“Go right in, Dr. Lee,” said Madeleine.
“Thank you,” said Lee.
“Come in, Peter,” said Mintz, waving him to the chair in front of his desk. Lee cautiously moved toward the chair and waited for Mintz to sit down before he did the same.
“Peter,” began Mintz. “I have a real problem.” Mintz waited to see Peter’s reaction. When there was none, he continued. “I have promised a custom business solution to CRS in Philadelphia. We have never done anything of this magnitude before in terms of custom work for a steel company. But we have to be successful on this project and I need you to tell me if you have any thoughts on the subject.”
Lee was speechless. “Mr. Mintz,” he said. “This is the first I have heard of this. I really can’t comment until I have some more details.”
Mintz leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his desk, his fingers touching. “Peter, I know this is a surprise but I had to make this commitment for the good of the company. I suggest you give this some serious thought and get back to me early next week.”
“Can I contact the customer directly?” asked Lee.
“Of course,” said Mintz. “But for now you are restricted to a single contact, the CIO, Stanley Fortuna. But he can get you any information you need. Madeleine will let you know how to contact him.”
“What’s the scope?”
“You are going to completely automate his business. That’s it. Everything. And you are going to avoid off the shelf software as much as possible. I want CRS to have tailor made software. The only thing that should come off the rack is the underwear, if you know what I mean.”
“I think so,” said Lee, who rose to leave.
“One other thing,” said Mintz. Lee sat back down. “I understand you have been hiring across the country.”
“Yes sir. It is quite normal at this time of the year. We’re also starting to think about the Homeland Security contract. I understand it’s a virtual certainty now.”
Mintz pushed a piece of paper across the desk to Lee. “If you receive an application from the name on this piece of paper, hire him.”
Lee picked up the piece of paper and looked at the name. He clearly did not recognize it and he looked up quizzically at Mintz. “Can I ask why?” asked Lee.
“No,” said Mintz. “But I don’t think you will be disappointed. Who knows? He may even help us with this latest problem.”
Chapter 11 - The Car
Fri May 7th
When Jim woke up on Friday morning he was shocked to see that it was already 7:45 and that he had slept past his 7:00 alarm. Worse than that, he had woken up with Giuseppe Verde still very much on his mind. No matter how hard he tried, he simply could not shake his obsession with his upcoming meeting with the man. Looking for something positive to start his morning, he thought of but one consolation. As he walked into the bathroom, he realized that he had not dreamt about car chases or mobsters. That was good news, he thought. Yet he was still thinking about Verde as he took his shower.
It was another half hour before he left his apartment for work. As he walked toward the office, he pulled the collar of his overcoat around his neck to protect him from the weather. It was a miserable morning with a black, overcast sky and a constant onslaught of something between rain and drizzle. As he was battered by gusts of wind and rain he thought that the weather was appropriate for the way he felt this morning.
Once in the federal building he went straight to the elevator, having missed his morning coffee with Ben at the coffee shop. He swiped his security badge and pressed the button for the tenth floor. As he walked through the main doors of the CCRA offices he found Cindy walking through the corridor.
“Morning Cily,” said Jim sullenly.
“You’re bleeding,” said Cindy, pointing to his face. “And you’re soaking wet.”
“What?” asked Jim, thinking he had not heard her correctly.
“Your nose is bleeding,” said Cindy, pointing to her own nose.
Jim touched his nose and then looked at his finger. It was stained a dark red, a blood red.
“Shit,” said Jim. Holding his nose, he walked quickly through the corridors to the washroom and looked in the mirror. He wiped off the blood and pressed hard on the bridge of his nose. He could not remember the last time his nose had bled and then, half consciously, he thought back to an article he had read a while ago. The article had said that nose bleeds could be caused by stress. When he was sure the bleeding had stopped he left the washroom and took a detour past Cindy’s desk.
“Thanks,” said Jim.
“No problem,” she said with her back to him. She then continued working at her computer.
