Malabarista

by Garry Ryan

  Lane picked up the radio while Keely surveyed the damage. “We need fire, rescue, and the tactical team at the southern end of the Stoney Trail Bridge. A car bomb has been detonated. The suspect is being pursued on foot. She is headed west.”

  Lane dropped the radio on the floor. He looked at Keely. Her eyes were wide. She touched her right hip to see if her Glock was still there. Lane checked for his weapon. Keely pushed her door open.

  Lane looked toward the trees as he got out. Man, I’m glad I can hear the traffic noise, he thought, noting the sound of cars accelerating as they reached the first of the series of foothills rolling up to the feet of the Rocky Mountains. He glanced at Keely. “Your ears okay?”

  She nodded and took a step forward.

  “You stay here with the car,” Lane said.

  Keely shook her head. “We both go. Just tell me where you need me.”

  There’s no time to argue. “Let me get to the trees. You stay behind the Chev and provide cover. Once I’m there, I’ll wave you on and cover you.”

  Lane drew his Glock, walked along the bottom of the ditch, then up the side and into the trees. He walked past the garage door opener Jelena had used to detonate the car bomb. He looked downhill and caught a glimpse of her traversing the hill, making her way deeper into the forest. He turned to Keely and crouched, pointing his weapon in Jelena’s direction to cover his partner’s progress.

  When he felt her hand on his shoulder, he pulled out his cellphone. “Put yours on vibrate and my number on speed dial. One buzz means Jelena is in sight. Two means one of us is in communication with her.” Lane set his phone to vibrate. Keely flipped her phone open and manipulated the settings. Lane pointed to the left. “You take the high ground. I’ll go down toward the river. Watch where you put your feet in case she took the time to set booby traps. Remember, Mladen said she only kills from a distance.”

  “And remember, she’s protecting Zacki,” Keely said. “That makes her especially unpredictable.”

  “Point taken.” Lane moved down the slope at an angle intended to close the distance between him and Jelena. After fifty metres, he crossed a paved trail zigzagging its way down the slope. The sound of sirens and the scent of smoke sifted through the trees.

  Lane looked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Keely working her way from tree trunk to tree trunk about thirty metres above him.

  Continuing to angle his way down, Lane holstered his weapon and used his hands to slow his descent until he could hear and see the river loping lazily east. He spotted a gravel trail and a set of stairs below. He reached the trail and eased under the railing. She’ll be expecting this. But she can’t watch Keely and me at the same time. And why blow up the car? It makes it almost impossible for her to get away. It’s like she wants us to hunt her down.

  He kept his right index finger alongside the Glock’s trigger guard.

  Jelena wants us to hunt her down and to protect Zacki.

  Lane followed the trail. He looked down through a gap in the trees to the river. The water was turquoise. It turned into diamonds as the sun rose higher. He listened for sirens and traffic. Instead, he heard crows squawking, the river running, and his footsteps on the gravel.

  He looked ahead and above. A fallen tree trunk was wedged in against three standing trees. It offered perfect cover. Lane kept his eyes on it as he worked his way along the trail.

  The sound of a motorboat broke the silence. Lane looked down. The fire department’s riverboat left a white water wake as it sped upstream. There were three men in the boat. One looked back and up at Lane. Then the boat was gone.

  Lane looked up the path. A preschooler ran toward him. Behind the boy came his smaller brother and his mother with an infant tucked against her breast. The father trailed them.

  Lane holstered his Glock.

  “Elias! Wait for us!” the mother said.

  Elias was a blur of curly blond hair. He stopped, smiled at Lane, and ran past. The smaller boy ran after Elias.

  “Sorry about that,” the mother said as she forced Lane to the outside edge of the path.

  “Hello,” Lane said to the father. The man smiled back. “When you get to the end of the path, you’ll be met by police officers. Tell them what you saw. Now please get your family out of here.” Lane pulled his Glock out and regretted the terror that lit the father’s eyes.

  He pushed past the detective. “Elias! Finn!” The man ran down the trail.

