed his thumb at Nathaniel. "The number one rule. If everyone followed the rules, our business would be so much easier."

Leboeuf smiled in response before using the change in conversation to move the meeting along. He leaned forward into the middle of the group and dropped the bomb. "And that brings us to the reason we are all here. Nate's package."

Geordie frowned and slammed one fist on his frail knee. "Now tell me how the hell Kaito Hui's own son ended up as a package on this?" Rage bubbled up to the surface briefly and then settled. Lucas and Jack both cast bewildered looks at the news and shook their heads.

How Geordie knew this information baffled Nathaniel, but Geordie was perceptive and it was becoming very clear that he was well informed. Perhaps he knew more than he was letting on. He glanced at Leboeuf, suspecting him to be the source, but he was unreadable.

There was no easy way to dumb down the answer. "Kaito purposely placed his son in the middle of the pot."

Geordie pushed himself upright on the stool until he was sitting straight with his shoulders as square and proper as he could manage with his exaggerated, old-age hunch. He lifted his hand in the air and jabbed his finger out at all members present.

"Gentlemen. This kind of bullshit is what is going to bring us all down. You all know what is at stake. I am too old to go to jail, but you gentlemen...." He pointed at them all. "You have family and many years ahead. We can't allow this one little bastard to get out of control." He shook his head violently and raised his voice. He was angry. "Never! Not tonight! I want you to pick this apart piece by piece over the next few days and figure how to take care of this! Every aspect needs to be dissected, cleaned, and sterilized! And I don't mean just disposing of this package if we have to. You got me?" He stared at Nathaniel and held his pointed finger out at him as if he wanted to say more.

The group quickly fell into its position below Geordie inside the Order and agreed to take whatever action necessary.

Geordie kept his outrage focused on Nathaniel. "Exactly how deep into this was Kaito Hui's son placed?"

"Can't get any deeper. Kaito used our men like always, but he put his son between himself and our men, that's all I know. He met our agents, and because of that I must assume he knows who the targets are. And I'm afraid he might have left a lot of bread on the trail."

"A blood-feast right to us, goddamn."

Nathaniel nodded.

"Gentlemen, let's drink up. We have much work to do." He continued to glare at Nathaniel.

The men drank the whiskey until the bottle was emptied. Talk circled around Kaito Hui and what Nathaniel knew. Only tomorrow would they find out what Kaito Hui had planned for his victims. Only tomorrow would the group finally know how bad things were and what strategies may be required to put things back on track.

Geordie pulled Nathaniel aside as the other members slipped out the back of Hotel La Sapiniere to bed down at one of the local inns for the night.

"You do understand where I stand on this?" he asked.

Nathaniel nodded.

"I really do hope so. This one is yours, Nate. I'm giving you Jack and Lucas here to help you try to contain this, but that's it. I'm going to see that the trail ends here." He poked one finger into Nathaniel's sternum and held it there. The fire in his eyes from earlier had receded into an icy coldness that sent a shiver down Nathaniel's spine. "I don't care how close you were to the Hui family. I'm giving you seventy-two hours to find out how bad this is and fix it. After that, I'm pulling all resources away and sweeping the trail. You understand?"

Nathaniel inhaled a deep, cool breath and released it slowly. He nodded at Geordie. Sweeping the trail meant leaving Nathaniel as the only connection to Kaito Hui. He knew how it worked.

"I had no idea this was coming, Geordie. If I had any idea...."

Geordie scoffed.

"Nate...." He looked down the short hall where the others had departed to make sure no one was still hanging around the rear door within earshot. "Cleaning up the bread crumbs is one thing..."

Nathaniel frowned, unsure of where Geordie was going with this.

"...but it doesn't necessarily end there."

Nathaniel had no idea what Geordie meant. "I'm not sure I'm following you."

"Damn it, Nate. It's Kaito Hui I'm talking about."

Nathaniel frowned. The problem with Kaito Hui was his son. He already had him packaged up.

"After you have this mess sorted with his son, I want him gone."

Nathaniel took an unconscious step back from Geordie. He was at a loss for words.

"Oh, c'mon, Nate. Don't look so surprised. You know what I'm talking about. Once this thing is settled, we have to decide if Kaito was a good fit. You and I already know the answer to that question."

Nathaniel swallowed hard.

"Does he look like a good fit to you?" Geordie asked coldly. "He sure as hell doesn't to me."

Nathaniel had heard it suggested before that someone could be removed from the Order, but it had never actually happened. What Geordie meant by a good fit meant a lot more than the words let on. Once you were made a member of the Order, you were a member for life. Life. If you were expelled for any reason....

"I believe in Kaito Hui," he replied to Geordie.

Geordie stepped forward and placed one hand on each of Nathaniel's shoulders. He stared deep into Nathaniel's eyes.

"You do know what I'm talking about, Nate. If we deem him a poor fit when this is all cleaned up...."

Nathaniel began nodding in attempt to prevent Geordie from saying what he knew was coming.

Geordie hesitated and pulled his arms away from Nathaniel. The two men stared at each other blankly. It had been a long night, and words could not describe how each man felt.

"I'm not just talking about that nineteen-year-old kid of his. If we have to we get rid of him, so be it. Kids die all the time. He'll be just another student who goes missing while hiking in Europe for the summer. I'm talking about Hui. Hui is now a member of the Order. We've never had to remove a member...."

Nathaniel winced at Geordie's words. He hadn't even said aloud to himself the possibility of having to exterminate Kaito's son, and Geordie's words sliced deep. He'd known Kaito Hui and his family for a very long time. He was more than just another member. Kaito was much closer. At times, he was a true friend.

"I understand," Nathaniel said in reply. He knew exactly what Geordie meant.

The two men stood apart and stared at each other. The awkwardness swarmed around them in the dark hall. It was a scene neither wanted and neither knew how to break free from.

Nathaniel moved first. "I will do what's necessary," he said before he turned away and shuffled slowly down the short hall to the back door of Hotel La Sapiniere, reinstalling his black hat in the process. As he stepped outside, he wanted to scream.
CHAPTER 16

Saturday 22:15 Oyen, Alberta, Canada

"Okay, Garrod..."

Willard pointed to the sickly looking motel across the road. "...I want you to book us a room." He handed him six twenties.

Shaw's eyes rolled slowly down. He stared at the bills as if they were an illusion. "Here?" he asked gruffly. He was no longer soaring. The winds had shifted, pushing him back earthward. "I thought we were going to Saskatoon."

"We are. But not until morning. It's late and I'm not driving all night."

Shaw grunted and his head bobbed to one side. His eyes closed for a moment before one opened and focused on Willard. "But...." One arm lifted loosely into the air and hung there.

"No buts. Having those extra two beers at the pub was a mistake. We wasted almost six hours back there in Carbon. It was supposed to just be lunch."

But it wasn't a mistake and was exactly what Willard had planned for Shaw from the beginning. It started with the arrival of the white lady in the parking lot when they stopped for lunch. Shaw was allowed to needle up prior to entering the bar. The effects still lingered but were fading. He was itching for another.

Shaw took the bills from Willard and folded them over twice. His faced soured. "You were playing pool, that's why we're only this far."

"Yeah, maybe so. But I'm tired now, Garrod, and I'm not driving any further. Now go."

They were barely halfway to Saskatoon, near the Alberta-Saskatchewan border. Shaw shrugged and stared up at the row of doors and stairs lining the front of the run-down motel. The units were old, and only four of the units had lights on inside.

"Move your fucking ass already. I'll meet you inside the room. The office is at the end."

A frown crossed Willard's face. He pulled the handle and pushed open the truck door.

"...and just one room, Garrod." He lifted one finger up into the air to make his point. "If the room has only one bed, that's fine."

"One bed? We're not sleeping in the same bed."

"You can sleep on the fucking floor. I really don't give a fuck," Willard replied and glared at him. "Who's been paying for all this?" He shoved a finger into his own chest. "I have. I also paid for your lunch and your fucking beer this afternoon."

"You're a fuckhead," Garrod replied, his expression deadpanned.

Willard laughed. "And you're a prick. You already had one dime today, and I can see you're itching again, so get your sorry ass off the fucking seat, waddle the fuck over there and book us a room. And tell 'em it's just you for one night—just you."

The vacant expression remained on Shaw's face. He yawned. His eyes remained glassy and he shifted and twitched frequently—sure signs he was coming down. "Maybe I do want another," he said and paused.

"I know you do."

"You really are a fuckhead."

"Just go," he said and chuckled again.

"One room..." Shaw said and stepped out. He paused before he closed the door, swaying slightly. He placed one hand atop the door to stabilize himself. "Do I use my real name?"

"Use any fucking name you want, just not mine."

He remained standing with the door open. His eyes were bloodshot and danced around manically. He ducked his head back inside. "Why don't you go and book it?"

"Damn it, Garrod. Why do I have to explain everything to you? I'm almost out of smokes and my lighter's about done. I don't know if there's even a store in this town that's still open. I'll probably have to zip back out to the main highway to that Co-op we passed on the way in. It's always open. You just get us a room and I'll meet you back here in about fifteen."

A puzzled look crossed Shaw's face. "How will you know what room I'm in?"

His lack of comprehension was almost humorous—a child in a man's body. "For fuck sakes! How many lights do you see on over there?"

Shaw turned towards the motel and stared for a few minutes as if wondering what lights had to do with anything. When he turned back he was smiling. He lifted a finger up at Willard. "You're smart. I never would have thought of that."

"Yeah, I'm smart. Now move those fucking feet of yours."

The grin widened on Willard's face, but only for a moment before it turned sour once again. "I'll turn the light on when I get in the room."

"You do that, Garrod. And remember, if anyone asks, you're all alone."

The truck door groaned once as Shaw slammed it shut and he wobbled his way across the road.

Willard watched Shaw until the office door opened and a small, middle-aged man with a tiny pot belly in a white muscle shirt let him inside. He left Shaw to complete the transaction and drove down and around a few blocks, finally parking on the side street in behind the motel. He pulled out a cigarette, rolled down the window halfway, and lit up. He had plenty of smokes and his lighter was fine. He just wanted Shaw to wait a while on his own before he returned.

His breast pocket contained two special packages of the white lady. He plucked both out and fondled them as he checked the time and went over his next steps. He smiled. Being the one chosen to eliminate Shaw was equivalent to winning some monstrous lottery—except there was no one to share the experience or reward. The cash payment at the end was just a bonus. Helping to terminate the deadbeats and slimeballs of our culture was the reason he joined up, and as awful as it sounded to end someone's life, it was something that filled a void in his life. He felt no remorse for what he was about to do.

Willard had scouted out the Antelope Motel in Oyen shortly after accepting the job. The location was discreet enough, backing onto an industrial zone. The irony of the location was its proximity to the local police detachment. Directly across the street was a large bungalow that had been renovated a dozen or more years ago and now served as the local police detachment that served the tiny town of a thousand residents.

Oyen was dependent on the surrounding farmers and some sporadic oil and gas business. Business was tough in Oyen, but there was one business in town that could always be counted on during boom or bust: the drug business, and it was the reason Willard chose this particular backdrop.

Two more cigarettes later, the stars were out in full. Willard carefully wiped down the two packets with a damp tissue to remove all prints and then wrapped both in a dry tissue. He stuffed the tissue with the two dimes back into his shirt pocket and stepped out of the truck. In behind the seat was a plastic grocery bag he had placed there last night. He grabbed the bag and headed towards to the motel.

He knocked softly on the door.

"You were gone long," Shaw said as he opened the door.

"Yeah," Willard replied. He stepped inside and pushed the door close with an elbow.

"What took you?"

Shaw's agitation was clear. He wanted another hit and he wanted it badly. His eyes dropped down onto the grocery bag.

"I wasn't gone that long, was I?"

"Sure seemed long." He sat down on the bed, still staring at the bag.

Willard chuckled and sat next to him. "Here," He said and passed over the bag. "I picked up a few things."

Shaw took the bag, opened it with both hands and stared inside. His eyes lit up. It wasn't the nacho chips or colas that caused the change in demeanour; it was the ziplock baggie with the tin foil, lighter, Q-tips, and needles.

"Can I?" he asked.

Willard smiled and plucked the white lady wrapped in tissue from his pocket and handed it over. "Be my guest."

"What's this?" he asked, curious about the tissue.

"Just tissue. I usually wrap them like this when I carry."

The explanation seemed to satisfy Shaw and he meticulously removed all the items from the bag and placed them spread out on the bed—his focus intense and poignant.

"Pass me one of the colas."

"Huh?" Shaw mumbled. "Oh...." He reached back into the plastic bag, pulled out the two colas and handed one over. He quickly resumed his task and tore away a piece of foil and began shaping it.

Neither said a word as Shaw prepared the solution. His hands shook and he spilled some of the drug from the first baggie onto the bedding. "Oops." He glanced up at Willard for a reaction, but Willard gave him none. He was behaving exactly as Willard had hoped—almost in a state of panic as if trying to quench an insatiable, bottomless thirst.

In the tiny washroom, Shaw dribbled some water into the powder from the bathroom tap, and soon had the lighter under the foil, heating it until it began to sizzle on the edges. He yanked the cotton off both ends of the Q-tip, squished them up hastily, and placed it in the liquid—nowhere near the expert preparation Willard had displayed earlier. Seconds later, the syringe was filled with the potent drug.

He returned to the bed and plunked himself down. His eyes seemed illuminated with relief as he gave Willard a half smile and jabbed the needle into a vein. His head rolled back as he pressed down on the plunger of the syringe and sent the liquid rushing deep into his body.

A grimace erupted and his eyes shot wide open.

Suddenly Shaw was sent flying, soaring back up to the place he thought he knew so well the past few weeks. But in less than one second, he was up higher than he had ever been before—strapped to a rocket ship that carried him upwards—and it wasn't stopping.

He tried to catch a breath but the air up this high was thin.

And the air got thinner.

He continued to press down on the plunger, and higher and higher he soared.

Shaw's chest tightened up as a blast of pain-filled euphoria cut through his body. Something was terribly wrong. But before he could pull the syringe from his vein, his heart fluttered rapidly and then slammed once to a full stop. He blinked once. His eyes moved about frantically until they caught Willard's and froze. And then he fell backwards onto the edge of the bed and rolled off onto the floor.

Just that quickly, Garrod Shaw was dead. The deadly needle lay protruding from one arm.

Willard had seen the aftermath of an overdose by fentanyl before, but had never witnessed the overdose himself. He heard it was fast, but the speed with which it killed Garrod Shaw was frightening.

There had been a huge spike in fentanyl overdoses in the past few months in Vancouver. No one would be surprised when it was revealed that the same potent drug had caused Garrod Shaw's sudden death. Oyen was well known for its heavy drug problem. Shaw had descended into the drug world long ago and had now crossed over, becoming one more statistic.

The grocery bag and bottle of cola were the only two things Willard had touched since he entered the room. He picked up the cola, shoved one hand inside the plastic bag, and used it as a glove to open the door. Once outside, he closed the door, removed the bag from his hand, and strolled back to his truck. He twisted off the cap, and slugged back a mouthful of the cola.

By this time tomorrow, he would be in Costa Rica. And now that he was done, there was not even a need to call anyone. In a day or two, Garrod Shaw's body would be discovered and his employer would know the contract had been completed. A few days after that, the agreed-upon fee would be deposited into the pre-arranged, multiple accounts.

Willard started the truck and drove away.

"Mitchell," he said as he pulled the truck onto the road heading out of town.

"No. Not Mitchell; just Mitch. Yeah, I like it."

And just like that, Willard had vanished, and Mitch was born.
CHAPTER 17

Sunday 10:21 Val David, Quebec, Canada

The stone building that was home to La Grillade du Nord restaurant was always on Nathaniel's itinerary the morning he left Val David, especially if it was a weekend. The restaurant was closed Monday and Tuesday, and it seemed perfectly natural and fitting to be closed these two days. It was a necessity in the recovery process after the breakfast and brunch blitz it served up on weekends: always fresh, always hot, and always delicious. The jazzed-up potatoes were enough on their own to keep Nathaniel coming back, but today wasn't about jazzed-up potatoes. He didn't have much of an appetite this morning; the place was conveniently on the road heading out of town and the easiest place to meet Jack and Lucas before they all parted ways.

Nathaniel looked at his watch. It was after 10:00 and he was annoyed. Jack and Lucas should have arrived long ago.

The waitress was a slender, pretty girl with soft brown hair pulled up into a tight bun. Nathaniel watched her as she bounced from table to table taking orders and topping up coffee cups at the same time. She glanced over the many crowded tables and smiled at him. He returned the smile and pointed at his coffee cup. Her permanent smile touched him and lifted his mood. She scooted over and topped up his coffee.

He tired of waiting for the others and ordered his breakfast.

The toast and side of potatoes arrived and he was halfway through eating his meal when he spotted Lucas and Jack enter the restaurant. He raised his large arm high in the air and waved it slowly above his head. Lucas spotted him.

It was only minutes before each had breakfast ordered and a steaming cup of coffee in front of them. It was time to get down to business.

"Any update on last night's targets?" Jack asked.

"Nothing conclusive," he replied. Checking the overnight news on the hotel computer was the first thing he did after he was cleaned up. "One accidental fall off a mountain, which I am sure we'll find out was Metcalf. There were a few other deaths in the past twelve hours, but not enough information to say for sure which ones may have been a target. I'm sure as soon as the reporters get wind of who these individuals were, we'll hear about it."

"Hui never told you any details?" Lucas asked.

Nathaniel shook his head. "I told you that last night. He didn't offer, and I didn't ask. It's the first rule."

Jack nodded. "So give us the nuts and bolts behind Kaito Hui. You know him. How is this guy put together? What are we looking at?"

Nathaniel released a heavy sigh and began to tell them all he knew about his long-time friend.

"You know most of it from last night. Kaito Hui is forty-six years old with a wife and one son. He had a daughter, but she died just over a year ago. He was pretty upset about it. Drowned in their pool at home, he told me."

"That's terrible. How old was she?"

"Thirteen I think. She was his youngest."

"Drowned, huh? He must have taken that pretty hard."

"Kaito had a lot of work-related crap going on at the time, but Reina's drowning almost killed him."

"So you knew his family well?"

Nathaniel nodded. "Very well. Kaito and I always tried to get together for a drink, at least when we were both in the same town, but he's running his company, and most of my time is spent in Ottawa these days. Still, we managed a few vacations away every other year. Last getaway was about two years ago in British Columbia, camping and boating. He's good on the water. We were due for another this summer. Yeah, I knew him well enough."

"So you trust him, then?"

"With my life."

Both Jack and Lucas nodded.

Kaito was younger than most who were accepted into the Order these days, but Nathaniel had pitched for him anyway. Maybe that was the root of Leboeuf's disapproval of Hui from the start, but if that was the reason Leboeuf was opposed, he never shared it with Nathaniel. In fact, he never heard Leboeuf was against Hui being brought in until many months after Kaito was already on board.

"Hui's track record is exemplary. He holds a few business degrees, has spent time leading a number of large Canadian companies as CEO, and currently sits on the boards of a dozen or more others. His ethics are unquestionable. Every company Kaito has been involved with are known to stand firm on supporting human rights here in Canada and around the world. Strict labour practices, no child labour, and if you want to do business with Kaito Hui or any of the companies he represents, you have to have proven human rights and ethical standards."

Jack and Lucas both raised their eyebrows. They seemed impressed.

"I can name a few CEOs over here that could take a lesson from him," Jack said.

"And every single one of these companies operates competitively to corner a decent market share and still manage good, solid profit margins."

Lucas shot Jack a glance. "It can be done."

"Now here's something else most people don't know anything about—his philanthropy. He made anonymous bursaries, scholarships, and endowments all across Canada where he saw a need or gaping hole. Kaito Hui has donated considerable amounts of his own money to many causes but has always declined to have a wing of a technical institute, theatre, or building at a university, or any other facility, named after him. He's not pretentious that way. Not Kaito. He has made a few significant public donations from time to time to encourage others, but his largest donations are always anonymous. His humbled generosity towards others in need was one of the reasons I put up his name."

Jack was quick to counter the preaching of the man on the pedestal. "Then why are we here today if he is so pure?"

Nathaniel lowered his eyes. His voice droned in a low monotone as he explained.

"This man, more than any other I've ever known personally, is dipped and coated from head-to-toe in ethics and compliant behaviour. And he's already redirected over fourteen million in funds towards our organization."

Jack laughed. "Like I said, then why are we here?"

"Kaito's a good man. Deep down, I mean. I just think he's lost."

Lucas shook his head violently. "No one gets this lost. He's obviously not insane, so what does that mean? What he's done took a lot of balls and even more tenacity." He leaned in across the table to Nathaniel and shook his finger in the air. "You said twelve of our men are under him. Are you telling me none of them questioned what he was doing in bringing his son in there with them?"

Nathaniel leaned back in his chair. He hated it when others encroached on his space, and Lucas was leaning much too far over the table at the moment. "I wouldn't know if they questioned him or not, but they're trained to follow orders. You know that. When an agent is assigned to someone, he will take no instruction from anyone else, no matter how high ranking he may be. That's why it works."

Lucas shook his head and pulled himself back upright in his chair. "But his son shouldn't have been brought into this at all."

"Right, I agree. I could tell any agent under me to take you out and he wouldn't hesitate. You, me, Geordie, even the Prime Minister. The ones assigned to Kaito listen to Kaito and only Kaito, no matter who is shuffled in front of them. Kaito shuffled his son out there with them, but they would still only take their direction from Kaito."

"There must have been times when they took direction from someone else."

Nathaniel tried to think of a scenario when any agent would stray and take direction from another while assigned to one man, but couldn't come up with anything. He shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

Lucas scoffed. "So no one questions it, and he gets away with it. Just like that?"

Nathaniel responded by thumping one fist onto the table. "No! No, he doesn't get away with it. You heard Geordie last night. I've already packaged up his son. Do you think I liked doing that?"

"Of course not. So what are we expected to do here? Take Kaito out?"

Lucas's words slammed Nathaniel like a bulldozer. "No," he said. "No. No," he repeated. He wondered for a moment how Lucas came to this sudden conclusion. Had Geordie said something in private to Lucas and Jack that he missed? "No one's taking Kaito out. Shit, we're only talking about containment here. The risk was his son and I've contained him already. Who said anything about taking out Kaito?"

Both Lucas and Jack stared at him. He couldn't read either man.

"Sorry, Nate," Jack offered and he looked over at Lucas as if waiting for his explanation.

"I don't know where that came from," Lucas said. "It just sounds like this friend of yours may have a blackened vein running through him, that's all."

"He's just off track."

"Well, I hope you're right. We don't need this going any further than it already has."

"Unfortunately, I'll be flying overseas as soon as I get back to Ottawa tomorrow."

"Yeah, I heard you were going away. Vacation is it?"

He nodded. "Wife and girls left yesterday."

"And we're heading west," Jack added. "Both of us."

"What do you have planned for Kaito's son?" Lucas asked.

"I don't know yet."

"You know what I mean. Geordie said...."

"I don't care what Geordie said!" Nathaniel interrupted and his nostrils flared. "I'll handle the boy. He's mine to deal with."

Lucas retreated. "Take it easy, Nate." He pressed a smile at Nathaniel. "We're only here to help. Whatever we can do, we will do. If you need help there, we can assist with that, too."

Jack nodded. "That's why we're here. Anything you need, we'll be here."

Although the words from both men were supportive, he didn't really know either man, and he wasn't feeling all warm and cuddly with them just yet. It was going to be a rough few days.
CHAPTER 18

Sunday 08:25 Bow Valley Provincial Park, near Canmore, Alberta, Canada

The breakfast sausages were already crisping and were only minutes away from being ready to consume. Richard turned them once more on the grill and closed the lid. Smoke spewed out from the edges. He popped his head inside the trailer and saw Tawnie standing in front of the stove. Steam rose from the pot of boiling water in front of her.

"How's the water for the eggs coming?"

She seemed happy this morning. "Water's ready. Just say when."

"Michelle's not back yet. Let's give her a few more minutes."

Michelle had walked up to the campsite store to pick up the early edition of the Calgary Sun. It was her Sunday morning ritual to read the paper, online or hard copy. She was after the Sunday Food Section. She had expected to miss out on this weekend's ritual until she discovered the campsite store received the early edition of the paper on weekends during the summer. The early edition was off the presses by 2:00 a.m. each morning, loaded onto trucks, and headed out for delivery to various kiosks, airports, hotels, and locations out of town. Bow Valley Campground was fortunate to have the truck stop off at its store en route to Canmore, Banff, and beyond.

Michelle made a point of reading all food and restaurant reviews; she was always eager to see what others were reporting and, more importantly, to see how bad her own latest article had been revised and butchered before it made it to print.

Michelle appeared just as Richard stepped out from the trailer.

"She's back. Drop the eggs," he called out to Tawnie.

"Okay. It'll be about three minutes."

Michelle strode quickly into the campsite. "Sorry I took so long. The paper hadn't arrived when I got up there. I had to wait...."

"No worries. Table's set and Tawnie's got the eggs just about ready."

Michelle sat down on the picnic table and rifled through the paper until she found the Food Section.

"Do you mind if I have a look at the rest of the paper?" Richard asked.

"Of course not." She pulled out the Food Section and handed the rest over to Richard. Both scoured the pages for a few moments. Richard read the sports pages.

"I'm ready with the eggs," Tawnie called out from the trailer.

Richard folded the paper and set it down next to his plate before stepping over to the grill. The sausages were perfectly crisped.

Tawnie came out with the eggs as Richard dished out the sausages. "Toast is cold, but, hey...that's camping."

"Looks delicious, Tawnie," Michelle said and smiled.

Tawnie forced a smile back at her. She hovered a slotted ladle with one egg towards Michelle. "Want it on your toast or on the side?"

"On the toast, please."

Tawnie placed one poached egg on Michelle's toast, did the same for her and her father, and sat down next to him opposite Michelle. She glanced at the paper resting between her and her father.

"Look, Dad. That must be about the hiker from yesterday."

He looked down at the page. The headline was printed near the bottom.

Hiker Falls from Mountain near Canmore. Page 3

Richard stopped eating. He picked up the paper and flipped forward to page three. He read the article aloud.

"Listen to this," he said.

"One person is dead after falling from Heart Mountain on Saturday morning.

"Police were called to the mountain early Saturday after an anonymous caller reported that someone had fallen from the mountain. Details are very limited at this time. It is not known if the hiker was hiking alone or with others. The name of the victim is being withheld until notification of next of kin."

"They didn't tell us the hiker died," Tawnie said.

"They didn't tell us much of anything. But when anyone falls off that side of the mountain, there's a pretty good chance they will be killed."

"Yeah."

Richard set the paper down and continued eating. "I just wonder where exactly they fell from."

"The trail going up follows the ridge most of the way up. It's full of scree and drops off steep along that edge," Tawnie said. "It's dangerous near the edge."

"I was thinking the same thing." He waved his fork in the air. "But if the hiker was behind us, then why didn't those two other hikers we saw going down stop when we called out to them?"

"Maybe they didn't hear the scream," Tawnie suggested.

"You really think so? We were already on the top and we still heard the scream below us. Those two surely would have been much closer to where the scream came from."

Tawnie frowned and munched on her egg and toast deep in thought.

"Why does it matter, Richard?" Michelle asked. She was clearly annoyed at the content of the conversation. "You always go on about things like this."

He looked up at her. "It doesn't matter," he replied.

"Then stop talking about it. It has nothing to do with us and we have more important things to talk about, like packing all this up after breakfast and getting back to see what's up with your son."

He stared at her in disbelief. Leaving a day early to find out what was going on with Michael was certainly a high priority. But it felt like Michelle was agitated somehow because she didn't approve of the closeness he shared with Tawnie.

"Just because it doesn't interest you doesn't mean I can't talk about it with Tawnie. This accident happened yesterday while we were both still on the mountain. We want to talk about it. At least I do."

"You do this too much, Richard."

He was suddenly annoyed. He didn't often become annoyed at her.

"And I want to talk about it, too," Tawnie said.

Richard gave her a quick nod. "See? Tawnie wants to talk about it."

Michelle waved her hand dismissively at them. "Then you two carry on. I'll just finish up my breakfast while staring out at the trees on my own."

Tawnie ignored her and jumped right back into the conversation. "Those two must have heard the scream. We didn't even see those two appear for over thirty minutes. What were they doing all that time?"

Michelle turned her gaze from the trees onto Richard. "You see what you're doing, Richard?"

"I'm not doing anything."

"Oh, come on. Do you hear how she's talking now?" She flicked her fingers towards Tawnie.

Richard was bewildered. "Yes, I do hear her, dear. There's nothing wrong with what Tawnie's saying."

"You are getting her all worked up and now you two are chasing some crazy conspiracy. A hiker fell off the mountain yesterday. Just leave it at that."

Richard chuckled. "We're just talking. It's what people do. It's how we deal and cope with things that are out of the ordinary."

Michelle stood her ground and shook her fork in his direction. "It's silly talk like this, Richard, that starts these nonsense theories. You certainly don't want to encourage such crazy ideas in Tawnie's head."

Richard laughed and watched as Tawnie rolled her eyes. "Tawnie's old enough to make up her own mind on such things. We're just talking."

Tawnie continued eating her breakfast, seemingly unfazed at Michelle's rant.

Michelle grunted and shrugged her shoulders dismissively.

Tawnie suddenly slammed her fork onto the table and stared at Michelle. "I like talking to my Dad. We talk about stuff when we get together. It's what we do. We don't solve the world's problems or take any of this shit we talk about seriously, for fuck's sake. We just talk like normal people talk. Fucking get off our backs already."

Michelle gasped and her eyes grew large. "Richard? I don't know if I can put up with that kind of talk."

He forced a laugh to lighten the mood. "Tawnie's just saying it like it is, Michelle. We talk bullshit." He raised his arms. "It's all bullshit. Isn't it?"

Michelle shook her head, grabbed a napkin, and dabbed her lips. "I'm done eating. I'm going inside to start cleaning up." She excused herself from the picnic table, removed her half-empty plate and cutlery, and stepped inside the trailer.

Richard raised his eyebrows at Tawnie as she continued to eat. "It's tough, I know it is."

Tawnie caught his stare and released a heavy sigh. Her shoulders dropped.

"I am glad you came," Richard said. "I am, Tawnie."

She looked up at him. Her gaze was somewhere distant. "Hmm," was all she could manage.
CHAPTER 19

Sunday 12:25 Pierre Elliott Trudeau International Airport, Montreal, Quebec, Canada

Nathaniel arrived at the airport with plenty of time to catch the 4:15 back to Ottawa. He checked in, waded painfully through security, and headed straight for Maison de la Presse in search of any western Canadian newspaper he could find.

The small headline halfway down 'Hiker Falls to Death from Mountain' leaped off the page as he approached the counter where the newspapers were kept. He scooped the paper, dropped a handful of change onto the counter where the cashier was busy attending to a long line of customers, and tucked it under his arm until he was seated in the corner near his gate where he scoured the paper for news.

Nathaniel imagined at first glance that the hiker was Kaito Hui's personal target. He frowned as he read the article. The victim was not Harvey Metcalf. It was a young, yet to be named hiker, female, in her early twenties. This made no sense. Had something gone terribly wrong with Kaito's planned execution? He finished the article and recollected what Kaito had explained about his personal target. Had he misunderstood what Kaito told him? He didn't think so, but he reread the article in search of any hint that would refresh his memory.

Frustration at Kaito's reckless behaviour returned. "Damn," he whispered aloud and quickly looked across the busy concourse. The crowd around him had grown larger and buzzed with restlessness as the departure time neared. No one seemed to take any notice of him. He dropped his eyes back to the paper and reread the article another half-dozen times. What had his friend done? He'd have to wait for more details to surface.

He shuffled over the next few pages in search of telltale signs within the reported articles that suggested another of the targets had been taken out. Page two listed a small, almost insignificant auto accident.

Crash Closes Trans-Canada Highway

Nathaniel always knew what to look for. A simple headline, discreet, tiny and, almost always reported as accidental and commonplace.

A late-night crash just west of Canmore closed the Trans-Canada Highway eastbound for a number of hours Saturday night. A rental car with a single occupant drifted off the road, struck the bridge railing, and rolled a number of times before landing in the Bow River. The driver, a male of approximately 50 years of age, was pronounced dead at the scene. No other vehicles were involved, and police are still investigating. Alcohol has not been ruled out as a contributing factor. The name of the victim has been confirmed but is not being released until next of kin have been notified.

Nathaniel nodded. Alcohol has not been ruled out. No, he didn't suspect it would be if this was Kaito's other target—the Russian diplomat they spoke of last night. In fact, he was pretty sure the authorities would find the driver was abhorrently over the legal blood-alcohol limit. It was how these things were done. It was how he would have done it had the task been his. The manner of death always fit the victim's lifestyle and history. Staging an accident due to excess consumption of liquor by someone who is known to have driven while intoxicated on many previous occasions would never raise any flags for further investigation. At least this one looked clean.

Nathaniel closed the paper and looked at the time. The paper was the early edition brought out east on one of the early flights from the west. It would still be a few hours before any substantial details behind both accidents made it to the press.

And still there was that third target, Garrod Shaw. Kaito had not mentioned or even hinted at how he was to be taken. It bothered him. He opened the paper back up and continued to scan the pages.

There was a report of an apartment exploding in northwest Edmonton. It was a natural gas explosion, cause yet unknown. Explosions of any kind were uncommon and were to be avoided—and for good reason. Primarily, the target was often only maimed and incidental injuries to innocent victims were frequent. Heavy investigations always followed.

A taxi driver was murdered overnight in Regina, Saskatchewan, a motorcyclist died after crashing into a cement truck on a highway near Hannah in eastern Alberta late Saturday, and a man swimming after dark drowned at Sylvan Lake in central Alberta. None of these appeared to be the third target. Kaito's last target never drove a taxi, nor did he drive a motorcycle. The drowning victim was reported to be in his early twenties.

He read on. There were two more from Saturday night—one stabbing outside a bar in Calgary causing death and a drug overdose near the Saskatchewan border in a seedy hotel near Oyen—and on Saturday afternoon, a heart attack victim on the Greyhound bus travelling from Lethbridge to Cranbrook. Details on all three were limited.

"Possible," he mumbled. He'd have to wait for more details.

A loud, overhead announcement broke Nathaniel from his train of thought. He folded the newspaper and placed it on the seat next to him. He dug out his boarding pass from his inside coat pocket, and merged into the mob headed towards the gate for the flight now boarding for Ottawa.
CHAPTER 20

Sunday 12:45 Near Okotoks, Alberta, Canada

It was early afternoon when Richard steered the truck and trailer up the long gravel driveway of their rural property outside Okotoks. A cloud of soft, cream-coloured dust curled up behind them. It was good to be home, but the reason they returned home a day early still tickled at the back of his skull. Michael's demeanour during the phone call he'd taken on Heart Mountain was disturbing. He'd purposely pushed the call to the back of his mind as he often did when he wanted to avoid dealing with sensitive subjects. He knew it would only stew and fester there. And it did. Michael was sliding. He was sure of it. Now that he was almost home, he let all his thoughts about Michael come forward, and with them oozed the worry he'd first felt when he called. And Michael should have called him back by now.

Michelle shuffled in her seat next to him, causing him to look over at her. She was staring up at the house, which was popping in and out of view between the poplars that lined the long road up to the house.

"He's come back, you know," Michelle announced.

Richard frowned. "Who's come back?"

"Michael," she replied. Her voice was quiet and soft, almost as if she had just woken from a heavy dream. "He's not getting on that plane today."

He stared at her for a second before setting his eyes back on the road. She was not making sense. "What makes you think that?"

"It's a just a feeling I have. I sense things sometimes."

He raised his eyebrows at her and continued driving slowly towards the house and to the rear where he parked the trailer along the back fence between trips.

"He's here right now," she added.

"Where here?" He looked over towards the house. "Here? Don't be silly."

It was a long way from the U of C campus out to where they lived, and Michael didn't have a car. He wasn't expected home for another ten days at least if he flew out to the coast as planned.

"I sense things too," he said. "But I am more eager to know what the hell was up with him yesterday. If he is actually out here...."

But how could he pick Michael up from the dorm this coming Friday if Michael left for the coast for ten days today? The conflict annoyed him again. He continued to stew.

Michelle pointed at the back door as it came into view. "See? Look at that. I'm telling you, he's in there right now." The screen door was closed, but the solid door behind it appeared to be wide open.

Richard was alarmed to see the open door. He pulled the truck in a large arc until they faced the house. He squinted out across the yard at the back door. The interior door was definitely open, and he shot a glance at his new wife. How the hell could she know Michael was back? He shifted the truck into reverse and slowly backed the trailer up against the fence. He looked again at the open back door. For some reason, he believed her. Michael had come home. But the concern was ripe as he thought about the questions he had for his son.

Michelle stepped out, grabbed a few bags from the back seat of the truck, as many as she could manage, and moved as gracefully as she could across the gravel towards the house.

"I'll be up in a few," Richard said and began to uncouple the trailer. He paused a moment and watched Michelle as she hustled across the yard, her arms overflowing with cloth bags filled with the unneeded groceries, a few blankets, pillows, and some clothes.

"I'll bring in the rest of the stuff when I'm done!" he hollered.

Her tight little body wiggled with each step towards the house and it made him smile. She stumbled as she crossed the gravel and cried out when she almost dropped some of the bags, but she recovered quickly. He grinned.

"Careful!" he yelled. He watched her all the way until she was up the few steps and inside the house.

***

Michelle deposited the first armload of camping supplies on the kitchen counter and popped her head into the front room. Michael was seated on the couch with his knees pulled up to his chest. His face was buried in his hands and both were turned away into the back of the couch. He made no effort to acknowledge her.

"Michael? What's wrong?"

He shrugged his shoulders and said nothing. She moved quickly across the room and placed one hand gently on his shoulder.

"Whatever it is, it's going to be okay."

He shook his head violently and wiped away at his eyes with one hand. He breathed in deeply and shuttered as he exhaled. "No it's not," he whispered in a raspy voice.

"I'm sure it can't be that bad. Tell me what's wrong," she said and sat down on the edge of the seat cushion.

He shuddered again, pulled his face away from the back of the couch, and turned to her. His pout was heavy and his eyes deep red. He had been crying.

"Oh, Michael," she said. She pushed his feet down to the floor and pulled him forward against her breast. He didn't resist. She could feel that he was ready to break loose in tears at any moment.

She rocked him gently and didn't push him for words. Seeing him like this was heart wrenching.

"What's her name?" she asked. Only a girl could cause such grief.

He pushed himself away and looked up at her. "What?"

"Her name. What's the girl's name?"

A frown crossed his face and he glanced at her briefly with what was clearly annoyance before he stared out across the room towards the kitchen. "Where's Dad?" He sniffled again and wiped his nose across his sleeve.

Michelle reached over to the end table to the box of tissues and offered it to him. "Here," she said.

"Thanks," he mumbled as he pulled out a tissue. His voice was quiet and splintered. "But where's Dad? I really need to talk to him."

"He's unhooking the trailer."

Michael stared out towards the back of the house and rubbed his nose into the tissue. Michelle could tell he would have preferred to use his sleeve. His eyes blinked rapidly as he waited for his father. She couldn't stand it any longer. "I'll go get him," she said. "You just stay here and I'll be back with him in a minute."

He nodded at her blankly.

A few minutes passed before Richard appeared in the doorway with Michelle in tow.

"What's this all about?" he said. His mouthed dropped open as he saw the state Michael was in. "Michael...."

Michael couldn't hold back his anxiety any longer and the tears broke loose once again. He wiped at his eyes. "It's Lucy, Dad. They've taken her." His voice was weak.

"Who's taken her? I thought you two were supposed to be on a plane this afternoon."

Michael choked up and struggled for breath. "We were...." He shook his head. "I don't know, Johnny...." He stumbled over his words. "Shut up...some guys took her, Dad. She's been kidnapped."

Richard wanted to laugh. "Kidnapped? Seriously?"
CHAPTER 21

Sunday 13:15 Calgary, Alberta, Canada

Tawnie's apartment was within walking distance from the university. It was an older, wooden three-story building with twelve apartments. There was no elevator, and for that reason, Tawnie was glad she was on the lower floor. The laundry was easily accessible at the end of the hall and the garbage bins were out back on the edge of the lot near where she parked her car.

Unlike Michael, who stayed on campus, Tawnie preferred something more permanent. Having to vacate and pack up at the end of June only to move everything back into another flat in the same building three months later was something she always hated. For the past two years, she lived alone in the two-bedroom apartment while attending school. Her plan had always been to get a roommate, but there was no one she friended enough to dare share her me-time with. Sharing a kitchen and bathroom with strangers was a big turn-off. Even worse, stepping into a wet, steamy shower after a roommate often left her feeling more dirty coming out than before she went in. She'd stick to surviving alone for now.

She always entered the building through the rear entrance where she parked. The carpeting was worn and stained and the lighting dark and dingy. She had to side-step one section where the tear in the carpet created a tripping hazard. The truth was, the place was a disaster, but the rent was cheap. Cheap rent meant putting up with low maintenance standards, the occasional lack of hot water, and the necessity of donning extra sweaters during the winter months.

The Sunday newspaper sitting in front of apartment 5 caught her eye as she side-stepped the ripped carpet. She stopped and stared down at the small headline on the right side just above the fold.

Hiker Falls to Death from Mountain

She knelt down and unfolded the paper.

THE CALGARY HERALD Sunday Jun 26th

Mounties in Canmore, Alberta, are investigating after a woman fell to her death while hiking in the Bow Valley corridor over the weekend.

Just before noon on Saturday, a hiker called 911 after hearing what sounded to be a woman scream as she fell from a hiking trail high up on the side of Heart Mountain. Mounties, wildlife officers, and mountain rescue responded to the scene and found a body near the bottom of the cliffs above Heart Creek. Her body was airlifted out late Saturday evening.

"The woman appeared to be hiking alone and there is no evidence to suggest the woman met with foul play. It is unknown at this time what caused her to fall," Sgt. Baxter said.

"The woman did not have a cell phone or identification on her person when recovered. These items may have been dislodged during her fall. A further search of the area will continue tomorrow once daylight arrives. Investigators are still interviewing potential witnesses in efforts to identify the woman. She is described as Caucasian, in her late teens to early 20s, with shoulder-length blonde hair. She was wearing a light green T-shirt over a white sports bra, khaki-coloured shorts with pockets, and light grey, Columbia brand hiking boots," Sgt. Baxter said.

"We're asking the public to call us if anyone has friends or family who hike the area that match this description and may be missing or overdue," added Sgt. Baxter.

Heart Mountain is a popular hiking trail about 80 kilometres west of Calgary near Canmore. The trail is popular for its steep three-kilometre scramble up to the top, offering magnificent views of the Bow Valley and Rocky Mountains. It is also known for its steep cliff faces on its eastern side above Heart Creek. In July 2009, two climbers in their early twenties died while climbing the cliffs after their gear failed and the two plummeted 90 meters to their death onto the rocks below. An inquiry into the cause of the equipment failure was inconclusive and that tragedy was listed as climber error.

Tawnie stood up and moved quickly down to her apartment with the paper still in her hand. She had to call her father.
CHAPTER 22

Sunday 15:45 Ottawa, Ontario, Canada

Nathaniel was accustomed to a heavy travel schedule in parliament and it didn't bother him that he'd only be back at home in Ottawa just long enough to repack his bag before jetting off to France. Diane and their two daughters, Meagan and Ellen, were already settled into the small suite a half-dozen blocks from the Eiffel Tower, anxiously waiting his arrival. He sensed it was no longer going to be the meticulously planned family vacation Diane had hoped it would be.

Nathaniel couldn't think of anywhere else to send Kaito's son, Taka, on such short notice except the safe house nestled in the countryside a short drive outside Paris where he'd sent others before. Two full days had already passed, and he knew the young man would be climbing the walls, confined inside the small cottage. But until Kaito's son was debriefed, he had to remain in the safe house. The presence of this boy, sequestered less than an hour away from their hotel, was certain to bring mayhem to their plans. He hoped Diane would understand.

The safe house was nothing less than a prison for any outsider who happened to find themselves forcibly brought there. And it was totally against protocol to put himself in front of anyone gathered up and packaged off. They had men for this. But this package was different. It was Taka, his friend Kaito's son—a boy not yet out of his teens.

What Kaito told him was going to happen and what actually did happen were two very different stories. Harvey Metcalf was still alive and some girl was dead. He hoped Kaito's son held answers that would clear up the inconsistencies, but dare he cross the line and interrogate the boy himself? The thought certainly crossed his mind, but it would be many more hours before he'd arrive in Paris, enough time to decide on what he was going to do.

"Now where's my damned phone," he mumbled as he shuffled through the pile of clothes he'd unpacked from his quick trip west, which were now mixed in with those he rejected from the pile Diane had laid out on the bed for him. Everything was now a jumbled mass.

"Dammit." He patted the pocket of his jacket and stuffed both hands down the pockets of his slacks. The phone was nowhere to be found.

His raised his brow. "With my hat and keys."

It was his habit to drop his hat and keys on the small table by the front door every time he entered the house. Moments later, he was down the stairs near the front door with his cell phone in hand.

One missed call.

"Kaito."

He didn't know if he should be angry or pleased he missed the call.

He dialled Kaito's number and pressed the phone to his ear. Kaito answered on the first ring and Nathaniel jumped on the offensive before Kaito could speak.

"I thought I told you not to call me!"

Kaito stammered. "I...Nate...."

"Damn you! I gave you clear instructions not to speak to anyone, and that someone would be in touch when the time was right. Who else have you called?"

"No one," Kaito replied. "I didn't call anyone."

Nathaniel purposely released a heavy sigh into the phone to let Kaito know he was clearly annoyed. "You need to hang up right now. Someone will call you in a few days."

"No way!" Kaito replied forcefully. "I want to know what you did with Taka first."

Nathaniel released another sigh before speaking. Even though it was against everything he was taught and believed in, he desperately wanted to ask Kaito about the targets from last night, specifically Metcalf. He moved past his emotions and knew he had to keep Kaito on his heels if he was to control the conversation.

"You've broken the rules, Kaito. And by doing so, you put Taka in harm's way."

"What did you do with him?"

"What happens to Taka at this point is out of my hands and is no longer any business of yours. You need to go back to your daily life as if all that occurred Friday night never happened."

"My son is my business. He's my only business as far as I'm concerned. Don't you screw with me, Nate, not where my son is concerned!"

Nathaniel forced a laugh into the phone. "What happens to him now has nothing to do with me. I don't even know where he is."

"You can laugh at this?" Kaito's anger was building. "You can laugh at my son being taken away? I'm blaming you for this, Nate. You hear me? Whatever happens to him, I'm blaming you!"

"I'm not laughing. There is no humour in what is now happening to your son, but it was you who put him there and you need to understand that this is the best place for him right now. He is safe and secure. Where he is now, he won't be able to do any more damage."

"He's not done any damage."

"He knows who our agents are. You said so yourself."

Kaito remained silent.

"Now it's my turn for questions, Kaito. How much did he know?"

"He knows nothing! I want him brought back here now! Today!"

Nathaniel ignored his rant. "What did you tell him about what we do?"

"What do you think? Taka's not done anything wrong."

Nathaniel chuckled. "You can honestly call me up after shitting all over the bed like this and say Taka knows nothing. You have balls, Kaito."

"I only want my son back."

Those were the words Nate wanted to hear. Reason and purpose. "Look. If I knew where he was, I might be able to help. But I don't. You were told how this works. Just leave this alone. Go back to work and forget everything about Friday night. That includes your son. You don't know where he is and neither do I. That's a good thing."

"A good thing?"

"Yes. You can honestly say to anyone that asks, that you do not know where your son is. You won't be lying and you will be believed. Just stop asking bloody questions."

"You had no right to take him. He's done nothing."

"Just go back to your family, go back to work tomorrow, and forget about your son for a while."

"Go back to my family?" Kaito replied. "You're an ass. You know that? After all we've been through, you are a fucking ass to say that to me."

Nathaniel ignored Kaito's retort. "I'll keep my ears tuned and if I hear anything in the next few days or weeks, I'll let you know."

"Weeks? Nate. Come on...."

"I can't say how long because I don't know. It could be weeks."

Kaito went silent again. He hoped that was another good sign.

"I'm going to hang up now, Kaito. I have a plane to catch. Diane and the kids are waiting for me in Paris."

"Find my son! I want him back!"

"Like I said, if I knew where your boy was, I might be able to help. I'll keep my ears open."

Nathaniel hung up the phone and tucked it into his pocket. His thoughts were on Taka. He knew exactly where he was being held, and even though it was totally against everything he believed in, his interest to have a face-to-face with Kaito's son was tweaked even higher.

Nathaniel looked at the time. "Shit." he said. He would have to move fast if he wanted to make it to the airport to catch his flight.
CHAPTER 23

Sunday 14:34 Near Okotoks, Alberta, Canada

"Your story doesn't make any sense, Michael," Richard said.

Michael swallowed and stomped his foot once. "I'm telling you the truth! Why won't you believe me?"

Michelle raised her eyebrows at Richard.

"Then we call the police," Richard said. He had said the same thing a half dozen times already to Michael.

"We can't! Haven't you been listening?"

Richard shook his head and ran one hand through his hair.

"If what you are saying is true and she really has been kidnapped, then we have to go to the police."

"Jesus, Dad! Johnny is still out there and I seem to be the only one connected to her disappearance. None of Lucy's friends or my friends even knew we were dating. If I go to the police...."

Michelle put her arm on Richards's arm. "I know it sounds farfetched, Richard, but why would Michael lie about this?"

He paused a moment and attempted to read more from Michael. "Yeah. Why would you lie about this?" he asked inquisitively. He continued to stare at Michael—to study him. Was Michael overly nervous, frantic almost to a state of hysteria? He waved his finger at him gently. "You say no one knew about you two?"

"No one."

"Not one single person? You really never mentioned your relationship with Lucy to anyone?"

Michael rolled his eyes in frustration.

"I hope you're not suggesting Michael had a hand in this?"

"I'm not suggesting anything." He continued to stare at his son. "But what Michael is saying...."

"What?" Michael threw his arms out to his sides before pointing back at himself. "Me? Really, Dad? You think I could have done something to her? And now I'm just making this up to cover myself?" He shook his head madly. "Shhh...just shut up!" Michael's eyes darted about. "I could never hurt her!"

"And this Johnny character is behind all of this?"

"Yes! I'm certain of it. You should have heard him. He was polite to start with and when she told him to leave he turned angry. Then a few minutes later she's gagged and hauled off somewhere."

"Hmm." Richard was very puzzled. He wanted to mention the conflicting fact that Michael had arranged to be picked up next Friday from the dorm. He studied Michael again—watching his movements, listening to his words. "You were hiding under her bed when all of this happened?"

"Yes! How many times do I have to say it?"

"Michael wouldn't lie about this," Michelle offered again.

"I'm not lying about any of it." His eyes shifted back and forth between Richard and Michelle. "Shhh!" he whispered and swung one arm out across the air at nothing and then looked at his father. "We have to do something. Soon."

Richard acknowledged Michael with another "Hmm," while Michelle frowned at his odd behaviour. The sudden "shhh" to no one set off an alarm. He didn't like it. It brought back images of Michael during the turmoil throughout the divorce.

Michelle left for a moment and returned with a notepad. "What we need to do is to write all of this down."

Richard would normally have chuckled as Michelle sat, opened the notepad, and readied her pen like this. It was instinct for her to record facts this way. Her focus was intense and it was aimed straight at Michael. But he couldn't chuckle. Michael's behaviour concerned him and that could not be ignored.

Michelle looked up at Richard. "Maybe we should all just hop in the truck and take a drive up to Lucy's place to see for ourselves."

"No!" Michael shouted. "What if they come back, or what if the police are there?"

"Michelle's suggestion is worth considering. Maybe we should all go up and see," Richard said.

"I've been through it over and over in my head," Michael said. "There's nothing more to see up there. I don't see any point in...."

"There's always more," Michelle interrupted. "You just don't see it because you're too caught up in the middle of all of this." She shot a glance up at Richard. "Let's just slow down a bit. Michael needs a beer and I need a G & T, please, Richard."

Richard frowned at her request. "It's barely noon."

"Richard," she commanded with force. "Just go do as I asked. We are going to help Michael, and we are going to start by taking a short breather and then start off with some common-sense approach to all of this. A beer for Michael is a good start."

"Okay, okay," Richard conceded reluctantly. He left the room, keeping his ears tuned to Michelle as he fussed in the kitchen with the drinks. A beer was the last thing Michael needed. He couldn't help but think back over the years of Michael's problems.

"Start with this Johnny friend of Lucy," she said. "I want you to tell me everything you know about him. And I want every detail you can think of. Description, height, weight, moles, what he does, who he hangs with, what her wears and what he eats."

Michael hesitated for a moment before he agreed to offer what he could, reminding her he'd only met Johnny once.

"Then just tell me what you know."