As he turned to leave Cindy, Jim noticed a copy of the National Post on her desk with the headline “RCMP will listen to demands”. Jim shook his head and pointed to the newspaper.
“Do those guys have any idea what they are doing?” he asked Cindy.
“Nope,” said Cindy, not really listening to what he was asking and still not turning to look at him. Then, as an afterthought, she looked up from her monitor and then looked directly at Jim. “You call Penny yet?” she asked.
“Not yet,” said Jim quietly, avoiding her gaze.
“It’s a nice thing to do Jim,” said Cindy. “And you may even enjoy it.”
“Not yet,” repeated Jim coolly.
Cindy gave him a long, hard look.
“I will,” offered Jim, quickly turning and walking away.
Thinking about the meeting with Verde tomorrow, Jim tried to work on his computer when a newspaper was thrown onto his desk. Jim looked around to find Ben Gould standing behind him.
“Did you see this?” asked Ben.
Jim looked down at the copy of The Citizen. It was opened to an inside page of the business section. At the top of the page was an article on NAT.
“No,” said Jim. “I woke up late.”
“Our pals at NAT just received a huge new development contract with the US federal government,” said Ben. “They’re going to automate a lot of systems for the Department of Homeland Security. The article said that they will be doing a lot of hiring in the US but that they will also be recruiting in Canada.”
“That’s good news,” said Jim, nodding half heartedly and clearly distracted.
“It’s not good news,” objected Ben. “It’s great news. And why aren’t you more enthusiastic? You’re the one sitting on the debt of a third world country.” Jim said nothing. “Christ Jim,” continued Ben. “You were counting on this job.”
“I know, I know” said Jim, weakly.
Ben sat on the edge of Jim’s desk. “What’s going on Jimmy? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” said Jim. “I guess I just have a lot on my mind.” He paused and changed his tone. “You’re right though. The news at NAT is good.” Jim then gave Ben his best attempt at a smile.
Ben, not impressed by Jim’s attempt at good humour, decided to change the topic. “You know what occurs to me?” asked Ben, a little more upbeat.
“What?”
“That we haven’t taken an early lunch in a long, long time,” said Ben, slapping Jim on the back.
Jim looked at his watch. It was 11:30. He attempted another smile. “Ok,” he said.
The sky was still overcast but the rain had stopped as they made there way to lunch. When Ben ordered a shrimp salad Jim did not even comment.
“You’re not going to say anything about a shrimp salad?” asked Ben has he held a large shrimp up on his fork.
“Nope,” said Jim. “Not today.”
After a long lunch at a nearby delicatessen, Jim and Ben returned to their respective cubicles. The lunch had not solved anything but Jim felt it had helped him clear his mind to get some real work done. He sat perched at his computer terminal for at least an hour, all telephone calls redirected to voice mail, his fingers moving over the keyboard so quickly that they were just a blur. Jim was right in his element, doing the kind of work he loved, w
hen Sondra Dunn showed up at his desk. Jim was so immersed in his work that he was completely unaware of Sondra’s arrival.
“Hi Jim,” said Sondra.
Jim jumped, startled at the interruption, and his fingers stopped moving. “Oh, hi Sondra,” said Jim, looking up from his terminal. “You got me good,” he added, referring to the way she had startled him.
“Sorry,” said Sondra. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure.” Jim stood so he could look eye to neck at the tallest girl he had ever met. He then walked past Sondra and across the corridor to grab a second chair. He offered it to Sondra and the two sat down across from one another.
“How well to you know Mike?” she asked.
“Mike Campanelli?” asked Jim. “Why do you ask?”
“Remember the other day when we saw you at the restaurant on Sparks Street?”
“Sure.”
“Well, I saw Mike come over and talk to you for a while,” said Sondra. “So I assumed you were good friends.”
“Actually, no,” said Jim. “I really hardly know him at all.”
Sondra looked disappointed. “Then what did you talk about that day? I mean, he interrupted our date to go talk to you.”