  Lane scanned the trees and brush above and below him. On the downslope side of the trail, he spotted a one-metre retaining wall pressed up against a tree trunk.

  He smelled a cigarette.

  He looked above the trail and saw Jelena sitting cross-legged on the near side of a tree. She was smoking, a rifle cradled in her lap.

  Lane held his arms away from his sides. She isn’t aiming the rifle at you so don’t initiate any action. The phone in his pocket vibrated once.

  “Andelko was getting better, you know. At least he was much better before. . .” Jelena stubbed out the cigarette on the sole of her boot, pulled a pack of smokes out of her breast pocket, and lit another one.

  “Before?” Lane asked.

  “Before he saw the juggler.” Jelena inhaled deeply.

  “Then he started to drink again?”

  Jelena pointed at Lane with her cigarette. “We both wanted to leave the war behind. To start over. But war never leaves you. Andelko would drink to forget, but how could any of us forget what happened in the war?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That night. That night after he saw the juggler. Andelko came home and started to drink again. Then he came after me. This time I fought back.” She looked past Lane to the river.

  “You killed him?” She has the advantage here. She must have spotted me before I saw her. What is she waiting for? She should have kept moving west. She knows how to disappear. But she can’t without leaving her daughter as a suspect. Jelena has left us a trail to lead us away from Zacki.

  “I killed him. I dumped the body in the water by the road. I thought no one would ever find him. But this summer was so hot.”

  “And dry.”

  “Yes.” Jelena smiled. “Very dry.”

  Lane heard the honking of geese. He saw Jelena’s attention shift. He looked over his shoulder. A pair of geese travelled downstream. He saw their backs and their wings as they flew below him.

  His phone began to vibrate. It stopped, then began again. It stopped and vibrated again.

  It must be Keely. He reached into his pocket and flipped it open. “Hello?”

  “Hey, uncle, it’s Christine. Uncle Arthur is acting funny. They’ve got him on some kind of painkillers.”

  “Can I call you back?” Lane asked.

  “You don’t have time to talk to me?” Christine asked. “What could be more important than Uncle Arthur?”

  “I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you back.” Lane pressed END. He looked back at Jelena.

  She leaned her back against the tree trunk. “It’s beautiful here. Like home.”

  “You joined the Tarantulas?” Keep her talking.

  “You think it was a choice? It was a necessity.”

  “How is that?” Lane glanced to his right, checking for cover in case Jelena aimed her rifle.

  “It was war. I had no choice. If I wanted to survive, I had to join them.”

  She sounds like she’s still trying to convince herself. “So you were at the village. You saw what the Tarantulas did?”

  “Yes, I saw.”

  “Does Zacki know?”

  “My daughter knows nothing!” Jelena lifted her rifle by the barrel so that she could lean on it when she stood.

  A flash of insight struck Lane. She wants me to shoot her! Then we have our killer and Zacki is free of it all!

  Jelena extinguished her cigarette against the tree trunk. “The others are coming.”

  “I don’t hear them.”

  Jelena looked east. �
��I do.” She stepped away from the trunk of the tree.

  The rest was a series of impressions.

  Jelena lifted her rifle, pointed it at the sky, and pulled back the bolt.

  Lane lifted his Glock.

  Jelena pitched forward, off-balance.

  She rolled down the hill.

  Keely slid down the slope behind Jelena.

  The rifle cartwheeled down the slope. Lane stepped to his left as it spun past him.

  He looked to his right as Jelena rolled onto the path. Keely landed on top of the sniper.

  He ran forward.

  Jelena grabbed for Keely’s hair.

  Keely had a canister in her hand. She sprayed Jelena in the face with pepper spray.

  Jelena screamed.

  Keely rolled Jelena onto her belly.

  With her knee against her spine, Keely pulled one of Jelena’s arms behind her back.

  Keely’s hair was filled with leaves and twigs. She tossed Lane the pepper spray. “Your handcuffs, please? I seem to have lost mine.”

