by Keith Weaver
Sanford was fifteen minutes early, and as he looked around the room none of the five men seated looked back at him expectantly. He chose a seat in a corner three tables from the bar. A waiter came over to him at a measured pace, smiled as would a valued servant who knew his worth, and asked “Sir?”
“Lagavulin, please, sixteen years, and a small beaker of water.”
The waiter nodded and turned, assuming correctly from long practice that ice was not needed. Sanford’s drink appeared within a minute, was lowered lovingly before him in a heavy authoritative container of cut glass, and placed silently on a thick oxblood leather coaster. The water followed suit.
Sanford hadn’t taken his first sip before a man of medium height entered the bar. He had an athletic-looking build clothed in a good navy suit, wore his steel-grey hair short, and had a thin face, dark eyes, a somewhat aquiline nose, and a long, strong chin. He walked straight over to Sanford’s table.
“Mr. Sanford?”
“Yes. Daniel Conway?”
“Yes.”
Conway took a seat.
They looked each other over wordlessly for fifteen seconds, long enough for the waiter to make a silent reappearance.
“I’ll have the same”, Conway said, waving at Sanford’s glass, before the waiter had uttered a word. The waiter nodded silently and moved away.
“I’m not good at small talk, Mr. Sanford, so please just tell me, in as much detail as you can, what it is you want and why you want it.”
Sanford had organized his thoughts and he provided some background, described at length what he wanted to know, and then indicated that all this was something necessary in order for him and his daughter to move forward and reshape their lives. It took him about ten minutes to complete his statement.
Conway didn’t take his eyes off Sanford the whole time. When Sanford had finished, Conway nodded after a few seconds silence. “I have some questions.”
Conway posed his questions. Sanford answered them. First question. Second question. Third question. Midway through the fourth question, Sanford’s cellphone buzzed. He pulled the device from his pocket, looked at Conway, and asked “May I?”
“Please. Go ahead.”
Sanford got through “Hello?” and then “Oh hello Anne”, but then sat up rigid in his chair and exclaimed “What?!!”
After a pause, Sanford asked “Where is he now?” and then after a further pause he asked “Have you ever used the camera on your cellphone, Anne?”
He nodded. “Okay. Please take two or three pictures of his face. Yes, right now.”
Another delay. “Good. Now, have you ever sent pictures to anyone using your cellphone? No? Okay, here’s how to do that”, and Sanford explained the process. “Please send the pictures to me right now, wait until I confirm that I’ve received them, then hang up and call the local police right away.”
By now, Sanford had begun to shake visibly. He looked at his phone, pressed several keys and icons, then said “Okay Anne, I have them. Now call the police immediately.”
Sanford put his phone away and rose. “I’m sorry Mr. Conway, I have to leave. Someone just tried to abduct my daughter.”
Sanford was hurriedly starting out on what would be a sprint to his condo followed by a high-speed run to Stanley Falls, when Conway said “I will do this work for you, Mr. Sanford.”
Sanford recognized the speed at which Conway’s mind worked from the question he asked as Sanford was reaching into his pocket.
“Can you forward to me the pictures you were just sent?”
Sanford and Conway dropped onto the table forty dollars and a business card respectively, Sanford scooped up the card and ran from the bar.
Twenty-one
Sanford’s race back to Stanley Falls was close to the record he had set a few days earlier when he had sped the other way after receiving Sergeant Howell’s early morning telephone call. By some miracle, he didn’t catch the attention of any of the expressway speed patrols. His overheated car screeched to a halt in the drive of Anne’s house. He rushed inside and was met by Anne and Julia calmly having glasses of fruit juice.
“Hello Jim”, Anne said past a faint smile, but her hard stare at him clicked right away. Julia didn’t really know what was going on, and Anne wanted to keep it that way.
“Hi Daddy.”
“Hi sweetie.” There was a pause here. “Could I have a glass of juice, please?”
Anne relaxed, and Julia smiled, went to the cupboard, found a glass, and poured Sanford a full measure. He sat down as calmly as he was able.
“So”, Sanford began, “did we get everything cleaned up from the roast?”
“Yes Daddy. We had seven cooked pieces of corn left, and Anne and I took the corn off and made it all creamy. We had four cooked sausages left, and Anne and I had them for breakfast. We had twelve pieces of chicken left, and Anne said we could make them into Chicken Catch a Tory for dinner. We had some cake for lunch. Would you like some?”
“Well, yes, that would be very nice, since I didn’t have much lunch.” Within a few minutes, a large square of lemon cake appeared before Sanford, and he ate it with gusto, making I’m-really-enjoying-this noises.
Sanford was relieved that Julia was happy, her outlook unclouded, and very relieved that she was still there and in one piece, and he struggled mightily to behave for the remaining hour before dinner as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
At five thirty, Anne began pulling things from her fridge. “I think you both should get washed for dinner. It would be nice to eat outside under the apple trees. Off you go then.”