Richard returned with a beer for Michael and a G & T for Michelle. He'd just set Michelle's drink down beside her when his cell phone rang in the kitchen. He excused himself and scrambled across the room to catch the call before it was shunted to his voicemail. He hated calling his voicemail to retrieve messages.

"Hello," he said without checking the number first.

"Dad, it was a woman."

It was Tawnie.

"What was a woman?" He was still thinking about Michelle's approach to helping Michael.

"The person who fell off the mountain. It was a woman. I'm reading it in the newspaper right now."

"Oh?" Richard replied. Of course he suspected all along that it was a woman by the high-pitched scream, but neither he nor Tawnie had actually said it aloud until now.

"They said there was no foul play and they were still trying to identify who she was."

"Um...." He was distracted. Michelle continued to probe Michael for details about Johnny in the next room and he desperately wanted to hear what Michael had to say.

"Are you listening to me, Dad?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure. I'm listening."

"It says that she had no identification and no cell phone. Doesn't that sound odd to you?"

"Maybe so, but sometimes people don't take their wallets and phone when they go hiking. They were probably both in her vehicle."

Tawnie sighed into the phone, annoyed at her father.

"I'm sure that was her car in the parking lot we saw with the policeman standing next to it. They would have found her ID in the car. Why wasn't she carrying her ID?"

"I don't know," he replied quickly. "Look, Tawnie. We're, uh...kind of in the middle of something here right now." He hated shrugging her off.

Richard heard Tawnie sigh again.

"It's nothing to do with Michelle," he added. "It's your brother. Michael's come home and he's very upset right now."

"Oh no. What's happened?" Her voice rose in pitch. "I'm sorry for interrupting. Is he okay?"

He knew she was sincere. When it came to Michael, Tawnie would always part waters for her little brother.

"No, Tawnie. I don't think he is. We just got back a while ago and we're still trying to sort out what's going on with him."

Tawnie hesitated and Richard knew what she was going to say even before she said it.

"It's not...uh...you know...the thing?"

"I don't know," he said. He hoped it wasn't.

"Should I come down?"

"No, not yet. Let's just leave it for now. I'll call you back in a while once things settle down here and I really know what's going on. I'm sure we'll sort it out."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Tawnie. I'm sure. I'll call you in a while."

"Okay, Dad. I love you."

"I love you too," he said. "And we'll talk about that girl later as well."

"And be sure to tell Michael I love him," she added.

"I will, Tawnie."

Richard hung up the phone. Tawnie always walked with both feet firmly planted on the ground whenever her younger brother was in distress. It was clear Michael was once again deep into something, and Tawnie was ready to help if needed.

He hated cutting her off, and he promised himself he'd follow up online about the girl that fell from the mountain before he called her back.

***

Things in the Crowder home were not going as well as Richard had hoped. Pushing Michael harder and harder for answers seemed to be working until Michael erupted, full of anger.

"Please sit down, Michael," Michelle prompted.

Michael's weight shifted from side to side as he stood to defend himself. "You really don't believe any of what I've said, do you?" His fists clenched and relaxed rhythmically as if he was trying to keep his young, hormonal anger under wraps. His eyes watered and he wiped them repeatedly. "You think I'm making this up!"

"I'm trying to believe you, Michael," Richard said. "And there's still another thing that's been nagging at me."

Michael blinked rapidly, his anguish and disillusionment present. "Now what?"

"I'm supposed to be picking you and all of your gear up from your dorm next Friday. How is that supposed to happen if you're supposed to be halfway into a ten-day hike along the coast next Friday with your new girlfriend?" The question sounded offensive as he spoke the words, but it had to be said. He stared at his son and waited for his response.

Michael reeled, whispered a few unintelligible words, and his mouth dropped open. "I was going to tell you about that."

"But you didn't tell me. You see why I have questions about this whole thing? When were you going to tell me about this?"

"Richard. Please...." Michelle said.

"I'm trying hard to believe you, Michael, but some things just aren't adding up." Richard stood and moved towards Michael.

"No, they're not!" he shouted, and squeezed his eyes closed for a second. He mumbled under his breath.

"Michael...."

Michael's eyes appeared in narrow black slits as he shouted back in anger. "I knew it! You think I've been lying about this whole thing since the beginning—about Lucy!"

"Is she really your girlfriend or...?" Richard asked.

The question was too much for Michael and he struck out at Richard with a closed fist. Richard dodged to the side but not before Michael's fist caught him in the side of the head and sent him staggering backwards.

"Michael!" Michelle screamed and she rushed to Richard's aid.

Richard stumbled back and fell onto the end of the couch, clutching the side of his head.

"Fuck you, Dad!" Michael shouted as he continued to shift from foot to foot, fists still clenched at the ready. "Was my punch real? Huh? Did that feel real, Dad? You think I had something to do with her fucking disappearance?"

Richard slid down into the couch and pressed his hand against the side of his head. His ear burned and he checked his palm for blood. "That's not what I was suggesting. You've been acting strange, Michael. Ever since you came home...." He couldn't help but burn his eyes into his son. "The voices, Michael. Have they...."

Michael gritted his teeth and slapped one palm against the wall. "I knew it!" He glared at his father while shaking his head rapidly. He turned away and stormed off down the hall to his old bedroom, shouting the entire time. "I've told you what happened a hundred fucking times now! Just leave me the fuck alone if you don't believe me!" He stopped as he reached the end of the short hallway and glared down defiantly at his father again. He wasn't finished screaming.

"You know, you're right! I killed her, Dad! I did! I just made up this story to cover myself. Want to know how I did it? Huh? I chopped her up into little pieces! Chop, chop! And I buried her in the back field where we buried the dog last year! Go in the garage, check the shovel! I know you want to. The dirt on the shovel is probably still damp!"

"Michael..." Richard pleaded.

"Fuck you, Dad. Just leave me the fuck alone!"

The bedroom door slammed and Michelle gave Richard a pernicious stare. He knew that stare, and immediately felt all the blame for Michael's outburst land on his shoulders. It wasn't that he didn't believe Michael, he was just trying to make sense of it all.

"I never said I didn't believe him...."

"Oh, Richard," she replied and shook her head, "...you didn't have to." She excused herself in a huff. Purse in hand, she was out the door, explaining that she had some errands in town to take care of.

He hadn't meant to upset anyone. Michael was holed up in his room and Michelle was now pissed enough to vacate the house. The tension in the room remained and it filled his heart with angst. He was certain there was more to Michael's behaviour than just the disappearance of this new girl. Michael's past loomed in the background like an eerie monster. Was it possible that Michael was lying about some of it—maybe all of it? But what if this girl is real and has gone missing? What then?

Richard had to get his mind around it. He opened up his laptop and googled Lucy Carter. He laughed, disillusioned, as there were pages and pages of Lucy Carters in all walks of life, different ages, and from all parts of the world on the web.

He added the word Victoria to his search but knew even before the page loaded that it was just going to be more people from everywhere. He tried adding other words and names, BC, U of C, student, but none seemed to point him anywhere near a young girl Michael's age going to school in Calgary. He gave up after fifteen minutes.

"How about Tawnie's news, then," he muttered. The news article Tawnie had spoken of was easily found and had since been updated. The article was short and exploding with new details.

Heart Mountain Hiker Identified

RCMP have identified the hiker that died while hiking on Heart Mountain early Saturday morning as Lucinda Gail Carter, 19 years of age, originally from Victoria, British Columbia. She is the daughter of Harvey and Cindy Metcalf and had been attending the University of Calgary for the past year.

"What?"

Something was very wrong here. He wanted to run up to Michael and shake him, demand an answer from him. Adrenalin pumped madly through his veins and his head felt a rush as if it was about to burst. He read on.

A camera and ID belonging to Miss Carter was recovered from the side of the mountain early this morning. Photos recovered from the camera indicate that she was hiking alone.

"The photos found on Miss Carter's camera confirm that she missed an important marker on the trail and wandered the wrong way onto a seldom used path. This path is full of very steep scree slopes halfway up the side of the mountain. We believe she fell from where the trail ends on the cliffs above Heart Creek," Sgt Baxter said.

Richard's mouth dropped open. "This is impossible," he whispered. All he could think of was the Crux and how easy it was to go off the main trail. He stared down the hall towards Michael's bedroom. Was it possible? He reread the article a number of times before leaning back in his chair to let his mind drift to make some sense of it.

He picked up his cell phone and texted both Tawnie and Michelle, correcting his words multiple times as his fingers were shaking badly.

Can you please both come home right away? It's about Michael.

Tawnie's response was immediate. What's up?

Richard: Just come home now. It's important. I'll explain when you get here.

Tawnie: I'm on my way. 45 min : )

Richard tucked the phone into his pocket as he waited for Michelle to reply. Could it really be the same Lucy Carter Michael was so distressed over? It had to be. But if it was, then.... Did that mean Michael was with her on the mountain on Saturday? He didn't believe it. His thoughts turned to the two vehicles in the parking lot. What would he have seen had he wandered over and looked inside.

Could Michael have purposely...no. He wouldn't accept the thought.

He needed time to think before he barged in on Michael for an explanation. Eight months ago, Michael moved into the dorms. He was back home for Thanksgiving, then Christmas, a few other weekends, and spring break. That was it. His brain ached as he fought for an explanation to it all. He looked out the window towards town.

"Come on, Michelle. Reply already."
CHAPTER 24

Sunday 19:55 Pierre Elliott Trudeau Airport, Montreal, Quebec, Canada

"Jack, it's Nate."

"Yeah."

Jack sounded annoyed.

"So, have you heard the news?"

"I've heard nothing. What's up?"

Nathaniel didn't mince his words. "It's about Metcalf. Something's not right in all of this."

"Uh, what do you mean? Like what?"

Nathaniel struggled for the correct words.

"Well...remember I told you Kaito's target was Harvey Metcalf?"

"Yeah. So?"

"...and that he was taking him out on one of the mountains just east of Canmore?"

"Uh-huh."

"I just read online that the hiker that fell from that mountain wasn't Metcalf."

Jack breathed uneasily into the phone. "Not Metcalf?"

"It was his daughter, Lucinda."

"What? His daughter?"

"That was my reaction."

"My God, Nate. This changes things, doesn't it?"

"It certainly does. And I don't have time for this. I'm between flights in Montreal and my connection to France is boarding soon."

"Metcalf's daughter? That is odd. And Kaito never mentioned any of this to you?"

"All Kaito told me was Metcalf was the target and he had a date on the mountain," Nathaniel said. "I assumed it was Harvey Metcalf. Now it's all over the news that it was his daughter—stepdaughter, actually. His wife, Cindy, was married once prior to tying the knot with Harvey."

Nathaniel watched the gate where the young agent was holding the phone for the PA system in one hand and instructing one impatient traveller to move away from the gate with the other. The pre-boarding announcement would be coming any minute. He would have to make this call short.

"This isn't good news. His daughter. I'll be damned."

"And I just talked to Kaito twenty minutes ago. He never mentioned a word about Metcalf or his daughter. He was fairly pissed and only wanted to know the whereabouts of his son."

"Yeah, well, he would be upset after you scooped his boy like that. I would be," Jack said.

"This one stinks, bad. If Kaito really had this girl thrown off a cliff near Canmore, then I don't know what the hell is going on. And the police have ruled it a hiking accident."

"I see."

Jack remained silent. He seemed distracted. Nathaniel had expected more of a reaction from him. "She was only nineteen," he added.

A PA announcement echoed in the background.

Jack breathed heavily into the phone. "Only nineteen you say." He paused. "Sorry, I'm kind of in the middle of something here—my bags...just a second." The phone shuffled a moment before Jack came back. "She was only nineteen, you say?"

"Yeah. It doesn't make sense."

"So he kills Metcalf's daughter? Why do you think he killed the daughter? If things had gone sideways, you would have thought he might have said something to you about it since he is talking to you."

"I don't know."

"He is talking to you, isn't he?"

"Not really. I can't seem to get him to respond, and when he does, he's just worried about his son. Look, I really need to change things up here."

"Change things?"

"Yeah. And in a hurry. If Harvey wasn't the target, then I need to know what the hell is really going on. Maybe Kaito changed his mind about Metcalf, and his daughter's death has nothing to do with us or Kaito. A coincidence. I need you to find out where Harvey is and what he's doing."

"Uh, I see...."

"You sound hesitant, Jack."

Jack laughed. "Like you, I'm also at the airport, in Vancouver, waiting to catch my connection to the island. Just trying to see the update on my flight and find my bags. I have to transfer carriers."

"Well, that's perfect!"

"Perfect?"

"Yeah. I need you in Victoria."

"No, no, Nate. I was going home..." Jack had a large spread on Saltspring Island in the channel not far from Victoria, "...back to my office to see what I could dig up online for you."

"Metcalf lives in Victoria. I need you there. You can do that, can't you?"

He sighed heavily and then chuckled. "This damn business. Always a twist somewhere." He paused as if he was reconsidering. "Of course I will go to Victoria."

"How soon can you put someone on him?"

"Geordie's already arranged for a few field men. I'll make some calls and find out where we're at. I was really hoping I could do my part from home."

"I think you need to be in the field on this."

"Well, I am familiar with the neighbourhood where Metcalf lives. That's going to help us out."

"Then it's settled. That's great, Jack. I'd like to talk more, but I really gotta run here. My plane...."

"We'll talk once I have things in place."

"Sounds good."

Nathaniel hung up the phone. He had a lot to do.

PART II

CHAPTER 25

Friday 20:05 Calgary, Alberta, Canada (night of Lucy's abduction)

More than an hour passed as the van turned sharply and bumped over railroad tracks, causing Lucy to bounce and thump her head against one of the exposed wheel wells. She gagged as the rag seemed to crawl down her throat a little bit more. The van continued on, rattling down a pot-holed gravel road for another fifteen minutes before it rolled to a sudden stop.

Not a single word was spoken the entire drive and no one paid any mind to her discomfort. Getting to the destination in a hurry seemed the only concern of her abductors. Lucy felt light-headed and continued to gag and cough.

"Remove the tape from her ankles. She can walk from here."

The duct tape around Lucy's ankles was cut away, and two men, one on each side, wrestled her out the side door and up onto her feet. One of the abductors asked her fleetingly if she was okay to walk. She nodded her reply between gagged coughs and was guided inside a building up a number of long flights of metal staircases where every footstep echoed, giving her the sense that building was large and vacated long ago. Her hands remained securely bound behind her back and a heavy bag of some kind was pulled down over her head, causing her to stumble frequently as they climbed higher.

At the top of the last staircase someone tugged her to the left, steering her down a short, carpeted hallway.

"In here," one of them said. "Go!" He released his grip on her and shoved her firmly on the shoulder. She stumbled to the side and fell hard to the floor. She gurgled out a cry and started to cough and choke again. One of the men stepped forward and removed the bag from her head. The other, bent over at the waist, stared down upon her.

"Are you all right?" He sounded genuinely concerned. It was the Russian.

She coughed and spit from behind the gag. Drool ran down her chin and her shoulder delivered bolts of agony through her body.

"Free her hands." A small blade was handed to the Russian. "...and remove her gag."

The Russian knelt down and reached behind her. In seconds, both bindings were removed.

"Are you okay? You took a hard fall."

Lucy gasped deeply for air and began coughing repeatedly, freeing the saliva that had tickled the back of her throat for the last half hour.

"Jeeesssuus!" Lucy shouted. She massaged her wrists briefly before clutching onto her shoulder that still throbbed with agony from hitting the floor. She continued to cough, sat up, and looked around. Tears flowed down her cheeks. The tiny, windowless room resembled an old office, possibly an old manufacturing plant or warehouse. The wood-panelled walls were scarred and badly scuffed, and the carpet was dirty and stained. A single incandescent bulb was all that lit the room that was filled with the pungent, nostril-stinging odour of oil and old grease.

One of the young men stepped away and shouted out the door down the narrow hall. "Hey, Slate! I think she's hurt!"

Footsteps pounded down the hall. The man called Slate entered. He waddled to the side and scanned her up and down. "What happened?"

"Nothing. She fell."

"She fell?"

Lucy continued to rock back and forth holding onto her shoulder.

"People just don't fall!" He was angry. He moved up to Lucy and knelt down next to her.

"Are you okay?"

Lucy was terrified but her anger spewed forth coarse words. "What the hell do you think?" She struggled over another few deep breaths.

"Miss, I am so sorry. It had to be this way. But you are not hurt, I can tell."

She rubbed her shoulder. Was he serious? She scowled at him.

He reached out towards her and she batted his hand away. "Don't you touch me."

He acknowledged her by dropping his hands down to his knees.

She hated the look of satisfaction in his eyes. His lips were drawn straight and tight but she sensed he was smiling inside—satisfied by a job well done. He rubbed the stubble on his square chin with his rough-looking fingers as he studied her.

She studied him back. The man, who was obviously the leader of the group, remained squatting beside her and tipped back on his heels. He looked young, not much older than herself.

"You are very pretty," he said.

Lucy wanted to spit at him.

Another man appeared in the doorway. Slate acknowledged him with a nod. "My friend, it is time for you to leave us," he said to the Russian. He gave a short smile at Lucy and turned to the man hanging about the doorway. "Fred, take our friend up to the penthouse. I need to spend time alone with this pretty girl."

"Follow me," Fred said to the Russian.

"And get him geared up for tomorrow as well. He's not going anywhere in those shoes. We leave early."

The Russian stepped around Lucy and suddenly both men were gone.

Slate stood up and closed the door. He clasped his hands together in front of her and smiled. His stance was almost elegant, as if he was greeting her at the entrance of some grand ballroom. "Your father would be proud of you, Lucy." He nodded his head in approval. "Yes. Very proud."

She quickly loathed this man. How dare he taunt her with words of admiration from her father. And what did her father have to do with any of this?

"I see you don't know what I am talking about. That's good. It's much more credible this way."

The stalky young man paced slowly around Lucy in a small circle. "You can call me Slate," he said and continued to study her, his eyes penetrating her with every step.

She felt naked and crossed her arms across her chest.

"My two friends, you can call Fred and Barney."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked boldly. "What did I do?"

"Do?" He laughed. "You did nothing and everything. Absolutely perfect, my dear Lucy."

"Then...why...?"

"This was all a show." He spread his arms out wide as if to make his point. "Just a performance for our Russian friend."

She remembered the Russian and his reluctance to participate. He seemed out of place with the others.

"Where's Johnny?" she asked.

He frowned at her. "Johnny? I know of no Johnny."

"Johnny," she repeated. "He was there when you all broke in...."

He shook his head, ignoring her. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"But...."

"This...uh, how do we say...abduction. Yes. This abduction was your father's idea."

"My father's? What's my father got to do with this?" She didn't believe him.

"This friend of ours, the Russian diplomat, he did something very awful, and we are here to see that he makes his reparation. That's all."

Lucy didn't have to think very hard to know who the Russian was. There was only one Russian diplomat she knew who had been in her father's life. The controversy had dominated the papers when she was still just a teenager, exposing her for the first time to hurtful taunts as a result of her father's work. She shook her head in disbelief. "The one who killed that woman and got away with it?"

Slate nodded. "Exactly the one. Your father helped defend him. Diplomatic immunity. What power that word has. Immunity. And not one single day behind bars for killing someone while driving while three times over the legal limit. And he's at it again."

Her shoulder still throbbed and she rubbed it some more.

"Life has a way of correcting itself," he said. "Or should I say, we have a way of ensuring life corrects itself."

She frowned.

"I see you are puzzled by this whole thing. It's rather simple, really. Last night, our Russian friend saw us abduct you. Very convincingly, I might add. He thinks it's because of who your father is."

"Who my father is?"

"Never mind about that right now. I'll tell you in time." He brushed her off. "We need him to be cooperative with us. Showing him how ruthless we can be with you solidifies his trust."

She thought back to the moment the group burst into her apartment and how terrified she was. She almost smiled thinking back as an odd relief swarmed inside her. "You scared the shit out of Mi..." She stopped abruptly. "...out of me." She almost let Michael's name slip. The way she was manhandled was unforgivable, and she placed her hand upon a bruise on her head she hadn't noticed before. She rubbed at it unconsciously.

"...and we have a terrible need to get him up the side of a mountain," he added. "That's where you come in. Again, it was your father's idea. He said you were a good sport and would understand."

She looked around the tattered room, confused by his explanation. "Mountain?"

"Ah, yes. Details, details. Your father said you are very good on the mountain."

Lucy studied the young man called Slate and his choice of words. He was articulate. The more he spoke, the more mature he appeared. He had an athleticism about him, a gracefulness, and maybe that was the reason for his youthful first impression. He was maybe in his late twenties—definitely not as young as she first thought. Was there a Quebec French undertone to his speech? She couldn't quite tell.

"Where is he, my father?" What could her father have to do with these men? They seemed so unlike anyone her father would associate with. He was always about business—suit and tie, courtrooms and meetings.

"He's where he always is, of course—working in his office, defending those that need it most, doing what he does best."

"I want to call him."

"Ah," Slate replied sharply. "He said that you would want to speak to him once we arrived here." He raised a finger into the air. "But not until tomorrow. That was his instruction. No one is to call anyone until this is over. After we are back from the mountain, you are free to call him. I'm sure he'll be waiting to hear from you by the afternoon. In the meantime, we have work to do." He looked down at his watch. "We have a few hours of instruction yet to go over tonight. Pizza's on its way. Bedding will be brought in later. And we have a very early start in the morning."
CHAPTER 26

Sunday 17:25 Near Okotoks, Alberta, Canada

A cool breeze scuttled the grass in the field to the west beyond the weathered post-and-rail fence of the Crowder acreage. The Rocky Mountains seemed small and mundane in the distance, made pasty by the smoky haze from an early summer grass fire across the prairie somewhere to the south. Richard still wished he could have remained in the mountains wondering about nothing more than what time to start the campfire tonight. But the recent events involving Michael had changed everything.

The sound of crushing gravel to the south caused him to move out further from the steps to intercept whoever it was coming up the drive.

Michelle waved an arm out at the window as she drove slowly up the long drive towards the house. Driving slow up the drive was a habit of hers, attempting to keep the dust down as much as possible.

"What's so urgent?" she asked once she parked and stood in front of Richard.

"It's about Michael, but I want to wait until Tawnie arrives before I say what this is about."

Michelle gave Richard one of her 'Tawnie always comes first' stares.

"No, really. This is something I need to say to both of you together. She should be here in a minute or two."

She shook her head. "It's always this way with you two. Why not just tell me now?"

He pointed down the drive. "Look, here she comes."

Michelle sighed, crossed her arms, and furled her brow as Tawnie sped up the drive. A white, curling cloud trailed behind her. Richard walked over and opened the door for her as Michelle waved her hand in front of her face to disburse the dust.

"So, what's up with Michael?" she asked.

He whisked one finger up to his lips asking for silence and motioned both of them not to speak. "Follow me," he whispered and walked up the back steps and inside. He pointed at the door to the basement. "Downstairs."

"What...?

"Shh! Just go," he said and ushered both of them forward down the stairs.

The three descended silently to Richard's study. It wasn't until all three of them were inside with the door closed that he spoke.

"I found out what happened to this new girl of Michael's." The words had just left his lips when he turned and noticed the coffee table pushed off to the side and his large roll of maps stretched out across the floor. The map for the Canmore area that included Heart Mountain was displayed.

"You found what?" Michelle asked.

Richard ignored her as he stared down at the maps laid across the floor. "What the hell?" He stepped forward and crouched down. He was horrified by what he saw.

Tawnie gasped and covered her mouth.

Red marker was strewn in squiggly lines across the exposed map and words written in large bold letters covered much of the map. "NO I DIDN'T! SHE FELL ON HER OWN! I DIDN'T DO IT! NOT ME! I NEVER PUSHED HER!"

He flipped to the next map and it too was marked with red squiggles and the damning words scrawled everywhere across the map.

"Richard?" was all Michelle could muster as she stared down and watched Richard flip over another of the maps covered in red. "What's this about?"

His shoulders sagged in disbelief. "Michael did this." He flipped through multiple maps all soiled in the deep red, scratchy letters. Blood-red letters.

Tawnie recognized the squiggles immediately and pointed. "Those squiggles are trails in the mountains. I've hiked some of those."

Richard flipped back to the first map that lay exposed when they first walked in the room, the map of Canmore, which included Heart Mountain. "Damn," he said. The trail up Heart Mountain had a large red circle encompassing it.

"And look...." Tawnie said. She stepped past Richard. On the small coffee table were about a dozen tourist pamphlets and printouts of hiking trails. She picked them up and handed them to her father.

He shuffled through each one and compared them to the lines drawn on the maps. They all matched, except there was no pamphlet for Heart Mountain in the bundle. He didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad one. He suspected it was bad.

"You're acting very strange again, Richard. What's this all about?" She stared at the map. "Never pushed her?" she asked. "Who's her? Lucy? Is he talking about Lucy?"

"I don't know," he said forcefully. He set the pamphlets down and poised one finger in the air as he directed his next words at Tawnie. "That hiker on the mountain yesterday. I followed up online after you called...."

"Damn you, Richard. Is all of this about that damn hiker again? I don't want...."

"Michelle!" Richard shouted. He'd had enough with her negativity. "Just shut up for a goddamned second and listen before jumping around like some cat in heat." He glared at her and she recoiled. Her mouth hung open. He had never before spoken to her like that.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "But I know who it was that fell from the mountain on Saturday."

Michelle's face reddened and it was easy to see the ire stirring beneath her still shocked expression. He knew she wanted to say something so he pressed on before she had a chance.

"That hiker we heard scream on Saturday was Michael's girlfriend Lucy."

Michelle found her voice. "Now you're talking nonsense, Richard...." And then she paused. Her eyes fell to the maps and the words scrawled upon them. She opened her mouth as if she had more to say but remained silent, reading the words with her mouth agape.

"Lucinda Carter was identified as the hiker who fell. It's all over the news right now. The daughter of that lawyer, Harvey Metcalf. Lucy Carter is the girl Michael said was kidnapped Friday night."

"No way," Tawnie said.

"Yes," Richard reaffirmed.

"Michael's girlfriend? But how?" Tawnie was stupefied. "Michael was in Calgary." She paused. "Wasn't he?"

"I don't know." He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles. He stared down at the maps on the carpet. "All I know is that Michael's new girlfriend was the one we heard scream up on the mountain as she fell to her death."

Michelle's eyes glowed with intense concern. "And what does Michael have to say about all of this?" she demanded.

Richard shook his head. "I wanted to speak to both of you first. Michelle, you saw how strange he's been acting. You think this is all a coincidence?" He glanced over at the maps again. Both Michelle and Tawnie followed his gaze.

"You don't actually think Michael had something to do with this, do you?" Tawnie asked. "Michael was nowhere near the mountain."

Richard could see the denial spread across her face. "I don't think anything, yet. None of it makes any sense."

"But Richard...." Michelle started to speak but Richard cut her off.

"No buts. Michael's been acting strange and it all started with that phone call I took from him on top of the mountain. That call from him came shortly after we heard that scream, not before."

Michelle shook her head. "Not Michael. I don't believe there's a violent bone anywhere in that boy's body."

"I agree," Tawnie said. "Not Michael." They actually agreed on something.

The sullen atmosphere in the study was shattered by a horrifying and anguish-filled scream from the floor above. "No! Aaaaarrggh!"

It was followed by thumping, pounding, and more shouts and cries from above. "No! No! Noooo!" Foot stomping and thumping continued for another few seconds.

"That's Michael!" Richard shouted. He raced up the stairs to Michael's room and burst inside. Michael was ashen white, his face twisted with rage and sadness as tears flowed down his face. In the palm of his clenched hand he held his smart phone outstretched and lifted it shakily up towards his father.

"It's Lucy," he whimpered as spittle dripped down his chin. His eyes darted back and forth between the phone and Richard's eyes.

Richard stepped forward, recognized the news article on the screen of Michael's phone describing Lucy's death, and pulled his son tight to his chest. Michael began to weep uncontrollably.

"I am so sorry," Richard said. He could feel his heart tear inside.

"She's dead, Dad. They killed her." He sobbed.

Richard continued to hold his son as Michelle and Tawnie appeared at the door.

"They actually killed her," he repeated and sobbed some more. "They threw her off a mountain!"

"Shh, shh, shh." Richard tried to calm his son. Seeing Michael like this made him even more worried. He glanced over at Michelle and Tawnie who remained at the doorway watching, saying nothing, doing nothing, waiting for Richard to do something.

"Ask him," Michelle said directly.

Richard twisted his head sharply up at her. "No. Look at him."

"Ask him. You have to."

Michael pulled his head away from Richard's chest. He wiped at his eyes. "Ask me what?" he whimpered between raspy shallow breaths.
CHAPTER 27

Sunday 20:15 Pierre Elliott Trudeau Airport, Montreal, Quebec, Canada

Pre-boarding for the flight to Paris was in full motion when Nathaniel's phone rang. It was Jack. The A380 Airbus was a monster and it took a long time to feed a monster of this size one person at a time.

"Hi, Nate. Wanted to catch you before you boarded."

"How did you make out?" he asked.

Jack laughed. "Christ, Nate. You ready for this? They're only letting Lucas and me have one man each on this."

"One? That's it?"

"Geordie did say the leash was short."

Nathaniel had not expected it to be this short. Geordie also said seventy-two hours and the clock was ticking fast. It had only taken one phone call and one hour to have Kaito's son in custody and on a private jet headed overseas. It took many men to make that happen so quickly. It sounded very much like the door to expediency and manpower was now closed. What other doors had Geordie closed?

"Metcalf is high profile and reporters will be swarming him for a comment. He's not made any public comment so far that I know of. Do you have a plan at least?"

Jack laughed again. "No one told me you were a comedian, Nate. My plan?" He chuckled softly. "Lucas and me, that's it."

"You?"

"And my man, Antonio. We'll be making it up as we go on this one. Not sure if you know him or not. He's already on his way to Victoria and then out to Harvey's to get things set up overnight. I'm still waiting for my damn luggage here."

With limited resources, it was going to be next to impossible to track these two men properly.

"So where do we start?"

"I know the area where Metcalf lives and I have a friend within eyeshot of his palace on the water. I can sit and watch his place from there until Antonio gets the van ready. As soon as they find my damn bags, that is."

"Good luck with that." Nathaniel laughed.

"The damn terminal is nearly empty and my bags still haven't come down."

"I'm guessing you flew Air Canada."

"Piss off. It was the first flight I could get. The West Jet flight departed an hour later and right now I'm standing here staring at the bags from that West Jet flight coming down the carousel. Never again."

He was liking Jack already. "Let me know when you find Harvey. I need to know how he's responding to his daughter's death."

"Ha! Finding him will probably be easier than finding my bloody bags."

Nathaniel laughed.

"I'll be in touch once I find him. But you must know, I've never done anything like this before."

"What do you mean?"

"Field work. I've mostly been doing my part raising funds for—well, you know. The only real action I've seen on any of these types of operations has always been at least one more level up. Never out front like this."

One more level up was very removed from what happened in the field. It wasn't unusual for members of the Order to have a complete hands-off approach during an operation; in fact, it was the norm, but Jack was a ways up the chain. Nathaniel himself was rarely directly involved; he left everything he could to the men who were well seasoned and trained for this kind of work. One level down: that's how it worked. The deeper down you went, the more skilled and specialized the operatives became. Most were military background, some were tech geeks, and others just knew how to get things done.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously, Nate. I really have no idea what I'm doing here. I'm taking all my leads from Antonio. He's a good man, a gadget man, and knows how to get inside a place like Metcalf's."

Nathaniel wasn't sure he liked how tight the screws had been turned. It was very odd to have someone from Jack's level involved in the field. At least he had a gadget man on his side. There were only a handful in the organization and Nathaniel knew how far inside these type of men could go.

"Listen, Nate. I think the only reason Geordie asked me to get involved on this one is because of my connections with the art world over here on the island. Metcalf's wife has her fingers in most of these organizations, and he knows I can get close to him through her if I have to."

"Then you need to be careful."

Jack let go what sounded like a nervous laugh. "It's only surveillance. There's nothing dangerous in what I'll be doing. Antonio knows his way around. He'll take care of me."

"Just be careful anyway. Oh, and Jack, it seems the other two targets were taken clean. Our Russian friend and Shaw...."

"I know. I've been on the web here while waiting for my bags and found both. They look good, so with any luck, we can clean this up quick and go home."

Nathaniel was still uneasy, even with the news that the two official targets were cleanly executed and even though that was always the expected outcome. He just had a feeling that this wasn't going to be as easy to put to bed.

"My real concern is about Kaito and Metcalf's daughter. If this was Kaito's work, I just hope he's finished with Metcalf. If he is, then this might be over already," Nathaniel said.

"You think killing his daughter was just the beginning? Maybe a warning of more to come?"

"That would be one hell of a shot over the bow, don't you think? But only Kaito knows what's going on. I just don't understand what Metcalf's daughter has to do with any of this. And as far as I can tell, Kaito and Metcalf have never met."

"That would really change things if he's not finished with Metcalf."

"It would change things, and that's what worries me. At least Kaito won't have any of our people to help him do any more damage. As per protocol, all would have fallen out of contact with him the moment the two official operations were taken care of. I'd like to speak to one of them about what went on."

"Six months' hiatus after any takeout is policy, so there's no way to find any of them until they want to be found."

"Yeah, and we can't wait six months. Geordie's given me seventy-two hours."

"Seventy-two hours? For what?"

Nathaniel wished he hadn't mentioned Geordie's deadline. "To sort it out."

"Hmm," Jack mumbled. "What happens after seventy-two hours?"

"I don't know. What I really need is to find out what Metcalf is thinking—how's he reacting. We need anything that can connect Kaito Hui to him, and most importantly, we need to know if it was Kaito that took out his daughter, then why."

"I'm on it, Nate."

"Good. But be careful. Kaito might have more planned for Metcalf."

"I'll take that under consideration."

"I'm serious. Kaito has deep pockets. If he has more planned, he may have other resources available to him. That's why you need to be very careful."

"I will, but first I've got to find someone about my bags."

Jack hung up the phone without saying goodbye. His casual demeanour worried Nathaniel. He didn't fit the profile of a man to be involved in such activities, and he truly hoped Jack wasn't in over his head on this one.

Kaito Hui's whereabouts was Nathaniel's next concern. If he was on the move somewhere in Calgary, he hoped Lucas was on his tail. The boarding process for his flight was nearly completed. He'd have to make the next call to Lucas a short one. After several rings, Lucas picked up.

"Lucas, I didn't think you were going to answer."

"I'm driving, and this rental doesn't have Bluetooth. You're on speakerphone. Can you hear me clearly?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I'm about to board a plane to Paris. I need whatever update you can give me on Kaito. I spoke to him briefly a while ago and he seemed highly agitated. He was all over me about his son."

"Was that call you made to him just over an hour ago?"

"Yeah. That'd be about right, why?"

Lucas's voiced perked up. "I think I was watching him fill up on gas when you called. Whatever you said to him got him riled right up. He kicked out at a plastic garbage can by the gas pumps and then hopped in his car and peeled out of the lot. I've been following him ever since."

"I told him to forget about his son and get on with life."

"He's not taking your advice. Looks like he has plans to catch a plane somewhere. I've been following him for the last hour through rush hour traffic and we're just now turning onto Airport Trail as we speak."

"Shit. You keep on him and find out where he's headed."

"I am on him."

"Good. He doesn't have any field training, so it shouldn't be difficult."

"I really should let you go. We're nearing the terminal and I need two hands on the wheel."

"Call me when you can."

"Later," he said, and hung up.

Nathaniel glanced out the terminal window and stared out at the dozens of planes all connected up to the terminal building by the many long, slender tubes. Feeding tubes. Is that what we are? The thought struck him in an odd way.

"Damn you, Kaito," he whispered. He pulled out his passport and ticket from his inner pocket and approached the gate for his flight to Paris.
CHAPTER 28

Sunday 18:20 Near Okotoks, Alberta, Canada

"Just ask him, Richard."

Richard released his grip on his son and stepped back. "In my study, Michael, we found my maps spread out on the floor."

Michael whimpered and his knees buckled. Richard grabbed him before he fell to the floor. "I know," he cried. "It was Heart Mountain." He wiped his eyes and sniffed. "But Lucy already hiked it once this year and that's why...." He moaned and wailed again. "Lucy...."

"Were you there on the mountain with her, Michael?"

Michael gasped, stifling his current wail midstream. He swallowed hard and almost choked on his response. "What? No, Dad, no!"

"Michael!" Richard shouted. He shook his son. "Did you push her off that mountain?"

Michael dropped his head to his chest and sobbed uncontrollably. "I couldn't...." He lifted his eyes up towards his father defiantly. "I would have saved her, Dad! I just...." He sobbed some more.

"Jesus Christ, Michael. You scrawled all over those maps about pushing her."

"Huh? I did what?"

"The maps, Michael. 'I didn't do it. Never pushed her'—it was written all over the maps. And Heart Mountain just happened to have one big circle around it. Is this why you didn't want us to call the police?"

"No!" His eyes closed tight. "Shhh! But I didn't push her. She fell...."

"She fell?" Richard interjected. Tawnie gasped.

Michael's eyes opened wide. "No! I mean at the apartment. She fell at her apartment while I was hiding."

"Richard," Michelle whispered and stepped into the room next to him. "Just...maybe slow down a bit."

"She fell," Michael whispered. His eyes danced around manically. "I didn't push her," he added and started to shake. He frowned in confusion. "Maps? I didn't write anything on any maps."

Richard released his grasp on Michael, letting him stand on his own. "Come on. Who did, then?" Even as he said it, he knew the answer. Of course Michael had written the words. The voices were back, speaking to Michael, prompting him and guiding his actions.

Michael whimpered back, pleading for his father to believe him, "...but Dad... I didn't...."

And the proof was right there in Michael's denial. And if Michael couldn't remember writing on the map, what else was Michael forgetting? It had happened before.

"You didn't write anything?"

"No," Michael insisted. "Well, not words. I just marked the trails trying to find the right one. It was Heart Mountain." He stole a peek up at his father. "I'm sorry...."

"So where were you when you called me on Saturday?"

Michael didn't reply and fell onto the floor. He shifted onto his rear, pulled in his knees up to his chest, and buried his head in his arms. He began to mutter away to himself. "Her bedroom. Oh, Lucy...she fell in her bedroom. No I didn't. I didn't push her. No!" A pause. "The blood was there before she fell." Another pause. "Yes it was."

"Should I call someone?" Michelle asked.

Tawnie remained at the door. To Richard she looked sad, as if all hope for her young brother's bright future was forever blasted away as he sat smouldering in the ruins. There was no point in badgering Michael any further.

"We'll deal with this ourselves. Come, help me get Michael up and into the front room. Tawnie, please grab a water from the kitchen for Michael."

***

Much time passed as they consoled Michael in the front room. It was becoming more obvious to Richard by Michael's meltdown that Michael actually believed he was telling the truth about everything he had said regarding Lucy's disappearance. But it made no sense. Which parts were truth and which were fabricated, he couldn't tell.

"Johhny's the one behind it. I know it," Michael was still beside himself with grief. "He was there when it started."

This was the part of the story Richard had trouble with from the very start. Do Johnny and the others even exist? He was having trouble believing there was a Johnny.

"Johnny plays basketball. That's all you know?"

Michelle puckered her lips and tugged on Richard's arm.

"What?" he asked, annoyed. He pulled his arm away and turned back to Michael. "How can you not even know his last name?"

"Lucy never told me—well maybe she did, but I don't remember."

Michelle tapped Richard on the shoulder.

"Stop it, Michelle." Her tapping annoyed him. He kept his focus on Michael. "Try, Michael. If she told you anything else you have to try to remember...." He wanted a smidgen of evidence, something solid so he could at least hold onto some belief that Michael was being truthful.

"But, Richard...." Michelle said trying to get his attention. She tapped him again.

"I said stop it already. I'm trying to sort this out."

"But I don't know anything else," Michael said. "I've told you this a thousand times already! Why can't you just believe me?"

Michelle tapped Richard again on the shoulder.

"For Christ's sake! Would you stop poking me!"

"There is no Johnny, Richard," Michelle blurted out.

Richard wanted to scream at Michelle. Of course there was no Johnny. Michael's story was full of holes and nonsense, but he didn't want to hit him so hard and fast with what he suspected.

Michael's eyes seemed to collapse in as he heard her words. Sadness swooped down upon his face. "So you don't believe me either?" He dropped his head into his hands and mumbled something no one could understand.

"But I do believe you, Michael," Michelle replied. "I believe everything you're saying."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Richard was highly irritated. First she dropped a bomb on Michael and then immediately capitulated.

"When I left the house earlier this afternoon to go do errands, I didn't really have any errands to do. I was so annoyed with the way you talked and upset Michael that I just had to get away to clear my head. I went to the library. I started to do some digging into what Michael had said about this Johnny person."

Michael lifted his head and looked up at Michelle.

"And...?" Richard prompted.

"I didn't find anything."

Richard chuckled. "Okay then," he said annoyed again. Of course she wasn't going to find anything. He turned to Michael and tried to remember where he had left off.

"But that's what I mean, Richard. I didn't find anything. Nothing at all about this guy."

He rolled his eyes over to her slowly. "And where are you going with all of this?"

"I believe what Michael has been saying, but there is no Johnny. At least none that I can find."

"Michelle, please. I don't think this is helping."

"Michael said Johnny played on the university basketball team." She shook her head. "Nuh-uh, he didn't."

"Lucy said he played on the team," Michael stated. "I never go to any games, so...."

That would confirm lie number one, Richard thought.

"There is no Johnny on this year's team. There was no one named Johnny at any of the tryouts either, and no injured player or cut player named Johnny. I couldn't find a Jon, Johnny or Jonathan playing any kind of basketball for the university this entire past year."

The mood in the room shifted.

"I'm not lying about Johnny," Michael stated emphatically.

"What else did you find—or not find?" Richard asked.

Michelle focused her attention at Michael. "You said he was trying out for the Canadian mogul team."

Michael nodded. "Lucy told me that, too."

Michelle shook her head.

"No Johnny there either?" Richard asked. Surprise, surprise. There goes lie number two.

"None that I could see. But I really need to research this properly. I have contacts at the university and at the office that can dig this kind of information up in minutes. I'll be making calls first thing tomorrow morning when the office opens."

"So what does this mean?" Tawnie asked. She had remained silent, listening to all the information as it came out.

Michael stood up and bounced anxiously on his feet. He pinched at his eyes to hold back the tears. "It means Lucy was lying to me," he said. "About everything. It was all a lie."

Richard frowned. He was angry that Michael wouldn't just come clean and that he seemed determined to stick to his story, but he continued to play along with Michael's claim to innocence. "No it doesn't."

"Yes it does." He paused and then swatted at the air to his left before hammering the heel of his palm against his ear a couple of times with his eyes closed tight. "Shhh. Shut up, shut up."

"Michael?" Michelle frowned and looked at Richard for an explanation. He wasn't about to explain it, but Michael was definitely sliding.

Michael opened his eyes as if he finally heard his father. "Um, yeah. She told me his name was Johnny and that he was another student at school. She lied to me, Dad."

"Now just hold on a sec, Michael. Let's not...."

"Now I know why she kept having me sneak in through the back to see her. She made me promise not to tell a soul about us and I didn't, Dad. Don't you see? Why would she do that?"

Yeah, Michael, Richard wondered. Why would she do that? Was this lie number three? Slip in through the back, no one sees you, no one knows you are even there.

"But the kidnapping you saw was real," Tawnie said. "Johnny was there, right?"

Richard wanted to laugh. Isn't this where this crazy business all started? With Michael under the bed watching Lucy getting kidnapped after Johnny showed up at her door? Chalk up the biggest of them all. Lie number four. Was Michael ever really under her bed?

Michael choked up and stammered. "It is...it...is what I saw."

"Maybe Johnny was just a big fat liar." Tawnie offered. "Makes sense, doesn't it?" Her voice rose in excitement. "And maybe Johnny was really up to something else totally, like he's a spy or something."

Michelle shook her head and scowled her annoyance at Tawnie.

"Oh!" Tawnie perked up and her eyes lit with excitement. "Maybe they were both lying! Maybe her name wasn't even Lucy!"

Michelle flung one arm out in her direction. "Stop that nonsense. We're trying to figure out what happened and this isn't helping."

Tawnie was not about to let Michelle get under her skin. She snickered. "What nonsense?"

Michelle leaned in at Tawnie. Her eyes burned with a warning that seemed to boil up from nowhere—one that said Watch yourself! "You know what I'm talking about. It's always a conspiracy with you."

Tawnie held her tongue before speaking and glanced at her Dad, who sat staring at Michelle. "You were the one who said Johnny isn't real, not me," Tawnie stated. "I'm just adding suggestions to what you said, so don't go all ape-crazy on me. If Michael's saying there is a Johnny and you're saying there isn't...."

"But Lucy is real!" Michael insisted. "It's her real name. I've been at school with her the whole year. I know everything about her and her family. Her dad's a famous lawyer. Lucy is real!"

"Yes, we do know Lucy is very real." But then again... Richard wondered. The part about Lucy never seemed like a lie, but maybe the root was. All lies are embedded somewhere along the line in truth.

"How about this? Johnny is lying. Everything Johnny said was a lie," Tawnie said. Her voice was flat but her statement seemed undeniably true. "Huh? What do you think? What if everything else is true?"

It only took a moment for Richard to grasp the connection, and he burst a hearty laugh that had him nearly choking by how unexpected it was. Can't find Johnny because Johnny had given Lucy a false name. Lucy lay at the root of the lie. He wanted to speak, but his spate of laughter had its hold and he couldn't get his mouth to utter a single coherent word.

"What's so funny?" Michael asked, annoyed. "Johnny isn't real? You think I'm making him up. Is that it? Is that what's so funny?"

Richard could only manage to shake his head as he tried to control his outburst of laughter. He wiped at the tears and gasped between laughs to catch some air so he could speak.

"Richard, come on. This isn't funny!" Michelle said.

"He isn't Johnny," Richard managed to say, flinging spittle as he laughed.

Tawnie understood immediately. She jumped up from her seat to explain. "I get it! Johnny is real, but his name's not really Johnny! Of course!"

"What?" Michael asked.

Michelle continued to frown in disillusion at the sudden flurry of excitement.

"His name's not Johnny," Tawnie said to Michael and Michelle. "That's what he lied to her about. Don't you see?" She shifted her gaze to Michelle. "That's why you couldn't find anything about 'Johnny'."

Michael's eyes drifted off and the tightness in his face loosened. Richard sensed he was revisiting all he knew and remembered about Johnny.

"He isn't...real?" he said, and his eyes focused and opened even wider. He cast his eyes upon Michelle and forced a smile at her. A tear dribbled down his cheek and he wiped it away.

"You couldn't find Johnny because Jonny's not his real name. Don't you see?"

"Uh...." Michelle mumbled.

"So this Johnny guy lies to Lucy about who he is," Tawnie said. "But why would he do that?"

It wasn't the only question. "Why would Lucy insist you tell no one about your relationship, Michael?"

Michael shook his head. "I don't know." He looked like he was going to cry again. "Lucy said it had to be that way because of Johnny. Until Johnny was out of the picture, I was to keep everything about us a secret."

"Because?" Richard asked as if Michael knew the answer.

"Because...." Michael scratched his head and then shrugged. "She was scared of Johnny. That's all I really know."

Richard nodded. It made some sense, but there was a lot about Johnny that still needed to be uprooted.

"And then he comes back one last time to see her after they break up," Tawnie said.

Michael's eyes lit up bright for the first time. "And I just remembered something else."

"What's that?"

"Johnny said he was supposed to be hundreds of miles away instead of showing up at her door. Mexico, I think. Why would he say that?"

Richard heaved a heavy sigh. It was all good and well to put together pieces to try to support Michael's odd story, but it wasn't enough. There were too many unanswered questions. Where was Michael when Lucy fell? Michael still hadn't answered that question.

"He probably just changed his mind," Tawnie suggested.

"About Lucy you mean?" Michael asked.

"Yes, and when he comes back to see her, he doesn't get what he wants, so he kidnaps her."

"But it wasn't like that," Michael said.

"But it is what happened, isn't it?" Tawnie said.

"Yes, kinda, but it wasn't that simple. There were other guys, not just Johnny, that showed up."

"And these kidnappers take Lucy all the way up to the top of a mountain to push her off," Richard said. He shook his head. "That part doesn't make any sense."

"But she was kidnapped," Tawnie added. "Michael said she was."

Right, Richard thought. Michael said she was kidnapped. Where was the proof? "The climb up Heart Mountain is not easy. It doesn't make any sense that kidnappers would take her up a mountain. Especially a mountain as difficult as that one."

The room went silent for a few minutes.

"Just maybe she wasn't supposed to die," Tawnie suggested. "Maybe they took her up there for another reason."

Michelle's scowl deepened. "You can't be serious!" Her eyes darted across the others seated in the room. "You can't! There is no conspiracy here."

"So how and why did she fall off a mountain?" Tawnie asked.

"Certainly not by being pushed or thrown off!" Michelle replied. "She probably just got up early Saturday and went hiking, simple as that. Sorry, Michael."

"She didn't go hiking!" Michael shouted. "She was kidnapped on Friday night!"

"Think about it, Michael," Michelle added. "My scenario makes the most sense."

Michael rubbed his head again and mumbled a few incoherent words to himself. Richard could tell he was growing tired of defending his position.

"And..." Michelle added, "... the police are even saying it was an accident."

Richard and Tawnie both nodded.

"All I know is she was kidnapped on Friday night...Shh, no." He hesitated again. "Yes, and I didn't know what happened to her until a while ago. She didn't fucking go hiking!" He trembled and another tear slipped down one cheek.

"Okay, okay, Michael," Richard said in response. "Just take it easy, we only want to get to the bottom of this."

"Her dad's a lawyer. Maybe they kidnapped her because of him," Michael suggested.

"Stop it, already," Michelle said firmly.

Richard raised his arms to all in the room. "Look. At the moment I don't know what to believe, but it's clear something happened between Friday night and Saturday morning, and now this young girl—girlfriend of Michael's...is dead. Whatever happened is very real." Richard locked his eyes on Michael. Michael shifted his feet, shrugged, and looked away.

Tawnie raised her hand. "Maybe they only took her up the mountain to hide her."

"Huh?" Michael responded.

"And then something went wrong."

"I don't think...." Michelle started to say.

"And remember those two hikers we saw going down the mountain?"

Was it possible Michael was one of those two, Richard mused? He tried to recall the hikers' appearance. Could one of them have been Michael? If so, who was the other one?

"Where were you on Saturday, Michael?" he asked.

"I don't know...I was scared. I hung out on campus after she was taken Friday night, in the cafeteria, and then I went to find Lucy."

He went to find Lucy. "Did anyone see you? In the cafeteria?"

Michael's eyes danced about before he answered. "No, I don't think so. School's out so...I was scared after what happened Friday night and was trying not to be seen. I bought a bagel. The cashier saw me."

"Uh huh." He wasn't convinced, but if Michael's memory was playing tricks, it may be all they had to work with. "So how did you get all the way out here from the university?"

"Out here?" He rubbed one hand across his head and a confused look passed across. "I uh...."

This was not the response Richard had hoped for.

"Oh, wait..." Michael rubbed his ear and whispered to himself before replying. "Jordan!" he said excitedly. "Jordan from school drove me out here. He lives up near the university."

"And what time was that?"

Michael hesitated again. "Um...Saturday, uh...yeah. I think...." He looked at his father. "No! It must have been Friday night. Late though...I left Lucy's and went to the cafeteria. That's right, I called him while I was still there."

Michael called his friend Friday night and Lucy fell Saturday mid-morning. This still left plenty of opportunity for Michael to drive out to Canmore and be on the mountain. Were Michael and Jordan on the trail together?

"Okay, let me recap where we are with this. Johnny is real but that's likely not his real name. Johnny and those other men abducted Lucy on Friday and take her up Heart Mountain early Saturday morning. Something happens, an accident, or maybe she's pushed and she falls off the mountain and is killed. We don't know why, and we don't know who did it or how. Does that sound about right?"

Michael wiped his nose on his sleeve and nodded at his father. He cast his gaze at Michelle who stared defiantly at Richard.

"Are you seriously going to go down this path, Richard?"

"You can't deny that what we're saying makes sense. If you don't agree with this theory, that's fine, but even your information backs up what Michael has been saying if Johnny has been using a fake name."

Michelle wasn't buying into any conspiracy theory. "Of course I believe what Michael is saying happened, Richard, but there's another explanation as to why."

"Okay, then," Richard responded. "What's your theory?"

"I don't have one yet, but I refuse to buy into this being some conspiracy. Kidnapping someone and taking them up a mountain? It's nonsense."

Richard nodded at her. "Let's make a deal then. You carry on and use your connections to find out who this Johnny is, and we'll find out what we can. Does he exist or not?"

"I said I won't be part of chasing any conspiracy theory."

"I'm not asking you to. Just dig up what you can to prove there is no conspiracy."

"Please, Michelle," Tawnie said. "Dad's right. You have connections and can find out things faster than any of us can. You're good at that kind of stuff."

"This is for Michael," Richard reminded her.

