The Diamond Dust on Dragonfly Wings: A Jeffry Claxton Mystery Novel

by Michael Yudov

  He had a knack of putting real feelings into his letters, and so he had a busy social life through his pen. These things I learned as I became older and my family talked about him more often. Even now it was still a hard thing for the family to do, talk about Gramps. There had been no dearth of love for him from his children. And he had had fourteen of them.

  He had lived alone in the old farmhouse in Quebec, near Richmond, in the Eastern Townships, winter and summer, as long as I could remember. I think he had already lived there for quite a while before I was even born.

  It was a magical place for me when I was young. Sometimes in the winter, you could get freezing rain on the tail end of a big snowstorm, and when the temperature was twenty below zero, Fahrenheit, that made for interesting field conditions.

  I would go out the next day, with my snow pants, held up by suspenders, and my parka over a sweater over a shirt over a tee-shirt, with a big woolly hat that covered my ears, and then the hood of the parka over that. Mitts with fingers, covered by big ski gloves, and my socks covered by those truly Canadian Winter Socks, the ones that were always too big, and grey, with white toes, and a white band with a red stripe around the tops. They went under the big white snow boots with nylon and rubber construction, which were lined inside with about an inch of pressed felt. I could have mounted an Arctic Expedition with that outfit. In the imagination of the child that I was, the Arctic was within my reach anyway.

  After getting all of that rig on, I could hardly move, but speed and mobility were secondary to staving off frost-bite. At twenty below on the old system, that was a serious danger if you weren’t careful. But the best part of all would be that morning after the storm and freezing rain. Then I would put on the little pair of snow-shoes that one of my uncles had made for me. They were small, and they were hand-made, but they worked fine just the same.

  The challenge was to get as far afield as possible without breaking through the surface ice crust on the top of the snow. In some places, if I went far enough, the snow was deeper than I was tall, so there was always the chance of danger lurking about. I played for hours out in the fields and forest. I didn’t need a friend, I had mother nature to talk to, and to challenge.

  With Therese it was… different somehow. There were times when she did need protecting and reassuring, but now I was seeing a different side of her. This was a part of the person, Therese Sauvé, not a part of the Material Witness, Therese Sauvé. Okay. I could handle that.

  “When we have time, I’ll show you everything amazing about this car, Okay?”

  “D’accord.”

  Then and only then, would she settle back in her seat. I also got a smile out of it. The smile was almost worth the bother. She was one of those people that changed completely with a smile. Seemingly charged up, like they were electric. I flashed a quick grin her way.

  “Do up your seat belt again, Therese.”

  She responded by doing up her seat belt Okay, but her mind had gone on to other things. She was staring out of the window at the buildings and houses as we passed them by. Heaven knew that she had a lot of things to choose from to think about. Most of them would be bad for her.

  I made a note to myself that I should watch for any more of this just drifting away. Everyone does it occasionally, but it shouldn’t become a common habit for Therese. Not yet.

  There would be healing to go through before that, and the healing couldn’t start until the mission was done. For her, anyway. Right now, this was something she’d never experienced before, even in her wildest dreams, and it was doing only a so-so job of distracting her. I hated to think of what would come after this.

  The protective feelings I had for her extended beyond the scope of the mission, but not quite as far as Cynthia’s house. It doesn’t hurt to remind yourself of these things once in a while. Besides, I had a new car. That always picks up your spirits, doesn’t it?

  The government could take the Audi off my hands for the exact price I paid for it, thank you. But the Corvette was mine.

  I hadn’t had a chance to get beyond second gear yet, but it was only a matter of time… the damn car went to sixty KPH in first, but I was close to the Autobahn, across the border in Germany.

  “Rover One to Rover two, come in please.”

  That was Ronnie. I took my right hand off of the stick shift and flipped the switch on the transmitter clipped to my belt. The mini-mic under my jacket collar picked up everything, and I’d been listening to the sporadic chatter from the Audi with part of my mind, while the rest of it was enjoying the ride and talking with Therese.

