by Rae Knightly
Outside, in the corridor, they could hear Hao arguing loudly with a woman. Bordock’s eyes narrowed threateningly: “You know what I’m capable of.” He hissed. “I wouldn’t say anything, if I were you.”
In that instant the door flew open, revealing a woman with blond, curly hair and modern, black glasses. She stared up and down at Connelly in a condescending way: “You! Out! I won’t have anyone talking to my client.”
She placed a briefcase on the table, addressing Ben in a business-like manner: “You have the right to remain silent, Ben. You don’t have to answer any of these men’s questions. I’ll be doing the talking for you from now on. My name is Barbara Jones. I’ve been assigned by the Representative for Children and Youth to represent you.” As she clicked open the briefcase, she added: “In other words, I’m your lawyer.”
She turned to face Connelly and Hao. The latter was seething at her from the corridor. “That will be all, gentlemen. You’ll be hearing from my office when I’m done.”
She closed the door on them, and both men walked away with quick strides.
“Did you get the blood sample?” Hao asked between gritted teeth.
“Yes.” Connelly answered.
“Get it analyzed ASAP! We need to put a stop to this right away.” Hao barked.
***
Barbara Jones asked, sitting down: “It’s Benjamin Archer, right?”
Ben nodded, taken aback by this sudden shift of power.
She flipped through some documents in a very thin file, then pursed her lips, dissatisfied. "Well, they didn't leave me much to work with. I only have a home address and that you avoided questioning by law enforcement."
She closed the file before staring at Ben over the rim of her glasses.
“So,” she began, taking interest in the boy for the first time. “Let’s hear it.”
Ben stared at her with his mouth open: “I… er… what do you mean?”
He was excruciatingly aware of Bordock’s proximity.
Barbara Jones moved forward in her chair, accidentally crushing a carpenter ant with her arm as she leant on the table. “Look, honey, my office had me move my schedule around just for you, because you are a minor. I’m here to defend you, ok? That means that whatever you did, you can tell me. My job is to get you out of here as soon as possible.”
She waved her hand at him, inviting him to speak. One large ant was climbing up the sleeve of her white shirt while another one was crawling across her closed file.
“So, let’s have it.” She repeated.
Ben was distracted by the ants.
How did so many get in here?
“I… er…” He began, unable to decide what to say.
Bordock could be listening right behind the door!
Ms. Jones was becoming impatient: “Honey, I have thirty minutes to listen to your story before they kick me out of here. Let’s see, how about we start with something easy, ok? For example, you can give me your Dad’s phone number: I promise I’ll call him up as soon as I leave. How about that?”
Ben stared at her helplessly: “I… don’t have a Dad. He died in an accident after I was born.”
The lawyer closed her eyes for a second, as an ant crawled up her cheek. She brushed it away with a quick motion of the hand, thinking it was a strand of curly hair tickling her.
“All right,” She said a bit more gently: “How about your moth… Ouch!” She yelled, brushing away at her arm. “Something bit me.” She gasped, her face flushed. She shrieked and bolted out of her chair, massaging her leg. She noticed the carpenter ants scurrying all over the table, on her arms, on her legs, up her neck. She yelled again as they bit her. She brushed at them frantically, bobbing up and down like a ragged doll on a spring.
The police officer who had been standing guard in front of the room rushed in: “What’s going on?” He demanded.
“Let me out of here!” She yelled, bouncing around. “Ouch!” She gestured towards Ben: “Get that boy out! This room’s infested with ants… eek! Get him to a washroom, now! And call pest exterminators or something!” She darted down the hall, distraught.
The policeman noticed the ants crawling all over Ben, and hurriedly led him down a couple of doors to the men’s toilets. “Get in there and clean yourself up.” He ordered, yelling as he was himself bitten in the neck.
Ben did as he was told, finding himself all alone in the washroom of the Police Department.
As he stood there, gathering his senses, the carpenter ants that had been crawling all over him scurried to the floor, then vanished into the cracks in the wall. Ben checked his clothes, then stared in the mirror. All the ants were gone, leaving him without a single bite mark.
Jeepers!
Breathing fast, he turned his attention to the door which he locked in an automatic gesture. He leant his head against it, closing his eyes dizzily. When he looked up again, Mesmo was standing by the sinks. His face was very pale. Ben let out a sob of relief.
“Ben,” Mesmo said softly but urgently, “I don’t have much time! Turn on the taps.”
Ben sniffed and nodded hurriedly. He opened all the taps to let water flow into the four sinks.
Mesmo indicated that the boy should move away from the door. The alien placed his hands in the stream of water, which immediately obeyed the energy that emanated from them: the liquid flowed horizontally against the wall then dripped to the floor. It spread out swiftly, covering the main door and doorknob before racing across the tiles. Ben had to move back until he was against the wall next to a toilet. Even there, the water flowed along the wall up to a window located right above Ben’s head. The whole washroom was covered in water that danced to a silent song, obeying the mysterious force that came forth from Mesmo like a magnet.
In an instant, the swirling motion stopped, then the water froze. The door became white, the doorknob crackled under the weight of the ice and the floor glistened with a slippery sheen.