"For Lucy," Michael corrected. "She's dead now—murdered. Everyone needs to know if it was not an accident. Her parents need to know."

"So you'll do it?" Richard asked. Michelle was reluctant.

"If I decide to help, I don't want anyone going to the police or anyone else until I find everything I can."

"So you'll do it?" Richard asked again.

Michelle finally folded as the others stared her down, Michael giving her sad eyes and Tawnie faking a 'please, oh pretty please' face.

"I'll do what I can," Michelle replied. "I just don't want anyone saying anything without some hard facts first."

"Then it's agreed," Richard said.

"So we're definitely not going to the police then," Michael said.

"Not until we turn up some facts."

Michael's eyes darted around at everyone. He seemed focused for the first time since hearing of Lucy's death.

"We have work to do," Richard said and rubbed his hands together. He turned to Michael. "And I want to speak to this friend Jordan of yours who drove you out here."

Michael's mouth dropped open. "Uh, okay."

"Sorry, Michael, but I need to check out everything."

Michael lifted an arm and waved it softly, indicating he understood. He scrolled through his phone to Jordan's number and handed his phone to his father.
CHAPTER 29

Monday 10:05 Paris, France

Nathaniel didn't sleep at all on the plane to Paris. He had no doubt the jet lag would kick in at some point, but for now the coffee and breakfast on the plane was keeping him going. Diane's reception was much more positive than he had expected at the airport. She met him at the gate, kissed him once—nearly toppling his cowboy hat—and immediately began bombarding him with the details of what she and the girls had been up to over the weekend. She nattered away as they walked through the airport and by the time they were at the baggage pickup area, she was already deep into explaining today's itinerary with a number of galleries along St. Charles and the surrounding area she had planned to see before dinner. She cut at him once for not paying attention and he apologized, blaming the jet lag he contracted on the sleepless flight over.

A quiet resolve fell over him as he saw the conveyor for the baggage from the Montreal flight had not even been turned on yet. It could be a while before his bags showed. Usually it annoyed him when the delay was long. Not this time. He smiled and nodded at the right times as Diane continued to pollute his brain with information he really couldn't care less about at the moment. He seized the opportunity with the delay of the bags to excuse himself to use the lavatory.

As soon as he was out of sight from Diane, he called Lucas. It was a long shot that Lucas would still be up, with the time difference putting his call well into the middle of the night back in Canada. As expected, Lucas didn't pick up. He left no message, deciding a short text would be safer.

On the ground now. Looking for an update.

Nathaniel expected it would be mid-afternoon in Paris before he received any kind of a reply from Lucas. But at least Lucas was on Kaito's trail and hopefully he hadn't lost him.

The morning passed quickly as the family visited one of the galleries near their hotel on St. Charles, the first of Diane's planned activities. When they came out, Nathaniel spotted the cell phone store, Orange, just down the corner. He pulled out his personal phone and pretended to check the signal.

"I'm not sure if my phone even works over here."

"Maybe you need a different SIM card, Dad," Meagan said.

"SIM card?" he asked, playing dumb.

His girls both giggled at his apparent lack of cell phone knowledge. "Yeah. You probably need an international card for your phone."

Nathaniel frowned. "SIM card?"

"Yeah. It's like a memory card," Meagan said as she flipped her hair off to the side. "It makes your phone work in different networks and zones."

"Where would I get one of those?" He pretended to look around and pointed to the cell phone store he'd spotted moments ago. "Maybe that store, Orange? Do you think they have SIM cards?"

Ellen and Meagan giggled again. "It's Orange. Of course they have SIM cards."

He feigned a frown and scanned up and down the narrow street. "How about you three grab a coffee and biscuit in that bistro two doors down over there. I'm sure I'll only be gone a few minutes. And grab me a coffee and an éclair."

He slipped away through the crowded sidewalk and into the cell phone store. There was nothing wrong with his cell phone or his cell phone plan. He was after a disposable cell phone, and in minutes he had texted both Jack and Lucas with the new number and had the new phone tucked safely away in his inside blazer pocket.

"Did you get it sorted?" Diane asked the when he returned.

"Yes, it's all fine. Just needed a new SIM card like the girls said. I can talk and text as much as I want now." He smiled.
CHAPTER 30

Monday 15:05 Paris, France

Nathaniel felt the disposable cell phone vibrate in his pocket. Diane and the girls were immersed in a large portrait from the 1600s, a farm scene, simple yet consuming. He stepped back, slipped out the phone, and looked at the small screen. It was Lucas. He had to take the call.

He tapped Diane on the shoulder, interrupting her ramble to their two daughters. "I've got a call I have to take. I'll only be a moment," he said and slipped out of the smaller side room and answered the call as he walked to the far end of the larger main gallery.

Diane frowned briefly. She was used to him taking phone calls, even on vacation, but it still annoyed her.

"Lucas." He looked at his watch. "What have you got?"

"I lost him, Nate."

"What?"

"I lost Hui inside the airport last night. He checked in at Air Canada. I had to guess where he was headed from the departures board. Bought myself a ticket but I guessed wrong. He checked through a different security gate. I should have waited to see what security he was going through first."

"You probably wouldn't have had the time. Damn."

"He's staying domestic at least. Nothing goes overseas out of that gate."

"That's a bit of a relief, I guess. I kind of thought he might be headed my way."

"Out to Paris? Why would he follow you?"

"Because he's annoyed at me. If he's not flying international, there's only one place for him to go. He's on his way to Victoria."

"We've still got eyes and ears on his house, front and back, if he returns."

"But if he has gone to Victoria you might as well pull out of there. Keep the monitoring active, just in case. Geordie's only given me a few days to wrap this up, and I doubt Kaito will be back in Calgary before my time's up. Did you pick up anything else from his home?"

"Nothing at all since we grabbed his boy out front."

"Nothing at all?"

"Not a whisper."

"How about his wife, Lena?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. Maybe she's away somewhere. Leave your ears open in case we're wrong on this and either of them comes home, but call Jack and tell him you're on your way to help him out. If that is where Kaito's headed, then Jack's going to need all the help he can get."

"You think Metcalf knows Hui's heading his way?"

"We have to consider it a possibility. We don't know what either of these men are thinking, and for the life of me I still don't see the connection."

"I have some people I can call. Maybe there is a legal connection to all of this, lawyer to lawyer."

"Hui's would be mostly corporate lawyers. Metcalf is criminal and procedural. I doubt he would have had a need for criminal lawyers.

Lucas laughed. "Yeah, you're probably right. But if there is a connection, I'll find it."

"You do that. And thanks, Lucas, for digging into this. You know I certainly can't do this on my end."

He hung up and looked down to where Diane and his girls were—inside the small side room immersed in the paintings multiple generations old. He still needed another minute or two. Clean up the mess, Geordie had said. Taka had been the biggest mess so far and was now secured. Nathaniel dialled up the safe house. Randal picked up.

"How's our boy doing?" Nathaniel asked.

"Not so good, really. We may have a problem."

He didn't need any new problems. Time was slipping by much too fast and he still had no idea what was going on.

"What problem?"

"I'm not sure this kid knows anything about what went down on Friday."

The suggestion infuriated Nathaniel. They had made that same claim when they first grabbed him. "And you're sure you've got Taka Hui?"

"Oh yeah," he chuckled. "This boy is definitely Hui's son."

"Damn it." Nathaniel wasn't used to making so many snap decisions during an operation before. There was always middlemen to take charge. Every detail was carefully planned, and the further down the chain, the finer the detail. It left very little margin for screw-ups and indecision. But that was then. It was only Nathaniel now, and he was full of indecision. "Who have you got with you on this?"

"It's just us two. We're overlapping shifts to keep our boy covered."

Nathaniel wasn't surprised. "Just the two of you?" he repeated as if to suggest he misheard what was said the first time.

"Yeah." Randal let a half chuckle out. "We received a call before we even touched down out here." He chuckled again. "It seems someone's carved you out and we're all you're getting. I'm told we are in lockdown and we're not to call anyone but you until further notice."

"I see...." Things were worse than he thought. What annoyed him most was he wasn't even told how deep and wide the strings had been being severed.

"What's this lockdown about anyway?"

He didn't know, but it was best to put Randal at ease. "Listen. I know you are both tired and want to get back. These lockdowns happen sometimes. I really can't say any more than that. Until you hear otherwise, we are on our own."

"We're here as long as you need. Just wondering where the rest of the team had gone, that's all. It's gone quiet out there."

Agents who asked questions made Nathaniel skittish. Geordie's expectation to eliminate every threat beat its way into the forefront of his mind. He had two agents right here, right now, holding Kaito's son and wanting to go home. It would be so easy to just give the order Geordie wanted him to give, and Hui's son would vanish without a trace. It was what Geordie was expecting of him, but he couldn't give the command. Not until he knew more.

"So tell me about the boy," Nathaniel said.

"He keeps breaking down. Claims he doesn't know why he's out here."

"Hmm. You think he's acting?"

"Could be, but he's a damn good actor if he is. I haven't seen others hold out this long. And he insists he had nothing to do with any abduction on Friday night."

Nathaniel didn't like what he was hearing.

"But he admits he was with her on Friday?"

"Not at all. He claims he wasn't anywhere near this girl."

"Where does he say he was?"

"At the airport to catch a flight to Mexico. Arrived late because of the traffic and they wouldn't let him board. Says he went straight home after that."

"I don't like this." He sighed. "Look, I'm tired as shit, but I want to talk to him myself. I know this kid."

"You know him?"

"Yeah, personally. I know him. Just keep on him, see if you can break him. There's something he's not saying. But don't get physical on him. I don't want him touched."

"I wish you would have told us that before. I hate when you guys do this."

Nathaniel felt a wave of nausea float across his belly.

"There's no bruising," he added as if that made it okay. A phonebook across the head and ears, twisting an arm behind the back to its breaking point, same with fingers and toes: there's lots of ways to inflict pain without leaving a bruise.

"Just...just be gentle with him from now on until I arrive."

"He will remain cuffed and secured."

"Fine." Secured meant chained. "I'm fading fast out here, jet lag, otherwise I'd be on my way right now. I'll come out tomorrow—say, noon?"

"You know we'll be here."

"See you then."

He never imagined the boy would be cuffed and chained for three solid days. But what did he expect? Taken at gunpoint and flown halfway around the world. The safe house was for hiding people who wanted to stay hidden. It wasn't supposed to be a jail.

"Damn it."

He immediately dialled Hui and waited. One ring and then it went to voicemail.

"Kaito, It's Nate. I need you to call me. You know why. Use this number from here on." He hung up and looked up to see Diane and the girls walking towards him. He smiled. Diane rubbed up against him and tucked one arm under his.

"Can you put that phone away for a while," she asked sweetly. She smiled and reached up and kissed him once on the cheek. "We're on vacation."

"Yes we are, dear," he replied. "Which one's next?"

"We still have the upstairs galleries to view."

"Of course we do," he replied. "Lead the way."
CHAPTER 31

Monday 07:25 Near Okotoks, Alberta, Canada

"Eat up, Michael," Richard said.

Michael grunted and pulled his chair closer to the table. "I am so tired," he said and picked up a slice of cold toast, ripping one bite from the corner. "Why do I have to get up so early today?"

Michael's sudden slide over the weekend worried Richard. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought. He ignored Michael's question. "Did you sleep well?"

Michael barely glanced up and continued to chew. "What do you think?"

That would be a no. "I'm sorry about Lucy," he offered.

Michael shrugged and dropped his eyes to his plate. The eggs were already cold, but Michael chopped at them with his fork and shovelled them into his mouth, scraping the plate. Fork on plate was the only sound in the kitchen.

"Things will get better today," Michelle offered. "I know they will."

Few words were exchanged as Michael continued to eat.

"Coffee, Michael?" Michelle asked.

Michael nodded and wiped his mouth on his napkin.

The breakfast dishes lay scattered about the table, one setting untouched, as Tawnie remained upstairs asleep. Michelle placed Michael's steaming cup in front of him, sat down, and sipped at her own coffee. "I'll be heading down to the office in a few minutes to see what I can find out about Johnny."

"About this Johnny," Richard said. "Do you really think you'll be able to uncover much of anything?"

"I'm going to start with David Dodd, our sports reporter. He covers college and university sports across town. If there's anything to be found about this guy in sports, David will be able to find it."

"That sounds good," Richard replied. "We really need to find this guy. We need a face."

"That's what I was thinking." She turned to Michael. "Maybe he lied about his name but not about playing basketball. If I can get a photo of the basketball team, do you think you'd be able to recognize him?"

Michael huffed. "I only saw his shoes on Friday, and the only time I saw him before that was once back in May. I might be able recognize him—I don't know."

"It's worth a try," Michelle said. "I'll see if David can get me some photos of the team. What else?"

Richard sighed heavily. Something else had been bothering him since yesterday evening.

"What time were you supposed to catch your flight yesterday, Michael?"

"Just after three. Why?"

"And who was picking you up at the other end? Anyone?"

Michael shifted in his seat. His eyes drifted off and he frowned slightly. "Lucy's dad, but...." He turned and looked up at his father.

Richard nodded at him. "Doesn't it seem strange that he never tried to call you? It's Monday, two days since she fell."

Michael uncrossed his arms and sat up straight. "I called him yesterday."

"You called him?" Michael had not mentioned that before.

"Yeah, Dad, I called him before you got home. I mean, I tried to call him, but I only had his office number, and no one was there on a Sunday."

"Did you leave a message?"

"No. I was hiding under her bed, remember, and had no idea what happened to her. What exactly was I supposed to say?" He looked sad and lowered his eyes.

"He paid for both of your tickets, Michael. He was certainly expecting both of you to arrive."

"I know, but...." He shrugged.

"You were the closest person in his daughter's life these past few weeks," Richard said. "It seems strange that he never even tried to call you."

"Maybe he didn't have my number."

Michelle's hand went to her mouth and her eyes widened with concern. "Your dad's right, Michael. You're going to have to call him again," she said. "And soon."

Richard didn't understand the urgency. "Why soon?"

Michelle released a nervous laugh before she spoke. "Why? To explain, of course. This man's daughter just died falling off a mountain while she was supposed to be preparing to catch a plane home with your son."

Michael's faced dropped in angst with the thought of having to make the call.

"He's definitely going to want to ask Michael some questions, like why was she hiking alone, and where was Michael at the time," she added.

"But I don't know what happened," Michael stammered.

"Maybe not," Richard replied. "But he bought you a ticket. I'm pretty sure he and his wife were looking forward to meeting the new guy who was taking his daughter hiking for ten days."

Michael heaved a heavy sigh.

"And then he'll ask, if you weren't with her when she fell, where exactly were you?" Michelle added.

"But I told you what happened!" Michael shouted. "Those men grabbed her."

Richard agreed with Michelle. "If it was me, I'd want to know precisely where you were on Saturday morning and what you were doing."

"I already told you where I was."

Richard wanted to respond but refrained. Michael still hadn't told them exactly where he was. Not in full, anyways. And his call to Jordan last night went directly to voicemail.

"We know what you told us, but Lucy's dad doesn't know where you were."

"You really want me to call him?" Michael asked. "What would I say to him? Do I tell him about those men?"

"The police said it was a hiking accident. If you tell him your version, he'll likely go straight to the police and suggest you had something to do with her death."

"But it's the truth!"

Richard raised his hands at Michael, pressing him to calm down. "I know it is, Michael. We believe you."

"Then should I call him or not?"

Richard repeated what he had said earlier. "No one has called looking for you. Not Lucy's parents, not the police, no one. I do think that's a bit strange."

"That's because everyone thinks her death was just an accident."

Richard rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Yeah." But something definitely didn't seem right. She fell Saturday and was positively identified sometime Sunday morning at the latest. He looked up at the clock above the fridge. Another full day had passed. "As soon as his office opens I think you should call him."

"And say what?" Michael asked.

"I'm not sure yet. But you do need to call him. And you need to be very careful what you say."

"So what am I supposed to say?"

Richard's worry ran deep. "Just avoid saying anything from your version of events of what happened Friday night. Let's find out what he knows."

***

Richard and Michael sat alone on opposites sides of his small office desk in the study. The touch-tone phone sat like an ominous beast perched between them. Richard pointed to the clock on the wall of his study, indicating Metcalf's office was about to open.

"Before we start, Michael, I need to ask you something."

Michael kept his eyes glued to the phone. "What?"

"It's just...." he paused. "Look at me, Michael."

Michael lifted his eyes. They appeared droopy and full of defeat, as if Lucy's death was somehow his fault.

"Are you okay?"

A small nod.

"I mean really okay."

"Yeah. I'm fine."

Richard didn't think he was.

"The voices, Michael. I am guessing they've returned?"

A small shrug.

"How bad this time?"

"They're okay, I guess." He shrugged again. "I can deal with it."

Richard wanted to probe deeper, but he treaded lightly so as not to scare Michael from speaking about it and shutting down. The last time it had happened, he shut Richard out completely for over a week and he nearly lost his son. He wasn't about to risk a repeat of that, but he desperately wanted to know Michael's whereabouts on Saturday.

"The voices—are they speaking to you?"

Michael's eyes drifted slowly up to his father's. "I don't want to talk about it."

"But you will tell me if it gets bad?"

"Yes. Just stop talking about it." He was becoming annoyed.

Richard had one last question. He couldn't put it off.

"One last question, and then I'll leave it alone. Promise."

A heavy sigh. "God, Dad." He was getting agitated. "What?"

"Are they telling you to do things? Like last time?"

"Like last time? No."

That wasn't necessarily a good answer. "Are you doing things...."

"Michael slammed his fist onto the table. "Geez, Dad! I thought you said you would drop it! I don't want to talk about it right now, so stop asking me effin questions!"

Too far. He lifted his hands, palms up apologetically. "Sorry, it's dropped. I won't say another word."

"Thank you!" Michael replied forcefully and then eyed the clock on the wall.

It was time to move on.

"It's past nine, Michael. That's eight out on the coast. It's time to make that call."

"Shouldn't we wait for Michelle to get back? Maybe's she's found something."

"We need to do this now."

Michael shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"And you're sure you're ready?" Richard asked. He didn't want Michael rambling off somewhere. "We can wait five or ten minutes if you need it."

He nodded. "I'm fine, let's just get it over with."

"You're sure?"

"Yes," Michael replied and his brow furled. "There aren't any voices right now. That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it?" He glared at his father. "Let's just do this already."

Richard pushed the phone across to Michael and pushed the speaker button. The dial tone buzzed and swarmed about the room like some invisible wasp. "Just remember what we discussed," he said and tore the top sheet of the notepad in front of him, sliding the paper with the prepared phrases across to Michael.

Michael's fingers danced nervously across the buttons as he pressed each one, seemingly afraid that if he touched one too long he might get stung by it. He stared at the sheet of paper his father had written on. The list of possible answers and statements was long. Metcalf's number was scrawled in big bold numbers across the top. He pressed the last of the numbers and waited.

The secretary picked up on the first ring. Harvey Metcalf was not taking any calls. Richard had expected as much.

"But I really need you to put me through to him," Michael whined. "He must have a cell phone. Maybe you can put me through to his cell?"

"I'm sorry, I can't do that. If you can give me your name and number, I'll be sure to have him call you when he's back in the office."

"Please just put me through."

"I'm sorry. Mr. Metcalf is not taking any calls today. Now if you'd...."

Richard scribbled another instruction onto the notepad, tore off the page, and shoved it next to the other in front of Michael as the secretary attempted to end the call.

"It's about his daughter, Lucy. I have some information he needs to hear. Please."

The secretary hesitated a moment before continuing with her standard close. "I'm sorry, sir. If you'll just give me your name and number...."

Richard tapped his fingers on to the words of one of the other prepared lines.

Michael looked like he was about to cry and reluctantly read aloud what Richard had written.

"She didn't die like it was reported in the papers. I need to tell him what really happened to his daughter. It's not what was reported in the papers."

The secretary's response was expected, as she didn't have a scripted answer for that type of statement.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Richard quickly scrawled one word onto the notepad and lifted it up for Michael to see.

"Boyfriend?" Michael uttered awkwardly. "I mean, I'm his daughter's boyfriend. Well, I mean I was until...." He hesitated. "I really need to tell her father what happened." Michael's voice broke as he tried not to cry. "Please, put me through to him, please."

"Listen, sir. I am going to put you on hold for just a moment. Are you going to be okay with that?"

"On hold?" Michael whimpered. Richard could sense Michael's difficulty each time he had to produce thoughts of Lucy, forcing him to relive what he witnessed Friday night.

"Yes. I'm going to try and reach Mr. Metcalf. Will you be okay if I put you on hold for a moment?"

"Yes."

"Don't hang up. I'll try to reach him now."

"Thank you," Michael said.

The phone went silent, dead, as if the entire world was put on hold. Michael sniffed and wiped his nose up his arm as he corralled the emotions that were ready to erupt.

The secretary came back online. "Sir? I have Mr. Metcalf on the other line. Can I have your name, please?"

"My name?"

Richard nodded at him.

"It's Michael, Michael Crowder."

"One moment, Michael." The phone went silent again. Michael fondled the single sheet of paper and ran his eyes up and down the list of responses, probably comprehending very little.

"Hello." The crisp male voice of Harvey Metcalf jolted Michael to sit upright. His voice was clear yet calm and quiet—not quiet what Richard had expected from such a front-page powerhouse lawyer.

"Uh, hello," Michael replied.

"Good morning, Michael." His voice remained calm and to the point. "My secretary said you had something to tell me. Something about my daughter?"

Richard hovered over the notes as Michael replied.

"Yes. It's about Lucy."

"Go on," Metcalf said.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry, I wish...." Michael began to cry.

"Calm down, Michael. Take a breath and take your time, we're not in a hurry here."

"Okay," Michael whispered back between sobbed breaths.

"You say you're sorry. What are you sorry for?"

Richard pointed down at one of the comments. Michael mouthed the words next to his dad's finger before replying.

"The police said she fell while hiking. I don't think that's what happened."

"Uh huh. Now why would you think that, Michael?"

That wasn't the reaction Richard had expected. He'd expected a much sharper response. He scrolled up and down quickly and pointed to another note on the sheet.

"I was with her on Friday evening."

"I see. You were with her the night before she went hiking." Metcalf paused. "You must be the young chap I had the ticket booked for? You two were going to go hiking along the coast."

"Yes, that's me."

"Then please continue."

Richard moved his finger to the next note.

"She didn't go hiking."

"You said that already. Now you must have heard on the news how she died..." Metcalf sounded calm, almost as if he was interviewing a potential client, checking the validity of his claims, while taking notes, "...yet you suggest to me that may not be true."

"I am, but...."

"She was found at the bottom of a mountain, Heart Mountain near Canmore. She was dressed in hiking shoes, hiking clothes, and her car was loaded with camping gear. Sounds to me like she was hiking. And the police believe those were the circumstances surrounding her death."

Michael stared at his dad, unsure of how to respond, as Richard quickly scribbled a new note and passed the sheet to him.

"Well..." he coughed up a half laugh. "She was hiking, but she wasn't supposed to be hiking. She would have told me if she was going hiking."

Metcalf let out a number of huge sighs. It felt like his breath came right through the phone into the study and Richard stared at the sheet of paper in front of Michael, expecting it to flutter with each breath.

Richard grabbed the notepad and scribbled again. Michael's eyes widened and he shook his head No at what was written. Richard thumped his finger hard down onto the paper and he nodded at Michael, urging him to speak.

Michael stammered as he spoke. "I...I know how she really...." He stopped and shook his head at his father. He couldn't say what was written down. "I just know what happened to her," he said instead.

The dance continued. Metcalf took his time again before answering, his next word was slow and drawn out. "Aaaannnd?"

"Ask him," Richard whispered with just enough voice for Michael to hear.

"Ask him what?" Michael whispered back while still leaning deep into the table above the speaker on the phone.

Richard recoiled, rolled his eyes, and waved his arms about.

"Is there someone there with you?" Metcalf said suddenly. "Who's there?"

"No one's here. I'm alone, honest," Michael replied.

Harvey Metcalf's response was immediate. The intimating power of Metcalf's voice that had been carefully concealed up until now erupted. "Don't you dare lie to me!" he shouted. "You called me, and I want to know what the hell it is you want! Haven't you done enough already? Tell me who you really are!"

Richard and Michael both reeled.

Michael managed to stammer a squeaky reply. "I am...Michael...I am me."

"Your name isn't Michael Crowder just like mine isn't goddamned Santa Clause! Now let's get to the brass tacks on this!"

"But it is," Michael rebutted. "Why won't you believe me?"

Metcalf remained quiet on the other end as if preparing his next words carefully. Richard didn't like this engagement at all. He put his hands up motioning Michael not respond so quickly.

Metcalf corralled his outburst and gave a short laugh. "You think I don't know who's there with you, telling you what to say? I read the papers, too. You knew I'd figure it out."

Figure it out? Metcalf's words hit Richard like a cement block. He motioned to Michael not to say a word, but Michael blurted out his response.

"I am Michael Crowder. That is my real name. Lucy and I have been going to school together all year."

"Stop the nonsense! Put him on the phone! Now!" Metcalf shouted into the phone.

Michael crumbled. He looked at his dad in confusion. "But I was...we we're supposed to be flying out there Sunday. The tickets were booked." Michael began to cry. "The only reason I'm calling is because we never showed up, and I felt I should at least call you to explain." Michael gasped, trying to catch his breath. His voice broke again. "I just wanted to say that I was sorry...so sorry. I...I...I should have tried to stop them."

Richard threw his hands in the air. Michael had said way too much. Whatever Metcalf had going on went deeper than anything he'd imagined. He'd only wanted to feel Metcalf out, but there was much more to his daughter's death and Michael had just turned over their ace card.

Metcalf said nothing in response, as if digesting the full content of Michael's rant. Heavy breathing puffed out from the speaker.

Michael stared at his father and frowned, "...and it's my Dad here with me."

There was no controlling Michael's mouth. Richard waved his hands again to silence Michael, but it was of no use.

"Your father?"

"He made me call you. I'm sorry, but I don't know what else to say."

The phone went silent. The sound of keys on a keyboard clicked away in the background. Metcalf grunted. "Your dad is Richard Crowder, that seminar guy?"

Richard was easily found on the web. That seminar guy? He'd never heard someone refer to him in that manner before.

"Yes, that's him. Do you want to speak to him?"

Metcalf hesitated. His voice calmed immensely. "No, no. I don't want to speak to your father." He paused a moment. "Stop them, you said? Stop who?"

Michael's mouthed dropped open. He was too flustered to think straight. Richard motioned for Michael to breathe and calm down, but Michael continued to speak.

"I don't know who," Michael cried out. "I don't know." He recoiled back from the table and clenched his fists up against his cheeks. "Shh..." he whispered quietly. "Go away...."

The heavy breathing by Metcalf coursed its way out from the phone again for a few rapid breaths. He resumed speaking again after clearing his throat once, as if to rewind the conversation back a few minutes prior to his outburst. "You say you went to school with Lucy?" His words were oddly calming, curious, and almost musical.

"Yes, all year. Honest. I was in most of her classes."

Again Metcalf paused before speaking. The man was cunning, sly, and calculating. "Tell me, Michael. What courses did you share with Lucy?"

He was probing. Measuring up his foe.

Michael rambled for the next few minutes on a number of different classes he had shared with Lucy, the studying they did together, lunches they shared, and their interest in hiking. "We were really close. Especially lately, and then...."

Metcalf cut Michael off. His voice tightened, became stern, stiff, and to the point. "Listen, Michael. My daughter died on Saturday when she fell off a mountain while hiking alone."

"But she wasn't alone...."

"I want you to stop this now. She was found at the bottom of the mountain alone. Photos taken on her phone showed she was hiking alone and was very much alone when she died."

Did Metcalf just do an about face?

"She wasn't alone. And she wasn't hiking," Michael repeated.

"I've had just about enough of this nonsense. Now, you listen very clearly to what I am about to say. Are you listening?"

"I am."

"I spoke with my daughter on Friday night. She may not have told you she was going hiking on Saturday but she certainly did tell me she was going hiking."

"That's not possible...."

"I'm sorry if she didn't tell you and you feel left out, but there is nothing more to this."

"That's not true...."

"You need to stop this right now. This was an accident and nothing more. And if you're still there listening, Mr. Crowder, you need to get your bloody son under control."

Richard cleared his throat in preparation to respond.

"But I'm not lying to you."

"You heard me, young man. I want you stop making these wild statements right now. And please stay away from me and my family. We are in mourning over Lucy's death."

"But I was with Lucy Friday night. You didn't talk to her. You couldn't have. I was there. You didn't...."

The phone went dead. Metcalf had hung up.

Richard stared at Michael in disbelief. Michael was distraught, confused, and on the verge of tears again.

"I was with her from four o'clock on, Dad. He didn't call her, he didn't. No one called her. I'm not lying."

Metcalf's responses swirled like a mad tornado in his mind. Metcalf was fishing just like they were, and Metcalf's turn of face showed that he'd caught his catch of the day. It was clear Metcalf knew his daughter's death was no accident, but why the cover-up? Why shun Michael like this?

Richard pushed his chair back and moved up behind his son. He hugged him from behind and held on, his mind miles away—trying to recall every word Metcalf had said. "I believe you, Michael. Every single word."
CHAPTER 32

Monday 18:55 Paris, France

The jet lag was crashing in hard and Nathaniel felt like shit. He was tired and doing his best to stay alert and focused as Diane hauled him and the girls down more narrow streets and into more small galleries. She paused to tick off another location on a small notepad as they exited the last venue—crossing one more item off her bucket list.

His cell phone rang, the disposable. He turned away, concealing the phone best he could from Diane and the girls, and took the call.

"What have you got?" he said. He looked at the time, turned and smiled at Diane, and raised one finger indicating he'd only be a moment. It was still morning back in Victoria where Jack was staked out. Diane faked a smile at him as he turned away. She didn't attempt to conceal her annoyance.

"Something's going down out here. I have a pretty good view of the front of Metcalf's house and there's been a lot of activity. Too much activity, I think."

Nathaniel stepped away from his family down the sidewalk where he could speak openly. He was eager to hear any update on Metcalf.

"Reporters?"

"The reporters have all come and gone hours ago," Jack said. "This is different."

"Let me have it."

"Heavy security showed up at first light. First, they cleared out all the media, pushing them down the street. And then they were crawling everywhere, looking under bushes, walking the fence lines and crossing up and down the stone walls along the shoreline. Two of them have buried themselves into the shadows out front and two others are out back watching the waterfront. And just moments ago we saw a limo pull up. Metcalf's two other daughters have been hustled off somewhere."

"What makes you think this is anything to worry about? Maybe he just wants privacy from the media."

"It's almost noon over here. Both girls were very upset and crying when they left the house, like they didn't want to go. Metcalf was at the door shouting like a madman, waving his hands and holding his wife back while she tried to get to the girls. Both girls had multiple suitcases, so it's not just an overnight thing."

"Yeah, I see what you mean. With the funeral in the next day or two, I wouldn't expect his other two daughters to be sent away like that. I understand why you called me."

"You think he's worried?"

"Something's obviously biting him in the ass right now and he's not happy about it."

"Any ideas?"

"Sending his girls away like that—he's worried. It has to be Kaito. I just wish I knew where the hell he was right now."

"I thought Lucas was all over him."

Nathaniel laughed in a chilling way. "So did I. He slipped away on a plane somewhere."

"Oh, that's not so good."

"No, it's not. My guess is he's headed your way. Lucas didn't call you yet? I've sent him out to help you."

Jack grunted his annoyance and then replied, "No, I haven't heard from him. But the more hands out here the better."

"Did Antonio manage to get any of the surveillance set up before security showed?"

"Some, but not much. Two cameras in the trees, one on the kitchen, one on the front door. One audio on the kitchen window so we should catch some conversation, but in that room only. Metcalf's still running a land line so we got that, too. Can't get anywhere near the place now."

Something scared Metcalf. The news was worrying and Kaito was the only possible answer.

"Anything from the phone tap?"

Jack laughed. "It's the house phone. Everyone has cells these days. I doubt we'll get any calls."

"Can you look up recent callers to the house?"

"Nate, I'm beginning to think someone higher up has a giant boner on for you. That lid's been closed tight on us. We're not getting any backup support on this. What we see and hear locally is all we've got access to. I checked."

"Yeah, it's the same out here." It probably isn't all that bad, Nathaniel thought. The other hits were clean and Kaito's son was wrapped up tight for the moment. They just had to find Kaito and hopefully it would all end right there.

"Thanks Jack. But please keep an eye out. I want to know the moment anyone shows up or anyone calls the house. Anyone."

"I'm on it. Antonio is still setting up the van for the cameras and tap. It's all plug-and-play nowadays. He should be live in the next hour or so and have it all streaming right into my phone. And he's got a few more tricks that he said I'd be interested in seeing later on tonight. Some new technology. I'll be on watch for another hour, and then Antonio's got watch until the sun comes up."

Nathaniel laughed and looked at his watch again. "Watch yourselves out there."

PART III

CHAPTER 33

Saturday 07:12 Heart Mountain near Canmore, Alberta, Canada (Lucy goes up the mountain)

The two vehicles pulled up one behind the other into the Lac Des Arcs parking area where the Heart Mountain trail began. Lucy had driven her own vehicle with the tall man, Barney, from last night sitting in the passenger seat. He didn't speak a word the entire drive out, and a permanent look of discontent remained embedded on his long, weathered face. He instructed Lucy out of the car and urged her forward towards Slate, who immediately pulled her aside. Slate wrapped his fingers tight around her wrist and waited as Barney led the Russian diplomat across the parking lot to the start of the trail. Once he was comfortable the Russian was out of earshot he repeated the instructions for today's climb.

"You keep smiling and you keep him enthused. It's up to you to see that he makes it up this mountain. Do you understand?"

Lucy nodded and feigned enthusiasm.

It seemed to please him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out her cell phone. He saw her eyes light up and remained staring at her until her eyes caught his and locked on. "No calls." he said. "No texting, either. And no looking through your messages or missed calls until this is over. Remember, these are your father's instructions and you must follow them. This is very important for everyone involved."

She nodded again.

"You sure you're clear on this?"

"I am. No using the phone."

"Once on the trail, you will stop every twenty minutes or so and take a photo. Just you and the valley below." Slate pointed towards the beginning of the trail where the Russian and tall man stood waiting. "You must be absolutely sure that neither of those men are in any of the photos."

"I will," she replied. Whatever was going on was very serious. She desperately wished she could ask her father what this was all about.

"Talk to the Russian. Keep him smiling, keep him on the trail, and keep him moving. He's not as fit as the rest of us, so you'll have to keep an eye on how he's doing."

Slate smiled reassuringly at her.

"Once you're on the mountain it's all up to you. You'll be handed your phone part way up the mountain." He slipped her phone back into his pocket and guided her over to where the Russian and the tall man, Barney, waited at the trailhead. He whispered something to Barney while passing her phone over to him. Moments later, the three began the journey into the forest while Slate remained behind, watching them recede into the sea of green.

Time passed by quickly as Lucy led the group along the trail for the first few kilometres before turning south to ascend the mountain. The climb was arduous, and all chatter ceased as every bit of effort was needed in climbing up the steep incline.

Lucy grunted as Barney shoved her hard from behind on her backpack. She stumbled, reached out with her hands for balance, and quickly regained her footing.

"You don't have to be so rough with her," the Russian said. "She could have fallen and hurt herself."

Lucy was in front, leading them high up the trail on the side of the mountain. She had climbed this mountain multiple times and knew the trail well. It rose steeply from the valley, beginning in the trees and meandered up along the stony ridge towards the top. They were only a quarter of the way up, but her heart pounded ferociously. Part was from the climb and part was from the instructions she was given last night about today's climb: play the victim, show some fight, and be angry occasionally. Take numerous selfies along the way—neither man must appear in any of the photos.

"I'll be as rough as I want. If she slows down again, I may just do more than just give her a small shove forward."

The gain in height was rapid and the climb steep.

"Okay, stop here."

Lucy stopped and turned around. They had arrived at the first wide-open space on the ridge's rocky path as it came out from the trees. The morning sun cast its yellow glow upon the mountains above and around the small lake below. On any other day she would have thought the view was amazing. Not today. She stared at the Russian. He was sweating profusely but seemed unfazed by how difficult this climb was.

"This..." the Russian puffed heavily, "...is really an amazing view." He brushed one sleeve across his brow to wipe away the sweat.

Barney reached into his pocket and pulled out Lucy's phone. He held it out to her and repeated the instructions while aiming the gun in his other hand at her. "I want you to take a photo here. Just one photo with the valley in the background."

Lucy grabbed the phone and looked at it. There were numerous missed calls. Her eyes lit up and her mouth dropped open. All were from Michael.

"Whoa!" Barney grabbed her wrist and squeezed tight.

"Ouch! You're hurting me."

She could see the focus and determination in his eyes. "No messaging. No calling." He continued to squeeze her wrist.

"Ow. Okay! Okay!" She winced. He was playing his role a little too convincing for her liking.

He released his grip. She scrolled to the camera option, thinking about Michael as she did. What would he make of all of this? She wished now that he hadn't been in her apartment under the bed last night. And for the sake of her father, she really hoped Michael had not gone to the police.

"And I want to see a real smile."

Lucy scowled at him.

"C'mon. You heard me. Smile for the camera." He lifted the gun and placed it inches away from her head. Lucy reeled and stepped back, one foot slipping on the stones. Barney moved with her, keeping the gun in her face.

"For God's sakes, man," the Russian called out.

"She only has to take the photo. Then we can continue."

The muzzle of the gun in her face terrified Lucy, and she froze in fear. It all seemed too real.

"Smile, I said!" he shouted.

Lucy winced and backed away cautiously towards the edge with a forced a half smile.

"Now the picture."

It was a fake pose complete with smile kept steady until she snapped the shot. The click of the camera sounded eerily like a gun firing on an empty cylinder. She had just taken the photo when Barney ripped the phone from her hands. He studied the photo and smiled. "Perfect." He shoved the phone back into his pocket, lowered the gun, and waved it up the path urging her onward.

The Russian was unsettled and disturbed. He continued to puff away, using the short break to catch his breath. "That was really unnecessary."

"I decide what's necessary. Just keep moving."

"Is it much further?" he asked. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead and temples.

"We have quite a ways to go," Lucy replied. "And it's going to get a lot steeper."

"Just keep moving," Barney said.

The three continued up along the path, stopping every twenty minutes to catch their breath and for Lucy to take another photo. Lucy wondered why they would go to such extremes to bring the Russian diplomat up on a mountainside to deliver punishment. She wasn't told what the punishment was, but it wasn't very hard to guess as she looked down the side of the mountain at the sharp, deadly outcropping of rocks below the entire western face. And her father approved this? It didn't make complete sense to her. Her father was in the business to keep his clients from going to jail, not to help murder them. But then again, what did she really know about her father outside her home and what she saw on TV? He was regarded as one of the best defence lawyers in the country when it came to arguing and articulating procedural law, and his record supported how exceptional he was. But this? Had he done this kind of thing before?

Lucy cherished her father. Love and affection always flowed with a silky softness from him towards her and her two younger sisters. Work was always kept separate from family time, and she had to admit, he always made her feel like she was the most important thing in his life even though he was not her biological father.

"Why are you forcing me up this mountain?" She hadn't asked the question before and thought it wise to ask for the Russian's sake. "What did I do?"

Barney stopped. "You didn't do anything. I thought you were told."

Lucy turned around. "No one's told me anything. You bastards kidnap me and take me up the side of this mountain. What for?"

He laughed. "Isn't it obvious? You are paying for your father's sins."

The Russian said nothing. Lucy could see no surprise in his eyes. It was what the Russian believed and the reason it was so easy to lead him up the mountain.

"What sins?"

Barney waved the gun, urging her to continue up. "C'mon, let's go."

"What sins?" she asked again.

"Hush! Keep walking."

The three continued up the steep ascent, plodding slowly and with more vigilance as the steepness increased.
CHAPTER 34

Monday 11:40 Near Okotoks, Alberta, Canada

Richard, Michael, and Tawnie were hovered over Tawnie's laptop sifting through the latest news reports when Michelle arrived home.

"Sorry I took so long, but I think I found something," she said and plunked her plastic bag filled with papers onto the kitchen table.

"So did we," Richard replied. "Come see what Tawnie's uncovered." He pointed at her laptop.

"Oh?" Michelle scooted around and leaned in over top of Michael's shoulder.

"Tawnie found these three articles...um, here's the first one. Um, um, um...." he mumbled as he scrolled his way back to the top. "This one is from Sunday, Lucy Metcalf's fall from the mountain, but you know about that one already." He clicked on another of the open tabs and scrolled up.

"Here it is. This one's also from Sunday's Calgary Herald. Now what's interesting is that it makes a connection to Lucy's father, Harvey Metcalf. I'll read it aloud.

"Garrod Shaw Dead

"Garrod Shaw, 53, once accused of murdering his three children at Gull Lake in 2011 was found dead of a drug overdose in a motel in Oyen, Alberta, on Saturday morning.

"The article goes on to describe Shaw's history, the first mistrial, the second attempt to retry, and the follow-up Supreme Court decision that set him free only weeks ago."

Richard continued reading.

"In an unrelated story, Lucinda Carter, the daughter of Harvey Metcalf who carried the Shaw case up to the Supreme Court, died on Saturday after falling while hiking alone on Heart Mountain near Canmore. Lucinda Carter was 19 years of age."

"Harvey Metcalf was unavailable to comment on either fatality."

"Okay," Michelle said. "That's just a coincidence."

"Is it?" Richard asked. "Listen to this one. This is from this morning's Sun.

"Drunken Diplomat Dies

"An employee from the Russian Embassy in Ottawa has been identified as the driver killed in a single-vehicle rollover Saturday night east of Canmore. The Russian Ambassador representative was 53 years old and found to be driving with a blood alcohol level nearly double the legal limit.

"The article goes on to talk about his background, birthplace, education, and his life leading up to his appointment to the embassy in Ottawa. And, uh..."

Richard skipped forward.

"Here we go. The ambassador was no stranger to driving while intoxicated. In 2007, he drove his car into Susan Boake, killing her instantly in downtown Montreal. Miss Boake was only 22 years of age when she died. The Embassy used the umbrella of diplomatic immunity to defend against the charge of manslaughter with the help of some Canadian legal counsel, and after a lengthy legal proceeding, he was allowed to return to Russia to answer to the murder charges. The courts in Russia convicted him of manslaughter but waived any incarceration based on his good standing and service to his country, much to the outrage of the Canadian populace.

"In late 2009, he returned to his position at the Russian Embassy in Canada and had since been charged with driving while intoxicated numerous times, hospitalizing a mother and newborn baby in 2012. Diplomatic immunity was used to fight expulsion and to defer any charges from being laid against him to date.

"In a strange coincidence, Garrod Shaw, the man once charged with the murder of his three children at his home in central Alberta but never convicted, also died last night. Shaw was found dead early Saturday of a drug overdose in Oyen, Alberta. Both men were clients of Victoria lawyer Harvey Metcalf. Metcalf successfully defeated the murder charges for both men on technicalities, taking the Shaw case all the way to the Supreme Court of Canada.

"Efforts to reach Mr. Metcalf for comment were unsuccessful."

"I don't see how either of these are relevant," Michelle said.

"Not relevant?" Richard asked. "Three deaths in two days all connected to Metcalf?"

"I think you're reaching."

"Maybe I am, but you must admit it is a very odd coincidence."

She only sighed and gave him one of her looks, obviously not interested in debating this. She squeezed herself into the scrum at the table and pulled out the stack of papers from her bag. "David was a big help," she said as she spread out a number of photos. "The basketball team, the ski team, it's all here, and there's no one named Johnny in any of these photos."

"And we didn't expect there to be," Richard said.

Michael leaned in over the photo of the basketball team and studied each of the players. "Johnny has black hair and is tall. A lot of these black-haired guys look the same to me."

"What about their faces? Their eyes. Recognize anything?"

Michael pulled the photo of the full team up closer. "Maybe him on the end. Or, this guy, third from the left on the bottom."

Richard sighed. If Michael wasn't absolutely sure, this was another dead end.

"...or him, maybe." Michael added.

"How about these?" Michelle asked and passed Michael a number of head shots.

He shook his head as he flipped through the first few photos. "I just can't be sure. It was months ago when I last saw him." He shuffled through a few more. "Definitely not this guy, or this one...." He paused on a face of a smiling player with black hair. He looked foreign. "Maybe him."

"I need you to be sure, Michael."

Michael let the photos slip down onto the table. "I can't tell. It was too long ago. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Michael," Michelle said. "It was a long shot."

"So what else have you got?"

"Just a list of names, but without a photo I don't think it does us much good."

Richard sighed. "Probably not."

"Did you ever take photos of you and Lucy on campus?"

"A few maybe," Michael said. He left the table and retrieved his cell phone from the kitchen where it was charging. Michael sat down by Michelle and scrolled through the many photos.

"What are you looking for?" Richard asked.

"I don't know for sure," Michelle replied. "Maybe Johnny's in the background somewhere."

"Oh, good one!" Richard said.

Michael had hundreds of photos on his phone, all shuffling backwards in time. Any one that included Lucy, Michael paused on one for a few seconds.

It was Michael who first noticed the disturbing image.

"Look in the background on this one."

Richard leaned in for a better look.

"What is it we're supposed to be looking at?"

Michael snickered. "Top left, by the tree. He's looking at us."

Sure enough, there was an older man shielded behind one of the trees along the pathway outside the cafeteria. He leaned out from behind the tree in the direction of Michael and Lucy.

"There are students all around you in this shot. He could be looking at anybody."

Michael flipped forward through more photos. "That's what I thought at first but I think I saw him in one of the later photos, too." He kept flipping through, pausing on each photo with Lucy.

"There! Look! That's him tucked in by the entrance to McEwan Hall."

Richard nodded. "It does look like the same guy."

"Go back to the other one," Tawnie said.

Michael flipped back to the first one. There was no doubt this was the same man.

"This is silly, Richard," Michelle said. "Nobody is following Michael around campus. Why would they do that?"

"Not Michael," Richard replied. "Lucy."

"Lucy?" She moved in for a closer look.

Michael moved on, scrolling even further back in time to early March.

"Wow," Michael said. "I think that's him there in this one, too." He scrolled again. "And there. He's there, too."

"That's creepy," Tawnie said.

"Still think this is a coincidence, Michelle?"

She frowned at him. "I don't know what to think. Can you download all of those photos to your dad's laptop, Michael? We need to get a better look at this guy."

"Is that Johnny?" Tawnie asked. "He's got dark hair."

"No," Michael replied immediately. "This guy's old."

Richard laughed. "Older. Not old. Your grandma's old. This guy looks about my age."

Tawnie giggled. "Like Michael said, he's old."

"So, if it's not Johnny, then who is this guy?"

More pictures passed by. "Now this is odd..." Michael said.

"What's odd?"

"I've got this guy in at least a dozen photos so far. But he isn't in any photo I took when Lucy isn't in the photo."

Both Richard and Michelle stood up straight and looked at each other. "I didn't say it," Richard said.

"You didn't have to."

"When does this guy first show up in the photos?"

"Hmmm," Michael mused. "I'm sure I have pictures going back to the start of the year with Lucy." He scrolled way back in time and began moving forward. A few minutes passed before he came across what would have been the first photo with the man in the background and stopped.

"When was this taken?" Richard asked.

Michael pressed a few buttons. "End of March."

"Uh-huh," Richard replied. "What changed in Lucy's life since March? Anything?"

"Just Johnny showing up. But that was later, in early May."

"Good ol' Johnny," Richard replied.

"Can you show us any pictures of Lucy after Johnny showed up?" Michelle asked.

"I don't think I have any." He scrolled forward. "I rarely saw Lucy after Johnny showed up. Well, not until we hooked up, and then we always met in private—never on campus. She wanted us to be a secret."

He scrolled on.

"Here's one. It's in her apartment. And here's another at my place."

"Can you go to the very last photo before Johnny showed up?"

"Sure."

Seconds later, the photo of Lucy was displayed, and the older man with the dark hair was immersed in the background amongst a large crowd gathered out on the grass. His eyes were clearly set on the two of them.

"Who is this guy?"

***

An hour passed before the photos were downloaded onto Richard's laptop and the mystery man cropped, enlarged, and printed.

"This guy looks familiar, Richard."

He laughed. "So who's on the conspiracy trail now?"

"No, I mean it. I've seen him before."

Richard laughed again. "These are the blurriest, most out-of-focus images I've ever seen. Especially blown up like this. How can you tell anything about him?"

"Believe me or don't believe me, Richard, but I've seen this man before. Just give me some time to remember where."

"Take all the time you want."

Michelle waved her hand around with one finger extended. "And you know what? I don't think it was that long ago."

"Okay then, conspiracy lady." He chuckled some more. "Have at it."

"I will. I know I'm right about this."

Richard smiled.
CHAPTER 35

Monday 23:45 Victoria, British Columbia, Canada

Jack sat on an overturned bucket in back of the small van. Antonia hovered a few feet away, leaning over the small bench lit with two dim, low-energy LED fixtures mounted to the wall above.

"Before you go, Jack, I want to show you this." He pointed to one of the five computer screens perched amongst the multitude of wires and cabling that stretched between the screen and various small boxes. To Jack, it was all very foreign and complicated. He had no idea what he was looking at.

"These are signals I'm picking up in the neighbourhood right now."

"Signals?" The screen showed a list of numbers that looked to be code in one column, signal strength and frequency in another, while others appeared as a gibberish combination of numbers and letters. Jack couldn't make sense of any of it.

"Yes. Wi-Fi, Bluetooth...pretty much anything in the air right now."

"Uh-huh. That's a lot."

"It is a lot. Over two-hundred and sixty. Most people just think of cell phones and Wi-Fi, but everything out there these days is waiting to be linked up—photocopiers, computers, TVs, VCRs, cars, toys, refrigerators, alarm systems, clock radios, iPod docks, cameras, and even wristwatches and sound systems. I can go on. The list is endless these days. I'm only interested in certain frequencies right now." He tapped away on the keyboard and the screen blanked out for a second before repopulating, sorted by frequency and signal strength.

"So what am I supposed to be looking at?"

"I'll show you," he replied. He touched multiple lines of data on the screen. "These ones, here, here, and here, are our outdoor cameras. This one is the listening device I planted on the kitchen window. Strength doesn't look good on that one. Might be something wrong there; it happens sometimes." He scrolled down. "...and this flat one is the land line."

"Why didn't the security guys find the cameras when they were searching the property?"

Antonia chuckled. "Security? Those guys aren't security. They're night watchmen licensed to carry weapons. They wouldn't recognize our cameras if I placed one right in their hand."

"Oh?"

"Not these babies—all battery operated, Wi-Fi, and encrypted. That means no wires. And these are smaller than a pair of dice. We modify them to look like the surroundings."

"Like what?"

"Trees, rocks, leaves. Anything, actually."

"That's amazing."

"You think that's impressive. Watch this."

Antonio clicked away on the keyboard and the screens changed again. He tapped away for a few minutes as the information on the screens scrolled through as they loaded additional rows of numbers, letters, and symbols.

"What are you doing?"

"Hold on to your horses...just a few more to try...."

Suddenly, one screen stopped loading and displayed signal capture successful.

"Okay...now we step inside." He tapped away vigorously. "Here she comes...first, we see how many channels." He continued to type away expeditiously. "This one's active; someone's online right now...."

The third screen suddenly loaded an image. It was a Facebook page moving slowly in short jerks downwards. It stopped. A cursor hovered above the image of a young couple in a bar with the notation, "At Jerry's. Having the best night out."

"What is this?" Jack asked.

"What do you think it is?"

"Looks like someone's Facebook page."

"It is."

Jack pointed at the screen in awe. "You just hacked into someone's Facebook page?"

"Nope. Just their laptop. I see what they see, that's all."

"Who's is it?"

"I don't know. I only get us across the bridge and inside, but this page is from someone in one of the homes around us. If whoever owns this page scrolls back up to the top, I'll be able to see who they are and then we can figure out what house we are in. I could try to hack further into Facebook, but I only need to skim the surface on their laptop like this to get what we need. The deeper we go, the greater the risk. Facebook has one of the best firewalls around, and my job, like yours, is to be discreet. We don't break those firewalls if there are other ways to get information."

Jack frowned. "Why do you want to look at someone's Facebook page?"

"I don't really. I have 260 signals here. I'm going to eliminate them one by one until I find signals coming from Metcalf's place. If there are any, that is."

"What if Metcalf's not on his computer? Then what?"

Antonio burst out laughing as if he was waiting for this exact question. He tapped a few keys and the page disappeared from the screen and was replaced by some random-looking code.

"Each one of these signals is carried on a different frequency and has a different encryption pattern. Over here..." he scrolled over to one of the columns on the right, "...are data on the signal. This one here is a good one. Many of the device signals are easily identifiable if you know what to look for." He highlighted the one line and began to key a bunch of numbers into his keyboard, typing away for a full five minutes.

"Got it." he said. The screen loaded with what looked like an index or operating system menu. "Now, let's scroll down the menu to the setup and configuration." All options were in clear English, standard font, listed one below the other. Antonia clicked through, making one selection after the other.