  “On-line.”

  “When we hit the block the bank is on we go into the full plan. Jeffry, you stay a bit farther back than you had intended. That Corvette stands out like a sore thumb. Do you have monitoring gear?”

  “Yes. It’s not a problem.”

  “Clear.”

  “Clear.”

  Therese made a face. Even when she made faces she looked pretty.

  “We will have to stay too far away?”

  “No. Check the bag, and get out the binoculars.”

  She rummaged around behind her seat for a few minutes, and came up red-faced from fighting against her seat belt, but she had the field glasses. Bausch & Lomb, 100 power electronically enhanced field glasses, with a rubberized black matte finish. I’d had them for a few years now, and Evie probably had something better, but they still worked well. The only problem was that they weren’t as light as I would have liked, nor as small. But when I had bought them, they were state-of-the-art. And expensive.

  Therese started using the field glasses, focusing on far away things, and following them until we passed them by in the car.

  “Do these make auto-focus?”

  “You mean, ‘Do these have auto-focus?’, and the answer is yes. You must zero in on a target, using the two-button control on top. Once you see the ‘focus-lock’ light come on at the bottom of the lens, the glasses take over until you refocus on another target. You can reset the focus to manual by pressing the button on the inside part of the…”

  “I see it. Underneath, but on the left side of the lens.”

  “That’s it.”

  “Rover Two to Rover One.”

  “Clear.”

  That was Ronnie again.

  “We’re coming up on the Pferdstrasse. I’m pulling over on the next block, we’ll be here. Good luck.”

  “Thank you, Rover Two. We will be on-line two ways while in the bank. It would help if there weren’t a lot of idle chatter.”

  “No chance of that with transmission suspended.”

  “Good choice, Rover two.”

  “Stop calling me Rover.”

  “Well, come up with better names yourself then. Personally, I don’t care. Just so we know what’s going on when a transmission comes in.”

  “I promise that I’ll come up with better names, and when I transmit to you, you’ll have no doubt as to who’s calling.”

  I turned my attention to the act of parking. The spot we found was almost hidden, and actually, it was Therese’s eyesight that got it for us. She pointed it out as I was coming up on it at about forty KPH. It was one of those streets where there was parking, but it was only in two’s and four’s, where you pulled in from the street, into a space carved out of the wide sidewalks. That way nobody was hindering traffic when they were parked. A few moments later, the blue Audi rolled by. There were no looks exchanged, but the comms came alive as they passed.

  “Well done, Rover Two.”

  That was Ronnie again. There seemed to be a certain tone to her voice. What the hell was she talking about? I’d only parked the car, not set foot on the moon. I responded.

  “What do you mean?”

  The answer came back at me right away.

  “You parked fifty feet from a Community Patrol Station.”

  What? I looked up and down the street, wondering what she was talking about, and there it was. One of those single-office
r storefront community micro-stations. Fifty feet ahead. The sign was flat against the building, and sandwiched between a toy store and a hairdresser’s salon. The sign advertising ‘Chico’ brand name toys at the toy store was more visible than the Zurich Police sign. Maybe it was intentional. Either way, I decided to stay put.

  “Little mouse to Big Cheese, you do your part and I’ll do mine, no worries mate.”

  “There better not be. We can’t afford it. And I told you to come up with names you preferred, not to ridicule the process.”

  “Okay, Okay. Lighten up. We may get to leave today. Remember?”

  “Right. Lightning strikes on demand, eh?”

  “You never know, though, do you?”

  “Dreamer. We’re parking in the bank lot now. The next transmissions will be from the inside.”

  “Check.”

  I decided that it would look better if Therese wasn’t hanging out of the front window with a pair of military field glasses, especially if the cop who ran this micro-station were to walk by. The car by itself would generate as much interest as we could handle.

