Unredeemed

by J M Dolan

  “My thought is,” she continued, “that while Dunbar’s investigative team is at the farm, they may be able to pull DNA off the water bottle Volkov drank from, during our initial team meeting. I recycle the plastic,” said Jamee. “If we eliminated the three of us, Abi and the kids, we should be left with Volkov.”

  “Good suggestion,” Sam said. “We can run everything through Interpol and the Combined DNA Index System.” Sam dug out his cell. “I’ll text Dunbar. He’s probably still out there with the Technical Investigations Unit.”

  “I concur,” agreed Thomas. “Who knows with a little fishing, we might be able to hook a big fish.”

  Jamee felt a small surge of satisfaction and reminded herself vanity was often followed by humble pie. Still, it was rewarding to have the men’s respect. She had proven her instincts were good, and for whatever reason, Volkov’s behaviour continued to nag at her.

  Sam received a reply in short order and brought the others into the loop.

  “Dunbar finished the search of the property, swept the place for listening devices and found two — front entry and kitchen. He’s deemed the farm secure and reports the RCMP sweep team has finished up. On his way out, he confiscated your stash of empty plastic bottles.

  Jamee took up the thread of conversation. “Next time we have drinks, we’ll have to include Jock Dunbar and I’m hoping it will be a celebratory drink. I’ll bet he’s a Scotch man, or at least Canadian Club.

  “I have to admit my brain is still having issues coming to terms with everything that’s happened. It’s incredible that our search for a live-in caregiver has resulted in murder and possibly espionage. Why Abi? Why would she be targeted?”

  “That’s the beauty of espionage,” said Sam. “Anyone can be targeted whether the mark considers themselves significant or not. If they only preyed on the obvious it would make a spy’s job a lot harder. In truth, the more obvious targets are offered greater protection and are therefore under less risk.”

  “Sam’s right,” Thomas declared. “It’s Abi’s job that singles her out..

  “Pharmaceutical companies are ripe for the picking” he continued. “Lots of good, salable information there. Once they pin-pointed Abi as a source, the fact she does most of her work online made her an easy target.”

  Jamee pondered the idea. “I can’t help feeling there was a certain innocence in Odessa’s role in all this. I still feel a sense of responsibility for what happened to her. Our system failed to protect her and being part of that system, being the ones who offered the carrot in the first place, makes me feel like I failed her. And even now — we’ve failed to find her killer.”

  Sam finished off his drink and set the empty container down sharply. “Failing means you’re playing. Better to be doing badly than not to be taking part. We’ll get the bad guys, Jamee. It’s not the end of the story yet.

  “We’re still guessing, but right now it looks like the Russians are behind this, and we have one possible player with Russian ties. That’s Volkov,” said Sam. “You’re right in saying we don’t know enough about him. I think you’re correct in pushing hard to see where Vokov leads. The Wolf, is a dead end at this point, unless we can uncover his identity, and our only other lead is another Russian, Mstislav. Hopefully the RCMP will have better luck with him this time. Mstislav could be willing to give up something now he’s looking at the likelihood of serious jail time.

  Thomas rose to leave, his concern for Jamee written clearly on his face.

  “Jamee, you and Abi are good people,” Thomas said kindly, “and bad things happen to good people all the time. Odessa was the mark. If the SVR has hooked up with human traffickers, the odds of her surviving were slim. You’re right to say she was a victim, even if she knowingly played a part. Once they got her hooked, she really didn’t have a chance.”

  “Selflessly said, considering the scope of this tragedy. There’s something else about all this I really hate,” Jamee declared, “and that’s feeling like a victim. This whole live-in caregiver scam has made Abi and I just that.” For one brief moment, there was an uncharacteristic fragility about her. Sam covered her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Jamee shook off the self-pity. She didn’t like being emotionally exposed.

  “Whoever he is,” said Sam, “we’ll find him. Right now, he’s got us on the run, but we’ll take him down, mark my words. And I have a feeling, he’ll go hard.”

