“I take it you’ve made equipment deliveries to other locations?”
“Yes.”
“Do you keep a log of your ship’s activities that are unrelated to ports of call?”
Donaldson didn’t answer. He turned to his lawyer. “I don’t want to say any more. I want to make a deal.”
“Captain Donaldson,” Brandeis interjected. “The time for making deals is past. You might like to know that Severall and his associates own twelve ships, maybe more, not just the seven you are aware of. We have an overview of their business dealings worldwide. What we want from you is greater detail with respect to those operations that your ship has been involved in, both on the manifest and not, and the names of all ships and captains that you’ve had dealings with.”
“Severall has twelve ships?”
“You didn’t know that.”
“No.” The captain slumped in his chair and sighed.
“About that log I referred to a moment ago.”
“I kept a record of everywhere my ship goes, especially outside of scheduled ports of call. It’s in my safe.”
“We’ll need to have a look at that.”
“Of course,” mumbled the captain.
Chapter 34
It was nearly ten in the evening when two lawyers arrived from the UK. One for Severall, one for Kirigin. Severall conferred with his lawyer, then the two of them joined Brandeis, Desocarras and Inspector Whitehall, who’d flown in from RCMP headquarters in Ottawa for the interview.
Severall wanted immunity from prosecution and witness protection going forward. Further, he wanted access to all his assets, including several offshore bank accounts. His final request: he’d slept on a cot in the interview room the night before. Tonight he wanted to be moved to a hotel room.
It was already clear to the police that the activities of Severall and those he did business with were well hidden. So well hidden, the police were now painfully aware that it would be a long and protracted process, involving a lot of time, money, and resources to unravel the connections; a process involving months of work, possibly years. Days after getting the names, the police could find nothing on the other signatories for Palindrome or Summit. Every lead they’d run down ran straight into a thick, impermeable wall. Alex suspected that might be Kirigin’s handiwork, or possibly other players they had yet to unmask.
There was some haggling over bank accounts, details of which Severall’s lawyer had presented the police with. As for the rest of his demands, Inspector Whitehall didn’t miss a beat. The brass in Ottawa had given the go ahead for whatever deal they could make with Severall. He would walk away from this with a portion of his considerable wealth intact. Alex wondered what money remained hidden, as did his superiors.
Kirigin wasn’t mentioned in the negotiations and Severall didn’t bring him up. Whitehall had the same authority to negotiate with Kirigin, but it would be a vastly different outcome—in depth intel on all their operations including access to all computer and online data, and in exchange, the possibility of a reduced sentence. Kirigin wouldn’t be walking away from the three murders in Vancouver or the attempted murder of Alex and Gwen; his hire had given him up.
Alex remember the heated whispers of Kirigin and Severall in the back of the van, on the way to the hospital. Only for a while, Severall had whispered, then Kirigin’s petulant response, which Alex couldn’t make out. It won’t be for long, Severall had hissed, before Alex had told them both to keep quiet.
Once the details were agreed on, Whitehall asked for details about the North America operations, in case they’d missed something. Severall talked about these, and to show good faith, gave details of the major operations the twelve ships in the water were currently involved in. He did this from memory, and in impressive detail. Kirigin’s name was on Severall’s lips for the first time, and his programming handiwork got its first mention.
“When did you first start working with Kirigin?” asked Brandeis.
“We met at a gambling casino in Nevada, a little over five years ago. He turned my head,” said Severall, with a small shrug of his shoulders.
“You’re lovers?” Alex asked.
“Yes. Gregori is the love of my life.”
Alex nodded. If so, you wouldn’t be throwing him under the bus, unless you have a lifeline in reserve. Somewhere. Or would you?
“I did try to dissuade him from his vendetta against you, sergeant.”
Alex said nothing.
“But he was convinced you would be our undoing.”
“In the end, not too far from the truth, Mr. Severall,” said Brandeis, with a sideways glance at Alex.
Near the end of the first interview, Severall began to identify the key players he worked with. He insisted they weren’t an organization per se, more of a lose affiliation of men, and a few women, with common needs; the most important among them, the need to communicate in secret, away from prying eyes, in a world where private communication continued to be breached on so many fronts. Hence the interest in low earth orbit communication technology. Severall was pleased to point out that unlike Kirigin—a cyborg in every sense, whose computers and phones were an extension of his being, and who felt the need to create a digital record of everything—he himself had a prodigious memory and no need of a written record. However, he hastened to point out, low earth orbit communication was the next frontier, maybe the last one, with its ability to connect everyone, everywhere on the planet. Untold millions would be made by those who got in on the ground floor.
To say nothing of the power that went with control of that technology, thought Alex.
“How many installations do you and your partners have at present?”
“The installations are mine alone,” corrected Severall.
Brandeis and Whitehall exchanged a brief glance. The questioning continued.