Jim looked uncomfortable, thinking back to the conversation with Mike. They had discussed Jim’s financial affairs, something that Jim did not want to disclose to Sondra. “Mike offered to do me a favour,” said Jim.
“Oh,” said Sondra. She paused, placed her hands on her knees and stood up. “I just thought you knew him. That’s all.” She turned to leave.
Jim felt bad that she was leaving. He liked Sondra and something was clearly bothering her. “Sit down,” said Jim, apologetically. “Maybe I can still help. What’s the problem?”
Sondra sat down, tears welling up in her eyes. She sat there for a moment. When she finally started talking it was slowly and hesitantly. “I, well, I just don’t understand what has been going on between me and Mike,” she said. “I didn’t know that you didn’t know Mike very well. If you had known him better I though you might be able to tell me what Mike is thinking.” She then placed her face in her hands and began to sob quietly to herself.
Jim had no idea what to do. In fact, he had never known what to do in these situations. He felt that he should do something to comfort her; after all, she seemed nice enough. From where he was sitting he rolled his chair beside her and reached out an arm, putting it around her shoulder awkwardly.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Mike and I have only been seeing each other for a few weeks,” said Sondra. “But last week he told me he was falling in love with me. I was really surprised. I’ve not dated much and I think I’m too tall for most guys. But I was also really taken with Mike. I mean, I wouldn’t normally …” She paused. “I thought we were getting very close. We spent more and more time together. But then, all of a sudden, he tells me it’s over. And he won’t talk to me. I don’t know what happened.”
Jim listened sympathetically and tried to understand what Sondra was telling him. Whatever had been going on, he did not like the side of Mike Campanelli he was now learning about. Who could hurt this lovely girl, even if she was the height of a basketball player? Then, without being able to help himself, he thought forward to his meeting with Verde tomorrow and wondered whether this revelation about Mike should affect his understanding of Mike’s family and the mysterious Giuseppe Verde.
Jim shook himself back to the present. Now he felt guilty for thinking only about his own problems. “I’m sorry,” said Jim. “I just don’t know Mike that well. But from what you just told me, I think you’re probably better off without him.” His arm was still around Sondra and he now removed it slowly.
Sondra stood up as if she had made a decision. “You’re probably right,” she said. “Sorry for this,” said Sondra, wiping the tears off her cheeks with the palms of her hands, and standing up. “And thanks for listening to me. I don’t normally start crying in the office,” she said. She then bent down and kissed Jim on the cheek. “Thanks,” she repeated. She then turned and left. Jim watched her leave. She might be a tree but she was a shapely tree. Then, to Jim’s surprise, he found that he was not thinking about Sondra after she left. He was thinking about Mike Campanelli and the rest of his family.
***
Ken Timmins was sitting in front of Mintz’s desk. “This Homeland Security contract should be good,” said Timmins.
Mintz waved a dismissive hand. “I know Homeland Security is good,” said Mintz. “I’m more concerned about the CRS work,” said Mintz. “Homeland Security is a done deal.”
“Really?”
Mintz ignored the question. “I’ve got Peter Lee starting to work on the CRS project.”
“But it’s not even signed,” said Timmins.
“It’s also a done deal.”
“Then why are you concerned?”
“Because it’s something we’ve never done before. And that worries me.”
***
She had only just drifted asleep, not a deep sleep, but that light, surreal sleep that occurs somewhere between awake and unconscious. She lay there on her bed in this state, cast in shadows, curtains drawn on the upstairs windows. She lay there for the moment, feeling safe, taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon, unaware of what was happening downstairs.
Then, suddenly, she opened her eyes. She had heard something. Footsteps? What was it? She sat up in bed, listening intently, but she heard nothing. She waited. Creek. Was there someone in the house? Creek. There were people in the house. What should she do? Should she call the police or was it just her imagination? It must be her imagination. She lived in a good neighbourhood and, besides, it was the middle of the afternoon. Creek. Creek, creek. Blood rushed to her face and her heart started beating wildly. Someone was in her house. No, not someone she reminded herself, people. She reached over to the telephone on the bed side table, picked up the receiver and began to press the buttons. 9 – 1 –.