  Jamee saw Thomas to the door. She noticed Sam was lagging behind. She understood his tension, and her intuition told her that some of it was her doing. She suspected Sam had something on his mind — not case related.

  She closed the door. Sam’s arms folded around her and his soft breath fanned the hair at the nape of her neck. His lips nuzzled that delicate spot just behind her ear and she felt the shiver of anticipation and the curl of desire. He turned her in his arms. She sighed as he lowered his mouth to hers. It was a moment she wanted, a moment she was going to take and hold tight. She’d remember this point in time, this kiss and the way he made her feel. It would all change soon enough, but for now she would lose herself in the promise of passion.

  Without changing the teasing pressure, he caught her upper lip and flicked his tongue to the notch between the bow of her lips.. She pressed towards him, breasts sliding tantalizingly across the expanse of his chest. He made a sound of encouragement low in his throat. She opened her mouth and he lightly sucked her lower lip. The gentle pull drained the blood from her head and sent it on a crazy rush directly to the center of her core.

  He tightened his embrace, slanting his mouth across hers and began a dizzying dance with his tongue. She moaned. He responded, retreating and thrusting until she thought she would go over the edge. He slid his warm hand to the sensitive spot on her lower back, just above her hips. His knuckles circled gently, until she feared she would simply melt.

  Oh my God, she’d never wanted anyone the way she wanted Sam. He pressed his hips to hers and the passion they ignited was like a living thing;

  “My heart” he moaned into her sweet willing mouth.

  The murmured endearment was a splash of ice water. She pulled back, putting some distance between them before she lost herself to the rush of desire.

  Sam was gazing at her, his eyes fathomless. Her breathe quickened and she could see the rapid rise and fall of her breasts captured his attention.

  “I think I’m having an anxiety attack.” Jamee laughed halfheartedly.

  Sam gently eased her back into the embrace and she nearly gave into the emotion she suspected he was offering. Her head filled with the scent of him and she struggled for control. She took a step back. He retained hold of her hands.

  “Jamee, we need to talk.” Sam had a look of determination.

  “I agree. I think you’ve misread me.”

  “I hope not,” said Sam “as I’ve fall’n for you.” It’s more than last night. I know I’m going out a limb here, but I need you to understand I’m not just playing around. I’ve been searching for you for a long, long time and that’s the truth of it.”

  She took a shuddering breath. It wasn’t easy to burn bridges.

  “Well, that’s where we differ,” she said. "I’m not looking, you see.”

  “Jamee, we can’t always pick the time and place to fall in love. When I look at you, I see the future.”

  Sam was gently, rubbing the backs of her hands with his thumbs. “Say what’s in your heart, Jamee. Take a chance, sometimes you just have to let yourself fall.”

  She wondered, could she have him, and for the sake of her own survival, not give what she needed to withhold. To hold back was in her like breathing. For him it was all about giving.

  “The heart, can be the hardest thing to give — a second time around,” she whispered.

  Sam pinned her with his gaze. “When all this is over, I’m going convince you it’s safe to love me.”

  She knew he meant the words with all his heart, hoping that in time she would trust him.
r />   “I’m not letting go.”

  Sam pulled her a step closer. Jamee tugged a hand free and blocked him.

  “The other night was a mistake on my part, and I’m sorry for it,” said Jamee. She was anxious to get it over with.

  “I don’t mean to hurt you. I think you’re a wonderful guy, but I’m not looking for forever-after. She gave a casual shrug of her shoulders. I just needed to scratch an itch.” Her attempt at humour feel flat even to her. Damn the man, why did he have to pressure her by bringing love into the relationship?

  “So you’re claiming booty call? Fine, I’m a big boy. Guess I’ve been on the other side a time or two, but I think you’re fooling yourself.”

  “Sam, we have to finish this case,” she insisted. “It’s important to both of us. I don’t want complications in my life.”