  He handed her his cuffs, then covered Jelena with his gun while Keely fastened her wrists.

  They sat Jelena up on the path. Her tears washed away some of the pepper spray. “What did you do to me, you Muslim bitch?”

  Lane said, “She messed up your plan.”

  Jelena looked up at him. She tried to focus through her tears. “What are you talking about?”

  “You were waiting for us to kill you.” Lane leaned over to pick up Jelena’s backpack. He looked down the slope where the rifle lay against the base of a tree.

  Jelena shook her head. “I need a smoke. It would have been better for you to kill me.”

  Lane looked at Keely. “I need your phone.”

  She handed it to him, then brushed the debris from her hair. A trickle of blood leaked from the stitches along her forehead.

  Lane dialed the phone. “Harper? It’s me. We’ve got the suspect. Saliba disarmed her. We’re coming out. Can you advise the tactical team?” He listened. “That’s right, I trust you. I don’t trust Smoke’s good ol’ boys.” Lane flipped the phone closed and handed it back to Keely.

  He stepped off the trail, skidded down the slope, and returned a few minutes later with the rifle slung over his shoulder.

  “Let’s go.” Lane took Jelena by her elbow and helped her up.

  Keely walked ahead.

  They stopped halfway to light a cigarette for Jelena. She walked and smoked with the cigarette between her teeth. When they arrived at the end of the trail in the shade of the bridge, tactical officers stepped out from behind cover. Keely, Lane, and Jelena waited alongside the river.

  Lane looked left. The river swirled around a bridge support. Traffic hummed over the bridge fifty metres above them. Lane spotted Staff Sergeant McTavish. Good, he thought. Lane looked at Keely and moved his head to the right. They walked toward McTavish.

  The Staff Sergeant smiled at Lane’s approach. “In the middle of the action again, I see.”

  Lane chuckled. “Have you met Detective Saliba?”

  McTavish shook Keely’s hand. “Pleasure.”

  Lane looked beyond to the paramedics parked by the bridge support. “Ms. Branimir needs medical attention. Pepper spray and a few abrasions.”

  McTavish turned and waved. “We need the paramedics.” He turned back to Lane. “The deputy chief gave me specific instructions. You hand the suspect into my custody. After that, he expects you in his office as soon as possible. A blue and white is waiting for you at the end of the trail.” McTavish pointed to a trail winding its way through a stand of evergreens. He took Jelena by the arm and handed her over to a pair of black-clad officers. “Do either of you need medical attention?”

  Keely looked at Lane and shook her head. McTavish pointed at her bloody scalp.

  A member of the bomb squad reached for Jelena’s backpack. Lane handed it over to him, along with the rifle.

  The detectives walked past the officers standing alone and in pairs. No words passed between them. Lane and Saliba looked ahead toward the clearing. As they left the stand of evergreens, Keely asked, “You really think she was trying to commit suicide?”

  “Absolutely. She set off a bomb to attract our attention, then waited for us to catch up.”

  “I still don’t see how. . .” Keely brushed a burr off her shoulder.

  “She made a point of explaining how she killed her husband. But first, last night, she took her daughter somewhere safe. It’s all very calculated. A diversionary tactic to protect someone else.” Lane inhaled the scent of the evergreen trees as he and Keely walked from shade to sunlight and back into shade.

  “So she was protecting Zacki.” Keely looked ahead and saw the blue and white parked next to a dumpster. The driver was leaning against the fender. The constable stood up straight as she recognized the detectives. She handed the keys to Lane, then opened the passenger door.

  Ten minutes later, they were close to the Trans-Canada Highway when Keely asked, “How many bombs did Jelena make?”

  Lane glanced at his partner in the rear-view mirror. “The one she used on us and the one at the bridge.”

  “Could we be missing one? Remember, Zacki bought diesel fuel first and then went to the hobby shop.”

  “Give me the radio,” Lane said. The constable handed him the mic. “Dispatch? This is Detective Lane. I need immediate and direct communication with Staff Sergeant McTavish.”

  Lane waited a full thirty seconds.