A finger pressed down on the telephone cradle. A hand pulled the telephone receiver out of her hand. Another hand ripped the telephone cord from the wall. A gun touched the back of her neck. She screamed and involuntary scream but then a hand was placed over her mouth to muffle her cry.
“Don’t say a word,” said a voice. It was low, quiet, a whisper. “Understand?”
She nodded with the hand still over her mouth. The man removed his hand.
“We’re looking for jewellery,” said another voice. It was a different voice but it was also low, quiet, a whisper. But definitely not friendly.
“Show us where the jewellery is and we’ll go,” said the first voice.
She was shaking now but she knew she had no choice but to cooperate. She showed the two black outfitted men with the nylons over their faces where she kept the jewellery. She did not own much jewellery. Everything she had was in her jewellery box. She was very nervous but she was resigned to getting rid of these – these what? – these criminals. They then stuffed the entire jewellery box into a black bag. Before they left one of the men pointed a gun at her head. She shook with fear but said nothing. The man pulled the trigger. Click. She jumped involuntarily but the chamber was empty.
“You have to be more careful,” said the man. “There is a lot of crime in the city.”
Then they left. She took a few minutes to compose herself and took stock of the events. She looked down at her hands. They were shaking. Then she noticed something strange. Both her wedding ring and engagement ring were still on her finger. Why had they not taken them? Would robbers ignore the opportunity? The engagement ring was worth more than all of the other jewellery taken together. How strange, she thought. And something else, she noted. These robbers were immigrants. They had accents, European? Yes, she thought. She was sure of it. Then, after taking a few more minutes to compose herself, she called the police.
***
After Sondra Dunn had left his cubicle Jim tried to return to his work bu
t he had lost his momentum. He decided to take his telephone off voice mail but as he went to pick up the phone he noticed the flashing orange message light. He punched in his access code and listened.
“You have one new voice message,” said the familiar voice of the voice mail system. “Message one, received today at 2:27pm from an outside number.”
The message was short. It included the name of the caller, the circumstances of the caller and a phone number for Jim to return the call. “Oh my God,” said Jim quietly to himself after he had listened to the message. Jim wrote down the telephone number after listening to the message a second time and then immediately dialled the number.
The phone was answered on the second ring. “Sergeant Papadopoulos,” said the voice on the other end of the line.
“This is Jim Kincaid,” said Jim. “May I please speak with my mother.”
“Just a moment Mr. Kincaid,” said the sergeant. A minute passed before Jim’s mother came on the line.
“Jimmy?” asked his frantic mother. “Jimmy? Is that you?”
“Mom?”
“Jimmy, I was robbed,” said his mother.
“What happened?”
“I was at home, upstairs, asleep, when the house was robbed,” said his mother, still frantic. She was talking very quickly. “I was taking a nap upstairs. They must have thought the house was empty. They had guns, Jimmy. It was awful.” His mother was out of breath by the time she finished her short, but animated, description of events.
“Okay Mom,” said Jim, soothingly. “Calm down.”
“What do I do Jimmy? The police say I should get a burglar alarm. I want to stay somewhere else tonight but I don’t know where to go. I suppose I could go to a hotel.” If anything, his mother was talking even faster.
“The hotel is probably a good idea,” said Jim. “Did you call your insurance company?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, call them and tell them what happened. They might pay for the hotel.”
“Where should I stay?”
Jim tried to think of an appropriate hotel. His Mom’s house was in Etobicoke, in the west end of the city, but he could not picture an appropriate hotel close to his mother’s home. She was close to the airport but he did not want her at an airport hotel. He was also thinking to himself that if he wanted to check up on her, something a little further east and on the 401 would be better. Besides, except for downtown hotels, he could only think of the hotels that he had passed the last time he was in Toronto. And he knew she would not be happy downtown. Then, like an epiphany, it came to him.
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