by Steve Richer
He locked the door and replaced the chain. He left the house through the garage.
Hingle returned from a consulting meeting with some Mozambican delegates after having had a bite to eat. He was beat. There had been so much going on in his life for the last month that his body could barely keep up.
He sat in his favorite chair in the living room and reached for the booze in the sideboard. Why was the bottle of gin in front of the scotch?
He knew what was going on. He stood up and began pacing, and mounting through him. Somebody had been here. Somebody was screwing with his plan. Moments later, the phone rang.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“I have it,” a stranger’s voice said.
If he had ever met Jeff Riley, he would have recognized his voice.
“What are you talking about? What do you have?”
“I think you know. I’ll be making the money, not you.”
The line went dead.
Hingle hung up and hurriedly went upstairs.
Chapter 52
Jeff set his cellphone on the dashboard as he followed Hingle’s movement through the house on his computer screen. There was a small window for each camera.
When he saw the man enter his office, he minimized the other windows and maximized the one he appeared in. He made sure to record it.
Hingle pulled his chair away from the writing table. He spun it around and unzipped the leather cover which he threw to the floor. He ripped the stuffing off and it seemed to Jeff it wasn’t the first time the former CSE man had done it. Hingle calmed down when he came across a foam-lined envelope.
At the same time, Jeff couldn’t suppress a grin. He now knew where the stolen prototype was.
Hingle pulled the contents out the envelope: two CD-ROMs and a small electronic board. Jeff cursed himself for not having thought of looking there. He watched on as he put the chair back together, putting the prototype back in place.
Jeff switched off the recorder and using DirectCD technology printed the video file on a CD. It was almost instantaneous.
Hingle grabbed the phone and dialed a familiar number. It only took two rings to get an answer, but it was still too long for him.
“Hello?” Farris said.
“Somebody’s playing mind games with me. It’s about our thing.”
“You think it’s that guy?”
“I don’t see a lot of other possibilities. Come over to my house.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah. And be armed.”
Unfortunately for Jeff, no microphones had been planted.
Waiting was against nature for Chasey. She had spent the entire afternoon alone and had enjoyed a solitary dinner. A good journalist didn’t wait for stories to jump on their lap, they had to chase them. And she was in the middle of a first-class story. Her hometown had been the theater of gruesome deaths and now she had discovered it was related to some international conspiracy.
Spies and terrorists always made for entertaining reading and she would kick the competition’s ass with it. Maybe she would turn the piece into a true crime book. There was money to be made there, right? Job offers from big city papers would rain down on her. No, she decided. She definitely couldn’t wait anymore.
She needed to know exactly what was going on. She had to witness it firsthand. Before he’d left, Jeff had scribbled some notes. He had worked out his plan on paper using the information his boss had provided him with. He hadn’t brought it with him. He had stuffed everything into his suitcase before leaving. She went over and retrieved the notes.
He wouldn’t be mad, would he? He cared about her so much that he wouldn’t say a word. Yet she didn’t want to betray his trust. He had used her for his work back in Emmetts Run, hadn’t he? No, it was only so he could be with her, he had said. Still, it had wound up serving him professionally. He was aware she was a professional too. She had a job to do and that was her priority.
She brought the notes to the table and began studying them.
Jeff’s handwriting was terrible and she had trouble deciphering it. But there was another calligraphy present, it spelled out an address. Was that where Jeff was supposed to be? The scrawl located the address in Kanata. That’s where they had mentioned the man lived, wasn’t it?
Yes, she would go. She decided she would stay out of the way and observe what Jeff would do. She would most definitely have something to report about. And pictures, she needed pictures. She decided to buy a disposable camera on the way. She checked out the map in the phone book and grabbed the keys from Harker’s rental.
For the last ten minutes, Jeff had been getting familiar with his firearm.
He had never fired a gun before and hoped he wouldn’t have to tonight, but he wanted to be ready. He was getting comfortable with the weight and he could easily change the magazine now. The gun had three safeties and that too wasn’t a problem anymore.
He didn’t know if he would be a good shot, but at least he had mobility. He was wearing his favorite Hawaiian shirt, the one he wore when he went bowling. He brought the toolbox closer to him and pulled out what he needed. He put everything in a plastic shopping bag, except for the Cobra which he pocketed.
Showtime.
He was getting used to having the gun in the back of his khakis as he walked toward Hingle’s house. He didn’t scurry, he didn’t scamper, it was a rhythmic confident stride.
When he got in front of the house, he pulled out bolt cutters from the bag and held them with his right hand. He fished for a lighter in his pants pocket with his other hand and brought the flame inside the bag. He then ran forward and threw the bag into Hingle’s backyard. He jogged to the front door and waited.
It took less than ten seconds for the mayhem to start. The first firecracker triggered one of the flashbangs. That blast ripped apart the bag and threw the other flashbangs around the yard.
The smoke grenades then went off. There were still many explosions left to go and Jeff estimated he would have enough time.