"Is that a...cell phone?"

"You're good, Jack. It is. Now I'm going to drop inside, here...and change this value, and save it." Antonia clicked, entered a few more commands, and relaxed back in his chair.

A quite rustling sound erupted from the computer speakers. Antonio turned the volume up.

"What did you just do?"

"Shhh. We listen."

A small hum filled the van with a quiet, rustling sound. What followed next sounded like a plate or cup being placed on a counter. More shuffling. A loud clank.

A voice mumbled quietly, "Damn it."

The shuffling continued.

"Frank. Can you come in here for a minute?"

"Who is that?" Jack asked?

"My guess is Frank's wife," Antonio replied.

"Coming."

Frank could be heard as he shuffled his way into the room. He coughed.

"What?"

"Can you put this up into the top shelf for me?"

"Sure, love."

More shuffling and a small thump.

"What are you watching in there?" Frank's wife asked.

"Border Crossing. How about a cup of tea?"

"At this time of night?"

"And maybe I'll have a bit of that pie to go with it."

Antonio turned the volume down.

Jack was confused. He didn't understand what he just heard. "What was all of that? Who's Frank?"

"I activated the microphone on one of their cell phones."

"You did what?"

"Every cell phone is listening for the right signal to travel through the airways to tell it to connect and ring the ringer. What I did was ping the phone and it pinged back. Once I identified the cell phone's ping, I piggy-backed on in, slipped through a side door, and accessed the phone setup. From there, I turned on the microphone and linked it back here."

Jack was dumfounded. "You can do that?"

"I just did. Some devices are more complicated to break than others. So for the next few hours, I'm going to go through each one of these 260 signals. If we're lucky, at least one will be Metcalf's and we might be able to listen in on what's going on inside."

"Can mine be hacked like that?"

"Everything is hackable."

"Seriously?"

"For guys like me...yes. Everything."

"Hmm." He looked down at his own cell phone. "Can I stop you from hacking it?"

Antonio laughed. "Only by taking the battery out. And in some devices—not your phone—there is a backup battery inside that keeps the unit's memory and computer chip active. If that backup battery keeps the power to the computer chip actively running, then sometimes these devices are hackable even though they are turned off and the main battery is removed."

"All of this is tiring me out. I'm going to the hotel. I won't be able to sleep now that I know about all of this."

"You want a wakeup call?"

"Through my phone? You can do that?"

Antonia grabbed his own phone from the desk and waved it at Jack. "I mean I'll call you with my phone. Do you want a call or not?"

Jack chuckled. "No, I don't need one. But if you do hear anything interesting, don't be afraid to wake me. It doesn't matter what time."

"Will do."

"Oh, and Lucas is coming down with Myles. He might call you tonight."

Antonio shook his head. "I forgot to tell you—Lucas called earlier from the airport. The two of them were looking for a lead on Kaito Hui. They said they'd call again if they found him. I guess they haven't yet."

"Keep your eyes open."
CHAPTER 36

Tuesday 10:00 Paris, France

Nathaniel promised Diane the trip out to see an old friend on the outskirts of Paris would be a short one. He'd be quick as possible, maybe a couple of hours.

"I'll be back well before dinner."

"What old friend?" she asked. The sternness of her voice made it clear that she wasn't pleased.

He tried to dodge the question with a question of his own about what she had planned for the girls today until he returned. She knew what he was trying to do and offered to come with him. Things only spiralled downhill from there and ended with her accusing him of philandering.

"I've often suspected it," she said. "All of these late nights, trips across the country, secret phone calls. Who is she?" she demanded.

"There is no other woman, Diane," he assured her.

"Then don't go. Call your friend and stay with us. Please, Nate."

"It's not that simple. I can't just cancel...."

"This is our family vacation and I need you to put us first! Just once, Nate, I'd like to be first! It's been all about you and your damn career for years. Now this friend of yours suddenly appears?"

"I'm not cancelling."

"Damn you, Nate!" She turned away and began to cry. "I knew it."

He reached out to her. "Please, Diane." She pulled away, dashed off into the small ensuite, and slammed the door.

"Diane," he called out quietly and moved up to the door. He could hear her sobbing. He knocked lightly. "I love only you, Diane. Only you. It's only ever been you. This is work related."

Nathaniel looked down at his watch. He had to go.

"I really do love you. Please understand."

He waited for her to reply, but she said nothing. He said his goodbye through the closed door, grabbed his hat, and headed for the safe house.

***

Nathaniel's personal cell buzzed just as he left the city limits. He tugged it out while trying to keep the Citroen C5 on the road. It was Geordie. He pulled over onto the narrow shoulder as far as he could and slowed to a stop. Cars whizzed by him. A few honked.

"Geordie," he said.

"Nate. Just calling to see where we're at with our problem."

"I'm in Paris at the moment." He hadn't expected Geordie to call, and scrambled for words. "I'm uh..." he laughed and looked in his side mirror. "Uh oh!" A huge lorry honked as it passed on his left, nearly clipping the mirror and buffeting his car in the back draft.

"I want an update, Nate."

Nathaniel kept his eyes on his side mirror as he replied. "There is some good news. The two legitimate targets went down without a problem. Nothing to clean up on those. And I've got a pretty good handle on Kaito."

He didn't really have a handle on Kaito, but it was what Geordie wanted to hear.

"You have a handle on Kaito?"

"I'm about to go see his son, Takahiro."

"The kid? I don't give a goddamned nickel about this kid. Why is he still even around?"

Geordie was being a hard-ass at the moment. Nate had never felt this much pressure from above on any job. The personal disconnect Geordie was purveying was alarming.

"I need him. He has information on both Kaito and Metcalf that I'm not getting from Kaito."

"What kind of information?"

"Kaito's target was not Metcalf, it was his daughter."

"His daughter? And you know this for sure?"

"Yes, and I don't know why Kaito would target his daughter. I believe his son has some of the answers. I need to find out if that was all Kaito had in mind for Metcalf. His son knows something. I'm sure of it."

"You just stay away from that kid and make sure he damn well disappears. You hear me?"

Another large truck rushed by, rattling the small car again. He wanted to give an outright "NO" to Geordie but knew it would be a grave mistake to be so bold. "I'm not doing anything with him just yet. So far he hasn't offered anything about what went down with Metcalf's daughter and he claims he didn't even know she was kidnapped."

"The boy's lying. Get rid of him."

"I'm not touching the boy until I speak with him face to face. I know this kid. He'll talk to me."

"Listen very clearly to me, Nate. I don't care about the goddamned kid or what bullshit you think you need to hear him say to you to make you feel good about yourself. Going to see him in person is just a bad idea. Make the call, cut him loose, and move on. It's Kaito I've asked you to take care of. I want reassurances that he is behaving like a man of honour and is not out carrying on some twisted vendetta of his own against an innocent man while under our umbrella."

"I understand...."

"I don't think you do. I want you to step this up a notch. I want Kaito bagged and stripped bare. Every detail of why he decided to go after Metcalf, I want to know. If you want to save your friend, then have Jack and Lucas bring me back the bare bones of this man with everything exposed so we can make an informed decision. And that means bagging him like you did his boy."

Nathaniel sighed heavily. "I don't think I can have this wrapped up by the end of tomorrow."

Geordie took a deep breath and coughed before replying. "I gave you three days to rein him in."

Nathaniel pressed back. "And then you cut off all lines of support. This isn't easy...."

"No excuses. I'm sure you already have him well pinned down by now."

There was no point in lying if he wanted more time from Geordie.

"That's been sort of the problem so far."

"Ha!" Geordie shouted. He could imagine Geordie on the other end of the conversation with his boney finger pointed at him, ready to poke it into his chest again. "I knew there was a problem. Kaito's missing, am I right? You really don't have any goddamned idea where he is, do you?"

He wanted to tell Geordie to fuck off. Geordie probably knew Lucas had lost Kaito at the airport even before he did.

"We think we know where he's headed...." He ran his hand through his hair. "Shit...he's headed to Victoria. He's going after Metcalf again. That's why I need to see his son in person. I have to know what it is that ties these two men together and has got Kaito so pissed off at Metcalf that he's willing to throw his entire life away to bring him down."

Geordie went quiet for a few moments as if contemplating his response. It was one of his annoying traits that Nathaniel distrusted. "You think I'm just a callous, overbearing old man, I know you do, so quit the lying and stop pussy-footing around me. Two more days, Nate. But I want you to stay away from that kid. That's it. And the moment you've got Kaito bagged, you call me!"

Nathaniel felt a short sense of relief wash over him, but it felt dirty, as if the devil himself had just granted him two more days. But nothing is ever free. Geordie was now demanding Kaito be bagged. Speaking with Geordie always made him feel like he was being manipulated, and he suspected when this was all over that Geordie would be there at the end with his palm extended, waiting for some kind of surrender payment.

"Two days should do it."

"And remember. I want that kid gone."

"Yeah, yeah...."

"Don't 'yeah, yeah' me. And I mean gone, Nate. He's a loose string we don't need flapping in the breeze. Gone. Stay away from him and make the damn call already."

"I have a new phone number over here. If you need...."

The line went dead.
CHAPTER 37

Tuesday 11:49 Along the Seine River, Moisson, France

Nathaniel had been at the safe house only once before. The location was picturesque, as if crafted from some scene painted by one of the masters centuries ago. The Seine flowed quietly along a wide, curving arc past the rear of the property, and the pillar-like white cliffs of Moisson protruded out of the trees on the far side of the river. The monolithic cliffs appeared to have been dropped out of the sky, punching into the ground like some giant guardians placed there to overlook and protect the small valley.

The centuries-old home was small and unassuming with its chalk-coloured exterior, slate shingles, and gravel drive. It was a simple place, humble and secluded. The property was lined with thick trees and shrubs on three sides, shielding it from prying eyes. Its medieval charm lightened his dreary mood, but only a bit, as he pulled to a stop near the front steps.

Nathaniel turned off the ignition and remained in his car in thought. Diane was on his mind. She was right to be upset with him for leaving her again. She had given him her entire life, following him wherever his career headed, and always remained the anchor of their relationship through the rough times. This trip was supposed to be about family, yet he hadn't managed to make the flight out with Diane and the girls, and here he was on the second day stealing himself away. Yes, she had a right to be angry and upset.

He stared up at the old house and wondered how he'd drifted so far off the rails and never even noticed until now knowing what deed waited inside for him. A young man's destiny, his friend's son, rested in his hands. To be here now, having to play judge and executioner, was the last thing he expected when he first joined the Order. Each new project had taken a bite out of him, weakening him with each chomp, but this one beat out all the rest. This one was devouring him. His heart pounded in his chest as the anxiety swelled inside him. It felt like he had nothing left to give on this one. But what was he to do? The Order would spit him out like a wad of chewing tobacco, all disgusting and spent, if he had no more to offer.

It wasn't this way in the beginning. In the early years, there was never anything so dark as every task seemed to be these days. It was simpler back then: influence, coerce, pressure, blackmail, and extort. Do anything it takes to make a baddie conform and do good by making their wrongs into rights. Apply the rules in all of the right places; and in the end, the baddies did conform. No one got hurt and the world became a better place.

And then came Bobby McFallen. Bobby turned off the gas, freezing his low-income tenants out of a small high rise in the middle of a bitter winter. The reason? He wanted them gone, out into the cold and out from under their leases, so he could sell the property to a developer who wanted to raze the building for luxury condos. The authorities, when challenged, were reluctant to step in, saying it was a legal matter. So the Order stepped in to force Bobby's hand to capitulate, turn the gas back on, and give the tenants their rights to stay and renew any leases for years to come. The pressure was minimal, enough the Order believed at the time, and Bobby promised he would turn on the gas. A few days later, an unexplained natural gas explosion levelled a quarter of the building, killing four tenants and putting an immediate end to the Order's interference. Bobby had turned on the gas alright, and the death of four citizens rested solely on the shoulders of the Order. Bobby sold the property, making a bundle, but died unexpectedly two days after the sale was completed. He was stabbed seventeen times in the staircase of one his other slum buildings by an unknown assailant. The official report was inconclusive, stating that his death was likely caused by some drifter or possibly that he stumbled upon a drug deal going down. No one was ever arrested. But it wasn't a drifter or drug deal gone bad at the root of his untimely death. Bobby had become the first target ever purposely eliminated by the Order.

The weathered front door of the safe house opened and a tall, thin man with a boyish face dressed in loose, khaki-coloured clothing leaned out. He stared at the car, bobbed his head up and down a few times as if to get a better view of who was inside. The thin man's sudden appearance forced Nathaniel to refocus on why he was at the safe house, and he surrendered a brief wave. The man waved back and remained at the door as Nathaniel exited and made his way up with his hand extended.

"Nate?" the slender man chirped in his high-pitched voice.

"Yeah," he replied, glancing around the extremities of the property after quickly shaking the man's hand.

"Name's Randal. I don't think we've met."

Randal was not his real name. "No, Randal, I don't think we have. He's inside?"

Randal stepped back inside and pressed himself up against the open door, ushering Nathaniel by him. "He's all yours."

The front room was dim, tiny, and sparsely decorated with two small wooden chairs, a couch for two, a side table, and a lamp. The heavy drapes were pulled tightly shut on the two windows. In the far corner, against the discoloured stone walls, curled up on some blankets and pillows lay the young man he'd come to see.

"Taka?"

Nathaniel moved towards where Taka lay curled up facing the wall. Both hands were cuffed together and an ankle chain was securely bolted into the centre stone support wall. Taka looked much different than he remembered; bigger, more masculine, and mature. The last time he saw Taka was before his Taka's younger sister, Reina, had passed away. The child had grown out of him.

The young man turned at hearing his name.

"Uncle Nate?" he asked with a confused, yet surprised look. A weak smile broke upon his stubbled face.

Nathaniel was no relation of Taka. The "uncle" was an obeisance Kaito had his children use when they were first introduced to Nathaniel nearly a decade ago.

Nathaniel knelt down next to him. "How are you doing, Taka?" he asked. He rubbed the young man's head briefly.

"They just grabbed me. I don't know why. They said I kidnapped some girl, Uncle Nate, but I didn't. You know me, I wouldn't kidnap anyone."

He raised his hands to hush his friend's son. "Shh. Just calm down. I'm here now."

Taka reached his cuffed hands up towards Nathaniel, but Nathaniel only shook his head in response. "I can't take those off."

He lifted them higher. "I've been here for three fucking days chained to a fucking wall!" he shouted. "I want to get out of here."

"I know you do."

Randal opened the drapes on the far window and moved up next to Nathaniel. "Except for his mouth, the kid's been pretty good."

"Fuck you," Taka responded tersely. "They beat me, Uncle Nate. Both of them. They beat the shit out of me. Nearly broke one of my fingers." He tilted his head as if to show bumps or bruising beneath his hair.

Randal shrugged at Nathaniel. "You should have told me from the start that you knew him. We treat them all the same unless we are told otherwise."

Taka's mouth dropped open. He shot an irritated glare at Nathaniel. "You knew, Uncle Nate?"

Nathaniel forced a small smile. His heart raced. He had not planned what to do or what to say once he arrived. He was winging this one. "That's why I'm here now."

Taka pulled his feet under him and sat cross-legged, grimacing once from some unseen bruise. The chain rattled as it slid across the stone floor next to the blankets. He dropped his hands into his lap and a confused look settled on his face.

"Then take the chain off," Taka said firmly. "At least the cuffs."

Nathaniel forced a laugh to calm himself. "It's not that simple."

"What the fuck? Take 'em off!"

"I can't do that, Taka. Not yet."

"What do you mean?" His voice was raised. "These guys fucking kidnapped me. Aren't you here to help me?"

That response was as good a segue as any for coming out to meet Taka face to face. "Kidnapped you? Tell me about the girl who was kidnapped."

"I had nothing to do with her! Nothing!" He locked his eyes on Nathaniel as if doing so proved he wasn't lying.

"I was told you were there. Have I heard wrong?"

"Fuck, I never knew anything about a kidnapping until these fuckheads bagged me."

Nice language, Nathaniel thought. He didn't remember Taka ever talking so crudely.

"I woke up here, drugged I guess, and then these guys start beating on me so I'd confess to some bullshit I didn't do. Where the fuck am I, anyways?"

"A long way away from home. A very long way."

Taka's contempt remained as he stared at Nathaniel.

"Any idea why you are here, Taka? Why do you think they grabbed you?"

"Duh...haven't you been listening, Uncle?" Taka replied rudely. "The kidnapping?" He shook his cuffed hands up at Nathaniel, urging him again to release him.

"Well? Did you have a part in it?"

"Hell No!" he yelled. "You know me! I couldn't do anything like that!"

But why would Kaito implicate his son this way? Nathaniel wondered. It made no sense.

"I'm going to be straight with you, Taka. No lying and no tricks."

Taka stared at him with fire burning in his eyes.

"Your father told me you were involved. That's why I'm here."

Taka made no reply. His eyes danced around the room.

"Why would he say you were involved if you weren't?" Nathaniel pressed him.

"I don't know."

"Your dad and I go way back, Taka. If he said you were involved, I believe him. So if you want me to remove those cuffs, you'd better start talking."

Takahiro's demeanour softened, his eyes began to water, and he looked away.

"Well? What's it going to be?

***

The grilling session dragged on for some time. As much as Nathaniel probed Taka, he only responded with vague and deceptive answers. He was certain Takahiro was holding back something, and that was not good for either of them.

"I'll say it again, one last time, Taka. You father said you were at the apartment Friday night. Were you?"

Takahiro remained defiant and offered no response.

"Just talk to me. I'm trying to help you get out of here."

Taka shrugged and turned to face the wall. He mumbled something.

"What? I didn't hear that."

Taka spun around. Anger ruled his face. His eyes burned into Nathaniel, but he said nothing.

"Look around you, Taka. Do you actually think you'll be going anywhere if you keep this up? If you don't tell me what's going on...."

"I..." Taka dropped his eyes and sighed heavily. When he looked back up, his eyes looked defeated for a moment before they hardened again.

"C'mon, Taka. Give me something—anything."

"I knew her," he said and looked away to the corner of the room.

"You knew her?" This was new.

"Yes." He glanced up at Nathaniel briefly before turning away again. His eyes watered.

"So you were there on Friday night just like your father said you were."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" Taka was closer to telling him something. "Your father claims you had a part in her disappearance. Is he just making this nonsense up?"

"I don't know."

Nathaniel realized something that he had missed earlier. Taka had not seemed at all surprised when he brought his father's name up. He didn't even flinch. But he reacted surprised and with anger after hearing Nathaniel knew he had been snatched.

Nathaniel laughed and backed away towards the front door, as if preparing to leave. "You know what? You're not giving me anything, so I think I'm about done here." He shook his head in dismay and pointed at Takahiro as he spoke. "All I asked is for you to be honest with me." He waved his arms in a sweeping motion in front of him. "I'm done here, and do you know why?"

Taka did not respond and kept facing the stone wall.

"You keep lying to me. We've known each other since you were in grade school, and I really expected more from you, Taka. I shouldn't have come."

Taka twisted towards Nathaniel and frowned. "Please, Uncle...."

"No more." He stood by the front door and placed one hand on the doorknob. "You've been tied up here for three days claiming you don't know anything about the girl or why you're here. I know you're lying." He shook his head and slowly turned the doorknob. "I don't have time for this bull today. These boys will take care of you from here on." He cast his eyes on Randal. "And what I said earlier about not touching him? Doesn't apply any more. Treat him like the rest." Nathaniel turned away and opened the front door.

"No! Uncle Nate! No! Okay, okay! I know what happened! I do! Please don't leave me here, please!"

Nathaniel stopped and relief swept over him. He stepped back, closed the door and stared down at Taka. The young man look terrified, and it wouldn't have surprised Nathaniel if he'd soiled his pants.

"Then I need the truth, Taka. What happened Friday night?"

Taka squirmed around on the blankets, and the chain rattled again. He dropped his eyes to the floor as he spoke.

"I didn't have anything to do with her kidnapping. I only led them to her. That's it." He looked up at Nathaniel. "I had no idea they were going to kidnap her. I didn't." His mouth hung open.

"Go on...."

"My Dad...he...I don't know why, but he wanted me to befriend her, get close to her. Honest." He lifted his shackled hands in the air. "I was only supposed to get close enough to find things out about her."

"What things?"

"Things. What she liked to do, where she went...stuff like that...her hobbies, habits, and routine."

It was starting to make some sense. Kaito had used his son for reconnaissance, for information gathering, just like the Order does for all targets.

"Why?"

Taka shrugged. "He didn't tell me. He just told me it was important, something to do with her dad—some lawyer."

The link to Metcalf was made through Kaito's son to Metcalf's daughter.

"And you got close to her?"

Taka hesitated a moment and his mouthed dropped open. Nathaniel wasn't sure if he was going to say anything or not.

"She and I...we, uh...."

"You and her what?"

"I wasn't supposed to be there. I wasn't, but I went back on Friday night because I liked her."

"I'm not following. You liked her?"

"I was supposed to be on a flight to Mexico Friday afternoon, but I didn't go. My dad had arranged it. I was supposed to leave town, but I went to see Lucy instead."

Nathaniel frowned.

"My dad wanted me to get to know her, so I did. I didn't tell my dad, but...."

"But what, Taka?"

Shame filled Taka's eyes. "I was only supposed to get close. Just be a friend."

"Go on."

His eyes met Nathaniel's. "She became my girlfriend. We only broke up last week and I went back to see her on Friday night. I...uh. That's all."

"So you do admit you were at her apartment on Friday night?"

Nathaniel glanced up at Randal as if to suggest beating people isn't the only way to get confessions.

Randal shrugged. "He's your friend's son. Of course he'll open up to you."

"I only went back to say goodbye to her," Taka said.

"That's good, Taka. I only want the truth."

"I liked her, and I knew...." Taka stopped mid-sentence as if he was about to say too much.

"Knew what?"

"Nothing, but...it's just that when I left, I knew I'd never see her again."

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows.

"Do you know why your dad wanted her killed?"

Taka's jaw dropped and his face turned ashen white as blood drained from it. "Killed? My dad? What are you talking about?"

Nathaniel turned to Randal who was leaning against the kitchen door frame opposite the room with his arms crossed upon his chest. "You never told him?"

Randal shrugged. "Makes a better confession if he offers up freely that he knew she died. No, we never told him."

"I'm sorry, but Lucy died after tumbling off a mountain on Saturday," Nathaniel said bluntly.

A few tears surfaced in Taka's eyes and he wiped at them with his cuffed hands the best he could. His eyes darted about the room as the wheels turned in his head. Nathaniel had seen Taka cry as a boy enough times to know these tears were real. "A mountain? No," he whispered and his expression changed momentarily as if a light bulb flashed on inside his head and then went out. "He wouldn't...."

"He used you, Taka."

"I only meant I'd never see her again because we had broken up. It was the end of the school year and I was hoping we could.... Fuck! She's dead? Off a mountain? Seriously?" He turned to Randal, hoping he'd say his uncle was making it up, but Randal just stared back, devoid of emotion. "And my dad...?" He didn't finish the sentence.

"I'm sorry, Taka."

Taka looked up at him and raised the cuffs again. "The fucking bastard!" He was angry. "Can you take these fucking things off now?"

Nathaniel nodded at Randal, who retreated into the next room to get the keys.

"Taka, did your dad ever...."

"And stop fucking calling me Taka!" He glared at Nathaniel. His anger with his father was clear. "Only my dad calls me that anymore and I hate it. I always have."

"What should I call you then? Takahiro?"

"Do you know what it's like growing up over here with a name like that?"

"I can't say that I do."

"Look at me? Do I even look Japanese to you? Do I?" His English sounded as Canadian as anyone who lived here through multiple generations, and he really didn't appear to be of Asian descent at all.

"No, not really." His mother, Ellen, was Polish, a third-generation Canadian.

"I was born here. People say I look like my mother."

Nathaniel had trouble following the young man's rant, but he understood what growing up different was all about.

"I've been going by Johnny since I left for U of C."

"Johnny?" He smiled.

"Yeah, my name's Johnny. What the fuck's your problem with that?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, really. I've got no problem with it, Johnny."

***

The phone call from Jack came just as Nathaniel was loading Johnny into the back seat of the Citroen.

"Nate, here. What's up?"

"We've got something from Metcalf."

Nathaniel shut the door hard and leaned up against the car before adjusting his hat.

"I hope it's good news."

"You have a listen and tell me what you think. It's a recording taken about four hours ago from inside his house."

"Inside? I thought you only had cameras outside and the land line." He glanced down to see Johnny shuffling across the seat towards him. Johnny opened the door.

"Stay inside the car!" Nathaniel snapped. "I need a minute here."

Johnny left the door opened and pointed first at the house and then up at the cliffs across the river. "Where the fuck are we?"

"I said, stay inside!" He pushed the door closed, giving Johnny time to just barely retract his arm before the door slammed shut.

Jack continued to speak. "That young fellow, Antonio, has got magic up his arse. I couldn't sleep a wink last night after he showed me some of things he could do. The recording I'm about to play came from the TV inside their home, believe it or not."

"The television?"

"That was my reaction. Antonio says it's one of those new smart TVs—one you can talk to. He says he hacked in and uploaded an app into the device on the carrier frequency to change functions inside the device. In the case of this particular Samsung TV, he turned on the audio microphone and is using it to listen in on conversations in the room.

"He sent it to my phone. Just give me a second here to find it and...here it comes."

"Don't be ridiculous." A woman was speaking. [Metcalf's wife.] Her voice was strong and opinionated.

"I'm not being ridiculous." [Metcalf.]

"Our daughter is set to be buried tomorrow. He should be here."

A heavy sigh. Something heavy produced a 'bang'.

"I told you to drop it already. I'm not having some strange boy we don't know at our daughter's funeral."

"It's not enough that you hide Jenny and Lisa away in some hotel for some godforsaken reason. You won't even tell me the real reason! Now this?"

"I told you why."

"You never told me anything. 'For protection' was all you said. Protection from whom, Harvey? Who have you crossed this time?"

Harvey laughed.

"I'm not laughing, Harvey."

"Just leave it, Cindy," he said softly.

"It's that thing again, isn't it? You received another message, didn't you, threatening you. What did it say this time?"

"It's not that. And why you do you have to keep dragging that back up? I should never have told you."

There followed a few minutes of silence. A glass clinked in the background.

"I don't understand you sometimes. Why don't you just go to the police?"

More silence.

"Harvey? I asked you a question. You send the girls away, have security crawling all over our home, and you've been holed up in your office making secret phone calls for two days now. You should've called the police when those accusations first began, even if they weren't true."

"I told you already, I can handle it."

More silence.

"Lucinda is being buried tomorrow. I'm not going to let whatever you have going on ruin Lucinda's funeral. I won't have it. And I want you to bring the girls back home this afternoon.

"No. They'll remain at the hotel for now—until the funeral."

"They should be here with us."

A pause. A glass clinked again.

"I want to put it off."

"What?"

"Just...."

"What did you want to put off? Lucinda's funeral? No, Harvey...."

"Leave it, Cindy."

"You can't!" Weeping sounds. "People are coming from everywhere!"

"I was going to have Henri call them all. We need to put it off."

"But why, Harvey? What is this really about?"

"It's nothing for you to worry about."

"If it's nothing to worry about, then why postpone the funeral? You're not making sense, Harvey."

"Just for a week—until I sort it."

A soft shuffling sound rustled through the phone.

"I hate how you do this to our family. I've about had enough of this. We are not moving the funeral, and I want that boy, Michael, out here as well. And we should be paying for his flight and hotel if he can't afford it."

"Quit it already."

"Lucinda told me she was in love with him. I'd never heard her so happy. I at least want to meet him."

"Okay, okay. I said quit. I'll leave the funeral where it is, just quit with that boy already." He paused. "And have some clothes sent over to the girls then tonight. I'll bring them home just before the service."

The recording went silent for a few minutes.

"I also know it was Michael who called you earlier today, too. Don't try to deny it."

"I said to forget about the damn boy!"

More shuffling sounds.

"I overheard some of your conversation with him. Well, at least your half."

Something slammed in the background.

"What men were you talking about with him? Forget about what men?"

"There are no men. You heard wrong."

"I heard quite well. A good, young...."

A loud crash interrupted her sentence.

"Oh—you're getting violent now? You think that will shut me up?!"

Harvey mumbled something unintelligible.

"Will you at least arrange for Michael to be here tomorrow?"

A gap of silence.

"He's not coming out here."

"He must be absolutely heartbroken by what's happened. I feel awful that I haven't spoken with him. And why was Lucinda up there on that mountain alone? Did you ask him that when he called, Harvey? Did you? I should call, really, and speak to him myself. That poor boy."

"You stay away from him! You hear me? No one is calling him!"

"Don't you dare tell me whom I can or cannot call!"

A small shuffling sound.

"You want to hit me, Harvey? Go ahead!"

Silence.

"Well? Either put your fist back down or let me have it! I'm going to call him. He deserves that much at least. Go get me his number."

There were shuffling and grunting noises.

"Ow, that hurts!"

"Then stop pursuing this already! Let it go! We lost one daughter already, damn you! Isn't one enough?" he shouted.

"What?" She began to weep. "Is that what you meant?"

There was a long pause.

"You're hiding them!"

Harvey made a guttural sound that sounded something like "Shhhish."

"What's really going on here, Harvey?"

Harvey's voice dropped to a near whisper. "It's complicated."

She wailed uncontrollably and then screamed, "What did you do, Harvey? It has something to do with this boy, Michael, doesn't it?"

He didn't reply.

"Doesn't it?" she shouted. "Is that why you don't want him here?"

He stormed out of the room, leaving her alone.

"Harvey!" she screamed. "Did that boy do something to our daughter? Is that why you won't let me speak to him? Is that why she was up there on that mountain alone?" Silence and sobbing. "Harvey!" she screamed. "What has that boy done? I'll find his number and call him myself! I will, Harvey! Harvey?"

Gated breaths and sobs.

"Did he hurt her, Harvey? Harvey!" she screamed.

The end of the recording was filled with more sobbing and ragged breaths.

"I see what you mean," Nathaniel said. He bent down to see Johnny staring out the far window inside the vehicle, his left knee bouncing up and down to show his impatience.

"Do you understand any of it?"

It was like being a fly on the wall inside someone's home after a tragic event. What erupted behind closed doors was very different from what the outside world often saw. Hearing Metcalf's wife's pain left him feeling as if he had violated her in the worst way possible—more collateral damage.

"Not really, no. All this proves is that if Kaito is involved in any of this, it's personal and has been ongoing for a number of months. Metcalf clearly doesn't want it known by anyone, the police included."

"Yeah. I've listened to this a few times already."

"Any ideas?"

"It's my guess that Metcalf is already in response mode to what happened to his daughter."

"You think?"

"Yeah, I do. He said he's already taking care of it. We don't know is what the 'it' actually is, but that would explain hustling his girls away and the added security."

There was nothing Nathaniel could do from where he was if Metcalf was taking action of his own against Kaito. He still didn't know where Kaito was.

"Who is this Michael? His daughter's boyfriend?"

"That's what Harvey's wife said. Look, Jack, I gotta run here, but call me if anything else comes up."

"Will do."

Nathaniel hung up, dropped his head, and stared in at Johnny in the back seat. Less than fifteen minutes ago Johnny told him he was Lucinda's boyfriend. And now he just heard Lucinda's mother say this Michael was her boyfriend. He smiled at Johnny, which Johnny half-heartily returned before he began shouting impatiently at him. "Let's go already, for fuck's sake!"

Nathaniel jumped into the front seat and placed his hat on the passenger seat. He didn't know what to make of the recording. He stared into the back seat at Johnny. Did this girl have two boyfriends?

"So where the fuck are we? I can see French street signs out there on the road," Johnny said. He pointed behind him out the rear window. "Are we in Quebec?"

Nathaniel laughed. "I'm going to tell you a little story...." He pushed the button to start the engine.

***

Nathaniel pulled the rental into the Total service station in Mantes-la-Ville, with still a good forty-five minutes back to the hotel in Paris. The fuel tank was still over half full, but here was as good a place as any for what he needed to do. He pulled out two ten-euro notes and handed them over to Johnny.

Johnny's reaction to the strange-looking notes in his hands didn't sway him from his skepticism of Nathaniel's story of how he ended up on the other side of the Atlantic. His mouth dropped open, and he eyed the notes as if they were play money from some childhood board game.

"Seriously? What the fuck am I supposed to do with these?"

"It's about two euros to the dollar, now don't get ripped off. Grab something to eat—you look like hell." He was tiring of Johnny's verbal diarrhea and they'd only driven twenty minutes. "And stop with the nasty mouth."

Johnny feigned annoyance at being bossed around by Nathaniel but his reluctance to leave the vehicle was clear as he tipped his head up towards the store and studied the posters and advertising across the front window far too long before opening the door. "It's all in French."

"What'd you expect?"

"I don't speak French," he replied and remained staring at the store front. He looked lost.

"You know what a bloody sandwich looks like, don't you? Or a bottle of pop or juice?"

Johnny scowled at him, opened the car door, and stepped outside. He paused and then tucked his head back inside. "You want anything?"

Nathaniel waved him off. "I've got a few calls to make. Take your time inside."

Once Johnny was inside the store, Nathaniel stepped out, wandered over to the small grassed area away from the road, and settled himself onto one of the faded picnic benches after making sure the wooden bench seat was free of bird droppings. He dialled the number and waited. The call went to voicemail.

"Kaito, it's me again. I've found Johnny, er...uh, Taka. Call me if you want him back. You know the number."

Now it was time to wait. Even though Kaito had not responded to any of his earlier phone messages, he was certain Kaito was picking them up. Nathaniel knew Kaito would respond if the message had something to do with news about his son. If there was a way to use Johnny to intervene and put an end to whatever was going on between Kaito and Metcalf, he would have no qualms about using Johnny. It meant playing Kaito close while keeping Johnny securely tucked in his back pocket. Holding onto a trump card as long as possible was a practice politics had taught him well over the past two decades.

***

"I'm going to lay it out very simple for you, Johnny...."

Both men were seated on the edge of the bed in a hotel room only a few doors down from Nathaniel and Cindy's room.

"You've got no cash, no ID, and no passport."

Johnny laughed. "And I'm in France. It's kinda cool, you know."

"No. It's not cool. None of this is cool." He stared hard at Johnny, trying to see if the trust he was sure was there earlier still existed. "You aren't going anywhere without my help. You understand?"

"Yeah, of course. Where the fuck would I go anyway?"

"I'm serious. You need to stay in this room. I don't...."

"What?" Johnny interrupted. "I've just spent three fucking days chained to a fucking wall. You expect me to just sit in this fucking room now? Huh?" He leaned over and looked behind Nathaniel's back. "Where are the chains? You are going to chain me to the bed, aren't you?"

Johnny just wasn't understanding the seriousness of the situation. "Maybe I should."

"I'm kidding, but really—stay in the fucking room? No way." He shook his head. "I want to at least go for walk. The Eiffel Tower's only a half a dozen blocks away." He stood up and gestured grandly with his arms as he walked over and stared out the window. "How can I be here and not at least go see the fucking Eiffel Tower? Huh, Uncle?"

"You heard me. You stay in the room, or I will chain you to the damn bed. You can watch movies, call room service, I don't care. But you must stay in this room."

Johnny sat down on the edge of the bed and let himself flop onto his back. "At least this bed is soft."

"I'll make arrangements to get you back home. Maybe tomorrow."

"This sucks. You know that, don't you?" He glanced at Nathaniel. "I'm in France chained to a fucking wall for nearly three days, and now that I'm free, I'm stuck in this stinky fucking smelly hotel room." He burst into a laugh, but there was nothing humorous about it.

"The room's nice. It's a nice hotel."

"I don't want a nice hotel. I want to go outside and do something. Anything."

"It's gotta be this way. I'm sorry." He felt sorry for Johnny, but he couldn't let his guard down yet.

Nathaniel stood up to leave. "Just keep yourself out of sight. I'll be back sometime tonight or tomorrow morning with more details."

Johnny grabbed the remote. "I can have anything I want from room service?" he asked.

"Go crazy," he replied and left to go find Cindy and the girls.
CHAPTER 38

Tuesday 07:20 Near Okotoks, Alberta, Canada

"We both think Metcalf's hiding something," Richard said to Michelle.

Michael nodded and bit down on the one of the grilled ham-and-cheese sandwiches Michelle had prepared for breakfast. Tawnie was still fast asleep upstairs.

Michelle gave both men a sad look. "You two are really starting to get all bent over this."

"Nah-a," Michael mumbled with his mouth full. He chewed quickly and swallowed. "Metcalf lied about talking to Lucy on Friday. I was there. He never talked to her."

She shook her head. "Maybe he meant Thursday. There are all kinds of reasons why you may have misunderstood him."

"No, Michelle," Richard piped in. "The man did an about face in the middle of our call yesterday. He told Michael to stay away from his family."

Michelle stirred her tea. "He actually said to stay away from his family?"

"Yes!" Michael and Richard said in unison, causing Michelle to raise her eyebrows.

"Maybe we should give him another call then."

"What?" Richard exclaimed. He laughed.

"He told us not to call him," Michael said.

Michelle smiled and sipped gently at her tea. "Then that's exactly why we should call him. Either you two misunderstood him or he's hiding something, like you said. My bet is he'll take your call and be pleased you took the time to call him again."

Michael's eyes filled with dread and he sniggered his nervous reply. "I really don't think he'll be pleased at all."

"You know, calling him again might not be such a bad idea," Richard said.

Michael's eyes grew with worry. "Then you talk to him this time."

Richard chuckled. "There's nothing to worry about. It's just a phone call. The worst he can do is hang up on you."

"I don't want to."

"It'll be okay. He's a whole province away. He doesn't even really know who you are or where you live."

Richard's reassurance didn't make Michael feel any better.

"As soon as we're done eating, we'll go down to Richard's study and call him again," Michelle said.

Michael sighed and grabbed another sandwich.

***

Metcalf picked up immediately when the call was put through to him. Michael's eyes were once again cast down onto the single sheet of paper with the list of prepared statements. He scratched at his ear far too long, which caused Richard to worry once more. Were the voices already churning in the background? Michael seemed lucid and well-focused.

"I asked you not to call here," Metcalf said forcefully, foregoing any kind of hello.

Michelle reacted immediately to Metcalf's response that belted out from the speaker phone. Her eyes grew large and her mouth opened as if she was preparing to step in with a rebuttal. Richard lifted his finger up to his lips to silence her. Did she believe Michael now?

"I know you did," Michael replied. "But I had to talk to you again."

"Look, young man. What happened to our daughter has nothing at all to do with you, so I'd like you to refrain from calling here again."

"But she didn't go hiking."

"I'm not going down that road again with you. You need to drop this and stop calling here."

"But I won't drop it. I was with her all Friday night and you never called her."

"Listen to me...."

"No," Michael interrupted. "I was there and you never called her." He began to tear up.

Metcalf went quiet and his laboured breathing was all that could be heard for a half-minute.

"Why won't you listen to me?"

"Michael, I've heard enough from you already. You must stop this or I will be forced to take drastic measures. Do you understand?"

"But, I loved her..."

Metcalf sighed heavily again.

"...and Lucy loved me."

"Just stop right there! I don't care who you think you are or what relationship you had with my daughter. Your relationship with her is over. My daughter's dead and that's the end of it."

"But...."

"No buts! This conversation is over."

Richard expected Metcalf to hang up, but he didn't. Metcalf's slow, heavy breathing enveloped the room for the next minute. Richard reached over and placed one finger on the paper and tapped the written words. He nodded at Michael.

Michael's eyes blinked rapidly as he read over what was written next to his father's finger. He cleared his throat and began speaking. "I saw them take her."

Metcalf's heavy breathing stopped abruptly. Would he believe Michael?

"I was there when they took her. I was hiding under her bed," Michael added.

Another full minute passed and Metcalf didn't say a single word. Richard took his silence to mean he knew all along that Lucy was taken and was now formulating an appropriate response.

"Are you still there?" Michael asked.

"I'm here," he replied surprisingly much calmer. "I uh...are you alone right now, Michael? Is your father there with you?"

Richard shook his head and waved his arms in front of him.

"I'm alone," Michael replied. "My father told me not to call you. He didn't believe me when I told him what I heard."

Metcalf chuckled. "Oh, he didn't? Hmm, well, sometimes parents are like that."

"He's usually pretty good."

Metcalf chuckled again. "Well, let's just say I believe you, Michael. I do. But...uh...."

He hesitated for another moment, thinking, planning, and calculating.

"Well, Michael, maybe it's best if we just keep what happened in Lucy's apartment between ourselves for now. What do you think?"

"No," Michael replied. Richard waved his arm at Michael to get his attention and nodded his head up and down at him.

Michelle covered her mouth, shocked at what she was hearing.

"Just you and me, Michael. For now. This is complicated, and we don't really need to bring anyone else into this. It just makes things messy. What do you say?"

Michael frowned at his father in confusion. Richard nodded again, urging him to play along.

" Umm...okay," Michael replied. "You really think this is right? Those men...."

"Don't you worry about any men," he said, cutting Michael off. "What's important is that you need not worry yourself over this."

"I don't understand. Shouldn't we tell someone one? Shouldn't we go to the police?"

"Not at all, Michael," Metcalf replied calmly. "I've got it covered. It's you I'm worried about." Metcalf's voice rose as if he suddenly stumbled upon a solution or an answer on how to handle Michael. "Yes, yes, it's you that I'm worried about. That's why I was so harsh to you earlier and told you to not call here again. I didn't know if you knew what happened to Lucy and I wanted to protect you, to make sure you didn't get caught up in any of this."

"Really?" Michael asked inquisitively.

"Really, Michael. So let's just keep this between us. Do you think you can do that? Keep this just between us?"

"I think so," Michael replied. "But what about those men?"

"Okay, how about I let you in on a little secret?"

"Oh?"

"You're a fine young man. I can trust you, can't I?"

"Yes."

"Those men you saw take Lucy were stopped just down the road from her apartment. Lucy was freed and she was fine. And she really did go hiking alone on Saturday and simply fell off the mountain."

"But...."

"Hold on there, let me finish. After Lucy was rescued, I felt it best to have Lucy slip away."

"Huh?"

"Hide. Disappear for a few days. That's why she went hiking up the mountain alone."

"Oh," Michael replied with a tone of understanding, but Richard could see Michael wasn't buying any of it. "Makes sense," he said.

"Good. It's settled then. I'm going to contact you in a few days. In the meantime, you are not going to call me, right?"

"Right."

"And you are not telling anyone else about this."

"No. I'm not telling anyone."

"And that includes your father."

"Yeah. Especially my father." He gave a small laugh, which Richard thought was perfect. "He didn't believe me about any of this from the start."

"Good, good, Michael. You're a good young man, Michael."

"Thanks," he said. "Can I ask a question?"

"Sure you can."

"It's about her funeral."

"Her funeral?"

"I'd like to be there. Uh...that is, if I'm allowed."

Metcalf hesitated before replying. "Sure, sure, Michael. I'll call you with the details once we set a date."

"Oh, thanks. I really want to be there. Lucy said her mom...I mean your wife...she said she's really nice. I'd like to meet her."

"You would, huh? I see." He paused a moment. "Will you be sticking around your home for the next few days?"

"Except for coming out to Lucy's funeral, yes, I'll be around. I can probably arrange a flight right away. Maybe I can use the ticket from Sunday?"

Metcalf hesitated before replying. "I see." He paused again. "So you'll be sticking around home until then?"

"Around home? Uh, maybe, probably...."

"In case I need to call you." Another short pause. "About the funeral, I mean."

"Oh. Yeah. I'll be staying out here at my parent's place."

"Your parent's place. Is that in Calgary?"

"No. They live on an acreage outside of Okotoks. School's done, so I'm here for the summer."

"Good, good, Michael. Okotoks. That sounds very nice. Okotoks...stay close to home and I'll be in touch. And remember, there is nothing to worry about. Everything has been taken care of."

"Okay."

"Uh, you're at home now, Michael?"

"Yeah. Just me and my sister."

"That's nice. Pretty quiet out there, is it? On your acreage I mean."

"Out here? Oh yeah. We have fields on three sides. Yeah, it's real quiet."

"I like the quiet," Metcalf said.

"Me too." Michael paused. "Oh, thanks."

"Well, you take care of yourself now, Michael. And I'll be calling soon with details about Lucy's funeral. Bye for now," Metcalf said and hung up.

Michelle frowned. "Well, that's not exactly what I was expecting, but maybe he's telling the truth."

Richard laughed. "Come on, Michelle. He did an about face just to keep Michael at bay."

"Oh!" Michael shouted, and jumped up from his chair and rushed to the door. He paused. "Stay here! I'll be right back." He ran up the stairs two steps at a time.

"Now what's he on about?" Richard asked.

"I have no idea."

Michael's footsteps pounded the floor as he dashed around upstairs and rushed back down into the room.

"Look! Here!" he cried out with his cell phone in his hand. He shoved the phone down onto the table between Richard and Michelle and scrolled through his photos. "I took these when I was at Lucy's apartment after the men grabbed her. Look—see? He's lying!"

"What are we supposed to be looking at?" Michelle asked.

"In the pictures! Her camping gear. It's all gone. Boots, bag, backpack—the men took it when they took her. See? She didn't go camping alone on Saturday! This is the proof right here!"

He scrolled through the many photos, stopping on the storage closet, her bedroom, and a few others.

Richard nodded. "You're sure about this?"

"Dad, I know what I saw and heard. That's why I took the pictures. Look here, even...." He scrolled through to the photo of the open fridge. "They took water bottles and the two energy drinks I had just picked up on the way over to see Lucy. It's all gone. All of it taken away on Friday night. Why would they take them if they weren't planning on taking her up the mountain when they grabbed her?"

"What do you think now?" Richard asked, directing his question at Michelle.

"I just don't know anymore. With that other man possibly following Lucy around campus, and now this...."

"Here's what I think," Michael added. "That guy following us set this up with Johnny or whatever his name is."

"I'm in agreement," Richard replied. "Metcalf's behaviour on this call reinforces this theory."

"Wouldn't Metcalf go to the police if this was a kidnapping?"

"You heard what Metcalf said. He doesn't want anyone to know—just a little secret between him and Michael. He's hiding something. There's much more to this than meets the eye."

"Should we go to the police with what we know?" Michael asked. "Let them take care of it?"

"We could, but I doubt it would go anywhere. The evidence shows she fell off the mountain and Metcalf will simply lie and tell them the same stuff he told you—that Lucy went hiking on Saturday and must have slipped."

"Oh, I see...yeah," Michael replied. "So what do we do?"

Richard looked at Michelle for the answer.

"You seemed to think you know who that guy in the photo might be. How about you show those photos to some of your friends down at the paper?"

"Good idea. I'll go right now," Michelle replied.
CHAPTER 39

Tuesday 15:50 Paris, France

"Got him, Nate," Jack said. "We've marked Kaito."

Diane was still upset with Nathaniel for disappearing to meet his so-called business friend and had taken both girls down to the spa after a quiet dinner, leaving him alone to sit and wait for them to return. It was her way of punishing him for disappearing for most of the day. At the moment, he was holed up in the hotel lounge nursing a French Chablis as he waited. Being punished this way really wasn't so bad.

"Great. Where is he?"

"He's in Victoria. Caught him doing a drive-by past Metcalf's place. We tracked him back to a hotel about a kilometre away."

"Is he alone?"

"Hell, no. He's got a couple of bad-asses with him. If my instincts are correct, I'd say they're carrying."

"That's not good."

"No, it's not. I'm not carrying and I don't want to be anywhere near either of these men if something's going down."

"Antonio will be packing."

"I don't care if Antonio's packing. I've never been this close to any action, and that's the way I prefer it. I'm practically retired."

"Are Lucas and Myles with you at least?"

"They're over at the hotel watching Kaito. We're outside Metcalf's, and Antonio's tracking something inside...hold on a sec."

Mumbles and quiet chatter between Jack and Antonia drifted through the phone.

"Antonio's getting something, but it's not very clear. It sounds like Metcalf's wife, Cindy. Something about a boy, but it's not clear. Might be that Michael boy again. We'll monitor and let you know if there's anything of interest. I just wanted to let you know that we finally got a mark on our man."

"It's the best news I've had in three days. Thanks, Jack."

Nathaniel hung up and motioned to the bar hostess for another Chablis. There was a lot to think about, starting with the message he left Kaito a few hours ago. What was his friend waiting for? Nathaniel's drink came as he looked at the time. The girls would be back in less than an hour, and Diane had yet more plans for an evening walkabout. Nathaniel had no desire to go walking through the streets of Paris after dark, but it filled the time as he worried about ending the Kaito saga.

Nathaniel's phone vibrated on the table. It was Kaito.

"It's about time you called back."

Kaito laughed.

"I don't see any humour in this."

"You want to know why I laugh? It's because you lie, Nate."

"Why didn't you return my calls?"

"You lied about my son."

"I asked you a question, Kaito. Why wouldn't you return my calls?"

"You know why."

"I don't know why. All I want is for this to end. It's got to stop."

Kaito laughed again. "See? That's what I'm talking about." His responses were odd, not at all useful for what needed to be said to move the conversation forward.

"You want your son back?"

"Come on now, Nate. You know I do. It hasn't been easy letting you take my son, trying to make me believe he did something I know he didn't do."

Wait a second, Nate thought. Was Kaito admitting he set his son up to take a fall? Was that the reason he didn't reply to any of Nathaniel's calls until now?

"You killed an innocent girl."

"I didn't kill anyone."

"You know what I mean."

"Seriously, Nate. I only encouraged her to climb a mountain. That was the extent of it. The rest...well, it was fate, you could say. I never touched her, and just so I can be clear about crossing the line, your men..." he stopped and laughed again, "...I mean the Order's men—none of them pushed her off any mountain."

He was being much too deceptive.

"So you see, my friend, you can rest easy knowing this fall from the mountain was nothing more than an accident."

Yeah, just like it was laid out in the papers. He didn't think so. What was Kaito really up to?

"About your son...."

"You took my son and then threatened to kill him."

"I never...."

Kaito interrupted. "You told me in no uncertain terms that you were prepared to do whatever necessary, and if that meant terminating my son, you were willing and ready to go down that path."

"C'mon, Kaito. You call me up out of the blue to tell me you mixed Taka in with our men on a job. What was I supposed to do? And he goes by Johnny now, just so you know."

"He'll always be Takahiro to me. His mother picked that name for him. She insisted on naming him after my father."

"Fine." He wanted to repeat what Johnny had told him but refrained for the time being.

"You were my friend, Nate."

Now where was he going? Nate wondered.

"I'm still your friend. That's the only reason why your son is still alive."

"I mean a real friend. Remember our trip out to the Okanogan?"

That was two years ago. Both families camped in rented RVs near the lake where Kaito kept his boat. It was a good time. Not great, just good.

"I remember."

Kaito laughed again, but wait—was it a laugh? It almost sounded like he was crying.

"She left me, Nate."

"Lena?"

"After Reina died."

"Oh, I didn't know." It had been a year since Reina drowned in their backyard pool, and the families had not managed a single get-together since.

Kaito's voice broke as he spoke. "Yeah, she left me last fall."

Even though it felt like the proper thing to do, apologizing for not knowing was the furthest thing he was prepared to do at the moment. Kaito had never called him about it and he even sidestepped answering when asked last Friday how Lena was doing. She's fine, I guess was his reply.

"Is there anything I can do?" It was the best he could offer up.

"You could give me my son back." His brief emotional breakdown had ended.

Why was Kaito still being so blatantly manipulative? He hoped it wasn't on purpose, and moved back to the topic at hand.

"Why are you in Victoria?"

"So you're following me now?"

"What did you expect? Does your business there include Harvey Metcalf?" He knew it did.

Kaito had composed himself and chuckled lightly. "What business I may or may not have with Harvey Metcalf is between him and me."

"As a friend, I'm asking you to back away from Metcalf."

"Me? Nate, c'mon."

"I mean it. Haven't you done enough? Whatever it is you two have going on with each other, it has to stop."

"There's nothing going on."

"Then go home."

"I can't do that. Not yet."

"His daughter's dead. Isn't that enough?" He gave Kaito time to answer, but Kaito remained silent. "You need to go back home."

"Or else what?"

It was time to play ball. Kaito was not going home on his own.

"You do want your son back, don't you?"

"Nate, Nate, Nate." His voice was boisterous and almost jovial. He sniffed once and Nathaniel could tell his upbeat manner was forced. "I know you too well. You're not going to do anything to my son. I know you."

"You really are putting me in a difficult spot here," Nathaniel said.

Kaito interrupted him again. "You know why you won't do anything to my son?"

The question was rhetorical. He didn't answer.

"Because my son never did anything wrong, but I'm sure he already told you that. And I think you believe him." Kaito gave him time to digest the suggestion. "As I said before, I know you Nate. You can't have my boy taken out if there is even the slightest chance that he's innocent. Know what I mean? And I'm telling you now, he isn't guilty of anything."