Above him, Ben heard the bars in front of the window snap from the cold.
“Go on!” Mesmo encouraged him.
Ben clambered onto the closed toilet bowl, then shoved open the window. The metal bars which had snapped from the cold, easily slid away before falling to the ground below. He pulled himself up, saw that he would be able to fit through and that the ground wasn’t too far down. He turned to Mesmo, only to find him gone. “Mesmo!” He whispered.
But someone was banging against the door, calling him to open up.
Ben wasn’t going to wait around this time.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Granville
HAO RUSHED PAST THE FRANTIC LAWYER, SAW
the empty interrogation room, then joined the policeman who was trying to force open the door of the washroom.
“What’s going on? Where’s the boy?” He yelled angrily.
“He’s in there. Locked himself up.” The policeman grunted as he shoved his weight against the door.
Hao pushed him aside to grab onto the doorknob, then yelled as his hand burned from the freezing temperature of the metal.
“I don’t care how you do it, but you get this door open right now!” He barked.
Another large policeman joined them. After three attempts at throwing themselves with full force at the door, it gave in, and they crashed in a heap inside.
Hao clambered over them, then immediately fell heavily to the ground as he slipped on the sheet of thin ice that covered the floor. Groaning, he got back up. After several slippery attempts, reached the open window.
“He’s out!” Hao yelled as he peaked through the window into the street. “Get him!” He ordered the policemen, who were slipping and sliding over the frozen floor.
***
Ben raced down the street. As he was about to turn a corner, he risked a glance back, only to find Hao and a couple of police officers barging out of the Vancouver Police Department after him. Turning the corner, he had to stop and lean against a wall. A dizziness had grasped his mind and he sway
ed. He shut his eyes tight, forcing himself to slow down his breathing.
Not now!
He ignored the stitch in his side and thudded on. As his lonely footsteps hit the pavement, Tike’s absence weighed heavily on him. He crossed a busy road to the Skytrain station but froze when a police car rounded a corner, placing itself at the very entrance. He backtracked hurriedly across the road. Hao appeared only a block away.
Ben slapped desperately on the door of a bus that was just about to drive away. The driver frowned disapprovingly but let him in anyway. Ben hopped on, catching his breath as he saw Hao pointing in his direction. To his dismay the bus was heading south-west instead of north. His mind raced.
Granville Island!
If he could make it to the small peninsula that was a hotspot for tourists, he could get lost in the crowds and find another transport north. Ben glanced around fearfully. He spotted a police car with its lights whirling in the distance, as it zig-zagged through the traffic. It caught up with the bus a short distance from Granville Island. Ben hit the emergency button and the doors swung open. Hao was already getting out of the police car, but just then a throng of sport cyclists whizzed by, giving Ben the opportunity to dash down to the well-stocked public market. He pushed through groups of people who were strolling around the small, quaint streets strewn with art galleries, restaurants and artisan shops.
If only I could reach the marina!
He knew there was an Aquabus that could take him across to the City of Vancouver, with its tall skyscrapers, a short distance across the river. But too late, he glimpsed a police officer checking things out in the direction he was headed. Ben’s heart raced as he felt his options of escape narrowing down. He ducked into the large indoor market, making his way through the throng of tourists who were picking out perfectly formed fruits and vegetables. The tourists gasped as Ben ran into them, making them accidentally knock over a pyramid of neatly arranged oranges which tumbled to the ground. Ben didn’t have time to apologize. He dove out the market and faced the other side of the marina, which was cluttered with pleasure boats and ferries.
Behind him, Hao was pushing his way through the crowds inside the market.
Ben ran down a pier, bumping into people who were taking pictures of the scenery. At the end of it, tourists were donning bright, orange fishermen waders and matching waterproof jackets with large hoods. Ben squeezed into this group. A stack of the orange garments lay on the floor, placed there for the tourists who were getting ready for a trip out to sea.
Without hesitating, Ben grabbed a large pair of pants and jacket, then put them on in a hurry, copying what the other men and women were doing. Not a moment too soon, as a police officer, closely followed by Hao, appeared above the pier. They scanned the area with their eyes.
A tourist wearing the bright fisherman combination stood up, leaving a corner of a bench unoccupied, so Ben slipped onto the seat, trying to blend in with the crowd.
“It’s almost time!” The woman next to Ben said excitedly.
Ben turned around in surprise. A very old woman with wrinkled cheeks and sunken eyes stared at him with a big, false-teeth smile.
“Is this your first trip, son?” She asked.
Ben checked his surroundings anxiously. Hao approached the entrance to the pier. Hastily, the boy turned to the old woman, who looked like she might be eighty, or closer to ninety: “Er… yes.” He said vaguely.
“This is my forty-fifth trip!” She said proudly. “I met my late husband, Harold, on a trip like this, forty-five years ago! We would celebrate our wedding anniversary every year by making the same trip again.” Her voice faltered only slightly, but immediately her smile returned. “You might think I’m a silly old lady, but I know Harold’s spirit is watching over me today. I remember my first contact with the giants… oh my! What a sight...!”