And they did have a pleasant dinner under the trees, although bits of things sporting strange shapes and colours seemed to keep dropping onto Sanford’s plate, to Julia’s great amusement. Julia talked about a number of projects that Anne had evidently suggested to her, and Sanford, a faint smile fixed on his face, sat back, listened calmly, and tried to suppress the turmoil that was raging deep within him. In due course, they finished, Anne collected plates and cutlery and carried them into the house, and suggested that they all move to the sitting room where they could flop in plush chairs. Within twenty minutes, Julia began to nod sleepily.
“Okay dear”, Anne said. “Off to bed with you and have a little nap”, and Julia allowed herself to be led away without complaint or resistance.
Ten minutes later, Anne was back. Her expression was now one of concern, and she spoke softly in response to Sanford’s curt demand “Tell me exactly what happened”.
“It was about one thirty or two o’clock. Julia and I had finished the last of the cleanup and there was a knock at the door. The man at the door, the one I sent you the photographs of, smiled when I answered. He said that you had asked him to escort Julia to Toronto for a short stay with her grandparents. I said I was surprised at that, that I didn’t think Jim worked that way, and that he could leave, and I closed the door as firmly as I could. But he stopped it closing altogether, I had my foot against the bottom of the door, but then he just burst in. Julia was in the room she uses, and I found out later that she was listening to her iPod, so she was unaware of any of this. Well, the door opened with such force that I was thrown back against the stove and counter, and he began barging in. But then Reggie hurled himself onto the man, who was caught completely off guard. They both fell and rolled on the floor, and then the man stopped moving.”
“Stopped moving?” Sanford asked in puzzlement. “Why?”
“Because I hit him with my biggest skillet. It made a satisfactory clang.”
She smiled at the memory, but then her chin began quivering, and she broke down. “Oh Jim, it was horrible. He was a horrible man, and then I thought I had killed him, and then when I realized that I hadn’t killed him I wished that I had, and I almost struck him again.”
Sanford rose and comforted her. “Anne, you are an absolute brick, and I can’t thank you enough. Could you tell me what happened after that?”
She dab
bed at her eyes using a cotton hankie she had pulled from a pocket, and described how she had tied the man up using butcher cord, how she had called Sanford and then taken and sent the pictures, and how she called the local police who arrived less than five minutes later. When they found that the man had no identification and was carrying a small gun, they dragged him off straight away. Another local police officer had come to her house by then, and he sat with her and took a statement.
“They said they want to talk to you as soon as possible.”
Sanford nodded. “Will you be okay here while I go down to the police detachment? I’m not sure how long it will take.”
“Yes”, she said, now in a stronger voice. Sanford reassured her he would be back as soon as he could.
As he was getting out of his car at the cop shop, Sanford’s cellphone buzzed. It was a text message from Conway.
Identity of man whose pictures you forwarded. He is Arthur Wakelin. Minor villain for general hire. Surprised he was used for this job. Obviously your neighbour was seriously underestimated. Still digging. Conway.
Inside the detachment, Sanford eventually met a Sergeant Nokes, someone he didn’t know. Nokes explained that the suspect was being grilled as they spoke, but that they had got little out of him thus far and did not know his identity. The car he had used was registered to someone else from Toronto, and that information had been passed on to Metro Police accompanied by a request for information on the car’s owner.
“What will you do with him?”
“Well, so far he’s up for possession of an illegal firearm, entering, and assault, and maybe possession of stolen property, depending on what Metro says about the status of the car. He’ll probably be transferred to Peterborough to a holding cell. Beyond that, I can’t say.”
“Do you know if he was here for the day, or has he been staying somewhere locally?” Sanford inquired.
“I can’t really say, sir. Why do you ask?”
“I can’t really say. Just curiosity.”
The sergeant gave Sanford a doubtful look, and Sanford returned a hard and challenging stare.
“By all appearances, Sergeant, there’s been an attempt to abduct my daughter. I think I’m allowed more than normal curiosity.”
“Of course, sir. I understand, but I really don’t see –”
“You don’t see what, Sergeant? Was this man working alone? Is there someone else out there right now? Can I expect another attempt tomorrow? Next week? I haven’t heard you ask whether I would like some kind of protective surveillance for my daughter. Or are you expecting me to do that myself?”
“I’m sorry sir. I didn’t mean –”
“Yes Sergeant. I know exactly what you didn’t mean. You didn’t mean for me to find out anything substantive. You didn’t mean to give me any impression that you were concerned about my daughter’s welfare. Well, you can hide all you want behind the integrity of your investigation as a means of keeping me in the dark. Fine. I’ll just be forced to take matters into my own hands.”
“I have to warn you sir about interfering –”
“No Sergeant. It’s me who’s warning you.”
Giving Nokes no chance to reply, Sanford turned and left the detachment.
Sanford returned to Joe’s place and spent fifteen minutes fussing Reggie, the hero of the hour. Reggie barked and growled in delight, and was more than pleased to receive a reward, a large helping of his favourite kibble.
It took longer than Sanford expected, but eventually his cellphone rang.
“Sanford”.
“Oh, hello Mr. Sanford. This is Inspector Halloran in Stanley Falls. Would it be convenient for me to come and see you now?”