"He knows who our men are. You said so yourself." Kaito's assumption that he had spoken with Johnny came as a surprise.

"But to have him murdered for something he didn't even know he was doing. Ta, ta, ta. Now that's something different, and I know you're not that kind of man. You know enough of what happened since Friday night to no longer make the claim that you had no idea what was going on, but you still don't know everything. You didn't have to step into this one, but you did. I was handling everything just fine on my own. So how 'bout I explain the rest? I can fill in the details of how it went down on the mountain and then you'll know what went on and why you can't touch my boy."

Listening to anyone describe the events detailing the takedown of a target was against every instinct he had and every rule he was ever taught. Plausible deniability was everything in this business. One level down was the golden rule, but at the speed this mess was spiralling around him, there was no point in resisting. He already knew too much, and this one had become personal. Geordie's haunting words returned—there's no place for friends in our business.

"Okay, but...I need a moment," Nathaniel said. He felt nauseous but for no other reason than what he was preparing to hear. Kaito's emotions seemed to be filled with ever-changing lows and highs, and at the moment Kaito was soaring towards the atmosphere. Nate motioned over to the hostess and requested a drink much stronger than a Chablis.

"Only you could appreciate the irony of it all," Kaito said exuberantly, as if he had been waiting for this moment for days. "Shall I begin?"

PART IV

CHAPTER 40

Saturday 08:04 Heart Mountain, near Canmore, Alberta, Canada (the top of the mountain)

Lucy was the first to reach the Crux and her eyes immediately fell upon the small square marker pinned to the wall of stone.

The small arrow pointed up. Lucy ignored the marker and moved along the wall, ushering the others to follow. She knew the ragged path she continued along would lead to a dead end high around the side of the mountain, far from view of any hiker on the main trail to the top. Her first time up the mountain two years ago, she, like many others, had missed the marker and wandered for the next hour far off course, unable to find a means up to the top of the mountain.

The instructions from Slate had been very clear: take the Russian up the mountain to a place high and secluded.

"This is much better," the Russian said, pleased to be walking almost horizontal again. His breathing was laboured and he paused to look ahead. The trail seemed to end at the cliff face. "Where are we to go now? Up there?"

It was the long scree slope that hugged the face of the mountain and rose up on the right side. The scree was steep and rose another four hundred feet, almost vertical it seemed, to an outcropping of rock further to the south.

"This is the way to the top," Lucy replied. She paused next to the Russian and wondered how his fate had ended here.

"Keep walking," Barney said.

He nudged Lucy. The Russian followed behind, breathing heavily with each step forward. They moved quickly along the trail until they reached the sloping scree. The rocks were sharp and of various sizes, from the size of her fist to that of a small refrigerator. All were loosely piled, having fallen from the cliffs above. The smaller rocks filled the cavities and gaps between the larger stones.

"You never did tell me what my father is guilty of."

"Your father is guilty of many things. But that's not the reason you are up here."

Was he just playing it up for the Russian? She pressed him. "What things? He fights for the underdog."

Barney laughed.

"I don't understand you at all," she said. "What did he do that was so bad?"

His grin hardened. "Just keep walking."

She didn't understand. She saw only good intentions in her father's work. She would admit many of the outcomes of his cases were controversial, but he was arguing law, and it was up to the prosecution to prove guilt—not the other way around. His job was to see that those prosecuted received the best defence, and if the law allowed for loopholes and justifications to disregard evidence, then it was fair game.

The slope increased quickly and the stones shifted easily underfoot. It was easy to see that many hikers had come up this way by the many rocks that were now shifted and flattened, almost like steps up the slope by so many stray hikers. The loose, step-like trail was saddled close to the vertical face of the mountain, where the rocks were larger and more stable. Venture too far out from the cliff face and one wrong step could cause a shift in the tender balance, creating a giant wave of stones washing down and off the side of the mountain.

"Just tell me, please. He only did good things for people."

Barney stopped and laughed. His foot shifted and a number of rocks tumbled down below them. "Good things? Good things for whom?"

"All sorts," she replied.

Barney eyed the Russian. "Like you?" he asked. "Did her father do good things for you?"

He nodded quickly. "I think so. He was fair."

Barney laughed again, but Lucy wasn't laughing. She was annoyed. "See? He thinks my father was a good man," she said.

Barney waved his arm, urging Lucy and the Russian to pick up the pace. "And do you think you are a good man, too?" he asked the Russian.

"I've had my bad days."

"Bad days. That's what you call them? Bad days?"

They were nearing the steeper part of the slope and it was difficult to talk and climb at the same time.

Another fifteen minutes of climbing on hands and knees near the crest brought the trio to a flat outcropping that was home to a few small trees that overlooked the valley below. On the left, the vertical wall of stone loomed above as it was still hundreds more feet up to the top.

Barney held Lucy's cell phone out to her while pausing to catch his breath. "Let's go," he said. "You know the drill."

Another faux pose was captured and the group was soon shuffling further along the cliff face. The small outcropping shrunk and the trail descended downwards, decreasing in width until it was nothing more than a small goat-sized trail hugging the side of the mountain before it rose back up in yet another scree slope that was steeper and stonier than the last. It narrowed to an even smaller chute as it crested the top of an even smaller ridge.

Lucy began to feel the effects of the climb and she made it a point to keep one hand gripped to any crack or outcropping in the wall at all times. Rocks tumbled below repeatedly as someone's foot pushed out to the side, almost sinking in the loose stones, shovelling many loose rocks down the slope below. A few gnarly trees with roots embedded in the stone along the cliff edge helped to hold back many of the stones from cascading down over the side. Most of the crusty, grey-coloured branches were twisted and dried out, with only bits of green needles clinging to the ends. Some trees leaned out at impossible angles over the chasm below, as if hanging on in one final act of desperation to stave off their inevitable fate of falling into the valley over a thousand feet below.

"Here." It was Barney again, hunched over this time as they all reached the safety of the next ridge. Lucy could see he was struggling as he remained hunched over and passed her the phone.

"I still want to know what it is my father did that was so bad."

He wheezed slowly before speaking, and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Just take the picture," he replied and slowly stood up straight. He motioned at her to move forward. "Over there. Near that tree," he said.

The small ledge was covered in light grass where the stones didn't poke through. One lone tree stood along the edge, leaning out precariously. The grassy edge was smooth and dipped out in a slow drop over the precipice. Lucy snatched the cell phone and shuffled over a few paces towards the tree.

"He never hurt anyone," she said.

"But he did," Barney countered. He looked at the Russian.

Lucy followed his gaze. "What? Him?"

"Yes, him."

"My father never hurt him. He defended him and kept him from going to jail."

The Russian gaped at Lucy. "I can't do this anymore...." He looked forlorn, lost, as if this climb had stolen his hope. He slumped back against the stone wall and covered his eyes with his hands.

"You cry now?" Barney asked.

"My father never hurt him," she repeated.

The way Barney's eyes reached into her own curdled her courage. She suddenly wished she hadn't pressed him.

"It wasn't this man your father hurt. Allowing him to go free caused so much hurt to others. Because of your father, this man continues to roam the streets of Ottawa and Montreal drinking and living without a care in the world. He received no punishment for murdering a young woman while driving drunk."

"I can't do this," the Russian said. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on his heels, his shirt stuck up high on an outcropping. Beads of sweat dripped down his face, leaving small channel-like trails in the dirt on his face.

Lucy felt for the man. He must know what's coming. Was this the reason he was driven up the mountainside to a place like this? "Can't you just leave him," she said. "Don't...."

"And because your father helped him stay out of prison, many more have now suffered."

Lucy didn't understand, and a puzzled look crossed her face.

"Yes. Another young woman and a baby."

"Stop...." The Russian man wept into his hands. "Please...."

Barney continued. "And you want me to do what? Let him free so he can do it again and again? To get sotted and climb behind the wheel to take yet another life? He belongs behind bars."

He moved up alongside her and pointed down the valley from where they had come. He took a deep breath and smiled grandly. "Just look at the view from up here. It's like being on top of the world."

She didn't share in his enthusiasm. She was worried for the Russian. She wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, but she knew it was the farthest thing from the truth and could only stare at the now broken man as he dropped his hands and shook his head at her.

Further ahead, the trail dwindled out. Only fragments of a trail existed, and what was there seem to be swallowed up in the giant grey wall that still stretched hundreds of feet above and dropped in a slow outward arc over fifteen hundred feet down through the glacial-carved valley bottom below. This was the end of the trail.

"It's time. Get up, you bum," Barney said.

The Russian reached out to the wall behind him and slowly pushed himself up, pulling his shirt down in the process. His eyes remained downcast at his feet. "I can't...I just can't. Don't make me do this. Please...."

Lucy desperately wanted to reach out to him. How could her father have any part in this? It conflicted with everything she knew about him. She dropped her backpack, removed one of the water bottles and reached out towards the Russian.

"No," he said pushing the bottle away. "No, I can't...I won't." He looked up at her briefly and dropped his eyes again.

"We all know why we're up here. It ends now," Barney said. He turned to Lucy. "And you go take that picture like I asked." He pointed to the tree near the edge again. "Go on." He waved his hand. "Over there."

She did as he asked, moving away from him further out towards the edge. The bottle of water was snatched away. "And I'll take that. You won't be needing it."

Lucy stood next to the tree. The backdrop of the valley below completed the scene. She stood readying the cell-phone camera, finding it difficult to smile.

"Move!"

The Russian was yanked away from the wall and shoved towards Lucy. She was worried, expecting Barney to make his move on him at any moment.

"No," the Russian mumbled weakly as he stumbled out.

"Yes. You know why you're here."

"No, please no," he pleaded again.

Lucy stared at the two as if the climax was about to happen at any moment. She wanted to step forward to stop it, but she could think only about Michael again.

"Are you ready to take that damn picture or not? Let's go!"

Lucy nodded and posed again with the cell phone held out at arm's reach.

"Wait! Wait!" Both Lucy and the Russian turned as Barney waved at them with his hands above his head. "One second. This is the last photo we need up here so how about we do this right. I want you to make it a good one. A nice smile, like you mean it. Something special. For your father, Lucy. Give us a smile your father will remember forever."

She nodded. But she hadn't been thinking of her father as she snapped each photo on the climb up. It was always Michael. She worried for him, wondered what state he was in, remembered their last moments together, and missed him dearly. But it was almost over. In a matter of hours, she would be off the mountain and would be free again to hear his voice. She would call him, and soon she would feel his gentle touch again, his soft lips, and would disappear into that safe place she always found when she was with him. She did have reason to smile.

"On three. I want you to take the picture on three."

She faked a smile at him.

"One... two... three."

Lucy stared deep into the tiny lens, thinking only of hearing Michael's voice, smiled, and snapped the photo. As the click sliced through the quiet mountain air, the Russian cried out and leaped out at her with both arms and hands stretched out towards her.

Lucy didn't know what was happening. She turned at the last moment, saw his outstretched arms fleetingly as they slammed into her shoulder and hurled her over the edge. Her world spun in circles as the wind buffeted and whipped about. She thought she screamed, but it faded quickly. It was as if she fell into a dream. She saw sky, and rocks, and sky again. A flash of trees, sky, and rock again.

Michael!

Father! Mother!

All seemed quiet, almost peaceful as she floated down, spinning and turning.

Why?

She didn't understand. It must be a dream.

Wake up!

Wake up!

And then it all exploded in one bright flash.

Lucy's body hit the stony outcropping, bouncing out and down in a crazy cartwheel, tumbling and shredding along the way down with each hit, leaving her skull crushed and the rest of her body broken like a limp rag doll.

***

"That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

The Russian trembled. He felt the urge to move to the edge to see her crumpled body, but the roll of the outcropping made it impossible to venture out far enough see straight down the cliff face without the risk of falling.

"Let's get you off the mountain. Your penance is nearly paid."

Pain surfaced in the eyes of the Russian as he looked up questionably. "There's more?" He trembled again.

Barney moved towards the edge and casually tossed the water bottle and Lucy's backpack out into the abyss before he began his descent back down the scree slope. "C'mon, I said!"

The only sound on the mountainside was the roll of rocks bouncing and tumbling as the two men descended slowly, placing each foot carefully in front of the other. Coming down was much quicker than the ascent, and within thirty minutes the two were back on the main trail below the Crux.

"Hello!" A shallow voice called out from somewhere high above.

Barney turned instinctively towards the voice. There were already others on the mountain. More would come soon. Two barely discernible hikers stood near the top. One waved down at him. He wanted to ignore them, but he'd already acknowledged them by turning. He gave one quick wave, turned away, and hollered out to the Russian who had fallen well behind to pick up his pace.

Forty-five minutes later, the two were back in the Russian's black rental Prius and en route to Canmore. It was near noon and Barney still had many plans for the Russian before the day's end. For three solid days, the Russian had been dry since being forcibly escorted from Ottawa. It was clear he badly wanted a drink. Now was the time for Barney to see that the Russian received his much-wanted drink.

By noon, the two were back in the pub of the Georgetown Inn in Canmore, and the Russian's black Prius was secretly whisked away into a warehouse only two kilometres away. In less time than it took the Russian to finish his three pints of beer and an order of fish and chips, his Prius was returned, prepped for what was to come next.

By the end of the second beer, the Russian had regained much of his old composure. It was as if the morning jaunt up the mountain was days ago and nothing more than a bad hallucination, save his tired and wobbly legs. He chatted Barney up, talking about all sorts of topics, from government policies to Russian women, staying clear of anything to do with the horror that occurred up on the mountain.

"Let's go," Barney said, placing a number of bills on the wooden bar to cover the bill.

"Go?" The Russian's glassy eyes remained on his empty tumbler; his alcoholic thirst was not yet fully quenched.

"Yes. Come on. We're going for a short drive up the valley."

"I'm tired. My legs...."

"Move," he said and tugged the Russian up from his chair.

The Russian got behind the wheel, accepting the keys from Barney, not even curious about how he ended up with them. Three beers was nothing for the Russian, and he drove like a pro as if he had not downed a single drop, steering the vehicle up the twisty, gravel mountain road to the Spray Lakes Valley to the south with what seemed expert precision.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Just a drive." Barney offered a smile. "You did a good job up there today. I thought we should both take a drive to see more mountains before you head back tomorrow."

The Russian gave no reply for a few moments. This was no stupid man in the passenger seat, and he was careful not to speak too quickly. He may have become nothing more than a weeping bowl of jelly on the mountain, but down here he had morphed back into what he was before, opinionated, arrogant, and feeling close to invincible.

"I want to be clear on one thing. This is over, right?" He stole a glance at Barney as he steered the Prius around a sharp curve near the top of the mountain.

"We're nearly done. You'll be heading home tomorrow."

"Nearly done? I did what you asked." His voice trembled.

"We need to make sure you understand what it is we've asked of you to do and why."

He cleared his throat and continued to drive. They had reached the top of the steep climb, and the gravel road flattened and followed a small narrow reservoir on the left.

"Well? Do you understand what this was all about?" Barney asked.

"I do," he replied. "You want me to stop drinking and driving."

"And what are you doing right now?"

He frowned but didn't reply.

"You hopped in the driver seat again. No hesitation or refusal. You accepted the keys from me willingly and jumped right behind the wheel."

"It's because you have a gun. I always do whatever anyone with a gun asks me to do," he said forcefully. "You handed me the keys. I took them, yes. But I won't drink and drive anymore. I promise."

The road straightened out. Dust curled up and covered the road as a small truck came towards them from the other direction and slowly passed by, spitting up a short shower of fine rocks and more dust.

"No you won't. And you know why you won't?"

"Because you'll be watching me."

Barney nodded.

The afternoon passed quickly and it was pushing into evening when they finally returned back to the inn. The inn was busy with a number of locals and guests eating in the lounge and enjoying a pint. Drinks were ordered and more food came. A pre-season Canadian football game played on the small flat-screen TV on the wall near the bar. A few watched, but most ignored it. The Russian and Barney settled into a small table in the corner near the fireplace. They weren't hiding, but neither did they make themselves an attraction.

By ten o'clock, the Russian was once again in his groove, feeling good about himself, acting cocky and talking as if he was once again the master of his own universe. Barney had switched to non-alcohol beer much earlier, making sure he remained sober. His task was not yet complete.

It was time. The purpose was to make sure the Russian's blood alcohol level had peaked well over the legal limit. As with many alcoholics, the Russian could function surprisingly well over the legal limit, where most would barely have the ability to stand upright.

"I've got one last thing for you to do."

"No more," the Russian replied and waved one hand at Barney in a dismissive way.

He laughed. "This one's easy."

"What, then?"

"The reason I've hung around all day was to monitor you after what you did up there. We need to be sure you understand. You know what you did, and we know what you did."

"What you made me do."

"Me? No, not me." He shook his head and pointed his finger at the Russian. "You did this. You pushed her."

"But you made me do it."

"Oh? So who am I, exactly?"

The Russian only stared back blankly. He had no answer to give. He had no idea who this man was or where he or the others had come from. They arrived under the shroud of night and stole him away as he staggered out from one of his usual watering holes. No one noticed and no one seemed to care. And then he was given a choice: do what was asked of him and correct his life, or die.

"Well?"

To argue was of no merit. "What more do I need to do?"

"What I have to say is actually good news. I told you we are not all bad."

"So?"

"Back in the parking lot where we parked earlier before climbing the mountain, we left a package for you. It's in the outhouse at the start of the trail. In the southwest toilet up in the rafters is an envelope."

"What's in it?"

"You'll see when you get there." He nodded towards the door.

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

"But...."

"What? You've had four beers since we returned, a nice big meal, and you don't want to go? C'mon. You drove with two or three times that much most nights back home."

He looked confused, but relented immediately. "Then it's over? Once I get the envelope, it's over?"

"Once you leave here to get the envelope, you'll never see me again."

The Russian hoped it was true.

"That is, unless you start drinking and driving again."

He shook his head hard. "I won't. You've cured me. What I've done...you know." He teared up and Barney almost believed it was sincere.

"Then go. Go now."

The chair screeched across the wooden floor as the Russian stood up to leave. He patted his pockets and pulled out the keys.

"The southwest toilet?" he asked just to be clear.

"Yes, the southwest toilet."

And just like that, the Russian was shuffling down the short hall with a slight stagger, past the washrooms, out the rear door, and was soon inside his Prius.

The evening sky had already faded to a pale blue as he headed east from town onto the freeway, the summer sun settling behind the Rockies only a half hour before. Darkness was coming.

He was happy it was over. Not even the ache from the climb that pervaded every muscle in his body could dampen how free he felt. He smiled and wanted to shout something, anything, just to be heard.

Maybe it was the effects of the liquor, but after saying his last goodbye to the tall man who went by the name of Barney, he felt like he had won. Of course he had won. How much worse was pushing a young girl off a mountain than running one over with his car? He was alive and not a thing had happened to him. Nothing happened to him after he ran over Susan Boake in Montreal eight years ago, and again today, nothing hurt him. He received no real punishment of any kind. Of course he had won.

But had he?

Something was different this time. He was sober when he slammed Lucy off the side of the mountain.

Every detail from the day suddenly pounded back. Climbing up the mountain step after step, knowing what evil thing he was expected to do once they stopped climbing, worried each time they stopped to take another photo that this was the moment. And then, as each hour passed, he knew a little bit more about her, and by the time they reached the top, she was no longer just a random face. She had a name. Lucy. Lucy was very real: a real person with real people who loved her.

And then she screamed. It was a short scream that faded almost immediately. But it was forever etched into his memory, and his brain sizzled as if the entire scene had been seared there permanently by a red-hot branding iron.

This was his price for winning. Something had happened to him, something very real. A seed was planted in the form of a memory—a memory that would torture him to eternity. But would it be enough to prevent him from drinking and driving again?

The freeway was wide open. He accelerated until he reached the speed limit and then slowed, staying at the cruising speed to keep pace with the cars up ahead and those behind him.

Could he really quit drinking and driving? He knew there was a better question.

Did he want to quit drinking and driving?

At this very moment he did, but he knew it was a false wish as he'd almost reached his goal for inebriation tonight. Maybe tomorrow he would answer the question differently.

Suddenly, the car started to accelerate.

"What the...."

He removed his foot from the accelerator and tapped the brake. Nothing.

"Help!...Oh...oh...."

His speed increased rapidly until he was moving much too fast. He pounded at the brakes, but the car wouldn't slow down.

The car drifted to the right. He tried to pull it back to the left, but it continued nearer to the right shoulder. The steering wheel seemed tight and impossible to turn.

"Damn hell!" he screamed out.

Suddenly, the car braked and shot to the left side of the highway, crossing over both lanes and moving onto the opposite shoulder before straightening. He pulled hard on the wheel, but the vehicle remained on the left. The car accelerated again. He tugged again and slammed the brakes, but nothing seemed to work.

"My God! No...!"

The vehicle lurched to the right, then left again, and crossed both lanes once more to the right.

To anyone watching, it was clear the driver was either drunk or suffering from some medical emergency.

Then, just before the Prius crossed onto the bridge above the Bow River, the right front wheel braked just as the car turned sharply to the right, causing the vehicle to veer off the road and skid sideways, pushing up gravel and dust until it slammed into the concrete bridge abutment, caving in the driver's-side door and deploying the air bags. The Prius flipped up high into the air, dropped over the abutment, and rolled down the embankment a number of times before coming to rest upside down in the frigid glacial waters of the Bow River.

In a matter of seconds, the icy water rushed in through the shattered windows. The Russian was alive but heavily dazed. Blood ran up his face as he hung upside down, strapped in tight by the seatbelt. He struggled frantically to reach the buckle to free himself, but the deflated airbags swirled around with the incoming water, making it impossible to move his arms where he wanted. Seconds later, the water was swirling around his hair."

"Gawd, no!"

And then his forehead and eyes went under. Water splashed up and into his nostrils. He thrashed his head around, but it was of no use.

"Help...."

He tried for one last gasp of air, but it was too late. An icy coldness, heavy and painful, filled his lungs, and he writhed and jerked around until blackness overtook him.

As the wheels of the upside-down Prius continued to spin away, a black SUV passed over the bridge above. A pair of eyes stared out from the passenger window down at the Prius. The vehicle slowed but did not stop.

***

Nathaniel's stare remained somewhere in the distance as Kaito stopped speaking. He knew very little about what the gadget men could accomplish, and he preferred it that way. Their skill was far beyond what he could ever imagine, and they were always on the cutting edge, employing the latest technologies and often mirroring the stretched imagination written into the latest blockbuster movies. It was why they were hired and also why they were paid so handsomely at the completion of each job.

It was unnatural for Nathaniel to be so interested in comprehending the fine details of how a job was assembled in the end, but this case was the exception—possibly the only exception he would ever allow himself. Kaito had orchestrated this one with his team, and Kaito wanted Nathaniel to know just how far he had stretched the fabric he had sewn into the events that occurred.

The Russian was dead.

Kaito stayed close to his team and, unlike Nathaniel, made a point of knowing exactly how they made these things happen. He wanted Nathaniel to hear it and to feel it like he did.

Kaito continued to explain.

***

When the Russian left the Georgetown Inn to pick up the mysterious envelope, he was in an exhilarated state and he took no notice of the black SUV parked in the corner of the lot. The Russian also didn't see the small, high-speed drone hovering thirty feet above the inn. Both machines followed him as he backed the Prius out of the lot behind the inn and headed off in the direction of the freeway.

Inside the black SUV sat two men. One was the driver. The other, in the passenger seat, was the gadget man with one laptop perched precariously on the centre consul and another on his lap. Sandwiched in his crotch were what looked like two modified joysticks. One laptop displayed a map image of the Canmore area with the positions of the drone, the Prius, and SUV flashing on the screen as different-coloured dots. The other laptop ran a small program that displayed the operational status of the Prius the Russian was driving.

The black SUV followed the Prius about a half kilometre behind. The passenger carefully manipulated the control on the first joystick until the exceptionally fast drone was moved forward and positioned above the Prius as it cruised down the highway, and two of the coloured dots on the screen merged together as one. A few commands were typed into one of the laptops, and as the second joystick was pressed forward, the man watched the screen carefully as the Prius's speed indicator climbed. He rolled the joystick to the right and the Prius drifted right, pulled left and the Prius drifted left.

It had been easy to set up in principle but highly technical to execute. All gadget men of the Order were specialists, and with every job came a challenge to master the newest and latest technologies to achieve the desired goal.

Earlier in the day, while the tall man kept the Russian occupied over a few beers after returning from the climb up the mountain, the Prius was shunted away to a small warehouse where the vehicle was fitted with a customized program that allowed remote access over the ECUs (electronic control units) that controlled many features of the vehicle, including brakes, speed, steering, and others. Access to any of the ECUs was gained through a wireless link, which was the purpose of the drone kept within proximity of the Prius. The drone was fitted with a cell phone, configured as a Wi-Fi hotspot, which was enabled to automatically connect to the Prius communication ECUs when the vehicle was running. The cell phone Wi-Fi completed the link back to the laptop in the black SUV chase vehicle. A Go-Pro camera mounted in the belly of the drone allowed real-time viewing. Within minutes of entering the highway, the Prius was already under complete control of the men following in the black SUV.

Many cars stopped to assist the Prius as it spewed smoke and steam from where it rested upside down in the river, but the black SUV was not among them. It continued down the highway a further two kilometres before stopping, at which point the small drone was brought down and carefully moved into the rear hatch.

Witnesses reported the Prius weaving across the road prior to the crash. Toxicology tests would later confirm the driver had a high blood alcohol level, nearly twice the legal limit. No further investigation was warranted.

***

"So you see, Nate?" Kaito laughed lightly. "None of our men touched that girl on the mountain. And my son, Taka...he had nothing to do with any of this."

Nate was worried. If this was how things really went down, he knew that things had drastically changed within the organization over the past decade. Taking a target up the mountain like this would have been nothing extraordinary fifteen years ago. The magic would have happened at the top. The Russian would have pushed Lucy over the edge, made to believe he had killed her, but Lucy would have been a member of the team and would have fallen into a net or caught by other means a few metres below the edge and out of view. And it would have ended there. The Russian would have been brought down from the mountain having believed he actually murdered someone. He would scan the papers the next morning, searching for any news of a body found in the mountains, but in a place like Heart Mountain, the body might not be discovered for weeks, months, or even years. That was how it was done: clean. They would have let him live with the knowledge of a pretend murder and see how he behaved in the weeks and months following.

But why did they take so much effort to take him up the mountain just to have him die in a car accident later that night? And who above would approve something like this? This seemed awfully creative, and he doubted Kaito could have come up with this on his own.

"You really think it's that simple?" he said to Kaito.

"I do, Nate. Now, I want you to bring me my son home to me."

It was Nathaniel's turn to laugh, but he couldn't find even so much as a giggle hiding anywhere inside him. "I can't. Not until I know you're staying clear of Metcalf. "

A heavy sigh came from Kaito. "You know I can't do that..." he said.

"Kaito. If you want him back...."

"Ta, ta, ta, Nate. You won't touch my son. I know you."

Nathaniel wanted to scream. He was getting it from all sides. He hoped he could end it all soon. "I will, if you don't stop."

"No you won't"

"I will," he repeated.

"You won't. I know you. I'll call you, day after tomorrow."

Nathaniel couldn't take it anymore. "Just tell me what this is really this about."

Kaito only laughed, as if this was some big chess game and he was moving his queen one more position closer to checkmate. "Ta ta for now."

"You stay away from Metcalf."

Kaito disconnected.

"Kaito?" Kaito was not acting like the good friend he once knew.
CHAPTER 41

Tuesday 11:43 Near Okotoks, Alberta, Canada

Richard had never seen Michelle run so fast. She sprinted up the steps and burst into the kitchen, out of breath and waving a folder in the air.

"You are not going to believe this, Richard! I knew I saw that man before."

Michael and Tawnie were seated at the kitchen table. Tawnie still hadn't warmed to Michelle, but she appeared to be extending her tolerance over the past few days. He suspected that her lengthy sleep-ins each morning was meant to reduce her exposure to Michelle. At least they weren't bickering.

"You found him?" Michael asked.

"Did I ever!" she said and placed the papers she carried with her onto the table and quickly pulled her cell phone from her purse. "Do you remember those two we saw up at the golf course on Friday?"

He frowned. "The Senator?"

"Yes, exactly. And I said that I knew who the other man at the table was?"

"The one you thought you knew but couldn't put your finger on?"

She spread the photos out on the table so everyone could see the images and then quickly brought a photo onto the screen of her cell phone before placing it atop the pile of photos. She pointed to the image she took on the patio at Silvertip golf course. "It's the same man, Richard."

He shot a short glance at her, as if she was now the crazy one. "You didn't take any pictures, remember? I made sure of that."

"Well, actually, I did."

"No you didn't. I made you put your phone back in your purse."

She smiled at him sweetly.

"When could you have taken a picture?"

"When you went to the bar to pay the bill. I took two photos. Take a look." She pointed at the image on her screen again. "That's him. It's the same guy."

It didn't really surprise him that she snapped the photo when he wasn't looking. "Do we know his name?" he asked.

Michelle's excitement continued to flourish, causing Michael and Tawnie to lean in to study the image on her cell phone and compare it to the many photos on the table.

"Jerry at the office recognized this guy right off. He's runs AltaCan Pump and sits on the board of a few other companies. His name is Kaito Hui."

"Kaito Hui?" Michael repeated. "Never heard of him."

"He's well known in oil and gas. And he's loaded. But here's the best part...." She shuffled through the photos until she found the ones from the basketball team. "You'll like this, Michael." She dropped the headshot photo of one of the basketball players in front of Michael. "Is that Johnny?"

He studied the photo. "Could be," Michael replied.

"It is. That is Kaito Hui's son," she said. "His name is Takahiro Hui. He was on the basketball team and was also on the mogul ski team."

"Was?" Richard asked.

"Was," she replied. "It seems this Takahiro has a temper and foul mouth. He was cut by the ski team almost immediately after verbally abusing some of his teammates. He lasted longer on the basketball court, only because he had real talent. He was cut after problems developed between him and two other players."

Michael leaned back in his chair. He looked almost happy, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Then it's true what Michael has been saying," Tawnie said.

Michael grinned at her. "You doubted me?"

"No, but...."

"But what, then?"

"This is so bizarre," Tawnie replied. "Johnny lied about who he is. It's so creepy. What kind of a guy does that?"

Michael teared up, and he wiped at his eyes. "Yeah. She didn't fall off the mountain. Lucy was taken up there and thrown off, and we are the only ones who know the truth."

"Not really," Richard said. "Metcalf knows and so does this Takahiro-Johnny fellow. Michelle, did you happen to find out where he lives?"

She shook her head. "Just that he's from Calgary."

Michael looked up at his dad. "So what do we do now?"

"I don't really know. Michelle?"

She shrugged. "Why ask me? It was all you who wanted to pursue this."

Michael twitched and rubbed the heel of his palm up and down the side of his head vigorously. His eyes watered again.

"You okay, Michael?" Richard asked.

Michael quickly dropped his arm down to his side. "I'm fine. I miss her, that's all." He sniffed and dropped his chin down to his chest.

"We should do something," Richard said.

Michelle pointed her finger up at Richard. "You know, Richard, I did hear those two say something while you were in paying the bill."

"Which two?"

"Senator Diamond and Kaito Hui. Up on the patio, they said something that I never thought mattered until now. Kaito said something about a body being discovered, and there was something about a plane."

"A body?"

"You do remember they were talking about a mountain—down the valley. Heart Mountain was down the valley."

Richard had forgotten all about the conversation they overheard. "You're suggesting the Senator had something to do with this?"

"Put it all together, Richard. You remember them talking. You even said yourself that they were up to something."

"Yeah, I did, but...." He rubbed the stubble on his chin as he tried to recall the conversation.

"You said it was creepy."

Richard laughed lightly. "Creepy. It's still creepy. But the Senator? Really, Michelle? Now who's stretching things?"

"That Senator flew all the way out here to sort something out with Kaito Hui. We heard him say that. Oh...." Her eyes lit up. "Murder. He also said something about murdering someone or not murdering someone."

"You think he was out here trying to stop it?"

"Either that or to make sure it happened."

Richard sighed. Tawnie was still in her nightgown and Michael was in sweats and a T-shirt. "Look, everyone, it's noon already. Let's all stop, have lunch, and then decide what we're going to do about all of this."

Michelle shook her head. "There's nothing to eat, Richard. We took everything camping."

It was true. They hadn't gone shopping since before the weekend camping trip and hadn't expected both Michael and Tawnie to be home when they were back.

"How about you and I zip out and pick up a few items," he said to Michelle. "And you two get showered up and dressed while we're gone. We should be back in less than an hour. We'll figure out what to do about all of this once we get back."

"Get some ham," Tawnie said. "I haven't had ham in ages."

"And some bacon," Michael added.

Both Richard and Michelle laughed. It was nice to have both of his kids back in the house, even under these circumstances.
CHAPTER 42

Tuesday 12:35 Near Okotoks, Alberta, Canada

Tawnie's scream erupted from the car speakers, startling Michelle who was behind the wheel. The car veered right towards the ditch before a quick correction brought it back straight into the lane.

"Dad!" She screamed again. "Oh my God, Dad! Oh no...they're gone. He's gone! Oh my God!"

She was crying and screaming at the same time.

"Calm down, Tawnie. What happened?"

Michelle slowed the car and pulled over, letting the two right tires drop off the shoulder into the gravel.

"They took Michael. A big black truck. Oh my God...I'm scared, Dad!"

"Slow down, Tawnie. Who took Michael?"

She cried out hysterically again. "I don't know! Some men!"

"What men?"

"I don't know! I'm so scared!" She fluttered hysterically again. "I was in my room and heard a big crash downstairs! Michael started shouting at someone to 'get out' and then to let him go. He screamed my name over and over, calling me to come help him. I ran downstairs but he was already outside being pushed into the back seat of a truck."

"Back of a truck? What are you talking about?"

"I mean an SUV thingy. A big truck, but with the high part that goes all the way back...Dad, what do I do? Are you coming back?"

"We're on our way." Richard nodded at Michelle and waved his arm urging her to get the car back on the road and head for home. "Tell us everything, Tawnie. Tell us everything you saw."

"The kitchen table is tipped over, and I think they broke a chair, Dad. I'm so scared!" She wailed into the phone again.

"Take it easy, we'll be there in about twenty minutes."

"The men came in the house and dragged Michael out the back. Please hurry! Please!"

Michelle stepped hard on the gas. The right rear wheel spun out, kicking a tower of gravel into the air as she pulled back onto the highway. The gravel sounded like gunfire as the stones pinged and banged off the rocker panel and inside the wheel well. "Someone kidnapped, Michael? Is that what you're saying, Tawnie?"

"Yes! Yes! That's what I'm saying! Some guys came in and grabbed Michael! Oh my God. Dad, they grabbed him! Hurry, please! They had something over his head, a coat or bag, and his arms were pulled behind his back."

"You're sure it was Michael you saw being shoved in the truck?"

"Yes, yes! Of course it was Michael! He's gone!"

"We'll be there as quickly as we can." He shot his eyes over to the speedometer. "C'mon, Michelle, let's go!"

"Should I call 911, Dad? Should I?"

Richard didn't know what to do. "No, not yet."

"Please, Dad, what am I supposed to do?"

"Just stay calm, and don't touch anything. Understand? Don't touch a thing."

"They were wearing gloves and things, you know, those things, black things with the holes...."

"Black things with holes?"

"Balaclavas! They had them on their heads."

"I still don't want you to touch anything. We'll be back home right away. Did you see which way they turned?"

"Nuh-uh. I ran back upstairs and hid. I hid in my closet until I was sure they'd gone away. I'm sorry, Dad. I should have looked to see. I'm so sorry!" She cried some more.

"It's okay, Tawnie. You're safe. How many of them were there?"

"I don't remember. Two at least, plus the driver."

"Did they have weapons? Guns or anything?"

Tawnie continued to wail.

"Tawnie? Did they have weapons?"

"I don't know...I don't know. Hurry, please."

***

Tawnie ran out to the car as Richard and Michelle arrived at the acreage, waving her arms frantically in all directions. A warm gust of wind curled some dust up the drive and whipped her hair across her face. Richard looked beyond her to the west at the clouds that were massing above the Rocky Mountains. A storm was brewing on the horizon.

"Gawd, she looks terrible!" Michelle exclaimed.

Tawnie's face was dripping with tears and her eyes were puffed from crying. Richard exited the car and pulled Tawnie into his arms.

"It's okay, Tawnie. We'll find him."

Her chest heaved under his embrace.

They went inside and Richard had Tawnie recap the events multiple times until he was sure he had heard everything she had to offer.

"It was that son-of-a-bitch Metcalf. It has to be." No other explanation made sense to Richard.

"What about Johnny?" Tawnie whispered. Her voice was still broken. "Michael was afraid of him, remember?"

"I doubt it. Johnny never knew Michael was even there that night. It could only be Metcalf."

"C'mon now, Richard," Michelle said.

"You heard him earlier."

"But that was only three or four hours ago. He couldn't possibly have had someone grab Michael that fast." Her eyes drifted as she pondered her own question. "Could he?"

"He asked where we live," Richard replied. "And he even told Michael to stay at home. He thought Michael was here alone with Tawnie."

"I still don't think...."

"They threw Michael's girlfriend off a mountain, Michelle," Tawnie said. She began to cry again. "If they can do that...."

"So what do we do now?" Michelle asked.

Richard looked at her and anger spewed forth from a dark place inside him he wasn't even aware of. "Goddamn it, Michelle! You just had to insist that Michael call him back this morning, didn't you?"

Michelle was taken aback by the outburst. Her hand went to her chest defensively. "Me? Don't you try to pin this on me, Richard. This was all your's and Tawnie's idea from the very start."

He wanted to lash back but he held his tongue this time.

"You two weren't even off that mountain when Tawnie was already going on about some conspiracy," Michelle added.

Tawnie ceased trembling long enough to reply to Michelle's accusation. "But it was true! All of it was true!" she shouted weakly. "Michael's girlfriend died on that mountain."

Michelle apologized immediately. "Okay, I'm sorry for suggesting you caused any of this...and you were right from the start. I shouldn't be blaming you." She stared at Richard. "And you shouldn't be blaming me, Richard."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I...just...it's Michael, that's all. Why the hell is this happening to us?"

"So, what do we do now?" Tawnie asked.

"I don't know. Why would Metcalf, or anyone, want to take Michael? And they came right inside our home. What purpose could Michael serve anyone?"

"Call him." Tawnie suggested. "Call Metcalf again."

Richard chortled. It was a reluctant, almost evil-sounding laugh. "You weren't there when Michael called him this morning. I don't think he'd take kindly to me calling him."

"I think you have to, Richard," Michelle replied. "How else can we know for certain if it was him or not?"

"Isn't that a bit like poking the sleeping dragon?"

"If he took your son, then he's already been poked. Taking Michael was his response. He's probably expecting you to call him."

Richard gave her an unsettled stare. "Isn't that almost exactly what you said before we had Michael call Metcalf earlier?"

"Just call him. Maybe by calling him you can put a stop to this before it gets out of hand."

"Metcalf made it pretty clear that he wanted Michael to keep quiet about what he knew. If he knows more people know about it, he might react harshly. He could hurt Michael."

"Or just the opposite," Michelle said. "He just might back off if he knows we know it was him."

"They grabbed Michael while he was calling Tawnie for help," Richard said. "They didn't even try to hide the fact that they grabbed him. They just wanted him. They didn't care who saw."

Tawnie nodded her head. "They knew I was in the house."

Michelle looked over at Tawnie. "Maybe they were just sloppy, I don't know. You were here. You saw what they looked like. Do you think your dad should call?"

Tawnie pulled her shoulders in tight and clamped her jaw shut. She didn't want anything to do with making this decision.

"Okay, Michelle, I'll make the call," Richard offered.

A few minutes later, the phone was ringing and Metcalf's secretary picked up.

"This is Richard Crowder calling. I'd like to speak to Harvey Metcalf, please."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Metcalf is not taking any calls today."

It was the same response as last time. Richard pushed to have his call put through, even offering up that the call was about Metcalf's daughter. She put him on hold for only a moment before coming back with the same response. "Mr. Metcalf is not taking any calls."

"You told him who I was?" he asked her.

"I told him your name. He said he's not taking calls from anyone at the moment," she replied and disconnected.

"So what does this mean?" Michelle asked.

"I don't know. What else have we got? There's still the police...."

"We could try the Senator?"

"The Senator?" Are you crazy?"

"He was with Kaito Hui. They were talking about all of this up there on the golf course patio."

"I think you're going way off track now," Richard suggested. "We don't know anything for sure about those two."

"They were up to something. You know it's true—you even said it." She pointed her finger at him to make her point. "If Michael's kidnapping has anything to do with Lucy, then those two are involved somehow. I know it."

Richard wanted to laugh as she suddenly seemed to be wholeheartedly onboard with the conspiracy theory, but the gravity of the situation had him grounded. "But kidnapping Michael? I still think you're reaching a bit too far."

"I don't think I'm reaching very far at all. What else have we got? Who else is there?"

"We could sit and wait," Richard said. He lifted the chair that had fallen into the corner and straightened it. One of the spindles on the back was broken. "Maybe whoever took Michael will call us."

"Maybe, but then again, maybe he'll end up like Lucy."

Tawnie whimpered at the suggestion.

"There's always the police," Richard said again.

"You say that now, but every time anyone tried to suggest that before it's always been a 'no, no, no, they won't believe us' from you." She made hand gestures and deepened her voice as she spoke, to mimic Richard.

"I don't sound like that. And it was Michael who insisted we not call at the start."

"You do sound like that, Richard. But at this point, I'm starting to think not calling them is best. We need to start making calls ourselves before we get the police involved. We have very little to support what we're thinking, and what we do have conflicts with the overwhelming evidence the police have that Lucy's fall was nothing more than an accident."

"Please," Tawnie said. "We have to do something."

Richard dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his hands through his hair vigorously, making him look a lot like Kramer from the Seinfeld TV show. "So how would we even find this Senator Diamond?"

"The spring session is out and they won't be sitting again in Parliament until fall. But their offices are still open. They will know where he is."

"Anyone at your office have connections back to Ottawa?"

"A few people. I'll get a contact for our affiliate in Ottawa and see what I can find out."

***

"Senator Diamond is vacationing in France," Michelle said, "...and if I want to get a message to him, only someone from his office is able do this. It would have to be an urgent message, otherwise they'll just send it to his email."

"I don't want to send an email. Not about this."

"So what, then?"

"Who decides if it's urgent or not?"

"His staff in Ottawa, I guess. I don't know for sure."

"Then we have to send him an urgent message. One that his office will surely put through and one he will respond to."

"What would that be?"

"Let's go over what we know about him." Richard picked up the pen and readied it above the notepad on the office desk.

"He was at the golf course on Friday," Michelle said.

"Right. That's a good one. Let him know we knew his whereabouts at the time. What else?"

A list was made of everything they could recall about the Senator, as well as what they suspected he knew about Lucy's death and Michael's kidnapping.
CHAPTER 43

Tuesday 13:20 Somewhere in the Foothills of the Rocky Mountains, Alberta, Canada

Michael's face was pressed into the carpeted flooring of the SUV, and the feet of at least two men were pushing down on his head and body. The vehicle tilted as it slowed around a tight corner before the engine revved up and accelerated down the next section of road.

It was difficult to breathe. He tried to push himself up so he could turn his head and grab some air.

"Stay down!"

"I can't breathe," he tried to say, but it came out muffled and there wasn't a chance he was understood. Something smelling of an old barn was wrapped over top of his head.

He struggled unremittingly to grab some much-needed air. Whatever it was—a foot or knee—pressed into the back of his head shifted, and Michael managed to rotate his head to the side and a waft of fresh air whooshed its way inside the covering on his head.

"What's happening!" he shouted, but it came out muffled.

"I think you know very well what's going on."

Images from hiding under Lucy's bed returned as he listened to the man's voice. Was he one of the very same men? Had they come back for him after all?

"I didn't see anything," he shouted. "Let me go."

The car took a sudden left turn, and rocks pinged the bottom of the car. The car drifted slightly before straightening out onto the gravel road.

Michael stretched out his leg and pressed one of his bare feet up against the far door to leverage himself as he tried to thrust the man off his back and turn over.

"Oomph," Michael grunted as the boot upon his back suddenly lifted and stomped down hard, landing directly on the tie-wraps that bound his wrists.

"I told you to stay the fuck down! You want another one of those?"

He didn't want to cry, but he could feel the tears roll away from his eyes and slip sideways down his cheek. All he could fathom was that whoever snatched Lucy had come back for him. His mind began to go foggy. He didn't want to die.

"Okay, okay..." Michael cried out. "I'll stop fighting, I will. Please, I can't breathe."

"If you're talking, then you're breathing."

Michael gasped for breath. The smell of the dry, dusty gravel road seeped its way in and down his parched throat. "I can't breathe!" he cried out again.

"What should I do about him?" one of the men called out.

"We're almost there," came the reply. "He's fine. Just keep him down and out of sight until we're inside."
CHAPTER 44

Tuesday 15:55 Near Okotoks, Alberta, Canada

Richard reread the message for what seemed like the hundredth time. It had taken Michelle and him well over an hour to make the list, edit it, and write the note in the shortest possible terms. It had to be very short, yet cut right to the facts so there could be no doubt what the message was about.

"It's good enough, Richard. Give it to me and I'll call his office in Ottawa." She reached over to snatch the paper.

Richard pulled it back out of her reach. "We have to be sure they'll pass it through to him. If they don't, then what?"

She flicked her fingers at him in a curling motion. "Just give it to me, Richard. When I call them, I'll make it very clear that this message not be sent by email or text. Either they send it or to the hotel where he is, or they don't send it at all. I'll make sure they tell me if it'll get to him at the hotel."

He reread the note for the one-hundred-and-last time. "We only get one shot at this."

"It's good, Richard. When he sees what's written, he'll call."

He lifted his eyes up at her. "If you received a note like this, would you call?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I would call. Even if I had nothing to do with what went on, I would call."

He grunted and slowly handed her the paper.

"Thank you," Michelle replied sarcastically. She reached for the phone and dialled the number of Senator Diamond's office in Ottawa.
CHAPTER 45

Wednesday 00:18 Paris, France

It was after midnight when Nathaniel's phone buzzed inside the nightstand next to the bed. He rolled over and pulled the phone out from the drawer. The call from Kaito still weighed heavy on his mind, making sleep impossible.

"Who is calling you this late?" Diane called out sleepily. "Let it go to voicemail and go back to sleep."

But it wasn't Kaito. It was Jack.

"Sorry, Diane, but I need to take this."

She rolled over in a huff and pulled the blankets over her head as he switched the bedside light on.

"Yeah," he said into the phone.

He dressed quickly, keeping the phone pressed to his ear as he listened to Jack explain what was going down. He turned the light back off and was out the door in minutes on his way to the lobby where he could talk openly.

"I'm gonna have Antonio link you in so you can hear this," Jack said.

"Yeah," he replied. The fog of sleep still floated around his head. The phone went silent. He could hear Antonio mumbling something in the background as he prepared to route an ongoing conversation from inside Metcalf's home to his phone. He took the stairs, thinking he might drop the call if he used the elevator, and by the time he was in the lobby, sitting on one of the leather lounge chairs near the fireplace, Antonio had the live feed shunted through.

"I don't care." Metcalf said.

The sound was muffled. Static interlaced the words, making it difficult to hear clearly.

"Just get him to say a name."

Silence and heavy breathing followed. More static.

"Don't worry about it. He'll know what you're talking about. I'd like at least one name to be sure...."

"Look. I don't care if you have to threaten to break both his damn legs! Until he admits he knows who those men were on Friday night, you tell him he's not going anywhere!"

A long pause.

"You already said Johnny!"

Another long pause.

"Ask him again."

"What?...No! I want to know how this kid, Michael.... No! No! Just shut up and listen to me. If he recognizes or can put a name to any one of those men who showed up on Friday, I need to know. It doesn't get any simpler than that."

"Yes. Just get me one name, that's all."

A few minutes passed by. Metcalf gave a few "uh-huhs" and "okays."

"Ask him how he knew what really happened on the mountain? Ask him that."

"Never mind what mountain! I'm paying you to ask him questions, not me! He'll know what you mean."

Silence.

"He's saying what? He didn't push her?"

Rustling sound. Metcalf said something, but it was unclear.

"He's not making any sense. How can he say he was hiding under her bed and then be on the mountain?"

Another pause.

"Oh? Now he says he wasn't on the mountain."

"What? Say that again."

"Why does he think he's going to die?"

Another pause.

"He thinks you're who?"

Metcalf breathed heavily again. His voice faded as if he walked away out of the room.

"...sent him...shit, no!...fu...mis per...walk some time...."

The next few minutes were unclear before Metcalf's voice returned strong.

"I'll tell you when we're done with him! You keep holding him until I say we're done! "

"I already told you. The funeral's tomorrow. After that...."

"Yes, I do understand exactly what we are doing. And you are getting paid a lot for this."

"Uh-huh...he is, is he? Do we have a problem?"

"Don't tell me what's legal, for Christ's sake! What's legal went out the window hours ago. As long as you're holding him, I want answers from him!"

"No!"

"Get him calmed down, then. Goddamn! If he's rambling on like a lunatic, then we don't know if any of what he's saying is true or not. He's just a kid."

Pause.

"Yeah, yeah, I know what I said. Things have changed. Tomorrow night will be long enough....What's that?

"Yeah, good idea. One of you can go down to Okotoks and pick up some pizzas for him. Make him comfortable."

"Yeah, it's the closest and...oh, and there's liquor down there already."

"Yeah, the lower level. Beer and soda in the fridge. He's in college so I'm sure he drinks beer."

"Yes, I'm sure about this."

A muffled rustling noise.

"Johnny's who? Whose son?"

A long silence.

"You're sure about this? Ask him if he knows...."

"Well I'll be...I knew it was that SOB...."

Another pause.

"Okay, just give him some space and let him calm down. No more questions for now. I got what I wanted. Just make him comfortable."

Pause.

"Yeah, the lower level's secure. The windows all have security shutters down there. Let him run loose. He may have more to say if he thinks you're not there to hurt him."

Rustling sound.

"Yes, loose. He can't run anywhere—there's only the one door. Just be sure to bag him as you take him through the upstairs."

"No, that's good. And don't touch a hair on him."

He laughed.

"No. My wife wants to meet him when we're done."

He laughed again.

"Yeah, it is. Unfortunately, they'll both have to wait until after the funeral."

"...and when you do, he'll wonder what the fuck just happened to him, but he won't have a stinking clue."

"Say that again...?"

"He's young. He'll get over it."

"No, I'm sure we're not. Just make sure he can't identify any of you or where he is right now."

Pause.

"I know it's not. I've haven't been down there for a while."

"Then take another look around to be sure before you take him down. Check everything. I don't want something like a magazine or photo laying around that he'll be able to identify later in connection to this property."

"No. I'll miss...are the...some...."

His voice faded.

"No, I don't know...."

"...keep...any longer than possible."

Another pause. Static increased.

"...the evening...any longer than that...."

"...his sister...."

"...yard pool...."

Nathaniel listened for another two minutes as static filled his ears. Metcalf had left the room. Antonio flipped the signal back to Jack.

"You get that, Nate?" Jack asked.

"Yeah. Am I missing something or did Metcalf just have someone kidnapped?" He rubbed his tired eyes.

"You heard what we heard."

"Yeah. Michael."

"Same Michael from before?"

"Michael was her boyfriend," Nathaniel said.

"This isn't good. Why the hell would he kidnap anyone?"

"You heard what he said. Sounds like he thinks this Michael knows something about what went on. I just wish I did, too."

Jack chuckled. "Yeah, don't we all. So what do we do?"

"Just continue doing what you're doing for now, but it is sounding like Metcalf is desperate about keeping whatever is going on under wraps."

"But a kidnapping? He's a lawyer. What the hell is he doing?"

"Honestly, I don't know. Play that again for me."

He ended the call after listening to the recording two more times. Things were becoming very sticky now. Even though the problem with Metcalf and Kaito was escalating, his thoughts still went up to Diane up in the hotel room. She didn't deserve this kind of neglect from him while they were on vacation, especially on vacation half way around the world. But what could he do? This problem with Kaito just wasn't letting go.

He sighed, raised himself from his seat, and walked back towards the elevator from the lobby seating area, passing by the front desk.

It was well past two in the morning and his shoes clicked on the marble tile, echoing across the empty lobby. The young night attendant stationed at the front desk had a phone pressed between his shoulder and left ear and studied Nate as he crossed the lobby. He was hastily scribbling something down, keeping one eye on Nathaniel the entire time. He slammed the phone down in the cradle and called out, "Excuse me, Monsieur!"

Nathaniel ignored him and kept walking.

"Monsieur?" Urgency reined through his young, squeaky voice. He waved one arm at Nathaniel. "Monsieur Diamond!"

Nathaniel stopped abruptly at hearing his name and turned towards the young attendant he recognized from earlier. He seemed to be behind the desk twenty-four hours a day.

"A message is come for you." He extended the note towards him.