  I had Therese get into the back compartment, behind her seat. There was enough room for her to stretch out, if she curled a bit at the same time, and with the tinting on the windows as dark as they were, it was very difficult to see inside. I know because I had tried at the car lot, before Horst had come out and gotten the keys to open her up for me.

  When she rested the glasses on the top of the passenger seat, the view of the bank entrance was clear and she was well hidden. The only way she could be seen was straight through the front windshield. It was an easy job to duck when we could see anyone coming before they got close enough to spot anything through the front window. If anyone did stop by to check us out, I had a book on the seat next to me, from my bag, and I would say I was waiting for my wife. The proximity to the Chico children’s store and the hair salon should cover any suspicions of wrong-doing. In the end, I didn’t think we would see the officer who ran the station. He or she would be manning the phones and dealing with walk-in complaints. That made for a busy day, but not a lot of roving the neighbourhood. I hoped.

  Therese had switched off her transmitter, as per orders, and was on receive only. Evie and I still had a secure separate link, and until I had something important to say, my transmitter was in standby mode. As soon as a noise over a certain level was picked up by the PinMic, it would automatically switch back to full-duplex mode. Hands free switching, all you had to do was yell. Anything at all would do. ‘Fire in the hole’ came to mind. We’d see.

  I had a special black bag behind my seat that I could reach without taking my eyes off of the windshield, and the view I had of the street. Evie had insisted. I think she hoped we might have to blow our way into the bank for some reason, because that bag was stocked. Of course, it was totally useless unless we ran into a truckload of grey men.

  Who in their right mind would step out of a car onto one of Zurich’s main streets during full daylight in front of how many witnesses I could only guess and a police station, I might add, however small it may be, with a rocket launcher? That’s definitely an eye-catcher. I mean, that sounds pretty much like pulling a tiger’s tail. Right now, the tiger was busy with something else, our boy Terry. If he was a lucky guy and a fast talker.

  It wouldn’t take more than maybe, what, an hour at the most? Then this ‘Enrico’ guy would know about the bank, and Ted’s account there. They wouldn’t stop digging until they found out what we were up to in this area.

  Also, people who use military hardware in Switzerland are supposed to be under the direct control of the Swiss Military, period. They’re very strict about that sort of thing in Switzerland. Look at yesterday morning. It had been mere minutes before the site had been crawling with regular cops, SWAT teams and what-all. And the publicity, what a sideshow that would be. CNN would probably carry it. It would make for a great news-flash.

  Just what you need when you’re keeping a low profile while performing an undercover operation.

  I could see the local anchorman now. All excited with the prospect of the world hanging on his every word. Then they would be the evening papers. ‘MYSTERY MAN FIRES ROCKETS ON DOWNTOWN STREET!’. That’s assuming that I got away. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be a mystery at all, I’d be the ‘CRAZY CANADIAN FIRES ROCKETS ON DOWNTOWN STEET!’ guy.

  Then I’d be unceremoniously dumped from any reference to Government Diplomatic Protection, the Toronto Police would probably call the RCMP asking what in the hell was going on, then the RCMP would call Interpol to rescind their Sponsorship of me, except for the fact that I was here protecting more than just Therese, and the only ones who knew it were myself, and the RCMP in the form of the Dynamic Duo.

  Making deals inside of deals, and plots with sub-plots, ‘need-to-know’ marching orders, only they had a paper trail, which meant that anything they said or did could have complete deniability. But I was stuck with the job none the less. If any harm came to their dear Colonel… well, let’s just say that I wasn’t operating under any illusions about the consequences back home.

  The funny part was that none of it even mattered anymore. I was in the now. We were the Team. Nobody was taking out any of my team without taking me too. That had proved difficult for my enemies in the past, and so far, it seemed to remain a truism.