He was already working on the deadbolt with the Cobra when he saw Hingle go outside through the patio door in the back. He used the bolt cutters to sever the chain. He was in the house within seconds.
Having dropped the cutters on the floor to keep the door a tad open, he was free to run. He charged up the stairs and into the office. He had never been this nervous in his life, not even with Chasey. He had to remind himself to breathe.
He unzipped the leather cover from the chair as hastily as he could. Without it slowing him down a bit, Jeff glanced out the window. He saw the owner of the house making his way through the smoke. The man had a pistol in his hand.
Jeff doubled his efforts and ripped the stuffing out of the chair. He found the envelope he had seen on the screen and ran away with it.
When he was halfway down the stairs, Hingle came back into the house. The latter noted the breached entrance a second before he made out the intruder. He knew all too well what was happening.
He couldn’t believe he had fallen for the diversionary tactics of an amateur. Without one iota of hesitation, he raised his Smith & Wesson and fired at him.
“It’s mine!” he screamed at the trespasser.
Chapter 53
Ducking while barreling down some stairs wasn’t an easy task. Jeff’s foot slipped and he rolled down the rest of the way.
He reached for his Glock when he stopped moving and fired indiscriminately toward the source of the shots. He didn’t care if he hit anything because all the wanted was some cover.
He got back on his feet and rushed toward the door. Bullets were flying by his head once again. He leapt forward to avoid being hit, but mostly because he knew that a moving target was harder to get to.
However, doing so had jeopardized him even more. His falling body had knocked the bolt cutters out. The door slammed shut and Hingle was coming fast.
Jeff fired five more rounds which made the older man duck behind a couch for cover. Damn, he should hav
e kept count of the number of bullets he had fired, but his heart was pumping so fast he couldn’t even think.
He was up on his feet again and turned the deadbolt. He yanked the door open and raced out.
The glass of the door exploded behind Jeff as ammunition was spent trying to kill him. He ran faster than he had ever done before. At that moment, he made the decision to seriously lose weight. The doctor had told him it would save his life. Now he believed him.
A hundred feet separated him from the Explorer. If he could make it, the entire mission would be accomplished. The alternative was something he couldn’t contemplate.
He heard more shots, but he didn’t see their impact. His eyes were glued to the SUV and it didn’t seem to have been hit yet.
He ran until he finally reached his truck. Before getting in, he went behind the hood and fired three more bullets at the man who was running toward him.
He opted for some tactical reloading and changed the magazine even though he thought he still had rounds left. He let the used mag fall to the ground and stepped into his vehicle.
He backed out of the driveway and stepped on the gas. He was driving away from Hingle as the man fired his last two bullets. Jeff’s rear window shattered on his Pat and he saw that the man had stopped running.
He was speeding down the street and saw that the car coming the opposite way was accelerating as well. He kept his right, but the other car followed his move. It was coming straight for him, dead on.
What the hell?
Jeff swerved out of the way, although it was as if the other car had anticipated his move. He hit the brakes, but it was too late. The two cars head crashed.
Jeff was stunned by the airbag which smashed him back into the seat!
He was grateful his glasses had remained in place. An accomplice of Hingle’s had wanted to keep him from escaping with the prototype and he surely would attempt to pry it away from him.
He fired a bullet to deflate the airbag and turned the key. The engine was dead. He grabbed the envelope and the CD he had made as proof that Hingle had stolen the PTI device. He was surprised that they fit into his pants pocket.
Still woozy and disoriented from the collision, Jeff exited the Explorer and took a few steps to assess his environment. That’s when he heard the gunshot.
He knew Hingle was out of ammunition so there was no doubt as to the new threat. It was the guy who had driven to him. He had to get away.
As he started running, he saw who it was. Julian Farris, the guy from the office. He stepped out of his equally dead Oldsmobile. The CSE gofer was chasing him.
He had a .38 and risked two more shots toward Jeff despite his limited ammo capacity. The street connected with a busier boulevard. Jeff was giving himself small goals. At least he could achieve those once in a while.
Two more bullets zinged by his head. Jeff was afraid to return fire since he figured it would slow him down and make him an easier target.
He could only run.
Chasey had parked her car at the convenience store. She had considered getting back into the car to go to Hingle’s house, but the clerk had assured her the street was only two blocks away.
After buying the disposable camera, she decided to cross the distance on foot. As she was approaching the glass door, she was flabbergasted to see Jeff sprint down the sidewalk. She left the store.
“Jeff!”
Instinctively, the CSE agent turned around and spotted her looking at him. At the same time, Farris reached her and understood everything. He put an arm around her neck and his weapon to her head.
Both men knew there was still a bullet left.
“Give me the prototype, Riley!”
Jeff’s gun was aimed at Farris’s head. He didn’t have the marksman’s ability to kill him without endangering Chasey, but the man didn’t know that.
“Put the gun down, man,” Jeff ordered with more cool than he felt. “It’s all over now.”
“That’s my call.”