He pointed at himself in question.

"Oui, Monsieur." He shook the note out at Nathaniel, his eyes fraught with concern.

Nathaniel read the note.

Blood drained from his face and he felt light-headed. He reached out to the front desk to steady himself. He read the note again.

"Is it that you are okay, Monsieur? Is everything for you alright?"

He nodded and waved the hand that held the note, assuring the young attendant that everything was fine. But everything wasn't fine.

"When did this come in?" he asked.

"Just now, Monsieur." He nodded over towards the fireplace. "You were sitting...."

"Thank you," he said abruptly and turned away, his light-headedness remained. He couldn't go upstairs. This was bad—very bad. He retreated back to the seat next to the fire with the note and read it a few more times until he had it memorized word for word. He keyed the number scribbled in bold, square numerals at the bottom of the note into his disposable phone.

The flames of the lobby fireplace licked high and crackled at him. His eyes were captured by the dancing flames. They seemed to be laughing at him, taunting him to step forward and make a decision. The heat washed over him as he moved forward and dropped down onto his knees. With the note between his fingers, he slipped his hand forward between the mesh of the guard and flipped the note into the fire. It erupted immediately into a single white flash and withered away, changing through a series of mesmerizing colours until nothing was left but strips of blackened ash.

"Fucking hell," Nathaniel whispered and quickly covered his mouth. He rarely swore.
CHAPTER 46

Tuesday 16:57 Somewhere in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, Alberta, Canada

Thunder rumbled outside as the taller of the three men tucked the cell phone into his back pocket. "We're to take him downstairs. Bag him again."

"No," Michael shouted. "Please, no!" But it was too late. The wrap that smelled like an old barn was encased over his head once again and he was wrestled up from the single chair inside the huge, empty, multi-car garage by his armpits and steered across the concrete floor. He whimpered.

Rain began to pour down outside and the building vibrated as another thunderous boom erupted nearby.

"I've told you everything! Please, let me go!"

His armpits hurt as the fingers of each man on either side dug up into the crevices as they manhandled him. His hands remained bound together behind his back.

"Watch your step here. There's a step up."

A door was opened and Michael lifted his feet high and stepped inside. It took a few minutes to cross a long hallway, descend a set of stairs, and cross another long hallway. He was soon seated on a leather couch in the lower level of the building. The wrap around his head was removed and the tie-wraps cut. He rubbed his wrists. A red mark was visible on both, his left suffering a small abrasion from when he was stomped on earlier. The small smear of blood that eked out had dried long ago.

"Make yourself comfortable."

He looked up at the two faceless men. Black shrouds shielded all but their eyes.

"You want a drink? A soda?"

Michael shook his head. He wanted to go home.

One of the men left the room. The other walked across the small apartment to the galley kitchen. He opened the fridge. "Wow," he said, and reached inside and removed a beer. He raised it towards Michael. "You want one?"

Michael shook his head.

"Suit yourself," he replied and twisted off the cap. "They're cold. You look like you could use one right now."

Michael shrugged. His mind swirled. With his heightened anxiety came the return of the whispers.

The man crossed the room and dropped into the small chair opposite Michael.

"Look," the man said. "If we were going to hurt you we would have done that already."

It was hard for Michael to believe anything right now.

They took Lucy. Now it's you they've come for, Michael.

Michael tried to speak. He stammered. The whispers made it hard to focus. "I'm not...I mean...what are you going to do? Uh...to me, I mean...uh...then?"

The man tugged up the bottom of his balaclava and guzzled back half the bottle of beer and belched once.

"I just told you." He laughed. "We're not going to do anything to you." He chugged back more of the beer. It seemed like he was trying to finish it before his mate returned.

"Then...when can I go? Please, just let me go."

"Can't do that." He finished the beer, got up out of the chair, and returned the empty into the kitchen.

You know it's about Lucy.

"But why? I don't understand."

"There's not much to understand. Our boss wants you to be our guest for a while. While you're here, he wants answers. That's it."

"I already told you what I know. I don't know who any of you are."

The man returned to the seat and stared at Michael. Michael dropped his eyes and looked away.

"I don't know any of you," he said again. "If that's why you grabbed me...."

The man remained silently staring at Michael.

They know, Michael. They know you were hiding and have come back for you. Run if you can, Michael. If you see a chance...take it.

"No, I am pretty sure you don't know who we are. Not me at least," he said as he placed his fingers on his chest. "I've never met you before."

Why did they take Lucy?

Michael trembled. He glanced up. The man was still staring at him. He dropped his eyes again.

"Why...?" he asked.

The man chuckled. "Why what?"

"Why did you take her? What did she do?"

The man didn't respond.

Michael looked up and probed the man's eyes as he asked his question again. "Why did you have to kidnap her? What did she do? Huh? What did she do that she deserved to die?"

Michael couldn't tell for sure because of the balaclava pulled over the man's head, but he thought he saw the man frown.

He doesn't know, Michael. You saw what he just did. He doesn't know she was killed. Ask him if he knows.

"You weren't part of it, were you?" Michael asked. He tried to read what he could from the man's eyes. "Answer me...please. I need to know why. Why did she have to die?"

The man shifted his feet, blinked rapidly a few times, and broke Michael's stare.

Did you see that, Michael? He looked away.

Michael dropped his head. Tears had formed as he thought of Lucy. He wiped them away and looked back up. "You don't know what really happened, do you?"

The two locked eyes again.

"You don't even know what I'm talking about," he added.

The man shifted his feet, crossed his arms, and looked towards the door and back at Michael.

"Your friends kidnapped her and threw her off a mountain," Michael said.

He had no idea if these men were the same men that grabbed Lucy, but it was the only thing that seemed to make sense.

The man cleared his throat once, glanced briefly towards the door and then leaned in towards Michael. "What did you say?"

"On Saturday. They threw her off a mountain. She didn't fall. I know because...."

Michael! Stop talking! Stop now! This is a bad path to go down with these men.

The man leaned even further towards Michael. He was only a foot away. "Who threw who off a mountain?" he asked quietly. "Is that...?" He stopped and pointed up, probably to the garage where he had been interrogated. The house shook again as the storm above continued to thrash about.

He doesn't know, Michael. Stop talking. This is bad.

"Your friends threw Lucy off a mountain. She was my girlfriend."

The man leaned back. He looked towards the door and remained staring at it for far too long before looking back at Michael and placing one hand on his chest. "My friends?"

"Yes. Your friends. They took her on Friday and threw her off the mountain on Saturday."

The man leaned back, stood, and put one hand to his chin. "Are you talking about Mr. Metcalf's daughter?"

"Yes," Michael replied. "Lucy. She didn't fall off a mountain while hiking."

Now you did it, Michael. You're dead. You might as well tell them to shoot you right here.

The door to the apartment opened and one of the other men entered.

"The pizzas will be ready for pickup soon. Did you offer him anything to drink yet? He still looks pretty upset."

"Uh, yeah," the other replied. "He, uh...he didn't want anything" He kept staring at Michael and Michael returned his stare.

Only the muffled rumbles of the fury outside could be heard. Neither Michael nor his captor spoke another word about Lucy.
CHAPTER 47

Wednesday 02:22 Paris, France

The note to Nathaniel had been short and to the point. He recalled word for word what was written as he sat near the fire in the hotel lobby, contemplating what to do.

Sorry I missed you in Canmore on Friday. Sad to hear about your friend's hiking mishap on Saturday, but I have details not mentioned in the paper. It's urgent you call me to discuss. And if you see your friend from Silvertip, tell him we need to talk.

The note was from a Michelle Crowder at an Alberta phone number.

"Who the hell is Michelle Crowder?" he whispered.

The cryptic nature of the note got his attention and terrified him. He wiped his brow, not realizing he had broken a sweat.

Only four people knew he was in Canmore Friday, and they were all members of the Order. Even his secretary believed he was on the plane to France with Diane. Whoever wrote this note made it very clear they knew he was in Canmore, they knew who he was with, and they knew why.

It was nearing two-thirty in the morning in Paris, early evening back in Alberta.

He took a quick detour back to the front desk to obtain the password to the Internet, and in a few moments, he was in the business centre off the lobby, staring at the results from a web search on Michelle Crowder.

"Shit," he said. His heart sank, his chest pounded, and he couldn't think of anything worse that could have happened. Michelle Crowder was a reporter from Okotoks, Alberta—a food and restaurant reporter, but she was still a reporter.

"Geordie's going to have my balls ripped off," he whispered.

He signed off the computer. There was no reason to put it off. He dialled the number from the message.

"Hello, this is Senator Diamond calling." He tried to sound cheery. "You left an urgent message."

"Senator Diamond!" The woman sounded surprised. "I didn't expect a call back so quickly," she said.

"Normally I don't take calls when I'm on vacation."

"Yes, I'm sorry to bother you, Senator, but I'm guessing you received my message?"

"I did. What friend of mine are we talking about?"

"Oh, uh..." she stammered. "I thought I wrote the name...uh...."

Sure you did, he thought. "Look. It's the middle of the night here. I have no friends hiking in the Canmore area. If you can keep it short and tell me what this is really about, I might be able to set you up in the right direction. You may have me mixed up with someone else."

There was a muffled whisper.

"Hello," A male voice came on the line. "I'm Richard Crowder, Michelle's husband. I'm not going to dance around this one. We're calling about the hiker who died on Saturday near Canmore."

"I've been in Paris since Saturday. What hiker are you referring to?"

"Senator, we know what happened on the mountain."

Nathaniel reeled. He wanted to stop the conversation, but had to let it play out. "I honestly don't have any idea what you're talking about."

Retain plausible deniability. They could be recording the call.

"Cut the bull. My son was kidnapped a few hours ago in connection to this."

Nathaniel's thoughts went directly to Metcalf's interrogation, the one Antonio had played for him less than a half hour ago. Could this really be the bloody boy's parents calling him? How could they make a connection to him so fast? Was it the same boy? "Not Michael..." he said before he could stop himself.

"Yes, Senator. Michael is my son and he's been kidnapped. It has to do with what happened on the mountain."

Nathaniel stayed the course, denying knowledge again. "I still don't know what you're talking about. What mountain?"

"Come now, Senator. My wife and I saw you and Kaito Hui on the patio at Silvertip on Friday. It was probably about that time when Kaito's son was over helping kidnap Lucy Carter so she could be thrown off that mountain on Saturday."

And there it was. It came down like a hammer blow to his skull. The much anticipated but dreaded breach was laid out as plain and simple as it could be by a member of the public unknown to anyone involved in the operation. It was the worst possible outcome. How could these two possibly have gained so much knowledge in such a short time? His light-headedness returned.

"Have you called the police?"

There was a pause before the reply came. "No. We haven't."

That was somewhat good news, but it was also concerning.

"Why not?"

Michelle Crowder responded. "Senator, this is a very delicate situation."

She didn't have to tell him how delicate it was.

"We believe that whatever happened this weekend is purposely being covered up." She paused, perhaps waiting for a response from him. He didn't give her one. "Lucy Carter died when she fell off a mountain near Canmore on Saturday. Her father, Harvey Metcalf, insists that his daughter simply fell while hiking and there is nothing more to it. We don't agree. There is so much more to this."

"Oh?" He played dumb. "I think I read about her, yes. Poor girl. But the papers said it was accidental." How could these two possibly know what Metcalf was insisting about the death of his daughter? That's what he and his team have been trying so bloody hard to find out for two days now.

"That's exactly what they want everyone to believe. It's not really what happened, Senator."

"What proof do you have that it was anything but an accident?"

Michelle laughed before replying. "Proof, Senator? I don't want to sound offensive, but we can start with a photo I have of you and Kaito Hui up at Silvertip on Friday."

Nathaniel's heart pounded fiercely. Some of the conversation with Kaito came back. A photo of him with Kaito was incredibly unnerving, but it wasn't proof of anything.

"We also overheard you two talking about the mountain she fell from," Michelle added.

He had been very upset with Kaito at the time and did talk about the mountain. This was bad. "I'm very sorry, but you must have misheard our conversation, Michelle."

"No, Senator. I apologize again, but my husband and I both believe you and Kaito are involved. The only thing we are asking is for your help to find our son so he can be returned home unharmed. Whatever happened up there is really none of our business."

"I am not involved," he replied harshly. "And I don't know where your son is."

"Please, Senator. Harvey Metcalf won't take our calls anymore and we don't know where else to turn."

They called Harvey? Seriously? Something didn't sound right about this entire call. He backtracked the conversation.

"You said this girl was kidnapped and Kaito's son was there?"

"Yes!" both Michelle and Richard replied together.

"Now how would you know that?"

"How?" It was Richard that responded. "Because our son, Michael, was hiding under Lucy's bed. That's how. It's a long story, but he saw what happened."

He wished Kaito was listening to this. This was exactly why operations are never to be rushed. The site was not clean, and at least one witness existed. He wished Kaito could see how quickly the facts could spread by one single witness. It was more bad news, but the puzzle was slowly coming together.

"He saw them take her?"

"Well, he didn't exactly see anything. He was hiding under her bed, but he heard everything. He was there, Senator."

It still didn't explain why he was kidnapped. If he was hiding, no one would have any reason to kidnap him. But it did finally explain Lucy's two boyfriends.

"It may help to explain why your boy was kidnapped if things actually happened as you are suggesting." Keep denying, but play along and probe for more.

"Come on," Richard said. "Why else would anyone kidnap our son? We think it was Harvey Metcalf's doing."

Another huge jump.

"We know both Huis were involved with the kidnapping. We've got photos of the dad following Metcalf's daughter around campus, and his son was present when she was taken."

More photos? The bad news bag was getting pretty full. These two were revealing troubling information, but it still didn't explain the connection back to Metcalf. Sure Michael was Lucy's boyfriend, but wasn't that all Metcalf knew about Michael? There was no other way to probe this than ask a direct question.

"Why would Metcalf want to take your son?"

Richard then explained the two phone calls in detail, including the secret romance her son was having with Metcalf's daughter.

"...and in one of the calls, Metcalf confessed to Michael that he knew she had been kidnapped on Friday and told him to stay out of it."

"He actually said that?"

"Yes, and he finished by telling Michael to make sure he stayed home," Richard added.

"A couple of hours later, Michael was abducted," Michelle said. "They came right in the back door and took him from our home. Who else could it be?"

"Okay. Let's say I believe what you are saying, but I do want to make it perfectly clear that no matter what you heard on Friday, I had nothing to do with any of this. I knew none of the details about what happened to Metcalf's daughter until you told me what you think you know just now. If, and I say that with no disrespect, this is all true, I will help in every way I can."

A welcome sigh came through the phone, but he wasn't sure if it was sincere. A polite thank you followed from both of the Crowders.

"It's the middle of the night over here, and I'm going to need some time."

"We understand," Michelle replied.

"Good. I'll call you when I find out something."

"We just want Michael back. Please, Senator. Our son wasn't involved in any of this."

Now where had he heard that before? "I'll see what I can do."

The conversation ended quickly. Things were escalating out of control. Something had Metcalf scared, causing him to kidnap Michael while Kaito remained staked out on his doorstep. And Nathaniel was holding Johnny upstairs. Things were on a crash course headed for implosion.

He called Randal, who seemed annoyed at being woken in the middle of the night. Nathaniel didn't give a rat's ass if he was annoyed. If he didn't get this fixed in a hurry, he wasn't sure how many more sunrises he was going to live to see himself.

"I'm sending Johnny home."

"When?" Randal asked. His voice was rough and strained.

"Now. You need to get moving. Johnny'll be waiting for you in room 363."

Minutes later, he was banging as quietly as he could on Johnny's door until the door cracked open. Johnny was standing there in his underwear with one eyeball poking out to see who the hell it was waking him in the middle of the night.

"What the fuck, man? It's fucking three a.m."

"Get packed."

"What?"

"Open the door."

"I'm sleeping. It's the middle of the fucking night. I'm going back to bed."

"Open the damn door, Johnny. You're going home."

Johnny closed the door, removed the night latch and let Nathaniel inside.

"You've really turned into one fucking asshole, Uncle. You know that?"

"Just get packed. Your ride will be here within the hour."

"This is bullshit."

"I said, get packed." He looked around the room. Johnny certainly took advantage of the room service offer. The place was a mess—trays, bottles, and glasses covering every surface.

Johnny strolled slowly to the washroom and closed the door.

"Let's go!"

"Fuck off, already! I'm cleaning up before I leave, okay?" A few minutes passed. The toilet flushed, and the water to the sink was turned on and off.

"Randal's on his way. He'll be here in a few minutes," Nathaniel called out to the closed bathroom door.

"Whatever..." Johnny replied as he brushed his teeth.

"I'm leaving now. I'll call you tomorrow when you're back home."

Johnny didn't reply.

Nathaniel left the room to catch as much sleep as he could.
CHAPTER 48

Wednesday 07:45 Paris, France

Nathaniel did his best to appear cheery and alert for the benefit of Diane and the girls, but four hours of restless sleep just wasn't enough. Diane knew why he was tired and offered no sympathy.

Dishes clanked in the background of the hotel restaurant. Each clink and bang sent bolts of annoyance rattling through his head. He motioned to the hostess for a refill on his coffee after chugging back the first as fast as he could.

The crepes came with fresh strawberries and a tower of freshly whipped cream, which both girls attacked eagerly while he settled on coffee and toast. After last night, he had little appetite.

"Guess who I saw last night?" Ellen asked.

Diane stirred her tea. "Who did you see?"

"Taka." She was clearly excited. "He goes by Johnny now."

Nathaniel nearly choked on his toast and covered his mouth. The damn kid couldn't even stay in the room.

"Oh, really?" her mother responded.

"Where?" Meagan asked. She frowned, and her bottom lip curled out in a pout. She always liked Taka. Diane thought she had a crush on him.

"At the end of the hall. I was getting a snack from the machine."

"In our hotel?"

"Yeah. He had a bucket and was getting ice."

"I want to go see him when we're done. Where is he?" Meagan asked.

"Just three rooms down. I can show you later."

"Can we, Mom? I haven't seen him in over a year." Her fork shook in her hand and she burst a grin. She was clearly excited.

"Just finish your breakfast."

Meagan turned to Ellen. "What else did he say? What's he doing here?"

"He didn't say much, but he really looked different."

At least the boy kept his lips zipped about how he got here, Nathaniel thought.

"Looked different?" Diane asked. "How did he look different?"

"Dunno, really. He was always dressed nice before. You know what I mean—nicest clothes, smelling nice, and his hair..." she laughed. "His jeans were dirty and his shirt was all rumpled."

"What was wrong with his hair?" Diane laughed along.

"His hair was like all over the place." She put one hand in the air and made a swirling motion above her head. "He needed a comb."

Diane looked at Nathaniel, who only shrugged.

Ellen chewed another forkful of her crepe and then gave a disparaging smile. "He really looked like he'd been sleeping in his clothes."

Michelle frowned. "Don't you think that's odd, Nate?"

He didn't answer.

"At least he smelled nice—like soap. I think he had just had a shower," Ellen said.

"What else did he say? Like how long is he here for?" Meagan asked.

"Dunno." She shrugged. "He didn't seem surprised to see me. Just said hi and kept walking to the ice machine. I had to follow him to get him to stop and talk to me."

She paused.

"He's weird. I don't think I like him anymore."

"I still like him," Meagan said, causing Diane to give her a half smile.

"Did you know the Huis were out here?" Diane asked Nathaniel.

"I had no idea," Nathaniel replied and looked at his watch.

Johnny was no longer in his room just down the hall. Johnny was currently somewhere high over the Atlantic, heavily sedated, on his back, stripped naked, and strapped to an ambulatory cot. An IV of sugar water with a mild sedative completed the scene. The fourteen-hour flight home on the small Enbraer Legacy 500 would make one stop in Gander, Newfoundland, to clear customs before refuelling and carrying on to Calgary. It had the appearance of a routine medical transfer, a simple forgery the Order had used numerous times before. Johnny would be back on the ground in Calgary early in the morning where he would remain sedated and secured. His final destiny remained in question.

Few things, and fewer people, caused Nathaniel to tremble these days. But there was one man who still had that effect on him: Geordie. Even the thought of him made him tremble again. Geordie would not approve of what he was doing by bringing Johnny home.

***

Diane and the girls were upstairs, busy fussing and grooming before heading out for the day. Nathaniel used the opportunity to call Jack about last night's phone calls.

"Lucas has his eyes all over Kaito," Jack said. "If he's going anywhere, we'll be on him."

"He already knows you're on him."

"He does?" Jack sounded surprised, as if he'd been caught out.

"Yeah. I told him you had marked him in Victoria. I had to do something to slow him down. But to be honest, I don't think Kaito was ever about to do anything himself. He's got something else planned."

"You think so?"

"I'm hoping so."

"So why the late-night call?"

"Look, we have a new problem." He paused and reconsidered whether he should keep this news to himself or share it. But it was clear that he was far too physically removed to do anything himself. He had no choice but to spell it out and let things fall where they may. "I'm thinking about pulling the four of you out because of it," he said. "I wanted to speak to you first before I decide."

Jack was troubled by the news. He remained silent, waiting for the explanation. Nathaniel continued. "That boy we heard mentioned in the Metcalf conversations...."

"Michael? What about him?"

"Metcalf kidnapped him."

"Yes, we suspected that already."

"He was taken about five or six hours ago."

"I'm not sure I understand this anymore. What does this boy have to do with any of this and why would you want to pull us back?"

Nathaniel swallowed once as he debated sharing the bad news again. "You won't like it."

"Come on, Nate. I'm not liking much of anything lately. How could this get any worse?"

"This whole thing started out as a potential breach. I just found the hole." He laughed. "Cavern, more like. Maybe even the entire Grand Canyon. I really shouldn't say any more."

Jack remained quiet for a number of seconds before replying. "Uh...what, who? Anyone we know?"

"It's no one any of us knew about. I just can't let you and Lucas get hung out if this thing implodes."

"Geordie sent us out here to help contain this. I've cleaned up messes before, and so has Lucas."

"Not like this one."

"No, not like this one. You're right, but we won't be going anywhere until we do everything we can. It's what we do. Who is the breach?"

Jack was determined to stay to the end. Lucas was too, Nathaniel supposed. He would do the same if the positions were reversed.

"That young man, Michael. His father contacted me a few hours ago. Me. Over here in Paris." Nathaniel threw up one of his arms.

"Oh shit."

"Yeah, oh shit is right. His son gets kidnapped but he doesn't go to the police. Not this guy. This guy, Richard Crowder, sends a cryptic note to my hotel in the middle of the night, knowing I'd have to call him back after reading it."

Jack released a nervous laugh.

Nathaniel laughed with him, pondering how to explain it all. "The note said it all. He knows what happened on the mountain was no accident, and he pegged me and Kaito as being behind it."

"He actually wrote that?"

"Yes."

"Do you still have the note?"

"I burned it in the fireplace."

Jack remained quiet.

"So I called this guy, Richard, and denied all knowledge, of course, but I have a hunch they still believe I'm the one driving whatever Kaito's been up to."

"What did they want?"

He laughed lightly. "They want me to get their son released. That's all. Can you believe that? They know Metcalf has him and they called me to get him released."

"I don't understand. How could they possibly connect you to any of this?"

Nathaniel let out a real laugh. "It's damn silly, really. That boy, Michael, was hiding in the apartment when Metcalf's daughter was abducted. He heard everything and later called Metcalf directly about what he heard."

"Christ!" Jack spewed. He was clearly upset by this new development. He chewed on Nathaniel's words before responding. "There's something you're not telling me, Nate. How the hell did they connect you to this?"

"They saw me with Kaito on Friday, up in Canmore."

"Yeah? So? That's not any reason to connect you."

It was Nathaniel's turn to pause. "They overheard our conversation. Kaito and I were discussing what he was doing. I may have said some things...."

"Things?"

"Yeah. Things."

"Damn it, Nate! What the hell are we supposed to do now? Lucas and I already have our hands full over here."

Jack's outburst startled Nate. "Well, the way I see it, Metcalf doesn't want any of this going public and thinks this boy has some info. He may be trying to contain it himself."

"Info about what? That's what worries me. This really stinks now."

"And if I don't get that boy back home, his parents are certain to go public with what they know."

"And what would they go public with, exactly?"

"Whatever Michael knows and told them. That Lucinda Carter did not fall off that mountain on her own."

"Maybe so. But what proof do they have?"

"I really don't want to wait to find out. They found me pretty bloody fast."

"How much time do you think we have?"

"Not much. The Crowders won't wait long for me to do something about their son. And one more thing...."

"What's that?"

"His mother, Michelle Crowder, is a reporter."

"Jesus Christ."

"Yeah. More shit. The pile just keeps on growing."

"Do you know where this boy is being held, at least? Maybe we could, I don't know...intervene somehow?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea where he is. Somewhere in Alberta would be my guess. That's where the Crowders called from."

"Hold on a second." He paused a moment. "You said Richard and Michelle Crowder?"

"Yes, that's correct."

The way Jack's voice dropped, he suspected Jack was writing the names down somewhere.

"From Calgary?"

"No. They live in Okotoks."

Jack was silent again for a moment. "So what steps do you suggest Lucas and I take from here?"

He chuckled nervously. "It's time to pick up Kaito."

"Grab Kaito?" he asked with a tone of impossibility woven deep. "He's surrounded with security."

"Yeah, I know. Geordie's not very happy and wants him picked up now."

"God, Nate. I'm not going anywhere near Kaito while he has goons smothering him."

"Antonio and Myles can get close. It's what these guys are good at," Nathaniel said.

"Myles, maybe. Antonio's usually buried inside one of our tin cans for the entire operation."

"I think you're underestimating him. These gadget men are field-trained just like the rest. If we pick up Kaito, maybe then we have negotiating power with Metcalf. I don't know what is going on between these two, but if we can leverage Metcalf with Kaito somehow to release the boy, we may be able to work ourselves out of this one."

"Well, I really think you're overestimating what we can do. There's only four of us. Those boys of his are probably just waiting for a reason to pop off a few."

"Then you and Lucas better come up with some ideas."

"You say that like we have a big bag of tricks and ideas just sitting around for situations like this."

"What else can I say, Jack? Geordie wants this finished, and my neck's on the line. You two were brought out to help, so I'm asking you to do everything you can to wrap this up. What the hell can I do from Paris?"

"Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"Damn sure I'm right. This is getting way out of hand, and I don't know what else I'm can do. I don't know why I'm even involved in any of this really, now that I think about it."

Jack chuckled before he replied. "Well, you're in it deep. Just like the rest of us."
CHAPTER 49

Wednesday 07:20 Somewhere in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, Alberta, Canada

The walls of the suite where Michael was being held were thin, and after last night it didn't take much to wake him. The storm had passed hours ago and the muted rumblings were now replaced by muffled voices, elevated and argumentative on the other side of the wall. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and listened carefully to decipher any of the words.

"Morger not goin nare."

The words made no sense.

"No!"

That word he understood.

Whoever these two were, they were part of the group that had abducted him and were in a heated debate about something. He slipped his feet over the side of the bed and crept over to the wall, pressing one ear tight against the cool, painted surface.

"I don't want to be a part of this anymore."

The voices were muffled but clear enough to understand.

"He only said that to get a rise out of you."

There was a moment of silence before one of them spoke again.

"But I did some checking."

"What did you check?"

"He said she was thrown off the mountain and that's what I think this is really about. She didn't fall like it said in the news."

"Thrown off...?"

"Yeah, on purpose. That's what he says those questions last night were are all about."

"And you think I was a part of it?"

"Yes...I mean, no...." A short pause. "I don't know. Were you?"

"Harvey only called me yesterday morning and I called you right after. I don't know anything about what happened to his daughter."

"That's not what he's saying."

"Then he's lying. It's not true."

"He said you kidnapped her and threw her off a mountain."

"Me? That's bull! I've done many jobs for Harvey but nothing like that."

"What about that other guy you told us about? You have done things like this, Daryl."

"What? Which guy?"

"That guy that was going to sue Harvey over that development investment thing downtown. He got hit by a car a week later and died. You laughed and said it was you driving the car."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did! You were stupid drunk out at Kevin's. He had that big bonfire by the barn and you bragged about it all night."

A thump sounded as if one of them bounced off the wall.

"Listen. If I said that, I must have been wasted and making it up. He did get hit by a car, but I wasn't driving. As far as I know, it was just an accident, a coincidence."

Another thump.

"Why'd you say it, then?"

"I don't know. It was just shit talk. I had a lot to drink that night. You know what I say sometimes. I don't do stuff like that for Harvey."

"Sure, Daryl, sure. Just like Harvey says his daughter fell and this kid is saying she was pushed. And now Harvey has us holding this kid on the other side of this door. Shit talk like that?"

"No one did anything to Harvey's daughter. No one. I should know. Whenever Harvey wants anything done this side of the Rockies, it's always Devlin or me he calls. Nobody touched her."

"Then why does Harvey keep asking if he recognizes anybody who was there on Friday?"

"I don't know...."

"Daryl, Harvey asked for a name. He wanted to know if anyone could be identified."

"I don't think that's what he meant."

"Well, I know I wasn't there Friday."

"So?"

A pause in the conversation.

"You were there, weren't you?"

"What? Me? Stop accusing me of something I wasn't part of."

"Well, I'm not going to be a part of this any longer. Kidnapping him overnight?" A loud thump sounded as a body hit the wall. "You lied to me. You said we were just going to pick him up and ask him some questions. Now he's still here and knows something about a murder...I don't want anything more to do with this."

"Erik. Just stop and listen to yourself. No one's murdered anyone."

Erik laughed once. "Yeah. And I also didn't expect to see you with that when you called me to come help. When did that start?"

"This?"

"Yeah, Daryl. When did you start carrying a gun?"

"What did you expect? Knives and baseball bats?"

"So that's it, huh?"

Daryl never responded.

"Kidnapping while carrying a gun is automatic jail time. This has gone way too far for me."

"So what are you going to do?"

"What do you think I'm going to do? I'm going to go in there and let him go."

Daryl laughed. "What?"

"Yeah. Right now. Let's let him go, Daryl."

Michael's heart began to thump hard. Could he really be let go just like that?

"No way. Harvey'll kill us if we do that." Pause. "I mean...you know what I mean."

"Well, I'm getting him out of there. Are you with me?"

"No, Erik. I'm not."

"I just don't want any part of this anymore. Fuck your money. Fuck his money."

There was a short silence.

"Here."

"What...no!"

"Take it."

"No. Put that money back in your fucking pocket."

Michael could hear the key rattling in the lock in the other room.

"Erik, stop. Give me the key."

"No."

"Give me the fucking key, Erik." The rattling stopped and was followed by some grunts and a couple more loud thumps on the wall.

"Give it back, Daryl."

"Get off." More thumps and bangs.

"You can't do this. You have to let him go." Another thump.

"Get off me!" Moans and scuffling sounds. "Stop it!"

"Just give it...!"

"No! Get off, fuck!"

"Ha!" Daryl called out, sounding out of breath. "We only have to keep him until tonight. That's what Harvey said." All went quiet.

"Give me back the key."

"No."

"Give it back or I'm leaving."

"Then leave."

"Really, Daryl?"

"I said go! Leave. I'll fucking do this myself."

"But...."

"No! Get the fuck out of here if you're not going to help! There's good money in this."

"No amount of money's worth being a part of this. A gun this time, Daryl? What's next? You've fucking changed, buddy."

"So are you going or staying? Come on, stay. I was just kidding. I need you. I can't do this by myself."

A short pause.

"So are you staying then?"

"No, I'm not, and you shouldn't either." Erik replied.

"Well, I can't just leave him in here. C'mon, Erik. Stay with me. Let's finish this."

"I'm fucking out of here. You're on your own."

"Erik...Erik! Come back, Erik!"

"No way..." Erik shouted, his voice muted. He was already up the stairs.

"Yeah? Piss off then!...fucking loser."

A few quiet minutes passed. The lock rattled again. Michael jumped back into the bed and feigned sleep.

"Hey, you! Time to rise and shine, my friend!" the masked man said, attempting to sound cheery as he popped his head into the bedroom and flipped the light on. He bounced the gun lightly against his thigh.

Michael grunted and feigned sleep. He tried to comprehend all he had just heard and what, if anything, he could do with the information.

"Look. Get dressed and we'll get you something to eat. Hop in the shower first. You stink."

Michael didn't stink, and knew the added commentary was just his captor's annoyance at his friend running off.

***

The sun was barely up and Michael found himself back in another rear seat of another vehicle with that smelly thing pulled down over his head. Daryl buckled Michael in, closed the door, and hopped in the front seat. Michael thought it odd that his hands weren't bound.

"Just so you know, the child door locks are enabled, so don't bother trying to get out. And keep that bag on."

"Yeah, okay," Michael replied and tugged down on the bag with one hand. "Where are we going?"

Daryl made no reply. They drove for a short while down gravel roads, splashing through puddles from last night's storm, before turning east onto hardtop. Fifteen minutes later, the vehicle slowed briefly to cross a set of railroad tracks and accelerated for a further few minutes before slowing again. The familiar sounds of heavy, early morning traffic fluttered around, letting him know they were nearing a town.

"Lie down," Daryl said.

"What?"

"I said lie down. We're coming into town and you can't be seen."

"I'm buckled in. I can't lie down."

The annoyance was heavy in Daryl's response. "Just fucking lean over, then. Get your head down as low as possible on the seat. We're almost there."

Michael leaned over as best he could, but it hurt to lean as the seat belt buckle dug into his hip.

"Where are we going?" he dared to ask.

"You need something to eat. I'm getting you something."

"Where are we?"

"Just...just shut the fuck up." He was angry.

The car came to a complete stop. He could hear traffic passing steadily by in front of him. It had to be a traffic light, and the only towns that made sense by the distance they drove were Calgary or Okotoks—possibly High River—but he remembered the railway tracks and knew it must be Okotoks. He had crossed the tracks hundreds of times entering town from the west. There was a sharp curve before and after the tracks. This traffic light would be the first one at the corner by the Royal Bank. Should he pop his head up? He started to straighten up."

"Don't you dare!" Daryl called out. "Two more blocks and we'll be there."

Daryl accelerated and drove straight for another two blocks. He signalled a turn. He made a quick left followed by a quick right before the vehicle rolled to a complete stop on a gravel lane. Daryl got out and opened the door next to Michael.

"Come on. Out."

He grabbed Michael by the arm, unbuckled him, and forced him away from the car, finally shoving him down to the ground on his buttocks and pushing him back until he was leaning up against a concrete building. He kicked out at the insides of Michael's bare feet, urging his legs apart until they were stretched out flat in front of him.

"Here's where we're grabbing food. What do you want? Bacon sandwich? Eggs?"

"Whatever. Bacon sandwich is good."

"Coffee?"

"Uh, sure."

"Cream, sugar?"

"Yeah, one of each."

This was odd. Why take him out of the vehicle where he might be seen?

"There's a drive thru here and I can't have anyone see you inside the car. I'm going to drive around and you are going to stay on your ass right here. I can see you clearly from the drive thru so if you get up off the ground, I'm going to come back and run you the fuck over. Get it?"

Michael got it.

"Sit on your hands and don't move a muscle. You even lift your hands from under your butt and I'm going to crush both of your fucking legs under my wheels before you even have a chance to move. Are we clear?"

Michael nodded and tucked his hands under him.

"I said, are we clear?" he repeated forcefully.

"Yes. Very clear. Stay on my hands."

"I don't know how fast these guys are inside, so don't you dare move, no matter how long this seems to be taking. Got it?"

"Yeah, you may be gone a while."

"Good. I'm getting in my car now. I'll be back in a few minutes."

A few seconds later, Michael could hear the crush of gravel as the vehicle moved away down the alley. Everything went silent after that. Seconds passed like minutes, and it seemed like a long time had passed since Daryl had driven away. He listened for a car engine, wheels, or even the sound from a drive thru speaker or window, but he heard nothing. The only sound was the occasional vehicle travelling down the next road over, a dog barking in the distance, and some birds twittering in the trees off to his left.

After a while, there was a different sound. A soft, slow shuffle of gravel on his left moved slowly nearer until the shuffle was out in front of him. It stopped. He heard what was most certainly a child giggling and snickering before the shuffling moved off towards his right. He followed the sound with his eyes, though he couldn't see a thing.

The shuffling stopped again. A distant whispering was followed by indiscriminate laughter. The shuffling started again. It moved closer until it stopped a few feet in front of him.

"Mister?" It was the voice of a young boy. "Why do you have a feed bag on your head?"

He didn't want to answer. His heart raced.

"He's probably retarded," said another boy.

"No he isn't."

"Go away," Michael uttered as quietly yet forcefully as he could.

The boys ignored him. "Why do you have a feed bag on your head?" one asked again. "Is it a dare or something?"

"A what?" Michael asked.

"A dare. Is that why you're wearing a feed bag?"

"Feed bag...?"

"Yeah. For feeding horses. My uncle Malcolm has horses and he lets me help feed them sometimes."

Michael suddenly understood the foul smell and his stomach churned.

"Is there a car around here?" he asked.

"There's lots of cars."

"I mean in the drive thru."

Both boys laughed. "Drive thru?"

"Yeah. A friend of mine is getting food. He's in the drive thru. Can you see him?"

"You're weird. There's no drive thru here at the gas station."

Michael suddenly understood.

"Shit." he muttered. "I'm sitting behind the Hi-Ho, aren't I?"

The kids giggled again at him. "Yes."

Michael pulled his hands out from under his butt and removed the bag from his head. Sure enough, it was just him and the two boys in the shade at the back of the Hi-Ho service station.

Daryl was long gone.
CHAPTER 50

Wednesday 15:25 Paris, France

"I'm really sorry, Diane. I have to take this call."

She gave him a defeated look. She knew there was no chance of winning against Nathaniel's cell phone this trip. At least she didn't get emotional this time. She actually seemed more tolerant about it today. He turned away quickly and tucked the phone up to his ear, trying not to let Diane see it wasn't his personal phone.

"You don't need to try and hide it," she said coarsely. "I've known about the two phones for days now. Is it your friend again?"

There was nothing to be gained by denying it or acting surprised. "It's business," he said. He faked a smile at her, mouthed the word 'sorry,' and took the call as he exited the hotel room and headed down into the lobby. "Nate here."

"Where are we, Nate?" Geordie's tone was firm, and Nathaniel was immediately rattled.

"It's almost over," he replied working hard to sound composed.

"Have you got him? Kaito?"

"Not yet, but he's not going anywhere."

Geordie's fury came like a wave of heat through the phone at Nathaniel. "Damn, Nate! I told you to bag him! Is Jack or Lucas there with you?"

"Jack's watching Metcalf and Lucas is outside Kaito's hotel." The question felt insulting, as if he couldn't handle the job without their help. And he was in Paris, so of course they weren't with him. The old man was becoming senile. "And we couldn't bag him. He's surrounded himself with security."

"Oh, he has, has he?"

"We're waiting for an opportunity. We'll take him."

"It's been four damn days already! What the hell kind of an opportunity are you waiting for?"

Geordie expected results and the tone of voice made it very clear that he was disappointed. This whole event was becoming tiresome, and after his little chat with Kaito, some things weren't sitting right. He now had his own questions for Geordie.

"Did you know the Russian was taken up that mountain before he died in the auto accident?"

"Mountain? No." He paused a moment. "Did you get rid of that kid yet?"

Did Geordie just sidestep his question on purpose?

"I'm not done with the him yet, but I want to know if you knew what happened up on the mountain."

"What do you mean, you're not done with him? He's collateral and you need to get rid of him. I know this is hard for you, Nate." He paused. "Do you think you're too close?" His voice suddenly calmed. "I think maybe you are. How about I call someone over there to that handle this problem for you? Then you can stay focused on our problem with Kaito. Would you like me to do that?"

Something definitely wasn't right. It felt like he was in a dance again, and the devil was most certainly leading. For Geordie to suddenly offer more help after slamming the door on Saturday was truly out of character.

"I can handle him..." he paused on purpose to make a point, "...once I'm done with him. But I asked you about the mountain. Did you know?"

"Damn you, Nate! I asked you to get rid of that kid. If you're not up to it, I will have someone else take care of it. Maybe Jack or Lucas. Now tell me, are you going to take care of him, or do I have to step in here and call someone?"

Geordie was purposely evading the question. He did know. Of course he did.

"I've moved him."

"Who? The kid?"

No, the dead Russian, you manipulative bastard! He wanted to say it, but he didn't. "Yes, the kid." Even repeating Geordie's words sounded derogatory. The kid has a name. "I'm bringing Taka back home."

"Listen to me. I told you to make that package go away. What the hell are you up to?"

"This is my call, Geordie." Calling Geordie by name felt awkward. It almost felt like Geordie expected a 'your highness' or 'master' when being addressed. If there was such a thing as a good time to stand up to Geordie, Nate felt this was it. There was just something wrong about the way Geordie kept pushing while running interference at the same time. In all of Nate's years leading operations, this had never happened before.

Piss off, Geordie. I'm handling this, so butt out! is what he wanted to say, but he knew better. "No one is telling me to erase any package," he said instead. "I'll decide what happens to him when I'm done with him. It's my call."

Geordie exploded. "Your call? Your call?! None of this is your call! I'll tell you exactly what you are going to do, and you are going to listen!"

Geordie's rant was too much for Nathaniel, and he was struggling to keep his cool. He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared down at it as Geordie continued to rant. His hand was trembling. He slowly lifted the phone back to his ear once Geordie was done with his torrent and the speaker went silent.

"I'm sorry, Geordie, but I'm doing this my way. I'll call you when it's over."

"Don't you dare hang up on me! I'm not finished speaking to you!"

Nathaniel pressed END CALL.

A moment later, his phone buzzed. It was Geordie. He pushed IGNORE.
CHAPTER 51

Wednesday 08:40 Okotoks, Alberta, Canada

Richard drove like a madman to collect his son in Okotoks. Michael was standing barefoot on the corner outside the Hi-Ho service station, looking physically unharmed but anxious. He appeared pleased as punch once he jumped in the passenger seat.

"God, Michael!" Richard's eyes watered. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

He probed Michael with his eyes. "Did they hurt you?"

"Just...let's go already. I'm fine. Really. They only wanted information."

Richard turned the car back onto the main road and headed towards home. He immediately began to grill him for information.

"When you called, you said it was Harvey Metcalf? How can you be sure it was him?"

"Because they talked about him. They said his name—said he wanted to know if I could identify any of the men from Friday. That's the reason they grabbed me."

"What did you tell them?"

"Only that I knew Johnny was there. I didn't know who the others were...but...I don't know."

Michael sounded unsure of himself and a bit unsettled. "What is it?"

"I had a lot of time to think last night. There was one man there Friday night that had an accent. A strong one. I don't know his name, but I do remember him." A puzzled look remained on his face as he looked at his father. "He was Russian I think."

"Russian?" Richard knew what Michel was implying. "All eastern European accents sound similar. At least to me they do."

Michael's eyes remained entrenched on his father. "He said something that night."

Richard continued to drive, giving a half glance at his son as he waited for more.

"He said, 'I don't do this kind of thing,' and the other guy said, 'not when you're sober you don't.'"

"Hmm," Richard responded.

"He's the same Russian that was in the car accident that was in the paper. That's what I think. 'Not when you're sober.' Don't you see? He's the one that was always caught drinking and driving and killed that girl."

Was it possible? He would certainly fit to be grouped in with the others based on what they were suspecting.

"And now he's dead. See? It must be him."

"Michael, I think you should slow down a minute"

"He didn't want to be there that night," Michael said, excitement building in his voice. "The others did, but not him. They forced him to take Lucy. Yes! Yes!" Michael continued to get even more excited as if his memory was uploading blank pieces from a misplaced file. He gestured wildly as he continued. "He even asked them why they were making him do it. You know? Why were they making him take part in what was happening? He didn't even know who she was!"

Now that made a lot of crazy sense. Lucy Carter, Garrod Shaw, and the Russian: was it really possible these were all intentional 'accidents'? The conversation between Kaito Hui and the Senator on Friday afternoon atop the Silvertip patio now loomed like some giant inuksuk pointing down at what was to occur in the Bow Valley corridor during the twenty-four hours that followed. If these really were intertwined and intentional, that meant something far more sinister was going on.

"Let's just get you home."

***

Michelle and Tawnie were quick to listen to Michael's tale of forced confinement, hanging on to every detail as if they were on a giant roller coaster. When the ride was over, Michelle was once again settled into her role of reporter—challenging, questioning, and sorting supposition from facts. In the end, it was at most theoretical as the facts pointed to accidental deaths for all three victims. Fabricating a theory was always much easier than trying to prove one.

"So, what do we do about it?" Tawnie asked.

Richard shrugged and shook his head. "I really don't think there is anything more we can do. Michael is home safe, and this is finally over."

"Huh?" Michael said. "What do you mean over? They killed Lucy, Dad. How can this be over?"

He shrugged again. "We can't prove any of this. C'mon, Michael. You're safe and I think it's time we let this go."

"That's not fair!" Michael said and slammed both fists onto the kitchen table in front of him, causing Tawnie's water to splash up and over the sides of her glass. "She was murdered, Dad! Murdered!"

Richard instinctively raised his hands in a calming manner. "But we don't know that, Michael. Not for sure."

"Aargh!" Michael groaned. "Yes we do, Dad! You heard Metcalf! Why else would he kidnap me?" He tried not to cry, but he wasn't that strong. A few tears crawled down his face. "We know everything!"

"Michael. Listen to your father," Michelle added.

"We have photos, photos of Johnny's dad stalking Lucy." He thrust his finger out to challenge Michelle. "And you! Even you have photos!"

"Michael, please...."

"No way!" He shouted. He pushed himself away from the table and stood, wiping at his eyes before pounding his fists at the sides of his head. "Shuuut uup!" He screamed. His eyes opened wide and he swung a fist through the air at nothing. "I said it was..." he mumbled and turned away, with his back towards the table. He rubbed at his temples again.

Richard stood and moved up behind Michael. There was no question Michael was fighting for control over the voices again.

"Shhh...please," Michael whispered softly. "Let me think...think!" he said to himself.

"It's okay, Michael. We won't give up just yet." He wrapped one arm around his son. "Come sit down." Richard cast a glance over at Tawnie and Michelle. "Please, Michael. Come and sit. We won't give up yet. We'll find a way to make this right."

It wasn't so much that he didn't want to do anything further to uncover the truth, but if this truly was a conspiracy, then pushing back would be very dangerous. Richard had no intention of putting his family in harm's way again.
CHAPTER 52

Wednesday 17:50 Paris, France

Diane was secluded in the ensuite bathroom humming a French tune as she readied herself for dinner. The reservations at Lasserre were made nearly eight months ago. With two Michelin stars, tonight's dinner at Lasserre was to be the highlight dinner of the entire trip. For Nathaniel, tonight's meal held a special curiosity. He had acquired a taste for the finer foods as a result of that very first visit to Hotel La Sapiniere over twenty years ago. It had become habit for him ever since to compare every meal to the way Marcel Kretz may have prepared it with his mystic underlying tastes that tickled the palate and tricked the senses in every dish. Few restaurants were ever able to compare, but when they did, Nathaniel tucked the experience away where it would be recalled at a later date for another comparison. Diane might not have thought he was up to it, but Nathaniel was looking forward to this dinner as much as she was, maybe even more so this week in particular, as he desperately needed some respite from the turmoil happening back in Canada.

His phone buzzed. It was Lucas.

"Hi, Lucas. What have you got?"

Diane heard him answer the phone and the humming in the ensuite stopped abruptly.

"Kaito's on the move. He left the hotel about an hour ago and is now holed up at Floyd's Diner on Yates. Just thought you should know."

"Thanks for the update. I'm going to call him to let him know we're watching him."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"I'm running out of ideas. It's the only one I have at the moment. What damage can he do if he knows we're watching? None."

"You're probably right."

"Call me once he's on his way again."

Nathaniel hung up, released a heavy sigh, and immediately called Kaito. Every call now seemed filled with lead, and the phone felt heavy as he lifted it to his ear. The call went straight to voicemail.

"Kaito, it's Nate. We're watching everything you do. Please go back to your hotel and pack up. This has gone on long enough. And I'm not releasing Johnny until I hear from you. Your son's pretty upset, so call me. You know the number."

Diane popped her head out of the ensuite before Nathaniel had tucked his phone away.

"This isn't going to start again, is it?"

"What?" He knew what she meant and wasn't sure how much of his conversation she overheard.

"These phone calls."

She didn't have to say any more. Her eyes said it all. She was on the verge of tears again. This night of all nights was one he didn't dare mess up. She deserved better, and looking at her now almost made him break into tears of his own, but his business wasn't finished yet. He wished he could stand down, but until Kaito was on retreat, his path was set. How could he just walk away?

"No, of course not."

She remained at the door looking out at him. "So what is it this time?"

"What? These calls?" He recognized by the tone of her voice that he had to answer correctly. "It's just business," he replied. "Nothing you would be interested in."

She hesitated only a second. Her voice was strained. "Since when did you start taking your business calls on a secret phone?" She stared at him, waiting for an answer. He wasn't getting off that easily.

"It's complicated," he said and looked down at his watch, "...but it is business. I promise. "He faked a grin. "We're leaving for dinner soon, and there's just not enough time to explain. It's just business. I'll explain tonight after dinner."

Diane was not happy with his answer, but she didn't press for more and disappeared back into the ensuite. Her gleeful humming session was over.

The cell phone buzzed in his hand again. "Damn it," he whispered and put the phone up to his ear. He stepped towards the window to get as far away as he could from the ensuite. It amounted to only a few paces.

"Hi, Jack. What now?"

"Metcalf's daughters just came home."

This was a surprise. "Why would...?"

"The funeral, Nate. Lucinda Carter's funeral is today."

"Oh, damn, of course," he said. He'd forgotten all about the funeral. "That's what Kaito was waiting for. I'm sure of it. How the hell did we miss this?"

"I don't know," Jack apologized. "So what do we do?"

"Follow Kaito. Go to the funeral if you have to. Do whatever you need to do."

"We're on it."

"Did you overhear anything else from his home overnight?"

"Nothing worth noting. Relatives and friends began showing up first thing this morning. Not sure who they all are but there's a crowd in there now and it's too chaotic inside to decipher any specific conversation. It's mostly conversation about funeral arrangements and the expected chattering with the missus about Lucy, but nothing from Harvey."

"Nothing at all?"

"No. He's there all right. We heard him a few times early on, but he's been gone from the crowd for a while now. He must have closed himself off in his office for some reason."

Nathaniel suspected he knew what that reason was. Michael Crowder. And that little problem needed attention soon as well.

There was a knock on the door. "Mom? Dad? Can we come in?" It was the girls.

"Yeah," Nathaniel called out. He stepped over quickly to the door and let his girls inside.

"Look, Jack. Call Lucas. Tell him what's going down. I really gotta run here. We're heading out for dinner in a few minutes. If you can't reach me, I'm leaving it up to you two to make a judgement call on the spot if you need to."

"You sure about this?"

"You have done this kind of thing more than I have. That's why Geordie wanted you in on this in the first place, isn't it?" After he said it, his mind started to roll over the conversations at La Sapiniere. Who said what that night over a few whiskies started to pound away like some low-beating drum. Something suddenly bothered him, but he didn't know what it was. He'd have to think on it a while. "I'm just..." he glanced over to the closed ensuite door. "I'm tired, that's all. I don't know if I should be taking any more calls tonight."

"We'll take care of it. Don't you worry. Enjoy your dinner."

Nathaniel hung up.

Both Ellen and Meagan gave him a hug and quickly started talking about some Facebook message Ellen read a few moments ago from a friend back home.

"Are you just about ready, Diane? We need to get moving here soon."

Diane came out from the ensuite and commented on her girls' choice of dress, which she approved, before lighting up on Nathaniel. "And you're leaving that damn phone here."

Her demand surprised him. "What?" He laughed purposely to lighten the mood.

"I mean it, Nate. You're not taking it with you tonight. Neither of them."

Meagan and Ellen watched with curiosity. It wasn't often that their mother made any demands from their father.

"I'll leave it on silent."

"No! Damn you, Nate...!" She spotted Ellen's dismay and shock at her outburst. "Sorry, Ellen, you didn't need to hear that." She pulled her close and pecked her once on the head before continuing on with Nate. "I am not letting you interrupt this evening with another one of your phone calls. You said it was just business. If it's just business, then it can wait until tomorrow. We're on vacation. Not tonight, Nate. Please. Not tonight."

Nathaniel was beside himself. Things with Kaito were about to explode, and Diane's turmoil seemed to ride and swell in sync with the situation. The hurt in her eyes was floating just beneath the surface, and he loved her too much not to comply.

"Okay, okay." He raised his arms up in the air, surrendering. "Let me just make one more call before we go and then my phone will stay here."

"One call, and both phones stay here," she said firmly and pointed her finger at him.

"Yeah. One call." He turned away. "I'll take it out in the hall."

"What's wrong, Mom?" Meagan asked.

"Nothing's wrong, Meg," she replied, but the tone of her voice said otherwise. "And you be quick!" she called out to Nathaniel as he pulled the door closed behind him.