“Yes, that would be convenient. I’m at Joe Stanton’s place. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes sir. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
And indeed, it was less than five minutes later when an unmarked, dark blue car pulled into Joe’s drive. Sanford was there to meet the car – a senior policewoman at the wheel, the window wound down, and Sanford standing too close for the door to open. He stood there for about twenty seconds, in the position of dominance familiar to all police, long enough for the message of his serious annoyance to get through.
“Come around the back, Inspector”, Sanford said pleasantly once the officer managed to climb out of her car. “We can sit outside and talk.”
Halloran didn’t make the mistake of trying to engage in small talk as they walked the short distance to Joe’s large picnic table, which shared a concrete slab with several cushioned lounging chairs. Sanford took a seat at the table, and waved Halloran to sit opposite him.
Sanford judged that Inspector Halloran was in her early fifties. She was tallish, had a wiry build, fine features, pale blue eyes, and time had applied artistic brushings of grey to the ends of the short curls peeking from beneath her cap. She projected an air of confidence and competence.
“I want to apologize for Sergeant Nokes. That’s certainly not the way I expect my officers to behave when something like what you’ve experienced has occurred.”
Sanford nodded acknowledgement. “Is there anything you can tell me that would give me some assurance that my daughter is not in danger now?”
“Unfortunately, no, there isn’t. At the moment, we know nothing about who hired the suspect, assuming he was working alone, or what exactly they had in mind. We don’t know yet who the suspect is, but based on his reported behaviour it certainly looks as though he’s not a novice. So, he almost certainly has form and once we find out who he is we should be able to get much more information from Metro Police and the OPP central office. That might help us figure out just what’s going on here. In the meantime, can I ask whether there is anywhere away from Stanley Falls where your daughter could stay for a few days?”
“No. There are her grandparents, but they’re old and infirm and suffering their own loss at the moment. If this charlie was able to find us here, then someone else could certainly find her there. I’m really interested in what suggestions you might have.”
“I understand what you’re saying, sir. Unfortunately, there’s a limited amount we can do. We can have a conspicuous patrol pass by your house every hour, but that’s about the extent of it. We just don’t have the personnel for more hands-on protection.”
Sanford fixed an unblinking gaze on Halloran for several seconds, his face set grimly. “If I have to take measures myself, I will do so. I hope you understand that.”
“Yes, sir. I understand fully. I would ask, though, what you might consider as measures.”
“Well, for example, if I have to hire my own protective detail, I will do that. And I want to make it clear that I will do whatever is needed to protect my family.”
“Fully understood sir. I would do the same. I do feel that I need to caution you about excessive –”
“Please Inspector! Neither of us is an idiot! Of course, I don’t wish to kill or injure anyone! But neither will I tolerate the threat of that happening to me or to Julia! It seems pretty clear to me that whoever is behind this is playing a serious game. So I’m certainly not going to stand by meekly if it looks like something irreversible might be about to happen.”
“I fully understand your concern and your position, Mr. Sanford. I want to be sure that you understand mine.”
“Yes, I think we understand each other, Inspector.”
Halloran then moved the conversation off onto more general, and safer, topics. They talked for about twenty minutes, then Halloran made to rise, passing Sanford her card, and offering her hand.
When she had left, Sanford pondered the discussion, then returned to Anne’s place. He wanted to spend more time with her, make sure she was all right after the trauma of the near abduction, and be there when Julia awoke from her nap. The remainder of the evening passed quickly.
Twenty-two
Although Sanford was unsettled, he spent much of the next day thinking and planning. Aware now that threats
to his daughter of physical violence and kidnapping were shown to be all too real, he pondered anxiously what to do. Working on the Alberta oil rigs, he had encountered assholes, head cases, guys whose primary source of pleasure was sadism and dominance, and he learned that sometimes the only way to be sure that they kept their distance, and that he kept himself out of their crosshairs, was to find an appropriate occasion to beat the shit out of them. Being large and strong, as he was, he could do this, but violence alone simply did not suffice, since it is a last resort, even among testosterone-charged assholes. He found that he had to learn the physical and psychological lingo of street encounters. There were rituals – routines – that engaged just the right amount and kinds of de-escalation, resistance, threat, belligerence, at just the right time for a given situation and avoided the unnecessary aggro that could follow from under- or over-reaction. He learned them all, and played the game such that the roustabout assholes generally left him alone.
It was possible for him to behave that way then, because he had only himself to look out for, and he had discovered that he could handle himself well. The presence of Julia swept all those old blunt rules aside, and placed him in new territory, where he didn’t know the rules, assuming there were any, and where the stakes were much higher. Although vague, the threat he faced on behalf of them both was real, and he needed urgently to find a way of cutting through, seeing beyond, that vagueness.
Anne and Julia had been engaged in another project since just after breakfast, leaving Sanford to take stock. By mid-afternoon, Sanford continued in the fraught musings raised by the events of the previous day, and he had the feeling that he was making little or no progress. When his cellphone vibrated, he reached for it eagerly, welcoming this diversion and potential relief. It was Conway.
“Hello Mr. Conway.”
“Mr. Sanford. I’m in Stanley Falls. We need to talk. Can you give me directions to your place please?”