  “McTavish here.”

  “It’s Lane. There is a high probability of another explosive device. Probably located at Jelena Goran’s home.” Lane gave McTavish the address.

  “Understood,” McTavish said.

  Lane turned left off Sixteenth Avenue. “Where are you going?” Keely asked.

  “To visit Arthur.” Lane smiled.

  “You sure the deputy chief won’t mind?”

  “If he does, I’ll have a talk with his wife.”

  Within five minutes they were exiting the elevator on the tenth floor of the Foothills Medical Centre.

  They found Arthur sitting up and dozing. Matt was leaning against the wall. Christine was in a chair across from the bed. She glared at Lane.

  Lane asked, “How’s he doing?”

  Christine shook her head. “They gave him something to help him sleep. Something for the pain.” She looked at Keely. “You’re bleeding.”

  “Some kind of painkiller,” Matt said.

  “It’s nothing,” Keely said.

  Arthur opened his eyes. “What’s for lunch?” He spotted Lane. “Did you bring me a sandwich?”

  Lane looked at Keely. She shrugged.

  Arthur swung his legs around to get out of bed.

  “We had to stop him once already.” Matt leaned away from the wall.

  “The lady serving lunch was pretty mad,” Christine said. “The guy next door has a better lunch,” Arthur said with a smile.

  “Better stop him, Uncle Lane,” Christine said.

  Matt blocked the door. “He’ll steal another lunch if you don’t.”

  “If I promise to bring you a sandwich from the café, will you stay in bed?” Lane asked.

  Arthur sat back down, leaned his head against his pillow, and began to snore.

  “What I don’t understand is why she would want to blow up her house.” Harper sat in his office with Lane and Keely.

  “Destroy the past, I think. She probably didn’t want her daughter to know about the Tarantulas. After the forensic team gets through with their search of the house, they’ll probably uncover more proof that Andelko Branimir was Borislav Goran.” Lane leaned against the arm of his chair. He looked at the pictures of Harper and his family on the wall.

  “If she’s killed and her house blows up,” Keely said, “then all of our attention is focused on Jelena and away from her daughter. If you look at it that way, Jelena’s actions make more sense. She’s protecting the daughter. The logical conclusion
, then, is that Zacki killed her father.”

  Lane and Harper looked at one another.

  “How come you’re meeting with us now?” Keely asked. “I mean, you told me you had to keep us at arm’s length.”

  “Things changed this morning.” Harper looked directly at Lane. “Stockwell still thinks if he can make a deal, he won’t have to spend time in jail. The crown prosecutor says no deal.”

  Keely laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Lane asked.

  “Stockwell is such a stupid asshole. He still thinks he can get away with it.”

  “Well, for a long time he did,” Lane said.

  “You need to see this piece of evidence.” Harper leaned over and pulled a photocopy from his desk.

  “What is it?” Keely asked.

  “A show of good faith by Stockwell. His lawyer had it delivered this morning.” Harper handed it to her.

  “What’s it say?” Lane asked.

  Keely said, “It’s an email from Smoke asking Gregory and Stockwell to manufacture a charge against you to discredit you.” She pointed at Lane. “It says, ‘Manufacture anything short of a suspension. The objective is to force Detective Lane to resign.’”

  “Remember how Smoke threatened you when we went after Dr. Jones?” Harper asked.

  “Yes.” Lane took the paper from Keely and read. “It even gives Gregory and Stockwell suggestions on who to tell that I’m under investigation so that word will get around.”

  “Chief Simpson told me to let you know that a formal letter absolving you of any and all charges is being drafted. The investigation of your conduct is concluded.” Harper locked his fingers behind his head. “If you want to take legal action against Smoke, Gregory, and Stockwell, the door is wide open.”

  Lane shrugged. The damage is already done.

  Keely’s phone rang. She looked apologetically at Lane and Harper as she opened it. “Yes? Hi, Lori.” Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding.” She closed the phone. “Zacki Branimir is downstairs waiting to talk with us.”