“We know who you are now, all of you. We know what you took. Do you think we’re just gonna let you get away?”
“Shut your fucking mouth! Give me the prototype now. And throw your gun on the deck.” Anxiety could be detected in his voice. It was his first hostage-taking situation. “I’ll paint this fucking sidewalk with the bitch’s blood, I swear to Christ!”
“Okay man, take it easy. Let’s all down a couple of chill pills.”
He wanted to keep the prototype, but Chasey’s well-being mattered more. He didn’t know what made him angrier, that she had been taken hostage or that she had followed him here. He lowered the Glock and let it fall to the ground. Without being asked to he kicked it forward about five feet, a third of the distance separating them.
“The prototype, come on!”
Jeff pulled his shirt up and to the side as to not agitate Farris any more than he already was. He dug inside his pocket and pulled out the envelope.
“Throw it to me.”
Jeff did as he was told and the envelope landed at Chasey’s feet. The former soldier whispered something in her ear. She bent down with the muzzle of the gun still pressed against her skull and picked up the envelope.
“Open it.”
She complied and lifted it so he could examine the contents. Satisfied with what he saw, he took hold of the packet with the hand he was using to hold her. Without further notice, he began walking backwards, dragging his hostage along.
“Hey, you got what you wanted now let her go!”
Jeff took a few steps forward. What if he got to his gun? Would he have the guts to use it? He didn’t think so. It was still too risky. He slowed his paces.
The shop was built on a corner and when Farris reached the end of the wall he threw Chasey down.
Jeff came running, picking up his Glock on the way. He saw Farris darting away on the sidewalk in the direction they had come from. He fired twice at him, but succeeded only in blowing out the windows of two parked cars.
He wanted to run after him, but his legs weren’t of the same opinion. A lifetime of laziness had atrophied his muscles. He could only watch him run.
Hingle surveyed the car wreck. It would take a tow truck to remove the two carcasses from the street. Fortunately, there was still enough room to the left for his car to drive past. As soon as Farris returned, they would leave. Maybe they would set fire to his house to erase all evidence of his presence, he hadn’t decided yet.
He went into the Explorer. There was an agency laptop, it could be useful. He popped the screen up and saw what Jeff had been working on. He saw the live feed from his house. It was to be expected from a CSE agent.
But what particularly caught his attention was the cellophane wrapper on the floor. The little bastard had printed the video on a CD. There was proof of his wrongdoings for the crime-fighting world to see.
This he couldn’t allow to exist.
Chapter 54
Fearing reprisals from Hingle, they had driven out of there like a bat out of hell. They stopped on the side of the road near Parliament Hill and Jeff ran to a payphone. He had left his mobile phone in the SUV and made a mental note to cancel his account as soon as he could. The developments of late had warranted Bellamy’s presence at the office. He picked up on the second ring.
“Tell me good news.”
“I have the proof,” Jeff announced triumphantly. “But the prototype is another matter. I had to go Rambo on his ass, he managed to get it away from me.”
“Any suggestions on how to proceed now?”
“Yeah, call a NATO meeting. Let’s rain down on him with the fury of a nuclear arsenal.”
“It can be arranged,” Bellamy deadpanned.
“There’s more bad news. I found out who was Hingle’s accomplice. It’s Julian Farris, your precious lapdog. We sort of bumped into each other today.”
There were long seconds of silence and then, “Measures will be taken.”
“And you owe Avis a new car.”
Moments after Bellamy had informed the RCMP that CSE needed a forceful intervention, two Emergency Response Teams were dispatched.
The first one had to remain in their vehicle when they noticed the Kanata house they were about to storm through was ablaze. Firefighters would later tell them there was no corpse inside.
The second ERT assaulted Julian Farris’s Orleans apartment building around the same time.
They crashed through the door, making enough noise to scare a cadaver back to life. They searched every room twice. There was no one. Clothes were still on the rack and the SWAT officers found empty suitcases in a closet.
The only two suspects they had were gone.
Half a continent lower, another SWAT team was sweating under the sixty pounds of equipment they had to wear. The FBI team had come from Charlotte for this deed.
They were waiting in the stairwell and there wasn’t any air-conditioning. It was a fancy building and none of them could understand why they hadn’t installed any ducts in here.
They had been motionless for twenty minutes and the agents downstairs kept telling them to wait another two. It was a hot day in Raleigh and everyone agreed they would have a beer before driving back home. Special Agent Wade Devlin finally said something interesting.
“He’s coming up.”
Everyone was happy that the wait was over and the boredom was replaced by apprehension, as it was always the case before a raid. The SWAT leader cracked the door open and saw Aaron Chapman step out of the elevator. The man was still dressed like a flower power child but carried a conservative crocodile skin briefcase.
“I have a visual,” the leader whispered. “On my mark.”
Chapman nonchalantly walked to an apartment with his keys ready. He opened the door and stepped inside the opulent apartment. As he was closing it back, he felt as he was being trampled by a horse stampede. The armed men were pushing the door open and pointing their weapons at him.