"Where's our boy now?" Nathaniel asked the moment Randal picked up.

"Touched down ten minutes ago. We're offloading him now."

"You're secure?"

"Of course. This hangar's always secure. Doc was here waiting."

Nathaniel knew who Doc was. Doc set up the sedation ruse for Johnny's trip out to France and arranged all the preparation and documentation to bring him back. It was one link that Geordie hadn't broken. It coupled sideways and down a couple levels through a few local contacts in Alberta, and because it did, Geordie didn't have access to shut it down.

"How is Johnny?"

"Looking good," Randal said. "He's still knocked out."

"Don't bring him back just yet. Kaito's on the move again. Whatever he's going to do, he's going to do in the next few hours. But listen, unfortunately I'm kind of in a pickle at the moment. I have a bit of a problem of my own going on over here that's tying my hands, and I'm just too far away to manage any more of this Kaito business from where I am tonight. I'm passing it over to Jack and Lucas for the next while. Give either one of them a call as soon as you hang up, and let them know you're taking your lead from them tonight."

"You're okay with me taking direction from them?"

"I don't really have an option. I'll be out of reach for...gee, I really don't know how long. Three or four hours at least."

"You sure about this? This is your friend's son." Nathaniel had explained the close relationship to Randal the night Taka was picked up and shuffled overseas.

"I know he's my friend's son. He's a good kid, but yes, I'm sure. Call Jack and do whatever he asks."

"Whatever he asks?"

"Yes. Whatever he asks. Don't question him, just do it."
CHAPTER 53

Wednesday 10:50 Near Okotoks, Alberta, Canada

"You could try calling the Senator," Michelle said to Richard. They were crowded around the kitchen table with Tawnie while Michael remained sequestered on the living room couch alone. Tawnie was busy clicking away on her laptop.

"I'm not sure I like that idea," Richard said. "Calling him after pointing the finger at him in that message won't get us anywhere. It could be dangerous if he actually did have any involvement."

"He did say he was going to try and help us."

Richard pointed towards the front room. "Did he help Michael? No, he didn't. Michael was lucky to get away like he did."

"Maybe he was trying to organize something, Richard. You don't know that he was not doing anything to help us. And don't forget where he is. He's way overseas at the moment." She checked the time.

"Yeah. Using time as an excuse for why he didn't call doesn't cut it. It's seven o'clock in the evening in Paris right now. He's had all day to call us."

"Just call him then, Richard."

Richard grunted his reluctance. "I don't have his number. How am I supposed to call him?"

"You do have his number. He called us, remember?" Michelle said. "It'll be on your phone."

"Oh," he replied, feeling sheepish. The number was easily located with the extra digits required for international calls. "So what am I supposed to say?"

"Just tell him the truth, that what happened on the mountain needs to be exposed for the sake of Lucy Carter and her family, and we want nothing more to do with this. A man in his position must have connections all over the place."

"Why would he want to help us? We practically blamed him for being part of this in the note we sent."

"And he denied being a part of it, didn't he?" Michelle replied.

"He's a politician," Tawnie said. "That's what they do. He's probably part of it."

"But he did say he would help us. Maybe we're misunderstanding him," Michelle said.

Michael's voice crept in from where he sat alone sulking on the couch in the other room. "Well, I didn't misunderstand anything. I know what I heard on Friday, and I know what I heard last night. Lucy didn't fucking go hiking alone."

"Okay, Michael. There is no need for that kind of language," Michelle said.

"But this is such bull crap," Michael called out. "Why can't we just go to the paper if not to the police? You're a reporter, Michelle. Can't you write up what really happened and put it in the paper? They'd have to investigate it then. This whole sitting around waiting for something to happen thing sucks."

"It doesn't work like that."

"See? Everything about this sucks."

Richard pressed the CALL button, moving past Michael's moody rant, and in a few seconds the call went through. After a half dozen rings another voicemail box picked up the call. This one was without a name.

"Uh, hi, Senator Diamond. This is Richard Crowder calling. I was just looking for a call back from you. And Michael's fine...he's back home now. Please call me back when you have a moment."

Richard shrugged and Michelle reached out and grabbed his hand. "You sure that was his phone number?"

He checked the number again. "Yeah. It has to be. I hit send from the number displayed on the phone. It's the only international one."

"Gawd," Michael moaned in the other room. "First he says he's going to call me about Lucy's funeral, and then he comes and kidnaps me an hour later. Shussh! Why would he do that?"

Tawnie clicked away on the keyboard. She made an unsettling sound, "Hmmm."

"Do you think, Richard, that Harvey was planning on grabbing Michael even before Michael called him?"

"No, I don't think so. He asked where Michael lived. I think he was thinking on his feet and just saw an opportunity and took it."

"And you did say he told Michael to stay at home." Tawnie added.

"Yes, that's true too."

"Oh, wait a minute." Tawnie stopped clicking on the keyboard and her eyes grew large. She looked up at her father and Michelle and put her hand to her mouth.

"What?" Richard asked.

Tawnie leaned out from her chair and tried to catch a glimpse of Michael in the other room. She couldn't see him. "You are not going to believe this."

"What is it?"

She glanced into the other room one more time before focusing her attention on her father. "Her funeral is today."

"What!" Michael shouted from the other room.

"I think it's now, uh...." She reread the article displayed in front of her. "Yeah...uh, she's definitely being interred sometime today."

"Today? What the hell!" Michael's voice was rattled. "No you didn't! Just shut up already!" He cried out and started to cry again as he jumped off the couch and stomped around in an angry circle looking ready to punch anyone who came near. "No! He said he'd call me.... Fuck!" He mashed his fist against his temples. "He already knew when the funeral was!"

Both Richard and Michelle rushed over to offer some comfort but Michael wouldn't having any of it.

"Shh." He paused and snapped his head around at Richard and Michelle. "That's the reason he kidnapped me, isn't it?" he shouted and stomped hard on the floor with his fists clenched tight. "He didn't want me there. Is that it? What an arsehole!"

"Okay, Michael. Let's try to calm down for a minute," Richard said.

"He did this just to make sure I wouldn't show!" He cried out again and mashed his teeth as the rage inside him grew. "All that stuff he said...."

"Michael, stop it."

"No!" He swung out into the air and Richard seized the moment to move in between swings, catching Michael in a bear hug. Michael continued to thrash about, thumping his father on the back until his swings weakened to mere taps and ending in a full-on embrace. He cried hard.

"I know this is hard, Michael. You should be there. You should, but there is nothing we can do about it now."

Michael's sobs lightened and he gasped for a few breaths before speaking again. "Shhh! He...he made sure I wouldn't show up. No! I should have been there for Lucy, Dad."

He sobbed some more and cried into his father's shoulder.

"I miss her so much. Oh gawd, I miss her."

"It's okay, Michael."

"I should have helped her. Shushhh! Don't you see? I should have come out when Johnny was there and none of this would have happened. And now..." he sobbed again.

Richard hugged Michael until he had no more sorrow to surrender.

Michael cried out and moaned for Lucy. It had only been four days since Lucy's death. Michael hadn't yet let out all of his grief, and this outburst was probably a good thing.

"Don't worry, Michael. I know it hurts, but it will pass in time."

"I don't want it to pass," he cried out. "I miss her. I'll always miss her."

"I know you will."

Richard offered comfort as best he knew by holding his son and allowing him to vent in any way he wanted. As Michael's tears soak into Richard's shirt, Richard worried how deep the slide intruded into his wound. No matter how far it went, he was prepared to hold onto his son for the rest of the day if that was what Michael needed.
CHAPTER 54

Wednesday 10:45 Victoria, British Columbia, Canada

The small white van slipped in line with the rest of the automobiles headed for the graveyard. The drive was short, the cemetery being only two kilometres away along the south shore. The slow-moving snakelike row of vehicles pulled into the tree-lined parking lot one by one, filling up the stalls in a sequential, orderly fashion. Jack caught a stall at the edge of the lot.

"It's all set then," Antonio said.

Jack wasn't sure what he meant. He stared outside at the many people heading away up the path.

"What exactly is set?"

"Kaito's on the move. He'll be arriving here shortly and Lucas is right behind him. The four of us are going open-mic on this to keep a very close eye on him."

"You mean wired?"

"Just ear pieces and mics. They're open, so we can all hear each other and talk to anyone at any time."

Antonio fitted Jack with the earpiece. "The range on these little guys is small, but they're perfect for what we need here."

"Do you think we will be able to apprehend Kaito here in the parking lot?" Jack asked.

"Not if he's still got his pack of wolves protecting him. For now, we just watch and wait."

"Wait for what?"

Antonio only raised his eyebrows and Jack knew Antonio didn't have an answer. By the time Jack exited the vehicle, the parking lot was full and many cars were now parking alongside the road leading into the cemetery. The bulk of the attendees had already arrived. Only a few stragglers shuffled up behind him as he headed up the trail, through the trees, and to the gravesite.

"Can you hear me?" Jack whispered.

"Loud and clear," Antonio replied.

"Good. Is Kaito here yet?"

"He's just turning into the cemetery now," Lucas replied. "And we are right behind him."

"Does he know you're following him?"

"Oh, he knows. He could see my handsome face in his mirror if he bothered to look."

"Ah. Good, I guess. I'm heading up top to find Harvey."

A large, green, open-sided tent covered the small crowd gathered at the gravesite. Harvey and his family sat in the front row opposite their daughter's casket. A man with a dark complexion and shades was leaning over his shoulder, speaking into his ear. Harvey nodded multiple times, his expressionless stare cemented on the black casket in front of him. The casket glistened under the bright sunshine and rested on a shiny chrome contraption that would later be used to lower it down into the cool earth.

Jack slowed his pace as he neared the gathering crowd. All seats under the tent were taken, leaving many standing behind and alongside those already seated. Others gathered on the opposite side of the grave, keeping a polite distance from the casket.

"I see him. Harvey's with his family, seated already. Security's tucked pretty tight around them." He paused and scanned the crowd behind Harvey. "Yeah. He's got security out on the perimeter as well—two out back..." he turned back in the direction of the cars. He laughed. "I have one about fifteen feet away at my back. He's made me, I'm sure."

"You don't look like a threat, do you, Jack?" Lucas commented.

He shrugged. "I'm standing off to the side by myself talking to myself. I can only imagine what I look like."

Lucas laughed.

"Okay, boys." It was Myles. "Let's stay focused. Kaito's moving."

"He is? Where?" Jack asked. He frowned and tried to see through the trees down to where all the cars were parked.

"Slow down," Myles replied. "He's just getting out of this vehicle down the road. He's got two...no, three with him. It'll be a few minutes."

"Antonio, what do I do?" Jack asked.

"Just sit tight. Eyes open."

"But what do I do when I see Kaito? Are you coming up?"

"Just sit tight, Jack. I've got work to do here in the van. Lucas and Myles will swing in from behind and follow them up."

Jack had never felt so uneasy in his life. He was an artist by trade and not a field operative like Antonio and Myles. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing. What if Kaito tries something? I'm not like you. I don't have a gun. Not that I want one, but...."

"Jack, it's Myles. Just calm down, sit tight, and be our eyes. You don't need to do anything other than keep talking about what's happening up there. I've got Kaito and I am prepared to do whatever's necessary."

"Okay. I can do that. Just watch and tell you what I see," he repeated. "Yeah."

"If we can grab him we will, but I doubt the opportunity will expose itself. And at this point, we can only wait until Kaito makes a move."

"That sounds smart," Jack said. "But there's a lot of people up here." He heaved a heavy sigh. Jumping in the middle of what Kaito was about to do was very risky. If anything was going to happen up here, it was going to be very public and potentially very messy. The Order didn't do messy. He really hoped they weren't about to be forced into an exception.

"Just keep your eyes open. Keep talking. What's Metcalf doing?"

"He's still just sitting there, waiting patiently. It looks like the director is about to start the proceeding."

"Where's Harvey looking? Does he look like he knows Kaito is here?"

"Um...no, not really. If he knows, it's not showing."

"Where's he looking?"

"He's looking down, I guess. At the ground, maybe the coffin. Mostly straight ahead, I'd say." He paused. "Uh, wait a second, one of his security is speaking to him again. He's nodding now. And he's not looking at all pleased. He's saying something to his wife."

"Kaito's just heading up the path with his men now. You should see him soon."

"And now he's looking around in the direction of the cars. Yeah, he knows. He knows, for sure."

"Is he doing anything else?"

"No, nothing. Now he's got his eyes on the director. The director's speaking and he's started the service, I think. Yeah, it's full-on now. He's saying a prayer and everyone's bowed their heads."

"I'm following a bit behind Kaito's little group. Can you see them yet?" Myles asked.

"No," Jack replied. "But from what I can tell, security up here sure as hell seems to know Kaito's coming. My friend behind me is moving off in your direction. Looks like he's going to try to intercept them."

"Yeah, I see him. There're two more coming from each side at the back here as well."

"Security is whispering in his ear again. Harvey whispered something back."

"In the middle of the service? Really?"

"They all still have their heads bowed," Jack replied "...except Harvey and his security."

"Okay, I see what's happening," Lucas said. "Down here, Harvey's security just held up. They're letting Kaito carry on and are holding their positions."

"Harvey must have told them to let him through."

"He must have. Kaito's also seen them stop, and he raised his hand at his own security. Yeah, they're stopping too."

"So what does that mean?" Jack asked. "He's coming up alone?"

"He is."

"Are we going to grab him then?"

Myles chuckled. "No, Jack. No one's touching him unless this goes off the rails and turns ugly. This meeting almost seems mutual. It's not much of a surprise, really. Just keep a watch on Kaito and tell us everything. We have our hands full down here at the moment."

"Full with what?"

"It's just getting a little crowded down here with Kaito's and Harvey's security. They've made you, and watched Lucas and I follow up behind Kaito. They've closed in on both sides. I just hope it's precautionary and no one gets a little too sensitive with their trigger finger, that's all."

"Okay, yeah, I got him marked. Kaito's moving up the path, nearing the crowd opposite Harvey. He's slowed down. Harvey sees him now."

Jack paused as he watched the scene unfold.

"The director is still talking and the crowd is right in with him. I don't think anyone but Harvey sees Kaito moving his way in through the group on the far side of the casket. Yeah, he's moving slowly, inching towards the front. He's careful not to push through, but he is moving up."

"Is he carrying anything? Where are his hands?" Myles asked.

"I can't see his hands. He's in the middle of the crowd opposite Harvey. He's almost at the front now."

"What's Harvey doing?"

"Aren't you coming up here, Myles?" Jack pleaded.

"I don't think that's an option. The crowd I was telling you about is getting a little too friendly down here."

"So what do I do if Kaito does something?"

"Just watch and keep relaying information."

"He's just listening. The director's finished and one of the guests is speaking now."

"He's not doing anything?"

"No, and Kaito's now standing up at the front. He's on the west side if you do decide to come up and see."

Everyone went quiet for a few minutes.

"Keep talking to us, Jack."

"Uh, Harvey's watching the speaker. His wife is looking at Kaito and she's whispered something in Harvey's ear. She looks upset. One of her daughters just grabbed her hand."

"Keep going...."

"Yeah, okay. Uh, Kaito's just standing there. His hands are clasped together in front of him at his waist. He's looking at Harvey. It looks like Harvey's ignoring him. Um, the speaker finished, and now the director is speaking again. It looks like this will be over soon. He's motioning to Harvey about something. He's getting up. He's walking towards the casket."

"What about Kaito?"

"Kaito's still just standing there. Just watching. Now Harvey's up at the casket. He's saying something. Whispering I think. He just placed a red rose on top."

Jack took a few deep breaths before continuing.

"Oh my," Jack said. "You may not believe this, but it looks like Kaito's crying."

"Crying?"

"Yeah, I guess. Oh, he is. I'm sure. He just pulled out a hanky and is wiping his eyes. Harvey's now staring right at Kaito."

"And Kaito's just standing there crying?"

"Well, not anymore. He looks very emotional, is all. Now Harvey's wife and two daughters are at the casket beside him. They also placed flowers on top. Harvey said something to his wife and daughters. He just kissed both girls on their heads."

"I think he just looked at Kaito again, but I can't tell for sure."

"I don't get it," Lucas said.

A few minutes passed. "Now the director is speaking again. The casket's being lowered and some of the people in the seats are standing up."

"Listen, boys. Be on your toes now. We got goons on both sides of us eyeing each other, so we're not going anywhere just yet."

"Yeah, this is about over up here. The casket is down. The director is saying something, thanking everyone for attending. He's saying a prayer now. Hang on a second...."

After the prayer was completed, the crowd immediately started to disperse and people were passing in front of him, blocking his view.

"Jesus, I'm losing them."

The radio talk remained quiet as the others listened for Jack's report.

"The crowd's moving. Hang on, I'm going to get in closer. Yeah, oh...oh. Wait, Harvey's still at the casket. He's looking over at Kaito.

"Harvey's wife just said something to Kaito and she's tugging at Harvey to come away. Harvey's not budging. Now he's ushering his wife and girls to move on without him. I think he wants words with Kaito. Yes, Kaito's moved right up to the casket. They are on opposite sides now, only six feet apart. Damn, I can't hear what they're saying."

"Careful...."

"Kaito's still upset. He looks so emotional, as if he's about to break down. Harvey's shaking his head and pointing at the casket. Kaito's talking. He's trying to smile as he speaks. Now Kaito's grinning at Harvey, but it looks forced to me. Harvey's fists are clenched and he just said something back. The two of them are now both having words. Harvey looks ready to explode."

"Anyone else there with them?"

"A few others are with Harvey's wife but they are a ways away. They look like they're waiting for Harvey to finish up so they can offer condolences."

"They're still at it, talking and gesturing. Kaito's grinning again at Harvey, and boy, does Harvey look angry. Oh, wait...Kaito's backing away now. Yes he's turned away and is heading down away from the crowd."

"That's it?" Lucas asked.

"Yeah, I guess. Harvey's moving towards his wife. He doesn't look angry anymore, just red. I think he's trying to look calm because there're lots of people looking at him. I'm going to follow Kaito."

Jack moved through the crowd, steering wide of Harvey and his wife while keeping his distance from Kaito. Kaito moved across the grass in a sweeping arc away from the path back in the direction of his car to avoid the crowd.

"He's leaving, that's for sure. Now he's stopped and is leaning up against a tree, alone. He's got his cell phone out. He's making a call. Yeah, he dropped down onto one knee and is speaking to someone. He looks terribly upset."

"That's it?" Lucas said again. "Kaito didn't do anything? And no one's following him, not even security?"

Jack glanced up to where Harvey was still surrounded by friends and family. No one was coming from any direction. He could see where Myles and the other security were gathered, and though a few were looking in his direction, none were moving his way.

"No one. Looks to me like Kaito just wanted to get in Harvey's face—to get a reaction out of him," Jack said.

"What the hell? That's it?" Lucas laughed. "It doesn't sound like he got much of one."

"Maybe not the reaction he hoped for."

"So now what?"

Jack shrugged. "If that's all Kaito had planned in coming out here, then it's time we get this operation back on track."

"Kaito's men just spotted Kaito coming down through the trees to the parking lot and are on the move. Maybe one of you can explain what just went down here. Just..." Myles' voice broke away as he shouted out loudly. "Yeah, don't you worry! Where you go, I go!" he shouted.

"What was that?"

Myles laughed. "That was just Kaito's effin goons I was shouting at. Assholes are taunting me, asking me if I was coming because they're all about to leave and know I'll be on their tail as soon as they do."

Jack laughed, partly in relief that it was coming to an end without violence. "I'll stay up here a bit longer to check on Harvey."

"Roger that," Antonio said.

"You've been awfully quiet," Jack said.

"While you boys were hooting it up out there, I've been listening."

"Ah, yes." Jack understood what he meant. "Anything interesting?"

"As a matter of fact...no. Nothing at all. The few calls and messages I did intercept seemed personal and not related to why we're here. Metcalf's security took longer than expected to break. I'll run through the recordings later to see if there was anything worthwhile."

"So what's Metcalf's security saying about all of this?"

"Not much. Just congratulating each other on a job well done while remaining vigilant."

"Huh. Funny," Jack said. "Seems everyone was caught off guard by this big sideshow of Kaito's."

"Sideshow...that's good, Jack," Lucas said.

"So where to now?"

"Like you just said, get back on track, follow Kaito, and stick to him as long as we need to."

"Fine. We'll keep hovering around Metcalf."

***

Less than an hour had passed when Jack received an update from Lucas. "You ready for this?"

"I am ready for anything after what just happened back there."

"We followed Kaito back to his hotel. He went inside, but his security didn't. They left."

"They left?" he frowned. "You mean he's all alone now?"

"He is. We waited just to be sure, but it's been nearly an hour and his security hasn't returned."

"Maybe he slipped out the back."

"We covered that on the way in. Myles had me drop him off so he could cover the back. Kaito's still inside."

"So now what?"

"I went up to the front desk a few minutes ago and it seems Kaito's checking out tonight. Front desk confirmed his room will be available tomorrow."

"So he's leaving, just like that?" Jack was puzzled. He really expected Kaito to do more. Why would he go this far and then do nothing?

"I don't know, and I really don't care. If it's over between these two, then we need to move on, and soon. I tried reaching Nate, but he's not picking up."

"I've tried him as well. Do we carry on as planned, picking up Kaito, or do wait to bring Nathaniel up to date like we've been doing all along?"

Myles laughed. "C'mon Jack. Kaito's just made this far too easy for us. We've been all over him the past two days. He knows we're watching and he thinks now that he's not touched Harvey and let go of his security that this is over and we'll leave too."

"Yes. I suppose."

"We still need to contain this and then we'll say our goodbyes after that. He's made this too easy."

"Yeah. But so did Nate, don't you think?" Jack suggested.

"I was going to ask you about that earlier. It almost seemed like Nate made himself unavailable on purpose tonight. You know what I mean, to let you and me take over? Geordie's had him leading this operation from the start. To back away now...."

"Ha," Jack chortled. "The way Geordie's been pushing him, I'm not surprised he's trying to pull back. He said he was tired."

"Either way, he has given us the go ahead to act without him and finish this," Lucas said. "I'd like to get it all over with tonight. He's given us this window and I'd like to use it. Are you good to carry on right now until it's clean?"

"I know Antonio's itching to end this. You tell Myles, and I'll speak with Antonio."

"And Randal. He's waiting for our answer about the boy."

"Right." He looked at the time. "I'll call him and tell him when and where to drop him off."
CHAPTER 55

Wednesday 20:55 Paris, France

Dinner at Lasserre was more than just dinner. The atmosphere was like being immersed in the centre of some grand ballet. A live pianist played soft music to set the mood. The maître d', waiters, and other staff were decorated in a blend of black and white costumes. Tails and bowties swirled around them on all sides. Each moved with prowess, as if every movement, bend, and gesture was purposely choreographed while they tended to the many guests, took orders, cleared tables, and brought food and wine. Their attention to every detail was impeccable.

The retractable roof was open tonight, allowing the fresh, Parisian air to swoop down inside, creating the perfect al fresco ambiance Lasserre was known for. As Diane consumed every moment with a fiery exuberance, Nathaniel's thoughts were centred elsewhere. He wanted his focus to be here in this special place tonight with his wife and daughters, but Kaito's final face-off with Harvey Metcalf weighed heavily on his mind. With no option but to play his part, he smiled and laughed at the right times, but a part of him was aching inside. It was if he was marooned on a desert island, sequestered from where he felt he should be. It was eating at him, but he didn't dare abandon Diane and the kids now. He promised himself he would wait and tough it out. Jack and Lucas could handle it. He was sure of that. Randal had Johnny prepped and ready, waiting for the next instruction. But what was he going to do about the Crowders and their son, Michael?

"Hey Dad? You know Johnny left the hotel, don't you?" Meagan asked. It was if she was reading his thoughts as he mulled over the some of the comments Johnny had made.

"What? Oh...he did?" he replied.

She frowned at him and glanced at her sister, who shrugged back.

Meagan poked at her black truffle-stuffed macaroni and appeared perturbed. "Yeah," she said. She had seemed distracted all day. "He never answered when I knocked on his door after breakfast this morning."

Nathaniel shrugged. He wanted desperately to change the topic. "Maybe he had something booked early, a tour or something. He'll probably be back later. How's your macaroni?"

"Macaroni's delicious, but he's not coming back here. He checked out this morning. I don't understand, Dad, you...."

"You want some bread?" Nathaniel asked jumping in quickly. "Meagan? Ellen? Bread?" He didn't want to talk about Johnny anymore.

"You don't understand what, Meg?" Diane asked. Her appetizer of chicken dumplings was finished. She dabbed her lips with her napkin and was prepared to engage in conversation until the main course arrived.

"Well, it's just...." She eyed her father cautiously as she spoke again. "I went down to the front desk when Johnny wouldn't answer the door and...."

Nathaniel jumped in again, talking over her. "We really should talk about something else. This is a special night for your mom. Look at this place..." he said. "This is such an exquisite restaurant...and listen to that music. Did you all see the pianist downstairs when we came in? That's live music you're listening to."

"Nate, you've just interrupted Meagan again." She glared at him. He knew he wasn't going to win this one, and he gracefully nodded his compliance at her. He dreaded what was coming.

"Now what were you saying about Johnny?" Diane asked.

Meagan eyed her father carefully again after consuming a few more forkfuls of macaroni. "I was just going to ask Dad about Johnny, that's all. I told the front desk what room I was in and asked if a Johnny Hui was staying here because I wanted to call up to his room. He said no one was registered here by that name. No one named Hui at all registered here."

"Maybe he was here with someone else," Diane replied. "Or someone else may have paid for his room, or he just used a different name. People do that sometimes when they travel. And your father's probably right. He's most likely just moved on somewhere else if he's checked out." She lifted her glass of wine and swirled it around.

Meagan shook her head and stared patiently at her father as if waiting for his explanation. Nathaniel wasn't sure how to respond without stepping right into this one. All he could do was hope that Diane's explanation was enough and Meagan was going to drop it. But she didn't.

"I gave him my name and then the room number Johnny was in and asked him to check again. He looked it up and then asked who my dad was. When I told him, he told me right away that room was booked for only one night and asked how long the rest of us were staying." Nathaniel winced. He shook his head gently at her, urging her to not say anymore. He'd added the room for Johnny onto his tab. Meagan caught his little head shake. One finger slowly came up to his lips and she watched him with a curious distrust.

"But...."

Meagan's eyes remained on him, and his on hers. He shifted his eyes over to Diane, and Meagan's followed. Diane was still swirling the wine in her glass up in the air, momentarily caught up in the way the light captured the deep burgundy colours of the Beaujolais.

"But you already knew, didn't you, Dad? It was you," Meagan said to her father.

"What did Dad know?" Ellen asked. "What, Dad?"

Diane's attention suddenly moved back to the conversation. "What's this? Did I just miss something?"

"No, no," Nathaniel replied. "Meagan's talking about Johnny. He checked out this morning and she's asking if I knew, and yes, I knew. I knew Johnny checked out this morning."

Meagan's eyes drilled into him. He worried how much more she was willing to say.

"You knew Johnny was gone?" Diane asked. "How's that, Nate?"

He had to think quick. "Uh, before breakfast. When you three were still getting ready, I came down and saw him in the lobby with his bags. I just felt it best not to mention it. I knew how much Meagan wanted to see him, and there he was, heading out the door with his bags."

"Did you speak to him?" Diane asked.

"No, no. I just saw him with his bags."

Meagan was clearly not happy. "He only stayed one night here. That's what the man at the desk said. He told me who's name the room was rented under." She kept staring at her father.

With everything going on, Nathaniel really wished this would end right here. Diane was upset enough with him. If Meagan revealed that Nathaniel had booked a room for Johnny a few doors down the hall for one night, the entire evening would crash into a self-consuming fireball.

"That's interesting," Diane said. "They usually don't give out that kind of information. Don't you think that's odd, Nate?"

"Yes, very odd," Nathaniel replied.

"Did you recognize the name, Meg?" Diane asked.

Meagan said nothing. She stabbed her fork into the macaroni, pulled it out, chewed another mouthful, and stared at her father again. He pinched his lips closed tight and shook his head ever so lightly. All he could do was hope she wouldn't answer.

She finished chewing and then dropped her eyes away. She waved her hand in the air dismissively. "It doesn't really matter...I don't think I remember it now."

Nathaniel wanted to reach over the table and kiss her. He'd have to thank her later in private and make up some explanation for her.

***

Clouds crept in as the evening wore on. The rooftop was closed not a moment too soon as thunder crashed above, splitting the sky open and dropping buckets of rain down upon the central district. The heavy rain was short lived, and soon diminished to a light, steady drizzle.

The evening was capped off with a desert of crepes Suzette for everyone. Diane was still flying above the clouds and Nathaniel could see she was pleased that the evening had turned out as she had hoped it would. She slipped her hand into his as they exited the restaurant and began the long walk back through town to their hotel. The heavy downpour had cleansed the streets and the drizzle had tapered off to just a few intermittent drops. The many puddles sparkled reflective colours from the street lights and businesses, creating a warm comforting atmosphere under the blackened sky.

Nathaniel was pleased that Diane seemed happy. The four of them strolled slowly along the streets, pausing often to enjoy the view or to look into one of the closed shop windows. It was late, but an eclectic feel remained as many tourists, diners, and pub-goers still walked along in all directions. It was more than a half-hour walk back from the restaurant, and overall, the night had been a good one. The problem back home seemed to have taken a back seat in his thoughts. It was good, deservedly so, for Nate to be out tonight with Diane and the girls, and let all that waited for him back at the hotel fade away.

The walk back tired the girls, and they quickly disappeared up the elevator after saying good night and exchanging hugs and kisses with their parents. Diane wanted a nightcap—a quiet moment between the two of them—to end what had been the perfect evening. They landed in the hotel bar. Talk commenced about the girls, moved onto his career, retirement, their next holiday, and circled back to more about the girls and the future. It was a moment Nathaniel hadn't allowed himself for many months—a moment intimate and free of all conflict and distractions. He knew he would reflect on this night many times in the months and years to come.

By the time Nathaniel and Diane were back up in the room, it was well after midnight. As much as he had enjoyed the evening with his family, Nathaniel's thoughts tumbled back to Kaito the moment Diane disappeared into the washroom. He seized the opportunity and went straight for his disposable phone.

There was one missed call and one message waiting. He fumbled about nervously with the phone. But the call wasn't from Jack or Lucas as he had hoped. It was from Richard Crowder.

Nathaniel listened intently to the message. Their son, Michael, had been released. He replayed the message. Metcalf had let Michael go, most likely unharmed by the lack of urgency in Richard Crowder's message. This was good news, as it meant they weren't apt to go public just yet, but not receiving an update from either Jack or Lucas—that was more concerning. He had to call Jack.

Jack picked up right away and seemed relaxed and almost jovial.

"What'd I miss, Jack?" Nathaniel asked. "Anything?" It was just after four o'clock in the afternoon in Victoria.

Jack laughed. "Absolutely nothing, really. It turned out to be one big side show."

"What do you mean sideshow?"

"All of it. Kaito flying out to Victoria and us chasing after him. Just one big waste of time. Kaito crashed Harvey's daughter's funeral just as we expected. He did it quietly and respectfully, worked his way up to the front until they ended up face-to-face. I really expected something to blow, but the two of them just had words for each other and that was it."

"Really? Just words?"

"Just words. Harvey knew Kaito was there the moment he arrived. At the end of the service, Kaito approached Harvey. I don't know what was said, but it was heated. It only lasted a few moments and then Kaito headed back to his hotel, dismissed his security, and we understand he's planning on heading back home tonight. It's over, Nate."

"Just like that? I still don't get it."

"Just like that," Jack replied.

"Did you hear what was said between them?"

"Unfortunately I couldn't get close enough—Kaito was clearly upset and Harvey was angry, but that's about all I know. It's over Nate. Harvey's now back home with his family and Kaito's still at his hotel alone."

Nathaniel chuckled. It sounded too strange. "I honestly believed Kaito had something more planned. Are you still watching him?"

"We're outside waiting for him right now, and because of that I really have to run. Lucas and I want to finish this so we can clear out."

"You sure you can handle what's left on your own?"

Jack chuckled. "Just enjoy your evening."

"You're sure?"

"Cleaning up the bread crumbs is why Lucas and I are here. You said so yourself. Take care, Nate."

Jack hung up. And just like that, it was over. The big buildup to whatever was going on between these two men amounted to nothing. Both seemed to be on a collision course to something bigger, but it ended in words spoken across a grave plot.

***

Nathaniel couldn't sleep. It couldn't be over that easily. There were the Crowders to think about, for one. They wanted a call back. He really needed to know where they stood now that they had Michael back. And for Kaito to just walk away after everything that was said between them the past few days? There was a reason for all of this and it had to be more than just a few words.

What words?

The sky to the east was beginning to glow as the sun prepared to make another appearance. He slipped out of bed in the dark, careful not to disturb Diane, and slowly opened the drawer of the bedside table to retrieve his disposable phone. A dim flash caught his attention from the back corner. It was his personal phone and it continued to blink away upside down in the dark.

He hadn't received many calls since arriving in Paris on his personal phone and hadn't even carried it with him the past few days. There were two missed calls. Both were from Kaito.

After tossing on a T-shirt, shorts, and sandals, he crept quietly out into the hall with the phone.

But it wasn't just two missed calls. Kaito had left messages. "Damn," Nathaniel thought. "Why would he leave messages on this phone after I told him not to?"

It didn't take long for Nathaniel to understand. The first message from Kaito was brief, short, and not at all what he expected.

"Nate, it's Kaito." His voice was broken and emotional. "I'm sorry, Nate. I...I really wanted to talk to you. This was a bad mistake coming here. I thought seeing him suffer would make it better, but it didn't." He sighed heavily. "Oh God, Nate. What have I done? You were right. I shouldn't have come. Call me, please. Call me."

Nathaniel let the message end. The tone of Kaito's voice was alarming. He looked at the time of the call and then calculated backwards. Kaito would still have been at the graveyard when he placed the call.

He quickly called Kaito, but there was no answer. He disconnected without leaving a message and immediately played the second message from Kaito.

"Nate, it's me again. I'm worried now. I should have talked to you long ago about this. You were my friend and I...I should have come to you. I mean...I need to explain. I have to explain now...

"It was all because of what happened to Reina. After she died, I pushed you away, both of us did. I was just so...she was only thirteen." He sobbed. "I found her, Nate, in the pool. It was awful. I tried to save her, but she was already dead.

"Remember our camping trip in the Okanogan? I thought you knew then. Reina always stayed close to her mother. She never went near you, me, or Taka. We had all the fun, didn't we? Just us boys boating on the lake every day...fishing and skiing. But not Reina. Lena pretended everything was fine with Reina, but it wasn't. You see...."

He sobbed again.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't bring myself to share what awful thing happened to Reina. You were in Ottawa by then so.... I mean, Lena avoided talking about it. She didn't want anyone to know. She said it was for Reina's sake. It seems so long ago now. Two years...no, nearly three. And when we did talk, it always ended in arguments and blame. And so for three years we lived in denial, pretending it was fine and that Reina was getting better, but when I found her in the pool I wanted to die. I cried and cried. The water was pink, Nate. Pink! She had bled completely out by the time I found her. She slashed both of her wrists because of what he did to her. Where does a thirteen-year-old even find old-fashioned razor blades?"

Kaito stopped speaking for a few moments, and Nathaniel thought for a second that was the end of the message.

"You know, she was abducted right in front of her own school. Ten years old she was.... She wasn't the same after those three days with him. He did things to her, Nate...." He sobbed again. "And when she took her own life, I was gutted. I couldn't let you come to the funeral. The truth was, I was embarrassed that our daughter took her own life, Nate. Embarrassed. I worried you and Diane might find out, and I couldn't handle anyone knowing...."

He cleared his throat.

"For nearly three years, Lena and I walked through life in anger and shame over what happened to our daughter. We watched him as he was arrested. We wanted to kill him every single day. All I wanted was for someone to let me put my hands at him. It was horrible, Nate. You were my friend, and I should have called you, but Lena.... And then Harvey Metcalf set him free! Free! The monster was allowed to walk out of jail a free man."

Harvey Metcalf? And the monster? Does he mean...?

"She turned stale inside. It's what happens. She would smile and pretend, but I could see it. The decay, slow and continuous, ate away at her from the inside. And I couldn't help her. No one could.

"I thought it normal that I wanted both Shaw and Metcalf dead. But it was really only Metcalf who caused Reina's decay by freeing that monster. So when the opportunity was presented to me, I was more than eager to accept the offer.

"I'm not blaming you, Nate. I would have probably ended up killing both of these men at some point if you hadn't introduced me to this group of ours. It is what I wanted. I thought about it often enough. Arranging for Shaw's demise was one thing, but the bonus of taking Metcalf's daughter as revenge for Shaw taking mine was a twist I hadn't thought of before.

"The opportunity to get close to him...to look into those eyes...I couldn't pass it up, Nate. To see his pain, his suffering...and today I finally got to see into his eyes. But what was there was far worse than what I had imagined. I saw my own guilt and shame. Shame. I shouldn't have felt shame, but I did. And when he looked back at me, I saw it. I tried to taunt him into reacting—to strike out at me, to shoot me...something, anything—but he wouldn't bite. You see? It's because his pain was like mine. He felt it, too. No one wins...."

He paused again briefly.

"The offer seemed right at the time, but now...." He cried again. "Oh gawd. How could I have done this to another man's child? I should have said no, Nate."

"I am sorry, but I just had to speak to you. Please understand, I meant no harm to you and I've caused so much suffering to that family and their friends. You were a good friend, and I hope you still are. Please forgive me for the way I've treated you. And Taka is...."

The message ended. The voicemail memory was full.

Kaito's messages were more than disturbing. Shock and disbelief overtook his mood as many of the missing pieces suddenly slammed into place, starting with Garrod Shaw. Kaito's little girl was the unnamed ten-year-old Shaw had abducted. Nathaniel finally understood Kaito's pursuit of Metcalf. But murdering his daughter as revenge was such an odd thing for his friend to do. He really wished Kaito had told him what happened to Reina back then. They shared everything in their private lives at one time.

Nathaniel called Kaito again.

The call went straight to voicemail.

"Hi, it's Nate. I just got your messages...I am terribly sorry I missed your calls. I'm still in Paris and, well...call me the moment you can. We really need to talk, Kaito. Call me."

Jack had said Kaito was heading home. Maybe he was on the plane already.

He called Jack. This call went to voicemail, too.

"Jack, it's Nate. Call me when you have a chance, please."

He looked at the time. It was just after 9:00 p.m. in Victoria. It was odd for Jack not to pick up.

Lucas was next on the list. Nathaniel released a nervous chuckle as Lucas's phone also went directly into voicemail. Something was amiss. "Hi, Lucas. I'm guessing you're with Jack. Call me when you can, please."

Why weren't Jack and Lucas answering? There was a chaise lounge at the end of hall. Nathaniel sat down and pondered what to do next. He still didn't have the full picture of what happened up at the graveyard with Kaito. And he still didn't know what happened to Johnny. Was Johnny still under Randal's watch? Jack had said they were in cleanup mode in Victoria, so Randal must have been given some direction of what to do with Johnny.

He called Randal next.

An automated message played. "The subscriber you are dialling cannot be located at this time."

He called again. Same message.

If Randal's phone was cut, battery removed as per protocol, then Randal was long gone. There was no chance of catching up with him. So where was Johnny? Back home, presumably.

And if Randal was gone, then so were Antonio and Myles. Nathaniel never had their numbers.

He had no other option than to wait it out for now. It was getting late back in Canada. If Jack or Lucas didn't call him back in the next hour or so, he probably wouldn't receive any call until they got up after a good night's sleep. And that would be about mid-afternoon Paris time.

Nathaniel slipped back into his room and into bed next to Diane. His thoughts continued to race, and the more he thought, the less he liked what he was thinking.
CHAPTER 56

Wednesday 23:55 Near Okotoks, Alberta, Canada

"I really think you should try calling him again, Richard," Michelle said. "It's already eight in the morning in Paris and we can't let this go on any longer. Not after tonight."

Richard was reluctant but understood Michelle's concern. The evening had been a difficult one. Michael's mood worsened as the day wore on. His rage swelled and waned, finally erupting in a violent outburst of more shouting and fisticuffs. It took all of Richard's strength and energy to calm Michael down. It was almost midnight and Michael was finally asleep.

"I'm not sure pursuing this with the Senator is the right thing to do. It might just exasperate Michael's slide even more. That kidnapping seemed to push him right up to the edge."

"Slide? What is this slide? You've used that word before."

He really didn't want to say anything, but at this point he didn't have a choice. It felt like he was digressing years and reapplying the label to describe his son's condition in big bold letters across Michael's forehead.

"Michael hears voices. He has since he was ten," he said reluctantly.

"Voices?"

"Yes, voices."

She frowned. It was the typical reaction he had learned to hate so very much. Having to explain it over and over through the years was the hardest thing he had ever done. It pulled deep at his heart strings, almost causing them to tear. He knew what her next question was going to be, and she gave it right on cue.

"You mean he's schizophrenic?"

He sighed and tears welled, but he didn't cry. "No. He just hears voices—random voices, like white noise with words popping out. When he gets stressed and upset, it's like the words suddenly rise to the surface and form complete sentences."

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

He hated having this conversation. "Because I was hoping he could keep it under wraps. He's been doing so good for so long but...it's clear what happened. This thing with Lucy woke it up inside of him and it's not settling down. It used to go away as soon as he calmed down. Children hearing voices is more common than most people realize. Michael's condition was just a bit more animated and active than most. They said he would grow out of it at the end of his teen years."

"Is that why he rubs his fists at his temples?"

"And all of the wild random shouts and shushes he makes, yes. The voices are talking to him and he's trying to beat them down."

"Hmm," she replied. She was clearly disturbed.

"Yeah. And sometimes he listens to what they say."

"What do you mean?"

Suddenly she seemed overly concerned. That's why he hadn't wanted to tell her. Everyone always reacts the same way and he knew the next time she looked at his son, she would see a label glowing bright across his forehead. She would react differently to everything Michael said or did from here on, and he hated it. He hated it so deeply, and he hated himself for telling her.

"It means the voices tell him things. Michael says it's his conscience talking out loud, whispering at him, taunting him, and just annoying him with repetitive chatter. When you and I try to decide things, we just do it. We mull things over and decide. With Michael, it's different. He doesn't mull things over, he just decides, and across the vacant space that is his mind, a voice speaks in response to what he has decided or not decided."

"It doesn't sound that different from what I do."

"But it is. When you or I concentrate on a task, we think in a straight line. We are very focused, and nothing steers us from our train of thought except when some external distraction intrudes. With Michael, the distractions come from within. Sometimes, every single thought he has gets a response, and then the battle starts. The voices scream and shout, talking over his own thoughts until he can't even understand his original thought anymore."

"Oh, that sounds terrible. How does he manage?"

Richard laughed. "You saw tonight how he manages. It's like there's a whole different person shouting at him inside his head. Sometimes it's one—sometimes many—but it's the same voice all the time. And he trusts it. He has to because the voices are all his voice, his inner voice. He has to trust that it has his best interest at heart, or he would probably go mad."

"He trusts it? Does that mean he changes his mind because of what he hears?"

"Just like you or I reconsider things, yeah, I guess. But it's different with him. The voices argue when he decides against their little prompts and pushes."

"Has he ever hurt anyone? I mean, as a result of the voices?"

Those two questions were at the root of his concern. The voices didn't always follow the rules. Their judgment can be flawed. He knew it could because he'd seen Michael at his worst, giving in to the voices and letting the voices decide what action was best. He preferred seeing Michael flustered and fighting for his sanity, because the alternative was unthinkable.

"No," he said, but it wasn't the truth.

Michael first surrendered himself completely to the voices when he was thirteen. It was as if every single label that had been pasted upon his young body by children at school, their parents, and acquaintances had been absorbed into his bloodstream like a poisonous venom. The endless bullying and taunting became too much, and he quit fighting and started listening instead. A switch had suddenly been turned off inside him—shutting down his ability to filter himself from the voices.

"He's never hurt anyone," he lied.

Little Erkel Davis felt the full force of what the voices were capable of once the switch was flipped. If not for two older boys stumbling upon Little Erkel's red shoe poking out from the pile of stones, Little Erkel may never have lived to feel his mother's hugs ever again.

"Will he be okay?" Michelle asked. "I mean, in the morning. Once he rests."

"Yes. Michael is always okay in the morning," he said.

But that was not quite true either, and there lies the difference. At his worst, Michael couldn't remember what he'd done after surrendering himself to the voices. He still can't recall the day that Little Erkel Davis sat in wait for him in the bushes alongside the forest path below the hospital as he made his way home after school. Little Erkel, with his tiny round head and beady eyes, jumped out after Michael passed by and heaved a huge rock into the centre of Michael's back. Before Michael could even turn around, he followed up with a swift kick in the back of one knee, causing Michael to crumple to the ground. Little Erkel then followed up with a flurry of name-calling, pushing and punching as Michael tried to get back up on his feet. Michael, only thirteen at the time, was well acclimated to being on the receiving end. He never fought back, never threw a fist, and always played limp and took it all, blow after blow, until his attacker grew bored.

If Erkel had known the voices were about to take over and knew what they were capable of, he might very well have ran for the hills that day. But he didn't run, and now Little Erkel wears his own reminder of what happened next—a deep scar permanently etched across his forehead for all to see.

As Michael fell to the ground, his hand happened upon a rock twice the size of his fist. When he stood up and turned to face Little Erkel, the rock was clenched within his slender fingers, and inside his head a voice screamed with an uncontrollable fury and rage—Hit him back! This time really do it! You know you want to! Hit him! Hit the little cocksucker! Hit him! Michael swung his arm holding the rock awkwardly out in a wide, sweeping arc, connected with Little Erkel's forehead, and knocked him backwards into the bushes. He was out cold. Yes! You did it! You actually did it! The voices were proud. They knew what Little Erkel needed next. Grab his legs! Don't let him get up! And so Michael grabbed hold of Little Erkel by both ankles above his brazen, red-coloured shoes and hauled him out of the bushes across the path and into the small, stony pit on the other side. Kick him now! Kick him like he kicked you!

Michael kicked him.

Again!

The voice screamed its impatience as if Michael's movements were too slow.

Again!

Michael kicked him once more in the ribs.

Harder this time!

This time he felt something break.

In the head now!

One kick to the side of the head.

C'mon! Another one!

More kicks came, and each kick was harder than the previous.

Keep going! You can kick harder than that! Again! The ribs again!

The doctors later determined Erkel Davis was repeatedly kicked and stomped on well over one hundred times. Little Erkel's body was battered and bruised from the top of his head all the way down to his bright red shoes.

Make him go away now, Michael. Forever. You want to. Make Little Erkel go away where he can't touch you ever again.

And Michael then proceeded to bury Little Erkel right where he lie. Blood eked out slowly from his tiny, round head, soaking into the gravel, but Michael paid no mind. Slowly and methodically, he placed stone after stone on top of him until only one red shoe stuck out at the path.

"I hope so," Richard said. He really did hope his son would be okay this time.

Little Erkel spent ten weeks in hospital before his spleen, one kidney, and two ribs repaired themselves and he was strong enough to stand again, albeit with the aid of crutches.

"Then we really need to call the Senator. You or me, I don't care who," she said. "We can't expose Michael to any more of this. I really wish you would have told me about this sooner."

"Well, I didn't." The image of Little Erkel floated in his thoughts restlessly.

"That's what I'm saying. You should have. Let's make that call now. It's getting late and I want to be up before Michael."

***

The Senator picked up immediately. "Hello," he said.

"Senator, it's Richard Crowder."

"Mr. Crowder, I've been meaning to call you. I did receive your message and I am pleased to hear you have your son back."

I bet you are, Richard thought. "So are we, Senator."

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"It's about what we talked about last time. My wife and I want to make it clear we want no further part in what went on this past week."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Look. We have our son back, but he's been terribly traumatized by this whole ordeal and we want it to end here."

"If you have him back, isn't that the end for you?"

Richard wanted to laugh. The Senator seemed to be denying Michael's connection to any of this.

"Lucy Carter's death was no accident. We know that, and I'm pretty sure you know it too."

"What do you want to say to me, Mr. Crowder?"

"We just don't want to jump back into pursuing this. We were hoping you can take over."

The Senator chuckled. "Take over?"

"Yes. Follow up and expose what happened here. This kidnapping has our son terribly traumatized. I can't put him through any more of this. You know everything we know and we just thought with your connections you could expose the truth."

The Senator made no reply.

"And my wife and I don't think this is just about Lucy Carter any more. We think there's more, Senator."

"More?"

"I'd be reaching if I told you everything we think, but this whole Lucy Carter accident wasn't just an accident."

"You said that already. What more could there possibly be?" The concern in the Senator's voice was obvious in his elevated response.

"Just some things we read in the paper, that's all. Accidents. They seem like accidents, but my wife and I have a feeling they aren't just accidents. And Harvey himself seems in denial...he knows it too, but is resisting taking any action, and I don't know why he would choose to do that."

"I'm not sure how you expect me to respond to this. Accidents that aren't accidents?"

"I'm sorry. I'm still really upset and maybe I'm just rambling. I shouldn't have said that. Just pretend I didn't. I only want what's best for Michael right now, and that is to be far away from any of this as possible. My worry is that Michael won't let any of this go until the truth about Lucy's death is told. She was his girlfriend, you see."

A heavy sigh drifted through the phone. Relief? Worry? Richard couldn't tell for sure.

"I think I'm beginning to understand, but I'm not sure how I can help. The police have already investigated this accident and the official reports indicate no foul play was involved. And Harvey Metcalf seems to be accepting that his daughter's death was completely accidental as well."

"So you have been looking into this."

"A bit, yes. I'm still overseas trying to enjoy my vacation, so it's been a bit difficult for me to get access to information."

"I suppose it has been. But you will do this? Will you look into this for us?"

"I'll make some more calls," he replied.

A forced resolve fell upon Richard. He doubted the Senator would do much of anything, but he didn't have any other options. "Thank you, Senator," he said, partly hoping he was wrong. "You can't imagine how much this means to us. Thank you."

"You should hear from me in a day or two."
CHAPTER 57

Thursday 16:45 Paris, France

By late afternoon, there was still no word from either Jack or Lucas. It was morning in Victoria, so there was no point in waiting to call Jack or Lucas any longer. Nathaniel excused himself from Diane and the girls as they prepared themselves for another night on the town and was soon seated in front of the lobby fireplace once again.

The conversation with Richard Crowder weighed heavy on his mind. Good parts and bad parts hovered in the air. The Crowders wanted out, and that was good. But the Crowders also suspected this thing was much bigger than just Lucy Carter, and that was very bad. If he couldn't find a way to wrap this all up and appease the Crowders at the same time, then he was no better off now than when he started.

Adding Kaito's messages into the mix, his thoughts were ablaze with multiple questions—too many to ignore.

The first call he made was to Jack, but the response was not what he expected.

"The subscriber you are dialling cannot be located at this time."

"What?" Jack was now disconnected. He looked at the number to see if he accidentally called Randal by mistake. But there was no mistake. Jack was out.

He tried Lucas and the result was the same. He squirmed in his seat. Why hadn't either one of them called him back before disconnecting themselves? Many crazy thoughts went through his mind and he recalled everything Jack said last night about Kaito. Is this the way Jack always ended jobs, by simply unplugging?

If they had disconnected without calling him, there was no point in trying to track them down by their personal or home phones. There was strict policy against such actions, and they probably wouldn't accept his call. He had only one option left and that was to call Geordie directly. He dreaded it, but what choice did he have?

Geordie picked up on the first ring. It was nearing noon in Ottawa.

"No, no, Nate. I'm glad you called. There's no harm in a bit of follow up to chew on. What did you want to discuss?"

"Just your view on how this was handled," Nathaniel replied. He wanted to say more but was afraid of poking the bear.

"Of course, Nate. I heard this one was wrapped up and you all did a bang-up job. Clean as a whistle now."

"So you spoke with Jack?"

"Oh, I spoke with both Jack and Lucas. This one has been put to bed."

"And Kaito?" he asked. He wasn't about to mention Johnny just yet.

"Listen, Nate. I'm trying to get out the door here. I have a golf game booked. Yeah, at my age, I can still swing, but let me just say...." He laughed. "My swing is not as hard as it used to be these days..."

"But, about Kaito...."

"...but I do get in twice as many swings, if you get my drift." He paused. "Some would say I'm getting my money's worth this way." He gave a forced chuckle. "Yes, Nate, it's a matter of keeping your eye on the ball. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, keep your eye on the ball. But I wanted...."

Geordie interrupted, his voice turning suddenly stern instead of jovial. "Nate, I said this one's been put to bed. I don't want to hear any more discussion."

"I have a question about Kaito...."

"Nate!" Geordie's icy boldness cut through the phone. He could feel Geordie's finger pushing on his chest again. "I'm asking you to leave this one alone now. It's over. I'm not about to go scrounging about in the rough just because you took your eye off the ball on this one." He paused before he continued. "You did though, didn't you? You took your eye off the ball."