  “You keep telling yourself that, we’ll see in the long run.”

  “Listen to me,” she pleaded, “I learned my lesson a long time ago. I’m not good at relationships, and I don’t want one. Been there, done that and I’m done for in that department. I’m not denying the physical attraction. That’s all fireworks and heat, and if you want to hook up causally I’m all for it, but I’m leaving my heart out of it. We’ll always be tight, and I hope we can work together again. That’s as far as it can go.” She hated hurting him but she couldn’t seem to stop.

  Sam stared at her. Emotions chased each other across his features; love, compassion, anger and regret. The silence stretched between them.

  “You finished yet?” He broke the standoff and swallowed hard. “I have one more thing to tell you.” His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “I wish you happiness.”

  It was an odd thing to say. She could feel her world beginning to shatter.

  “You know the difference between you and Abi? She at least is trying to live a full life with the cards she’s been dealt. Your answer is to fold, because you’re afraid to trust yourself.”

  His words stung. The point of the message was so loud you could peel it off the ceiling. Sam dragged her into his arms, his mouth claiming hers in a punishing kiss that also promised a joy she was afraid to grasp. He released her without a word and strode out the door. It was a parting shot. She let him take it, and in the end felt her heart lie shattered at her feet.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  He tightened his grip on the throttle and turned the outboard to shore. He was a good twenty minutes away from where he’d left the woman stretched out on the pier. It had been a bit of luck finding the abandoned boat at the pier. The luck had extended all the way to the boat’s twenty horsepower, pull start Merc engine. No key required, just a bit of muscle.

  The Wolf leaned forward and efficiently guided the motorboat up onto the nearby gravel beach. The rented SUV waited in the stillness of the empty parking lot. He had dumped the damaged vehicle for something less conspicuous. Putting his name on a second rental was a risk but using taxis made tracking his movements possible. The rental could be left at the airport.

  He cut the motor. In the sudden quiet he waited, observant and alone. He was wearing gloves but still took inventory of what he’d touched or left behind. Stepping over the side, he cursed as he icy water found its way through the expensive leather of his shoes. Gripping the bow he pushed the boat out into the current. If his luck held it would end up several kilometers away.

  It was important the authorities and his employers thought he’d already gone home.

  He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The girl had been seriously easy, a lamb to the slaughter. He wondered again for the hundredth time how in the world she managed to take out Veronika. By her own statement, Odessa claimed it was sheer dumb luck on her part, and carelessness on the part of his operative that resulted in the death.

  His surveillance had paid off. The monitored conversation from the restaurant netted him all the information he’d needed to locate Odessa. The Canadians dished her up to him on a platter. He’d ride the high from this morning’s kill for a while. It would take control and patience, but inevitably the opportunity to feed his obsession for the hunt would present itself again.

  One thing to deal with was the fact the authorities were getting too close for comfort. With Odessa dead it was dangerous to remain, but something occurred to him that might change everything. He’d been careless, and now he had a few lose ends to clean up. He might just as well reward himself – with a little side trip to the stupid woman’s farm. Tidy up those loose ends, and maybe save his cover after all.

  The Wolf’s first stop was the airport. He needed to make a change on his return ticket. He’d cash the ticket for any destination leaving today out of North America. That would look after the flight and the boarding pass. The vehicle was already set up for express drop off. He was anxious to get home and anxious to leave this tiresome country far behind.

  The Wolf slide behind the wheel of the rental, pausing to adjust the seat and mirror. He turned the ignition when the shrill sound of his burner phone interrupted his shift into gear. He held the cell phone to his ear.

  “Yes”

  The woman on the other end barked. “I am your servant, Reynaldo.”

  “Polonius, your master,” he provided the required password.

  “It’s time to check out. Agent Franie Le has been combing through our files and applications. I’ve been monitoring her computer.” Marge’s breath came short and fast. “She’s made the connection between Veronika and The Stone through some old military records and GRU intelligence.”