  Besides all of that, I had no intention of opening that bag until I had to. Which wouldn’t be here. Not today, sorry. Whatever transpired here today would be taken care of quietly, with the least amount of disturbance possible. That often doesn’t work out, though. Then you can only do what you have to do. But I’d try, I’d certainly try.

  The staff had been prepared for the arrival of two new people this morning, one on the bank floor, and one in the ‘guest manager’s’ office. It was common in Swiss banking for an occasional visit from a manager of another branch. They traded secrets of successful Customer Relations and Staff Management. Usually, by the end of the visit, which can last hours or days, the managers in question are up to date with everything important that the bank is planning for that branches near and middle-term future.

  We had arrived just after bank opening, and Ronnie and Evie had looked just the same as everyone else going in and out. It was a downtown branch, so it was fairly busy.

  I hit the driver side window button, and the window hummed as it opened all the way. I pulled out a Camel, lit it, and hung my elbow in the window. This would probably be the highlight of my day. At least it wasn’t too hot yet. The sky was clearing in the south, the direction I was facing, and the showers they had promised on the radio were likely to veer west, heading down the Alps to France and Germany. These are the kind of things that go through my mind when I’m just sitting on a perch. Or, ‘On a Stake Out’, for those police aficionados among us.

  I’d like to buy a ‘B’ please. And an ‘O’, an ‘R’, and finally, an ‘ING’. Thank you, yes. That does spell boring. See?

  Therese started rumbling around in the back, and then got up on her knees, with the field glasses glued to her face. She had to stay bent over, but she was acting like something was happening.

  I scanned the street for two blocks in either direction using the mirrors for behind me, but I couldn’t see anything suspicious. There were people going in and out of the bank regularly now, so it would necessary to keep on my toes. The twists and turns of destiny will surprise even the most unflappable person. We could get lucky today. We could go home in five days with nothing but two new cars. I checked Therese in the rear-view mirror, and her face told me the story. She was adrenalized, for the first time in this entire affair. I could see the little shake in her hands as she held the binoculars to her eyes. She was pumped.

  “Therese, what do you see?”

  “I’m not sure…”

  “Where?”

  She dropped her eyes from the target, a bad move. Normally, when you look back again the target’s gone.

  “I think ma
ybe…”

  “Get him back in the glasses, Therese. Don’t take your eyes off of him. Quickly, now.”

  She slipped the glasses back over her face. It took a few seconds or so.

  “There! I still have him.”

  “Okay, now keep your eye on him while you talk to me. Where do you see him?”

  “I’m not sure if it is him, but…”

  I was beginning to become exasperated.

  “Where, Therese!?”

  She started to take the glasses off of her target again.

  “Don’t look at me! Look at the target! Where, Therese? Where?”

  Eyepiece firmly in place she started talking.

  “Just at the end of the block, on this side of the street. The man in the beret and grey hair. It could be Ted.”

  I popped my opera glasses out of my bag in back, and took a look for myself. What I saw was an older man, dressed in a suit, with a hat and light raincoat. The trench coat was over his arm, hiding his hand. The hair was grey alright, and the suit was new as well. This guy was trying to look old, but aside from the grey hair, he didn’t have a clue as to how it worked. He was walking tall, with a strong stride. Not exactly at a retiree’s pace either. He was in a hurry. The pop-out case opera glasses were handy, but the field strength of the lenses were not enough for me to make a positive ID. But I had to admit, it could be him. Therese was on the case. Alright.

  I put out my hand, and slowly took the field binoculars from her, trying all the while to keep the target in sight with my naked eye. Once I had the binoculars, I refocused and enhanced the view, then doubled the zoom. The hair was good, the colour too, but the face. The face was about two decades younger than the apparent age being strived for. He was no pro. And it was Ted Dawson. He was walking slowly around the block, across from the bank. Then he’d move onto the block the bank was on, and do another circle of the block, ten to one. He was being careful, and who could blame him. I was being careful about the same people. To a certain degree, anyway.