Nathaniel was beginning to hate this man. He felt beat down like a scrawny child on the playground. "Yeah," he said. "Okay. I'll leave it."

"No one on my team gets to go play in the sandbox until they've finished the round. And I mean all eighteen holes. Now if you'll excuse me, I really have to get out the door. Goodbye."

And just like that, Geordie terminated the call.

The fire crackled and the flames licked up high in front of Nate. Geordie seemed determined to ensure this one ended like every routine job: ask no questions, and tell no secrets; close the door, lock it tight, swallow the key, and move on to the next one. He didn't even get a tongue-lashing for sending Johnny back home.

"It doesn't make sense," he whispered to himself.

But this one couldn't end like every other routine job. Kaito and Johnny were almost family. He remembered something Kaito had said in his message. It lingered more strongly after speaking with Geordie. It wasn't just what Kaito said in his message; it was Kaito's choice of words: The offer to take Metcalf's daughter seemed right at the time.

Offer? What offer?

What else did Kaito say? He scrolled through his voicemail and replayed Kaito's last message a number of times. It suddenly became clear that something was amiss.

"Shit," he said as he listened again to Kaito's words. Metcalf's daughter as revenge for Shaw taking mine was a twist I hadn't thought of before.

This operation wasn't his idea at all.

He replayed all the events as they unfolded over the past few days in his mind. It all centred around that very first call to Senator Leboeuf and the meeting at La Sapiniere with Geordie and the others. "No," he whispered, but he knew the answer was yes.

Nathaniel had been played. From that very first call to Leboeuf and the meetings that followed, he had been played by none other than the devil himself: Geordie. This one was over and Geordie had made sure there was no one left to fall back on. He really was on vacation now. Geordie had made sure of that.
CHAPTER 58

Thursday 14:20 Ottawa, Ontario, Canada

Geordie Hammersmith sat comfortably in a wicker chair on the rear deck of his large home overlooking the Ottawa River. He sucked lightly on his Cuban cigar, just enough to capture the citrusy taste at the back of his throat. Senator Leboeuf sat beside him; a small table rested between them. Both men were oddly quiet.

Leboeuf rarely accepted an invite from Geordie, but Geordie knew he'd come this time. After such a close call, there was no question he would come.

Geordie pushed the bottle of Pyrat Cask 23 rum towards Leboeuf. "Go on, have another," he said and nodded.

Leboeuf smiled. "I think I will." He dropped two ice cubes in the empty glass and drowned them in rum.

A small boat putted along upstream on the river between the tall maples that lined the property on either side by the river. Neither men said a word until the boat was upstream and out of view.

"This one was dangerously close," Leboeuf said.

Geordie nodded and puffed in short bursts before replying. "Jack and Lucas know how to take care of things. Nate had no idea what was really going on around him."

"You rode him pretty hard, I heard."

"I had to. He shouldn't have been anywhere near this one from the start. I am just glad he called you and not someone else."

"Yes, it was very fortunate. Harvey can be...how do you say...persistent? Yes, very persistent at times." Leboeuf swirled his rum before bringing it to his lips. The burn was smooth and worth every penny.

"Asking a man like him to back off from the start would have been a grave mistake. That's why I suggested we take this route when you called. I think we did well on this one."

Leboeuf raised his glass. "I am in full agreement." He paused a moment. "Do you think Metcalf ended up getting our message after all of this?" he asked.

"I'm not so sure. Kaito may have buggered this one up."

"How so?"

"By getting too close to Metcalf and then opening his damn mouth to Nate about what he was about to do. No one would have been the wiser had he stayed away from Metcalf and kept his damn mouth shut." His lips went tight and his face fell into a full pout. "I was so damned upset when you told me he called Nate." His hands went in the air as if choking an imaginary enemy. "I wanted to throttle him right then and there."

Leboeuf stared out across the water. "Why do you suppose he told Nate? It can't be just because they were friends, can it?"

"I wouldn't want to hazard a guess. Possibly...but what's worse, no one expected him to deviate so far from the plan by chasing Metcalf down like he did after taking care of the girl. This was probably the most damaging aspect.

"I really had no idea what the hell he was up to by then. I just wanted him stopped before he went too far."

"At least he stopped."

"Yes he did. But he wasn't in good shape at the end. Seemed to be having some kind of breakdown. Maybe that's why he called Nate."

"What makes you think Kaito was having a breakdown?"

Geordie chuckled. "Jack was with him in the end."

Neither man said a word for the next five minutes. They watched as a few other boats drifted past.

"The problem now is..." Geordie began, "...I think Metcalf believes this was all Kaito's doing. After all of this planning, resources, and time we put in, I suspect we may have taken his daughter out for nothing. Instead of perceiving his daughter's death as a warning, he may now think her death was Kaito's doing and Kaito's alone—simple revenge for what happened to his own daughter at the hands of Garrod Shaw."

"I thought you had him baking before this started. It was what we agreed to a few months ago."

"I did have him placed in the cooker. Metcalf's not as clean as he pretends to be. Just another goddamned hotshot lawyer. We sent him a number of anonymous calls, emails, and envelopes with information related to various clients of his—just ones we thought had some shady activity floating around—but we had nothing solid. We poked and prodded him enough with what we could until he became edgy. Once he was agitated enough, we tossed in Kaito's name. Of course he was already involved with Shaw and he knew who Kaito Hui was. It confused him, which is what we wanted, but looking back now, giving him Kaito's name like that may have been a mistake. Next we heightened his paranoia by sending him random photos of his three daughters over a number of weeks."

"Photos? What kind of photos?"

"The usual type. Just random shots. One was taken at a mall. Another at college." He laughed. "Even caught one of his underage girls in a bar. Harvey was livid but he wasn't about to go to the police. He had nothing. He didn't know who was sending him the messages or photos, or why. It could have been one of any number of people. And then to finish, we sent photos of a number of his clients. Shaw and our Russian friend were included in that little group.

"When his daughter Lucinda died, Harvey most likely suspected it accidental—his wife did for sure. But once the deaths of Shaw and our Russian surfaced the very same day, Harvey would have known her death was no accident, just as he was sure the others were no coincidence."

He paused and watched as a small boat came into view on the far side of the river.

"At least that's what we were hoping he would assume because of the photos we sent. Going public was out of the question for him. If it came out to his wife that he had received anonymous photos in the mail of his daughter just weeks prior to her death, she would have ended their marriage right there. The controversy would have been very public and damaging to his reputation.

"He lost one daughter and we hoped he knew why: Back away from challenging our constitution and stay the hell away from defending these criminals on legal maneuvering. It's all we wanted!" he shouted boisterously and then retracted himself. "Sorry about that," he laughed. "But we hoped he would stop defending those he knew were guilty or risk losing another daughter. He may even have thought he was next on the list."

"Ah..." Leboeuf replied. "Sending the photos of his clients was brilliant. No way to miss that connection."

"Simple stock photos, nothing you or I couldn't obtain from any newspaper or online. It was blunt but to the point. We never identified who we were, we don't do that. And as a result of Kaito's behaviour, approaching him like that at the funeral, I'm still worried Metcalf thinks this was all Kaito acting alone."

"Uh, yes. Disturbing to say the least." Leboeuf sipped his rum. A soft breeze blew off the river.

"You see my problem now?"

Leboeuf nodded. "I do. It does give him reason to stop worrying after today." He sipped his rum and gave a worrisome look over at Geordie. "Any of the others get wind of any of this?"

Geordie puffed his lips out and shook his head. "No, not a word. They know only what was discussed when Kaito was first assigned Shaw and our Russian friend last December. They know nothing about Metcalf, nor about Jack and Lucas being involved in any operation these past few weeks." A frown crossed his old face and his wrinkles doubled up. "This is a very dangerous game we're playing, going rogue like this.... If it was anyone other than the four of us running wild like this, I'd...I'd...I don't know what I would do. I wouldn't stand for it." He paused. "So what does that make me?"

"We're not rogue. All four of us are well principled. The Order's governing body is simply too large these days, and it's nearly impossible to find consensus on new targets. When's the last time anyone new was added to the list?"

Geordie nodded his agreement. "The pace has slowed...."

"Metcalf needed a push and we gave him one. Well...we tried to, at least."

The frown on Geordie's face deepened.

"Remember how it was back in the beginning?" Francois said. A smile crossed his face. "A weekend of skiing at Val David, feasting on Marcel's creations at La Sapiniere, and all the while making decisions about who makes the list over drinks and a game of pool in the bar. It's just so damn complicated these days."

Geordie laughed and waved a finger. "Yes, but we were a lot younger back then. Maybe even reckless."

"Surely you're not saying it's better now?

He laughed and puffed away a few times. "No, I'm not. But I've come to think we've swung much too far the other way now."

"So what can we do about Metcalf?" Leboeuf asked. "Push him again?"

"Not much chance of that, I'm afraid. The rest still won't go along with moving him onto the list, and I doubt we'll find someone like Kaito again who is willing to cross over like he did for us at the first opportunity. That's exactly the kind of candidate we try to screen out. We were lucky to uncover this flaw in Kaito."

"Then answer me this: Where exactly did we go wrong with Kaito?"

"Well, I'd say we simply underestimated his pain about what happened to his daughter. It ran deeper than anyone could've imagined." Geordie stood up and held one finger in the air. "Finding out his daughter committed suicide was pure chance. He told no one, not even his friend Nate. It was one of those secrets..." He stared out across the water for a moment and then turned to Leboeuf, "...you know, the kind that festers deep down in one's soul." He pounded one fist on his chest.

Leboeuf only grunted his understanding. He knew the kind.

"So how did you come across this information if it was buried that deep?"

"One of our new junior guys—smart guy, early twenties, green under the ears, thinks a box is round and all of that kind of stuff—he caught Kaito's lie when we were unearthing everything about his past. It was a simple thing, really. Kaito said she drowned in their backyard pool. This kid's a whiz, sharp and thorough. I like him. He checked phone records of the day she died and found no calls to emergency services. No 911 call, no ambulance, nothing."

"Is that really so odd?"

"In a pool drowning? Our whiz kid thought so. It turned out Kaito made only one call that day and that was to his wife. But his wife...." He puffed heavily on his cigar and released a column of smoke that was quickly stolen away in the light breeze. "She made numerous calls."

"Oh?"

"All calls were to a single doctor, a psychiatrist as it turned out. Seems his daughter was under the care of a psychiatrist when she killed herself and that's why no 911 call was made. When we put it to Kaito, he caved immediately and told us everything. His daughter was abducted when she was only ten, and for three years had been severely depressed and suicidal. When he told me the abuser was Garrod Shaw, I goddamned near keeled over."

"But this connection was risky, no?"

Geordie sat back down and splashed more rum into both tumblers. "You have to understand that Kaito hated both of these men, Shaw and Metcalf. Bringing Kaito in to our group was about as done a deal as I had ever seen before we even dug into his past. He was clean, sharp and eager, and very willing to contribute financially. He came with cheques in hand, and it was only a matter of weeks before he was ready for a field team. Shaw was already a target and I saw no reason not to give Shaw to him. Most of the work is handled by our field men anyway, and the men under Kaito on this were all well seasoned. They made up our best group, I'd like to think."

Leboeuf erupted in laughter as he pointed at Geordie. "And you! You had me believing every word as you tore into poor Nate and undressed him about his friend at La Sapiniere!"

"Bah..." Geordie waved his hand in the air briefly and thrust his finger into his chest. "Few know what goes on in here."

"You even had Lucas questioning whether you were serious. Jack seemed a little too argumentative...."

"I can seem a ruthless bastard if it gets me what I want." He chuckled briefly. "I pulled Jack aside before you all showed up out there. I asked him to push hard on his position against Metcalf. The risk of Nate uncovering what we were up to worried me. Bullying him like that was the only way I knew to keep him on his toes while distancing us all from anything to do with Kaito in case Nate began to suspect what was really going on."

Leboeuf raised his glass in a toast to Jack. "Well, let me say, he did well. He had me convinced he was serious."

"Jack...the artist." He laughed again. "He paints a good picture, doesn't he?"

"But Metcalf wasn't ever a target."

Geordie chewed on the end of his cigar. He smiled at Leboeuf. "You know...Kaito hated both of these men so much. It was Kaito who asked me if Harvey Metcalf would ever be considered a target. I never even mentioned his name."

"No!" Leboeuf exclaimed.

"What could I say? I told him he wasn't a target and to drop it. He persisted and regurgitated everything I hated and distrusted about Harvey Metcalf, but I kept my privilege. And then Kaito hinted at taking the daughter out, at least that's what I thought he meant. He said we didn't have to take Harvey out, we only needed to give him a push. And the way to push Harvey is through his daughters. I wanted Harvey bad...we all did. Why he suggested the daughter is obvious now. We all discussed going off the record on this and, well, from there, you know the rest."

Geordie sat back down. He watched a few boats go up and down for a number of minutes. He smiled again and a twinkle flickered in his eye. He turned to Leboeuf.

"You know..." he said. He waved one finger in the air again. "There still may be a way we can finish this with Metcalf. I mean properly. Kaito may have even helped us out on this."

"How so, after what he did?"

Geordie's boney finger waved about as he talked. "Kaito may have given us more of a push now that I think about it. Whatever happened between Kaito and Harvey at that graveyard was personal. Whatever was said or not said..." he paused and raised one eyebrow. "We don't even need to know what it was about. Now look where Kaito is tonight."

Leboeuf frowned. "What are you suggesting?"

"One more envelope, anonymous of course. I want it to include all the victims in the order they perished."

Leboeuf smiled and raised his glass. "Clever," he said. "He would definitely understand that Kaito was not the one behind it."

Geordie responded and raised his glass. "And know that someone is still out there—that someone is still watching."
CHAPTER 59

Friday 09:45 Near Okotoks, Alberta, Canada

Tawnie was seated at the breakfast table in front of her laptop, coffee in one hand, her mouse in the other. Richard and Michelle sat on the opposite side of the table discussing Michelle's need to get back to work and Richard's upcoming seminar in Regina. Michael was still in bed.

It had been well over one full day since Richard had spoken with Senator Diamond. All talk about what more they could do on their own had dwindled away by the previous evening. Without the surfacing of more facts, it seemed they had hit a wall. There was nothing more to do but wait on Senator Diamond. He and Michael had picked up Michael's belongings from the dorm in the morning and unloaded it all into the garage in the afternoon. The evening had ended as normal, if normality was possible these days. Tawnie and Michael picked out a DVD, Michelle made popcorn, and Richard made sure everyone had a refreshment before settling down to watch the movie.

On reflection, yesterday had been a great day for Michael. He was still traumatized by Lucy's death, but his mannerisms had returned to the more subdued calmness he had before everything fell apart. If the voices were still talking, Michael was containing them.

Tawnie expelled a cough and gasped after inhaling a gulp of coffee. Her mouthful sprayed out onto the laptop and table before her hand shot up to cover it. She leaned forward, trying to catch her breath and hold back from spewing more coffee. Her eyes, fraught with dread, were fixed on the computer screen. She grabbed a napkin, wiped her mouth and laptop screen, and continued to cough away, clearing the remains of coffee from her windpipe.

Both Richard and Michelle read the alarm in her expression. Tawnie pointed at her screen and waved her hand about in a frenzy, still unable to breathe properly.

"What is it?" Michelle asked.

Tawnie coughed some more. "There..." was all she could manage to say, and pointed at the screen. She cleared her throat. "Sorry, but...." She coughed again. "This story...." Her eyes ran across the words on the screen and her mouth dropped open in horror.

Her expression was enough to make both Richard and Michelle rush around the table to see what had shaken her.

"Look...it's him...them. It's them."

Richard could hardly believe what he was seeing. It was a news update from CBC about an accidental drowning off the coast of Vancouver Island near Campbell River.

CBC News UPDATE: Bodies recovered in a Seymour Narrows boating accident have been identified as Kaito Hui, Chief Executive Office of AltaCan Pump, and his son, Takahiro Hui.

The bodies of Kaito Hui and his 19-year-old son, Takahiro, were recovered early this morning just south of Seymour Narrows in Discovery Passage. Their abandoned fishing boat was spotted by sailors at daybreak this morning as they waited for tides to settle in Seymour Narrows before passing through. It is not known at what time the accident occurred, but poor weather conditions yesterday evening were said to be a contributing factor.

The 16-foot boat was found adrift near Yellow Island. Both men were wearing life vests when recovered. They are believed to have drowned sometime last night after attempting to pass through Seymour Narrows after dark when the tide was wrong and the weather severe. An advisory was issued for yesterday evening with high wind gusts of 20 knots and light rain.

Kaito Hui and his son were from Calgary, Alberta.

The small fishing boat was rented from a shop in Campbell River early yesterday morning. The owner of the shop said the two were planning on fishing Deepwater Bay north of Seymour Narrows for the day. They never returned.

There was a photo of Kaito Hui with the article.

"This is impossible." He glanced at Michelle, whose mouth was open. He shook his head.

"I know what you're thinking, Richard, but this one has to be a coincidence."

He laughed nervously. "Coincidence? Really, Michelle? How many 'accidents' does this make now, five?"

Tawnie squirmed in her chair. "Five that we know of. Why is everyone dying?" she asked.

"Now just hold on there a minute," Michelle responded.

There was no question in Richard's mind. "Michelle, anyone connected to Lucy and her father is now dead. Am I wrong?" Worry fell upon him and he glanced towards Michael's bedroom.

"Maybe now the Senator will respond, Richard. If Kaito Hui was a friend of his and he just died in one of these accidents, maybe he'll finally understand what we've been trying to tell him."

He let go a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, or maybe he won't." He was concerned for his family now, and he held back from discussing his thoughts.

Tawnie sighed. "I've been thinking about this a lot. Maybe none of this is about Lucy at all. Just like the earth isn't the centre of the universe like those teachers long time ago figured out."

"Philosophers?"

"Yeah, those guys. Philosophers...yeah. I don't think this is about Lucy at all, or even her dad."

Richard frowned.

"I think she was just another cog or whatever you call it at the end of one of the spokes in this crazy wheel that's spinning us all around, just like that Russian who died in the car accident, or that murderer Shaw. If they are all really connected and connected through Harvey Metcalf, then maybe we should be looking the other way, like towards the middle of the wheel. Mr. Metcalf certainly wasn't the centre of the wheel. He didn't even have any idea of what was really going on. If he did, he wouldn't have kidnapped Michael and then let him go."

"He didn't let him go," Richard reminded her.

"But he sure didn't seem to know what was going on during those phone calls."

"So who's in the middle then?" he asked. Only a few names fit in that slot.

Tawnie shrugged. "Well, it's not Kaito Hui, so there's only one choice that I see, and that's Senator Diamond. Everyone's dying. First it was Lucy and then the Russian. Next was Shaw, then Kaito and his son."

Michelle dropped her chin and studied Tawnie. She didn't challenge her this time because what she said made sense. After Kaito Hui's death, there was no one else in any way connected to any of these accidents, and when she thought about what she heard on the patio at the golf course, she could see no one else.

"So what do we do?" Michelle asked.

The manner in which Tawnie described the deceased caused Richard to pause. He looked in the direction of Michael's bedroom again. Could he turn a blind eye to all of this like he told the Senator he would? He thought about Kaito Hui and his son. They weren't like Shaw, the Russian, or Lucy. They seemed more like middlemen. And both were dead. Lucy wasn't in the middle, either. A precursor, maybe; definitely not in the middle. Was there a pattern? "Can you say that again, Tawnie?" he asked.

"What? The Senator being in the hub?"

He waved one arm about rashly. "No, no. The order...you said they died in a certain order."

"Yeah. Lucy, the Russian and then Shaw. And now Kaito Hui and his son."

Richard jerked up straight—so fast that he startled Michelle. "We need to get out of here."

Michelle frowned. "What? Michael's still sleeping."

They hadn't just been through a storm these past few days, it was a hurricane, and the quiet calm they now enjoyed was a deception. They were now sitting in the eye. The leading edge of storm might be nothing compared to what was about to hit them from the backside. "We need to get out of here," he said again in a quiet whisper. He backed up slowly away from the table.

"Richard. You're scaring me now," Michelle said as she watched him move slowly about the room almost in a daze.

He jumped, startling both women. "Now!" he shouted. "We've got to get away from here! Tawnie, go pack a bag! Michelle, you too. I'll go get the truck ready."

"But, Richard..." Michelle remained sitting. "Go where? What are you talking about?"

"Just go, Michelle! Pack some clothes—hiking and mountain clothes. And Tawnie, go wake Michael."

"But, Richard..." she replied. "I don't understand...why are we going hiking?"

Tawnie disappeared immediately towards Michael's room.

He set his eyes upon Michelle. They were ablaze with worry and confusion. "Don't you see? Kaito and his son..." he said as if it was so obvious. "They were like Lucy...."

Her eyes danced across his as she studied him, trying to comprehend what had sent him on this rampage.

"Lucy was first, but she wasn't ever the real target. Don't you see? Neither were Kaito and his son."

"I don't..." Michelle replied confused.

"They're in cleanup mode."

"Huh?" She didn't understand. "Who?"

"Kaito and his son were just mules," he said. "Extras. And now they're dead."

Michelle's eyes grew large, and suddenly she understood. "Oh my God, Richard. The Senator...." She rushed out and down the hall.

"Once you're done, explain to Michael. Tell him everything. Grab Tawnie if he doesn't understand and have her explain."

Richard packed everything he could think of that wasn't already packed inside the trailer and then hitched it up. He filled a number of water jugs, loaded up the cooler and tote boxes with food from the fridge and cupboard. In the garage were backpacks, tents, and bedrolls that hadn't seen a mountain for years. He tossed those in and then rushed downstairs to his study to retrieve his roll of maps. He knew a place up in the mountains. It had been many years, but he knew they would be safe up there.

Michelle appeared next to him as he rechecked the items he loaded into the truck.

"You're absolutely sure about this, Richard?"

"Is Michael up?" he replied, ignoring her question. His focus was on evacuating as fast as possible.

"Yeah. But can't we just stop for a minute to discuss this?"

"I'm not waiting for them to come for Michael..." his eyes caught hers and he read her uncertainty. "...or any one of us. We have to go."

"But what about work and..." she waved her arms around in the air, "...and everything else! Our friends, the kids' friends, and school?"

And then he stopped. "These accidents were not accidents, Michelle. And right now, we need to protect ourselves. School's out for the summer and our jobs can wait. I just want us all to disappear, just for a while, that's all. A few weeks to be sure until we see what unfolds."

He wasn't sure if she was willing. She seemed distant.

"Do you believe any of this, Michelle?" he asked. He wanted her to believe with him.

She shook her head and stammered. "I...I don't know, Richard...I don't know.... What you're asking, it seems so...so extreme. I'm sorry."

"You know it's true, Michelle. I know you do. We never should have called the Senator. That was our mistake. I told him what we were all thinking, that Lucy wasn't the only accident."

She stared back blankly.

"Look at me. I told him I thought there were other accidents that weren't really accidents. And he knows we have photos of him and Kaito Hui."

She frowned again and it was clear she was having second thoughts about running. "But what if it isn't him?"

He shook his head. "I'm not about to wait and find out. If it's not him, then maybe we'll be in the clear in a few days or weeks. Everything that has happened has happened fast, within days or hours. Whoever was behind all of this planned it very well. Kaito and his son died while boating! Christ Michelle, how did they manage this one so quickly yet make it look like just another accident? If anyone's coming for Michael, my bet is they are already on their way."

Her eyes were sad and droopy.

"Please, Michelle. Call your office and just tell them you need two weeks off. Please."

She nodded once and kept staring at him. She seemed to be measuring him for his sanity. He couldn't read her. What was she seeing or looking for? Voices? Was that it? Did she suspect he's now flipped over the edge, listening to his own strange voices inside his own head like Michael?

She nodded again and whispered, "Okay. You're right this time. We need to go. Tawnie?" she called out. "Where's Michael?"
CHAPTER 60

Friday 19:50 Paris, France

It was the most eerie of days. The sky was a cornflower blue all day, and not a single cloud intruded anywhere in the air above Paris. But now, as evening settled in, the colour in the sky shifted, deepening to a rich azure. But it wasn't just the sky that cast an unsettling blanket over Nathaniel. It was the silence from his cell phones. Neither phone received an incoming call since Kaito's last message days ago.

Dinner was finished and his family was back at the hotel, tired from another day on the town. Nathaniel excused himself so he could regroup his thoughts properly. He stepped outside, adjusted his cowboy hat, and headed north. He headed that way for no particular reason. A good walk is all he wanted to get his blood circulating.

Five minutes later, he found himself in front of Square Pablo Casals. The modern square was bustling with activity. Children played in the sandpit and all four outdoor table tennis tables were occupied. Mothers sat on benches under the chestnut trees and many others mulled about, people-watching, reading a magazine, or strolling about the square with a cell phone in one palm. It struck him how centre-focused all of them were, as if they were hunkered down into their own little world, completely unaware of anything but their own personal existence.

He spotted an open bench next to some lilac bushes and sat down. He watched the children playing in the sand, listening as they made up stories and fantasies about another place and time. There were a number of single people present. They, too, were in their own little worlds. If he wanted to, he could prey on any one of these people right now and not one would have any notion of where he had come from or why they were randomly assaulted. They were so deeply consumed into themselves, completely unaware of the intentions or state of mind and potential actions of the numerous people standing only a few feet away.

Bubbles. That's what he was seeing. All these people in Square Pablo Casals were encased in their own self-manufactured bubbles.

Bubbles.

The odd perception caused him to chuckle as he reflected on the past week and what he had just been through. He had been sequestered inside his own little bubble, only popping his head out when necessary to be with Diane and the girls.

And who had created the bubble that encapsulated him?

"Geordie," he whispered.

Of course it was Geordie. The construction began the very moment he arrived up at La Sapiniere. It was the verbal push and dance carefully choreographed by Geordie. The aggressive attack was followed by logic and reason and then another undressing and more manipulation. By the time he left La Sapiniere, he was fully encased.

And why? The answer to that was obvious, too.

"To allow Lucas and Jack to step in to contain Kaito and to keep me off balance," he whispered. He wiped one hand across his brow. He wasn't sweating; he just needed to feel his hand near his brain to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"Shit," he whispered quietly as he understood more about Kaito's actions. "Kaito wasn't straying...not really."

And each follow-up phone call from Geordie was meant to strengthen the bubble so Jack and Lucas could continue to do what it was they had come out to do. Both acted in a supportive way, but in reality, they were only present for one purpose: to ensure Kaito's mission was completed and to keep Nate on his heels and away from discovering the truth.

He nodded. It made sense. His anger at Geordie grew as he recollected more of what Geordie had said and done. "You bastard," he whispered and shook his head. This was no rogue action. It was a well-choreographed conspiracy led by Geordie, and it pained him now to believe that Kaito was possibly used this way.

And where was Kaito now?

Anger at Jack swelled next. The always helpful and obedient Jack fed him information day after day. Always feeding and feeding, while at the same time asking what he thought, what they should do next, what he thought was the motive behind Kaito's actions—never offering up his own opinions, just constantly probing him with question after question. He now understood what Jack was doing. He was watching and probing in case Kaito slipped the truth out in one of his calls, or checking to see if he figured it out in some other way all on his own.

"But I did figure it out," he said and stood up. And with that thought, the words between himself and Richard Crowder followed him. Accidents that aren't accidents. They seem like accidents, but my wife and I have a feeling they weren't just accidents. The Crowders were figuring it out too, and that worried him.

A few moments later, he was back on the sidewalk on path to his hotel. Kaito was right when he taunted him about his inability to go through with terminating Johnny. It was the hardest thing for him to intentionally cause harm to one who didn't deserve it. And just like the uncertainty he had with Johnny, the Crowders had also unknowingly stepped into a place they were not prepared to be.

The Order had changed since its inception. The actions and movements over the last few days, full of coercive and misleading activities within the Order's own members, were proof of how drastically things had changed. Lies, cover-ups, and deceit were running rampant.

Nathaniel pulled out his cell, scrolled through his recent callers, and placed the call he had been putting off. He knew this one was the right one to make.
CHAPTER 61

11:55 Friday Near Canmore, Alberta, Canada

"I don't see why we have to run away," Michael said. He thumped the inside of the truck's rear door with his fist. "This is stupid."

Michelle was sitting in front of him. She turned around and looked at him. "It's not stupid. You heard your father. Staying around here just waiting for them to show up would be stupid."

Michael's mouth dropped open. He shook his head. "But they let me go. If they wanted to hurt me, they would have already."

"Listen, Michael," Richard said. The truck rocked to the side briefly as the wind caught the side of the trailer. "It's not Harvey Metcalf we're worried about."

"So who is it then?" he shouted. "Everyone else is dead. Shhh."

Tawnie sat next to him. She could read the stress that surrounded Michael. She reached her hand out towards his, but he pulled away before she could touch him. "Please, Michael," she said. "Just stop and listen to Dad and Michelle."

Michelle cast an encouraging smile over at Tawnie.

"Just...shhhut it already!" He thumped the door again with his fist. "I don't want to go hide in the effin mountains!"

"We don't know who is behind any of this," Richard said. "We think the Senator is tied in, but we don't know for sure. Michelle and I now think that Shaw, the Russian, and Harvey Metcalf were the targets, and there may be more we don't even know about."

"They didn't get Harvey," Michael shouted back. "They got Lucy! So why do we have to run away?" He was almost in tears. "I thought you said this was over?"

"Until we read about Kaito Hui and his son this morning, we thought it was over, Michael," Michelle said. "You have to understand, there are far too many coincidences now. Your dad and I believe whatever is going on is in cleanup mode and that's the reason Kaito and Johnny are now dead. They were only middlemen in all of this and now, well...look where they are."

Michael lifted his eyes up towards his sister.

She nodded back at him. "They think you're next, you know."

"Arghh! I hate this!" Michael shouted and stomped his feet. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!"

Richard sighed heavily. "Four more hours, and we'll be at the first camp. After a hot meal and a good night's sleep in the trailer, we'll gear up and hike up on foot into the back country."

"You're crazy, Dad! I don't want to go on any hike in the mountains! I want to go back home!" Michael shouted. "Shushh, shhh." He rubbed his fists at both temples.

The Rocky Mountains loomed above them as they entered into the Bow Valley parkway. Their route would take them right by Heart Mountain. It would appear on the left in another few minutes.

"Well, we're not going home, Michael," Richard said calmly, careful not to respond to Michael's elevated state. "Your school's done for the year, and maybe I'm wrong about all this and it is really over. But I'm not taking any chances."

Richard's cell phone buzzed in the centre console, startling Michelle.

"I thought you told us to take the batteries out of our cells," she said to Richard.

"I, uh..." he stammered and waved one hand about. "With all this...I guess I forgot."

It buzzed again.

"Who is it?" he asked and watched as Michelle turned the phone over to see the display. Her eyes grew large at what she saw.

"It's him, Richard. I think it's the Senator." She turned the phone towards him so he could see that the call was coming from an international number.

He hesitated.

"Answer it," Michelle prompted, and shoved the phone towards him.

Richard grabbed the phone and answered the call. The phone clicked over via the Bluetooth onto the truck's interior speakers.

"Hello, Richard here," he said.

"Richard, this is Senator Diamond. Are you free to talk?"

The wind howled down the parkway within the Bow River valley, buffeting the truck again and causing it to rock and sway a few seconds before settling down. Richard eased off on the gas.

"I'm driving, now, but yes, I'm free."

"Where are you now exactly?" the Senator asked.

The question was disturbing.

"I'd rather not say if you don't mind," Richard replied.

"Okay, that's fine. Under the circumstances I do understand."

"Uh-huh," Richard said.

"Yes. Let me get right to why I called."

"Please do, Senator."

The Senator went quiet. He appeared to be carefully choosing his words.

"How's your son?"

Another disturbing question.

"Michael's fine. Why do you ask?"

Michael grunted from the back seat.

"I..." the Senator said, sighed, and paused a moment. Richard waited for him to continue. "This is difficult for me, please understand."

"Go on."

"I'm worried for your family...Michael mostly."

Michael spewed another grunt and fisted his temples while rocking his head back and forth.

"What's to be worried about? Michael's back home now and he's fine." He knew the Senator had nothing whatsoever to do with Michael's escape and tested his sincerity. "I was curious to know if you had anything to do with helping him be released."

The Senator hesitated only a second before replying. "No, I wish I had, but truthfully I had nothing to do with that at all. I'm just glad he's back home." He sighed heavily before continuing. "But it's about what we discussed the other day, 'accidents that aren't accidents'? I wanted to ask you for specifics, but I'm really afraid that I can't do that. I don't want to know anything about whatever it is you and your wife suspect."

It was Richard's turn to pause. He almost laughed out loud at how bizarre the Senator's statement sounded. "Then why are you calling?"

"I just want you understand my position. That's what I'm trying to say," the Senator added.

"Or not say..." Richard replied.

"Well, yes, exactly. I find myself in a rather difficult spot at the moment."

"Because of Kaito Hui?"

"That would be part of it, yes."

"And now that he and his son are both dead, where does that leave us?"

The Senator gasped. "Pardon me?" he uttered in one short breath.

"You heard me. Are they coming for us next, Senator? Is that why you called?"

He didn't respond directly. "Kaito and Johnny are dead?" His voice was tight, and he sounded uniquely shocked.

"Come on Senator..." Richard replied, but it felt awkward to challenge the Senator when his last response sounded so sincere.

"Where did you hear this news about Kaito and Johnny?" Concern was etched into his every word.

"On the net. CBC News this morning. It's being reported they both drowned in a boating accident up near Campbell River last night."

"A boating accident? Both of them? Johnny as well?"

"That's what was said on the news. Both drowned last night."

"No," the Senator said with disbelief and sadness trumped in his voice. "That's not possible. Johnny was supposed to be in Calgary."

Richard steered the vehicle over the crest of a rise and around a wide, sweeping corner. Heart Mountain slowly came into view, rising high up on the left side and the sprawling, shallow waters of Lac Des Arcs ahead on the right. He glanced once over his right shoulder to see Michael hunched down, trying to get a look out Tawnie's window to the top of the mountain.

"Yes, Senator. I'm afraid it is true. But what I need now from you is the truth about what's going on. Is my family in danger?" He wanted to add that they had told no one else but quickly reconsidered. "Are we next?"

Michael leaned over Tawnie and reached his hand up towards Heart Mountain. Tears began to flow down his face and he whimpered Lucy's name softly. Tawnie leaned over next to him and stared up with him, their heads almost touching.

The Senator let a shallow, disconcerting laugh leave his lips. "I don't know anymore...I thought I did, but...they're both dead?" He went quiet and said nothing for a moment before a whisper came through the speakers. "I just don't know...I'm so sorry. I wish I had the answer for you...but I don't. And I really wish you hadn't got caught up in any of this."

"Senator Diamond?"

"Yes," he whispered back softly, caught in his own personal reflection of the events that were continually unfolding.

"Unless you have something more to offer, I really have to let you go."

"I understand," he said after first clearing his throat once. "If I could tell you more, I would, but it's probably best you all disappear for a while just the same."

"Point taken, Senator."

"Yes. Take care of that family of yours."

And just like that, the Senator was gone.

Richard watched Heart Mountain slowly disappear in his side mirror as the road curved down and around another bend. Michael pulled himself back onto his side of the rear seat and gazed up at Grotto Mountain on the opposite side of the valley above Lac Des Arcs. He seemed lost in whatever consumed him for the moment. Lucy was gone and would remain only a memory in his son's mind—a memory he knew would haunt his son for years to come.

Richard handed his cell phone to Michelle.

"Please take the battery out of this thing."
CHAPTER 62

Monday 13:21 Mediterranean coast near Golfe de Saint-Tropez, France

Two full days had passed since Nathaniel had learned what he believed to be the truth. He hoped to hear from either Jack or Lucas, but so far there was no word from either. And there was always Geordie, but hearing anything further from him was very unlikely.

Meagan laughed in the back seat. He could see her in the rear view mirror as she stared down, her eyes glued to the screen of her smart phone. Ellen leaned over to see what was so funny, and giggled as well. "He's such an idiot," she said and tapped away with her thumbs on her own phone. Those two could be anywhere on the planet at that moment, both happily bubblized in their own online world.

Diane sat beside him and stared out the window, catching every glimpse of the Mediterranean Sea she could. The deep, teal-blue sea with slivers of whitecaps popped in and out of view, contrasting perfectly against the pallid-coloured buildings along the coastal road. She seemed distant, maybe content, and it all coincided with the sudden silence of his cell phones.

Today they were headed south to a place along the coast she had found on Golfe de Saint-Tropez, a small, cozy cottage with pale, stone-coloured walls resting on the Mediterranean water's edge. They would spend a few days there, followed by a quick loop up through the mountains, zigzagging their way back and forth across the borders, and back to Paris just in time to catch the flight home.

When he first woke many hours ago, he couldn't shake the feeling that the Crowders were at risk. But what was he to do? It stung that he had been so easily duped by those to whom he surrendered all trust without question. His worry ate away at him all through breakfast, and when his girls jumped onto their phones the moment Diane said it was okay, he did the same and googled the news back home, searching for any mysterious death or accident that could be any one or all of the Crowders. He came up empty.

Thoughts of his very first visit to Hotel La Sapiniere stole their way into his troubled mind. He was single back then. Diane didn't enter the picture until many years later. And then, when the next annual meeting arose, she accepted his lie that he was headed out skiing for a few days. Over the years, it was clear his lies had become her truths—decades of lies. He studied her for a moment as the water continued to capture every part of her attention. She turned and flashed a quick smile at him, as if sensing his gaze. Her eyes danced brightly in the reflected sunlight before she let herself get carried back out to sea.

It was fleeting, but he felt it. He saw it in her eyes and he felt it flow from her smile—that particular smile. She knows. Exactly what she knows, he couldn't tell, and maybe would never know. He continued driving and studied her again as her mind rode the crests far out against the horizon. And then, as if she was reading his mind again, she reached out with one hand and patted him on the arm ever so gently.

It was enough to make him understand that he was never to ask what she knew or how much she understood.

Hours passed as he navigated the twisting coastal road. The girls surfed the web and chatted with friends back home, and Diane remained quiet and pleased that she had all of him once again. He sensed this was all she had ever wanted, hoped, and waited so patiently for. And for another few days, that was how it was going to be. He would give her those days, and nothing seemed more important than to put Diane's wishes and his family first.

But it didn't mean this business with Geordie was over. It would only just get started once this vacation was over. He tried to turn his thoughts away from it, but it always boomeranged right back.

This last week made him feel like a marshmallow—stuck up the backside with a big, long stick and stretched out over a fire, roasting away, not quite on fire, but oh so very close to combusting, all the while believing there was a purpose to it all. And Geordie's hands were wrapped tight around the thick end of that stick.

One thing Geordie said stuck in his mind, and as hard as he tried to pry it up, it refused to lift: No one on my team gets to go play in the sandbox until they've finished the round.

But was the round even over?
CHAPTER 63

Monday 08:17 North boundary of Jasper National Park, Alberta, Canada

"It's boiling already," Michael whined.

Richard huffed. "Two minutes I said. The water has to boil for at least two minutes."

The sun hadn't yet reached around the mountain into their camp. Dew covered the tents and rested in quiet droplets on the leaves and surrounding evergreens.

Richard stared at one of the tents and smiled. Tawnie and Michelle were tucked deep inside their bags lying side by side as Richard and Michael prepared breakfast. He hadn't expected Michelle to shush him off to bed with Michael like she did last night, leaving her sitting alone with Tawnie at the fire so the two of them could talk.

Michael added a few more dry twigs to the fire and looked up at his dad, who was busy chopping up peppers for this morning's omelettes. "We don't have enough food, do we?"

"We have enough," he replied. He shovelled the peppers into the bowl with the eggs and other ingredients and began to whisk them all together.

"But that's the last of the eggs, and there's only one more pepper left." He squinted up at his dad, trying to comprehend where the rest of the food was.

Richard smiled at him. "We have rice. Enough to last nearly a month if needed."

"What?" Michael replied disillusioned. "I'm not eating rice for the next month!"

He laughed. "We have oatmeal, noodles, and dry soup mix, too. We just had to eat the veggies and dairy before they went bad."

"Ichiban noodles? We used to eat that all the time when we hiked."

He stirred the eggs and added some salt and pepper. "I think that's all you ever ate when we went into to the back country."

Michael's face relaxed at the memory. That was nearly a decade ago. He gazed down into the fire and shoved a few more sticks below the kettle of water. "Do you think the cabin's still up here?"

He shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know. It may have been torn down or fallen in." He shifted his gaze up the valley to the west. "This time of year, snow's gone in the pass. If it is still standing, there might even be a hiker or two overnighting inside."

Michael studied his dad for a moment and shook his head before shifting his gaze in the direction his dad was staring. It was almost July. The sun shone nearly eighteen hours a day, and there was no rain in the forecast for the next three days. "I doubt it. That cabin's back deep up there and there's nothing to see...no view, barely a creek." He squinted up at his dad as the sun began its creep around the back of the mountain behind his father. "And it's a dead-end trail."

"Uh-huh...." He continued to stir the mixture and readied a pan. "I think that water's done now, Michael," he said.

Michael removed the kettle and poured the water over the coffee grounds in the press. "If you can even call it a trail," he added. He went silent for a moment and pushed the coals into a pile in the centre of the small fire pit. "That's why you built it so far back up there, isn't it? You picked that place on purpose."

Richard really didn't want to think about why he had built that cabin, but Michael was dead right about its location. "Yeah," he said.

"Why did you build that cabin, Dad?"

"Michael, go tell Tawnie and Michelle it's time to get up. Coffee's ready and the eggs will be done in a few minutes." He hadn't thought about the cabin in years. He adjusted the small grating above the fire and set the pan on it to cook the eggs.

Michael popped his head into the tent the girls shared for the first time, announced breakfast was ready, and returned to sit cross-legged on the dirt next to the fire. "So why did you build it?" he asked

Richard wanted to say it was made for days like these, and that really wouldn't have been far from the truth. He squatted down next to the fire opposite Michael. "I wasn't much older than you when we built that cabin. A couple years older, maybe."

"We?"

He chuckled. "Yeah." His thoughts drifted, bouncing back over the decades. It was a different age entirely. "You really want to know?"

"Uh-huh. Seems like a lot of work."

He chuckled again. "It was the seventies. The cold war was full on, and I was a first-year poli-sci student at U of A. I had a crazy way of looking at the world back then—always going on about politics, and everything was us versus them." It struck him funny how his interest in politics faded and reversed completely once he graduated and got married.

Michael frowned. "Like what? You thought a nuclear world war was inevitable and up here would hold the best chance of survival?"

"Yeah," he replied and nodded. Michael's perception was sharp, but it seemed much more complicated than the few words Michael used to sum it up. He laughed again. "There were four of us. We were all a little extreme, I guess. Building the cabin seemed logical at the time."

Michael nodded.

"We all promised one another that when the time came, no matter where we were, we'd all find our way back here to wait it out." He gave the eggs one quick stir around the pan. "We had it all planned, how we'd survive out here. We'd hunt and fish. We'd clear some of the land down in the valley bottom over time and just rebuild from scratch all that man had destroyed."

He laughed again.

"Why do you laugh?" Michael asked.

"Because it was all just a fantasy. Any war of that magnitude would have left no safe place on the planet. Not even up here."

Michael was silent for a moment. "But it wasn't pointless, was it?"

"All that work—weeks' worth of cutting and sawing. It seems kind of pointless now, don't you think?"

But Michael didn't think like him. "Hope," he said, and looked up into the sky. An eagle flew high above them, blocking the sun for an instant.

"Hope?"

"Yeah." Michael remained staring into the dawn sky, watching the eagle pass overhead until it banked sharply and disappeared over the trees. "You were all building hope up here. That was the point. You four never gave up on humanity." He paused and looked at his father. "Just like you never gave up on me."

Tears suddenly rose to the surface, and Richard's emotions swelled, rendering him speechless. He stood up and walked around the fire to his son, motioning with his hands for Michael to stand. He spread his arms out wide. Michel stepped into them. He hugged his son with all the love he held inside him.

"I will never give up on you, son. Never."

"Thanks, Dad."
CHAPTER 64

Wednesday 10:12 Victoria, British Columbia, Canada

It had been over a week since Lucy's funeral, and Harvey Metcalf was back into his routine, doing what he always did on a Wednesday at home in Victoria. He slept in an extra two hours, worked out at the gym, and then ran over to Starbucks with the morning paper before stepping into the office. He'd start late and stay until the sun set.

He was sitting alone on one of the stools along the window of Starbucks on Yates, feeling sanguine after finding a parking spot right in front. Most days, he would circle the block once or twice and then park at the office and walk back the two blocks.

Although he flipped through the pages of the morning paper, he wasn't searching for or even interested in anything in the news. It was just a pregnant pause he'd come to anticipate once a week before stepping into the scrum—a quick respite from associates, secretaries, assistants, and every other member of the firm. Once he stepped foot into the office, it was game on with phone calls and meetings.

Business had picked up lately, as the office was flooded with calls since the Supreme Court decision a month prior. Most were requests from other law firms seeking representation or consultation about clients whom they felt had been entrapped by police in similar 'Mr. Big' undercover operations. He had no doubt his firm would be involved in dozens of appeals and requests for new trials over the next six years or more.

But something outside the window caught his attention, and his tongue dropped into the back of his mouth, nearly causing him to choke. Tucked under the wiper blade of his black Series 5 BMW was a brown, manila envelope. From where he sat, the scrawling big black letters screamed up at him.

H A R V E Y !

His chest began to pound away. He'd received many similar envelopes over the months prior to Lucy's death, but none were dropped so close to his person, and none had arrived since her fall from the mountain. He scanned up and down the street, but of all the people coming and going, none seemed to have any interest in him or his vehicle.

Moments later, he was sitting in his car with the envelope, slipping his fingers under the flap to break the seal. He reached in and gently pulled out a number of documents.

Photos.

His heart nearly stopped as he looked down upon the first image. It was his daughter Lucy. A big X was scrawled across her face and a black circle was etched in the corner in felt marker with the number 1 scribbled inside.

His chest tightened and he swallowed once. He had raised Lucy since she was three. He put one hand to his mouth. Anger and rage bubbled beneath the surface of his skin. He tore his eyes away and stared out down the busy street. Someone was out there watching, and confusion befell him for a moment until he flipped to the next photos.

The second photo was of the Russian Diplomat with a big X scrawled across his face and a large number 2 in the top right corner.

"Damn it..." he whispered.

Garrod Shaw's photo sported its own X and the number 3. Garrod stared up at Harvey with a dark, demonic expression. The photo was the most widely circulated among the press during the first trial.

"Damn it all to hell."

It was the next two photos that stole his breath. He gasped. Kaito Hui and his son, Takahiro Hui, were numbers 4 and 5. Until now, he had no idea they were even dead. Someone still moved in the shadows and it wasn't Kaito. It never was Kaito.

"No," he mumbled. "I can't believe this." But there was no denying it.

He scanned the streets again, but it was impossible to find the person watching him.

The last document was a blank white sheet with a single number 6 followed by a question mark.

"Bastards!" He shouted and his fingers squeezed the photos in his hand, slowly crumpling the edges.

He slammed his fists into the steering wheel repeatedly until his fingers were numb and his energy spent. He couldn't bear to go through this all again. He hadn't even allowed himself to fully mourn Lucy, not while he thought Hui was still out there ready to bear down on him again. All his worry and frustration had been just wasted and misdirected energy.

Hui's words spoken across Lucy's casket returned. What you feel today will never go away. Hui's eyes were red, but he grinned like a madman. Not tomorrow, not next week, not next year—never! You'll see her pretty face the moment you wake and she'll always come around before you go to sleep. He had wanted to lunge out and strangle the man, but he restrained himself. Hui continued. Maybe you'll sleep, maybe you won't. Personally, I hope you don't ever sleep again. She'll come to you when it's dark in the middle of the night and ask you, why, Dad? And what will you tell her when she comes, huh? What will you tell your daughter when she asks why she had to die?

Cindy had scolded him and even challenged his love for his daughter when he showed no emotion—never breaking, never crying, not even once. But how could he? It was all about control. He had to maintain control to see this through and to protect the rest of his family.

What he had chosen for his line of work always caused some collateral damage somewhere. It was a risk he accepted decades ago going in, and until now, he'd been able to turn away and close the door without having to look behind him. But the door had been ripped off, and he knew if he stole a peek now, he'd see a wall of eyes chasing him from behind, hands reaching out to grab hold of any piece of him they could.

He scrolled through the photos again one at a time, and he had no doubt in his mind about what was being asked of him. But could he do it? Succumbing to those unseen seemed an impossible reach. He wasn't one to succumb. In fact, he was the one who always landed on top. Always...until Lucy, that is. Could he risk the lives of his other daughters? Or even Cindy's life? He didn't know how he could dare risk losing another person he loved, but giving in was against all of his principles.

Harvey crumpled the lot of photos into a ball, tossed them onto the passenger seat floor, and dropped his head into his hands. He felt beaten down, as if all the legal bullying he had committed in the courtroom and behind closed doors for the past two decades had somehow been turned inside out and shoved down his own throat. It was now hammering away inside him. Every choice and decision he made going forward might inflict an unwanted consequence upon one of the people he loved.

Anger surged, and it rolled in waves as he let his mind dissect all that he knew, looking for a crack, some fault line or finger hold to rip open that could lead to a way out. But there was none.

He wanted to die. He knew he had no choice but to surrender to the invisible shackles that were being held out in front of him. He saw himself already standing with his feet shoulder-width apart and his hands outstretched in front of him, ready to give his answer.

Harvey reached down, picked up the ball of paper, and slowly uncrumpled the pages until he found the photo of his daughter, Lucy, and pulled it free. He placed the photo flat on one of his thighs and tried to gently massage away the crinkles with his fingers, but the crinkles remained.

A tear rolled down his cheek. It fell free and landed high on her cheekbone just below one eye.

And with a heavy sigh, he surrendered.
CHAPTER 65

Friday 13:20 Ottawa, Ontario, Canada

Geordie was sequestered in his upstairs home office. Smoke swirled above his head as he waited anxiously for the call he knew was coming.

His cell phone rang and he picked up immediately.

"Well? Is it theirs?"

"It's theirs. One-hundred-percent confirmed."

"Where?"

"Off-road, deep in the bushes north of Jasper."

Geordie puffed on his cigar.

"Any sign of them?" he asked.

"They've had heavy rain the last two days up here. Won't be able to track them. There are thousands of square kilometres out here. And they've had a week's head start."

Geordie said nothing and puffed again.

"We could send up the drones," the caller suggested.

Geordie ignored the suggestion. "In the bushes you said?"

"Yes. Both units are covered up under branches and shrubs. We were lucky to catch sight of it. They went through a lot of work to hide both truck and trailer."

And that's what worried Geordie. If the Crowders had left their truck and trailer in plain sight, he would have only wondered, but to conceal them?

"About the drone..." the caller repeated.

"No drone," Geordie said quietly. "I want them left alone. We know where they are."

"Are you sure? We're up here already and with the drone...."

"I said no drone!" Geordie shouted. "Just get yourselves the hell out of there."

"But...."

"And cover those vehicles back up if you've uncovered them. Leave them like you found them. This one's finished."

The caller paused and then spoke apologetically. "We'll pull out as soon as we can."

Geordie hung up and stewed. Finding them was enough for now. They'll come out eventually, and when they do...

The cigar tip glowed as he pulled in another taste.

And when they do...

It was complicated working off the radar—and expensive. These people weren't like the others. They weren't on any list and hadn't harmed anyone.

But they will come out.

Could he actually hunt this family down to the end? Was he really willing to go that far just because they might know something?

And when they do...

Geordie drummed his fingers on the desk for a few minutes and nodded.

"Yeah," he said to himself and coughed once. "And when they finally do show themselves—then what?"

He continued to nod as if trying to convince himself he was making the right choice.

"Yeah," he said again, and it was decided. He would drop this one right where it sat. This one was finished.

"This business will be the death of me. I'm getting too old for this shit."

THE END

OTHER BOOKS BY R E SWIRSKY

BUMSTEAD'S WELL

The dare was simple. Spend one night down at the bottom of Bumstead's well. When Vincent's friends fail to return at the agreed time, Vincent finds himself trapped alone and reflecting on his short life.

WISH ME FROM THE WATER

A young boy commits suicide. The town folk believe it was another result of bullying but two brothers discover the truth and decide to take matters into their own hands. A tale of abuse, shame and standing up for what you believe is right.

EXTREME MALICE

If you could create the perfect murder and get away with it, would you? A young university student is charged with murder. His guitar string is wrapped around her neck. His shoe prints are left at the scene. Her earrings found under his bed. Her husband hundreds of miles away. The perfect murder? You be the judge.

IN THE MIDST OF A PREDATOR

A very short psychological story. Bobby, a young boy alone at the fair grounds, finds comfort in a stranger who reaches out to him. Having the best night of his life, Bobby is unaware his new friend has something very different in store for him.

THE BLUFFINGTON FOUR

A time travel mystery about four students who disappeared in the mid 1960s.