She chatted on but Ben was no longer listening. Hao had jogged up behind the group of tourists and was asking them questions.
In the same instant, the orange-clad men and women began to troop in front of a ferry which they began to board. Ben followed the flow with the old woman not far behind. A young, strong-built sailor who was asking for boarding tickets caught him by the arm. “Hey! Ticket please!” He said with a strong accent.
Ben pointed to the people lining up behind him: “Uh... my Gran has them.” He pushed on swiftly behind the other tourists, heading straight to the back of the ferry, which had several rows of outdoor benches. He hunched down as far away as possible from the ferry ramp, next to enthusiastic tourists who chatted away in an array of different languages.
There was a bit of commotion on the ramp as the muscular sailor with a tight, black T-shirt requested the tickets from the old lady.
“Oh dear,” She said worriedly, “Oh, now, where did I put that ticket?”
An imposing man with broad shoulders and a captain’s hat emerged from the bridge to enquire about the delay. When he noticed the old woman, he said with a thick, Australian accent: “Mrs. Stenner! Welcome aboard! I hadn’t realized it was that time of the year already.”
“Oh, Captain, I feel so foolish, I don’t know where I put my ticket.” She answered, dismayed.
“Two tickets.” The stern-faced sailor corrected behind them: “She’s also missing her grandson’s ticket.”
“Grandson?” The woman said, confused.
The Captain waved a hand at the sailor, dismissing him, then, smiling, gently led the old lady to a front seat: “Come, I’m sure everything is fine. After all, you’re our most faithful customer, aren’t you, Mrs. Stenner? How many years has it been, exactly?”
“Forty-five!” The woman replied, returning his smile.
“Forty-five!” The Captain exclaimed, “Well, how about that! And you brought your grandson along this time? What a wonderful idea!”
Mrs Stenner stared at him, at loss for a few seconds, before her eyes brightened suddenly and she giggled: “Yes… er… of course! My grandson! Lovely lad!”
“Good. Well enjoy your trip, Mrs. Stenner. I must get up to the bridge as we are leaving in a couple of minutes.” The Captain said, saluting her by lightly lifting up his hat.
No sooner had all the groups of families and friends of different nationalities settled down on the benches, than the ferry moved away from the pier, heading out of the harbor entrance into the open sea.
The Captain’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers: “Ladies and gentlemen. This is Captain Oliver Andrew speaking. Welcome aboard the Haida Gwai II. The weather is looking fair as we head out across the Strait of Georgia for our four-hour whale watching trip. We are happy to announce that several orca pods have been spotted in the past weeks. We should be in for quite a show…”
Four hours!
At the back of the ferry, hunched on the edge of a bench, Ben’s face had gone quite pale as they moved away from Granville Island, away from the shore and further away from his mother.
At the edge of pier, Hao paced up and down the marina, giving orders over the phone to spread out the search.
***
Susan Pickering sat by Laura’s side as she finished taking her temperature. When she saw the number on the thermometer, she pursed her lips as she stared out the window. Laura’s fever still had not broken. Being a nurse with experience, she knew that that was not a good sign. She stroked the sick woman’s arm, saying in a low voice: “Come on, Laura, you have to fight this!”
To her surprise, the young woman opened her eyes just a crack. Through pale, dry lips she managed to ask: “Benji?”
Susan had to look away, so Laura wouldn’t notice the worry on her face. Then she smiled reassuringly: “He’s fine. He’s resting right now. As should you.”
Laura seemed satisfied with the answer, because she closed her eyes again.
Susan stayed next to her for a long moment, staring out the window – biting her lip as she wondered what had happened to the boy.
***
The room was large and im
peccably white. Two men in green protective suits talked together quietly, analyzing the data on their computer screens behind a glass window, as Mesmo lay inside a full-body CT scan machine. He had been tranquilized and was unaware of what was going on.
Until now.
“He’s waking up.” One of the men said.
“Ok, let’s pull him out.” The other one replied after a while. “It’s no use anyway.”
He pressed a red button, releasing the motorized examination table which hummed slowly out of the machine.
A third man entered the room behind them. The two radiographers recognized him immediately in spite of his green protective suit and mouth cover. He was slightly shorter and heavier built than the other two.
“Boss.” They said in manner of greeting, straightening in their seats.
The man nodded briefly, before entering the examination room. He bent over Mesmo, who was blinking his eyes as he tried to regain focus. The alien’s eyes focused on the thick black and grey eyebrows overshadowing small, green eyes behind the man’s black glasses.
“Well?” The third man asked with authority, directing his question to the two radiographers.
“Still nothing, Sir.” The younger of them answered, “Even after using the tranquilizer, we are still getting the same interference.”
“Show me!” The man ordered.
The two men sitting behind the window glanced at each other, uncertain. “Going through the procedure again could put a strain on his heart, Sir.” The younger man ventured.
“Do it!” The boss insisted, joining them with determined strides.
Immediately the younger man obeyed. He pressed the red button again, so that the examination table rolled slowly back into the tunnel-shaped machine.
Mesmo struggled against the straps holding his arms down as he entered the claustrophobic hole of the CT scan.