  “Has she told anyone? Can we keep a lid on this?” The question was delivered with wire taut control.

  “I had a look at her emails and she’s forwarded the information to Thomas Avery, head of Public Safety, CBSA, and her friend Jamee Blair.”

  “Derr´mo,” ground out the Wolf.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Bug out. And, take Sofiya with you. If she gives you trouble, get rid of her.”

  The Wolf, clicked off, slamming his hands in frustration against the steering wheel, over and over until the phone shattered under the impact.

  * * *

  From the corner of her eye Marge watched Franie pick up her coffee cup, a corny ‘best friends forever’ mug and follow the rest to the coffee room. A hard worker, the attractive Franie was always the last to leave, whether for coffee or the end of the work day.

  Their unit was comprised of immigration case specialists and the group was small. As a rule, they took their breaks together other than for one agent. It was her weekly turn to stay behind and man the phones until coffee was over.

  Marge glanced at Franie’s empty chair. The bull pen was quiet for maybe the next ten minutes. Little time for what she had in mind, but it should be enough and worth the risk of detection. Rising she grabbed a general file off her desk and slipped a USB stick into the pocket of her slacks. The device would copy files from the hard drive then plant a virus that would erase everything Franie had accessed. That should shut down any further sleuthing.

  Marge thought about taking her coffee cup as it would give her another excuse to be away from her station, but coffee breaks were strictly scheduled. If she got caught, that excuse wasn’t going to cut it.

  Quickly she made her way across the room to the sleeping computer. The screen was password protected, but courtesy of the key tracking device she’d planted she knew the password.

  Marge spared a glance towards the door behind her. The coast remained clear. She still had time. Shoving the USB stick into the port she selected the incriminating files and started the download. While waiting she placed her call to Polonius. It took all of two minutes and the boss wasn’t happy.

  “Marge,” the familiar voice came from over her shoulder. “You’ve been spending a lot of time lately looking over my shoulder.”

  Marge slowly turned. Franie was sitting perched on the corner of her desk.

  “Right now, you’re wondering how long I’ve been here
.” Franie stood. “I’ll save you the trouble. It was enough to confirm my suspicions.”

  “How much did you hear.”

  “Heard and recorded. There are some gentlemen down the hall waiting to speak with you. Make sure you fill them in on the story of Reynaldo and Polonius. Shakespearean tragedy if I remember correctly…they never end well.

  Franie rose and walked to her desk. Marge made a grab for the USB.

  “No point, spy girl. The computer has already been wiped nothing but a decoy now. Marge tried to go around her. Franie took hold of her arm.

  Marge screamed in frustration jerking her arm until she shook her off. “That’s bull crap.” Marge pushed past her.

  “Not up to me.” Franie raised her hands in mock surrender. “Security’s job.”

  Franie let her go. RCMP would be waiting for her at the end of the hall. Giving her a few minutes to burst the woman’s bubble was the perk Franie had earned.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The weather turned stormy at Calgary International and the Wolf’s drive into the rural countryside was proving a harrowing experience. That might work to his advantage. The bad visibility provided a measure of privacy to his mission. The distraction helped him focus on driving instead of his conversation with Marge and Franie Le’s discovery of his spy. Irrationally, by the time he pulled up to the farm gate the sun was shining. Weird stupid weather, he cursed. He parked at the end of the long farm laneway and took out military grade optics.

  Three children were playing in the hedge that surrounded the farmhouse and well, well, bonus — he could just make out the rear bumper of Jamee Blair’s Mustang parked in front of the garage. Bets were the farm’s alarm system would be off.

  His nagging loose end was the thought of the water bottle he’d handled during the meeting at Jamee’s farmhouse. For the first time, he’d allowed the enemy an opportunity to harvest his DNA. It was a mistake that could lead to the discovery of his true identity. Espionage one-o-one and he’d screwed up.