The interview with Severall ended just before two in the morning. To his dismay, he wouldn’t be getting out of jail just yet. The police assured him that arrangements would be made in the next day or two, after they had the information they needed. They promised better blankets and a pillow.
Someone had arranged a reward for the exhausted team, rooms at the Coast Hotel. Alex headed there. Once in his room, he undressed and took a hot shower before collapsing into bed, asleep soon after his head hit the pillow.
His body slept, but his brain went into overdrive. Images swirled: Levon Starr, bleeding to death on the cabin floor; Morgan O’Meara, wading into Gustafsen Lake, hands bound tightly behind her; seven children asleep in a van, on their way to be sold to the highest bidder; a woman, chest open, empty, stared at him with hollow eyes; a stranger in an apron handed Alex her heart; Gwen, terrified, bound to a chair in their kitchen; Levon, dead in his arms; Hunt, hand out, demanding Alex give him his phone. Wrong, his dream corrected. Hunt refused to do a report when he shot Levon; wouldn’t do a report. It was the woman at the bank; she wanted her phone back; didn’t want him to touch her phone. Her phone.
Alex awoke with a start, bathed in sweat, heart pounding, neck pulse throbbing. He moved to the side of the bed, dropped his legs to the floor and grabbed the mattress to steady himself. He breathed steadily as he could, in and out, in and out, trying to slow his heart rate, but the pain was almost more than he could bear. He had difficulty getting air into his lungs, the pressure on his chest was so heavy. He grabbed his phone off the night table. Gwen was on speed dial.
It rang and rang before it finally intruded on her sleep, so far away. She answered, sleepily.
“Gwen. I can’t breathe,” Alex rasped into the phone, his voice a whisper. “And my heart. My heart hurts. So much.”
Gwen, instantly alert. “Where are you?”
“Coast Hotel. 242.”
“Hang up sweetheart. I’ll get you help. Then I’ll call you right back.”
Chapter 35
It was early Monday morning. One of the ICU night nurses was doing rounds.
She checked Levon’s vitals, added another bag of medication to his IV drip, then moved to the next patient.
The redz had LEO for another few hours. Robbie was dozing in his chair in the family lounge near the ICU and he noticed the nurse when she emerged from the ICU and swept by him, heading in the other direction. Seizing the opportunity, he slipped in and took another picture of his brother to post to AERIE. He moved back to his chair in the lounge, posted the newest pic and read through the more recent messages of support, coming in from Indigenous activists from all over the world. He tucked the tablet into his inside jacket pocket and promptly fell asleep.
He was with Levon in a locked room, but they weren’t upset. Far from it. The two of them chortling with glee because Levon had discovered that the only window in the room was unlocked and they could easily escape. He opened the window, hopped up on the sill and was through the window in a few quick movements. He leaned back in with a huge grin, his knit hat at a rakish angle and beckoned to Robbie.
Come on brother. It’s time for us to get out of here!
I’m with you, laughed Robbie. He tried to hoist himself up like Levon had, but his body felt heavy and refused to cooperate. He could hear a warning buzzer had started up. Hey you. Give me a hand here. They’re coming after us!
Here you go, brother, said Levon, laughing with glee as he reached in and offered Robbie some help. Hurry. They’ll catch us!
“Mr. Starr.”
Robbie struggled to shut out the intrusion.
Hurry brother! You can do it!
Robbie managed to throw one leg up and over the sill. When did you get to be so agile, Levon, jumping through the window like that? Robbie grabbed one side of the window frame and Levon reached around him to pull him through.
“Mr. Starr, please. Wake up.” Someone was shaking him gently now, and speaking into his ear.
With an effort, Robbie opened his eyes. A nurse was above him, one hand on his shoulder.
“I’m afraid I have bad news.”
“My brother is dead,” said Robbie softly. “I know.”
Epilogue
Gwen and Alex were in their backyard, enjoying the late afternoon sun. Winter snow was gone, and they’d just finished spring cleaning the yard. Alex hummed a tune as he rearranged fish steaks on the grill. Gwen joined him beside the barbecue.
“I’m glad you agreed to take some time off,” she said.
“Agreed to?”
“Okay. Not exactly agreed to. I was really worried about you honey.”
“I know,” he said. “I was a little worried myself.”
“I think it’s done you a lot of good.”
Alex was silent for a minute. He looked at Gwen. “My broken heart needed time to heal.” It was the first time he’d said it out loud.
Gwen teared up and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re gonna be okay, honey. I just know it.”
Alex attended a sweat a few weeks before with his dad, one of many in the last few months, and that night, singing had been a real joy; the first time in a long time.
“Gwen, look at me.” She did.
“I am okay now. As okay as I’m going to be in this world.”
“Alex—”
“Gwen, hear me out.”
She laid her head on his shoulder. “Okay. I’m listening.”
“I think it’s time I got back to work.”
“Back to work! Good grief, Alex. What’s the rush!”
“You said you’d listen.”
“Okay, okay,” she mumbled.
“I’ve been off work for nearly three months.”
“That’s not so long.”
“It’s how much time I needed. Anyway, I’ve decided not to return to the detachment.”
“What will Eugene Munroe say?”
“He’s won’t be happy about it. He doesn’t like his new partner. He’s not as much fun as me.”
“I’m sure not. Are you going to take your dad up on his offer of a job at the museum?”
“The paper cuts job? Working at the Secwépemc Museum would be interesting, mentally anyway. I love what they’re doing there. It’s just not in me to work a desk job.”
“That’s true.”
“I’d go crazy in a month.”
“You would. We can’t have that.”
“Brandeis called this morning, while you were at work.”
“Aha. With a job offer, I bet.”
“An interesting offer. National Security, Criminal Investigations. The Assistant Commissioner in charge asked for me. He wants me for a special team they’re putting together.”
“What did you say?”
“That I was quitting the Force and the only way they’d get me was on contract.”
“What did Brandeis say?”
“He wasn’t surprised.”
“I’ll bet not!”
Alex smiled. “I also said that I’d have to talk it over with you.”
“On contract? So you’re gonna hang out a shingle.”
“Why not. See what happens.”
“I say good for you! But are you sure you want to work with the police? Even on contract?”
Alex sighed. “There is a lot wrong with the Force.”
“No kidding! Lots of things have to change,” said Gwen. “But you’re still interested. Aren’t you?”
“I think it’s important for our people to be a presence in Canada’s main police force, now more than ever. I no longer want to be an officer, not on their terms. But, on contract, on my terms, that’s a different story.”
“It is.”
“There’ll be some travelling. How do you feel about that?”
“I miss you when you’re not around.”
“I miss you when I’m not around,” said Alex. “Gwen, if you don’t want me—”
“I would never stand in your way if it’s something you really want to do. You know that.”
“You’re quite wonderful,” said Alex, leaning over and kissing her gently.
She kissed him back. “Anyway, I have some news of my own.”
“You’re thinking of getting a law degree.”
“How did you know that?”
“You’ve been talking about a degree for two years and the Allard School of Law, University of BC page; you didn’t exit the page when you were done. In fact, you didn’t log off. I had to log you off so I could log on.” They’d finally bought a new computer for the house and were sharing it.
“I’ll work on my computer proficiency.”
“You do that,” said Alex with a grin. “Let’s eat.” He transferred the fish to a waiting plate. They headed into the house.
“I have decided to apply to Allard.”
“It’s a slam dunk.”
“No. It’s not! I do appreciate the support, but I haven’t been accepted yet!”
“With your marks? A mere technicality.”
“Not quite! But again, your support is much appreciated. I’ll have to live in Vancouver, at least part of the year, until I finish the degree work. Then there’s articling; probably in Vancouver.”
“We could move to Vancouver for a few years.”
“You’d be willing to move to Vancouver. You hate big cities.”
“I’ll have to get over that. It’s a lot closer to the Vancouver airport than 100 Mile House. If I take the contract at National Security, I’ll be splitting my time between Vancouver and Ottawa.”
He put the fish on the counter, beside a large bowl of salad.
“If you take the job?” said Gwen, teasing.
“Okay. I do want to say yes.”
“Of course you do! But what will we do with our house?”
“We could rent it out. Marchand is looking for a place.”
“I like him.”
“Me too.”
“There’s something else I want to talk to you about,” said Alex, suddenly serious. “I got a me
ssage from AERIE. There’s something they want my help with.”
“AERIE? Alex?”
THE END
I hope you enjoyed reading Red Paint. If you have the time, I would greatly appreciate if you could leave a review or a rating on Goodreads or your favorite eBook store site.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank Warren Layberry, my skillful editor, for a first-rate job! Robert Fishwick was a great help with information regarding how ship radar works.
Much of the novel is set in the South Cariboo region of British Columbia, on the traditional, unceded territory of the Secwépemc (Suh-Wep-muhc). Other settings include, Prince George, on the traditional, unceded territory of the Lheidli T’enneh (Klate-lee Ten-eh) and the coastal town of Prince Rupert, on the traditional, unceded territory of the Metlakatla and Lax Kw’alaams. Phonetics, where given, are approximate. Eagle Creek Reserve, where Alex was raised, is fictional, as is Seaside Reserve in Prince Rupert.
About Valerie Van Clieaf
The author is a woman of mixed European and Indigenous heritage. Red Paint is her second novel and Book two in the Alex Desocarras mystery series.
You can learn more about Valerie or connect with her via her website.
Val's Website
Red Paint Page 26