by Garry Ryan
The light turned green.
The vehicles at the lights began to accelerate. They travelled about one hundred metres down the highway.
An unmarked car pulled in front of the red truck. Another pulled up beside the suspect vehicle. A third pulled up behind the truck. Lane watched as the four vehicles pulled over to the shoulder, doors opened, and officers pointed their weapons at the driver.
Lacey set the helicopter into hover. A gust of wind made the helicopter buck.
Lane felt a rush of nausea. He looked farther down the highway at the multicoloured pickup. Black smoke poured from its exhaust. He pointed at the escaping vehicle. “We need to follow the white-and-black truck with the fuel tank in the rear.”
Lacey nodded. “The one that’s passing in the left lane?”
“Correct. We also need to alert the officers at the extraction plant that the truck is en route. How do I connect with Chief Simpson?” Lane asked.
Lacey tapped a communications switch with her thumb as she aimed HAWCS west to pursue the fleeing pickup.
“Hello?” Lane asked.
“What’s the situation?” Simpson asked.
“One suspect vehicle has been stopped. We are in pursuit of what I believe is the primary target with the explosives.”
“You are aware that deadly force is authorized for our officers and the RCMP officers on scene?” Simpson asked.
“I am. Is approaching traffic being shut down?”
“Already done,” Simpson said.
“We will stop the bomber.”
“Let me be clear. I want there to be no civilian casualties and no police casualties,” Simpson said.
“Understood.” Lane pointed at Lacey and tapped the side of his headset. He saw her flick the communications switch. “How close can we get?”
Lacey adjusted the controls, and they began to descend.
Lane looked to his left. The extraction plant, with its silver stacks, towers, and storage tanks, was about five kilometres away. He saw the access road about half a kilometre down the highway. He pointed at the plant. “He’ll turn right up there. We need to set down on the road about a kilometre this side of the plant. Land on the road to block his access. Then we’ll wait until the officers in the marked units catch up.”
He looked down at the road and saw where the pavement ended and the gravel began. He could see how the passage of heavy vehicles had created hollows in the wavy washboard surface of the gravel road.
Lacey set the helicopter down on a patch of paved road about five hundred metres from the extraction plant. “Do you want me inside or out?” she asked.
“We need both weapons,” Lane said.
Lacey began to work on the shutdown checklist.
Lane hung up his headset and undid his harness. When the rotor slowed, he stepped outside and walked to the ditch. He looked back at the helicopter as the individual blades of the rotor became discernable.
Lacey appeared around the nose of the helicopter and nodded at Lane. Her brown hair was stuck to her skull. She’d left her helmet inside the chopper.
Lane pointed at the ditch opposite to his.
The rotor stopped. Its mechanical sounds were replaced by the wind and the distant rumble of an approaching vehicle.
The multicoloured pickup accelerated up the hill below them. Jones was less than a kilometre away.
Lane pulled his Glock from its holster. He looked over his shoulder at the extraction plant and knew there would be a team of officers readying their weapons. If Jones got past Lane and Lacey, they would be the final line of defense.
Lane looked along the east side of the road where green grain waved and bent in the wind. He looked to the west side and nodded at Lacey. He saw that she had her Glock ready. Lane looked down the hill. The truck approached the stretch of gravel. He looked down and slid a round into the Glock’s chamber. He’ll have to be very close before we’ll be able to open fire.
The truck hit the edge of the gravel road. Jones was about three hundred metres away and closing. A plume of dust rose up behind the rear wheels of the truck. Headlights flanked the open maw that was once the pickup’s grille. Lane could see the driver behind the steering wheel.
Lane watched the rear of the truck buck as it hit a hump in the washboard. It bounced once. The driver corrected as the rear end swung east.
The back wheels of the truck hit a hole.
The tail end of the truck bounced a second time. This time the wheels appeared to come off the ground.
The wheels touched, and the truck bottomed out. The tires on the front end splayed out.
A flash of light silhouetted the driver hunched over the wheel. The truck evaporated in a blast of light and dust.
Debris shot though the sand-coloured cloud. Lane blinked and stepped back. He watched the wave of the aftershock tsunami its way through the green wheat. The sound of the blast reached them.
He felt the concussion in his chest. It forced him back two more steps.
A tire dropped out of the sky, bounced on the road, wobbled, rolled into the ditch, and fell on its side.
The roof of the truck floated down, slipped sideways, then began to spin leaf-like to the ground.
Lane looked at Lacey.
“What the hell happened?” she asked.
Lane’s phone rang. He ejected the clip from his Glock, then the round, and put the clip and bullet in his jacket pocket before tucking the gun into its holster. He reached for the phone. “Lane.”
“We may be in the middle of a coordinated attack,” Keely said.
“Explain.” Lane breathed deeply to calm his nerves.
“A van is parked in the lot behind Eagle’s Nest Christian Church. The church has its Stampede breakfast this morning. The minister phoned to report an abandoned vehicle. He thinks it might be loaded with explosives in reaction to their Quran incident,” Keely said.
Lane thought for a moment. “Anything painted on the side of the van?”
“Beauty could use a little help to save the world,” Keely said.
“Just to be safe, follow procedure. Cordon the lot off. Evacuate the church. We’ll be there in a few minutes.” Lane waved at Lacey and pointed to the chopper. She nodded, climbed inside, and put her helmet on.
Lane grabbed the handle attached to the helicopter’s metal frame, climbed in, then got himself belted and hooked in. Keep your mind clear, think slowly, forget about Jones, and concentrate on this new situation.
“What about the scene?” Lacey pointed at the cloud of smoke and dust that drifted east with the wind.
By now they’ll have heard about or seen the explosion. Many people at the church will be close to panic. “Alert forensics and request that the marked units cordon off the scene until after the bomb squad clears the area. Right now we have a more pressing situation.”
Lacey nodded as she began the start-up procedures.
After they lifted off, Lacey flew over the scene of the explosion. Lane looked down. The crater in the road stretched from ditch to ditch. Next to the crater was part of the truck’s frame. The engine was in the ditch. A shred of clothing stuck to the barbwire fence. It flapped in the wind. Lane saw the truck’s steering wheel this side of the crater. A hand still gripped the wheel. The arm attached to the hand ended at the elbow.
Lacey looked east. He heard his headphones crackle.
“What the hell happened?” Harper demanded.
Lane shook the image of the severed arm out of his mind. “Jones blew himself up. I can’t talk right now. I need to think ahead. There’s another situation.”
Within four minutes, they hovered over the church parking lot. Lacey was careful to stay wide of the power lines and the nearby power station.
Lane took in the scene as they hovered. Black-and-white police cars had the entrance to the church parking lot blocked off. The van was parked at the north end of the lot. At the south end stood a line of tables with red-and-white-checked tablecloths flapping in the wind a
nd portable griddles for making pancakes. Go with the evidence, then go with your gut. A connection between Jones and Donna doesn’t add up. Don’t listen to the fear. Think this through!
×
Donna found her mother in the parking lot where she’d left both vans. The second van was parked exactly where Donna had left it the night before. She pulled up on the driver’s side, shut off her Harley, leaned it onto its kickstand, and took off her sunglasses. There was a sweet, heavy stink of gasoline in the air.
Stacie rolled down the driver’s side window of the van. “It won’t start.”
“It’s probably flooded,” Donna said.
“How do you know that?” Stacie looked at her daughter like she had either caught her in a lie or just made the discovery that Donna was a psychic.
“Take your right foot, put it on the gas pedal, and press it halfway to the floor.” Donna leaned against the door.
“Okay.” Stacie stepped on the gas pedal.
“Turn the key.” Donna tapped her upper lip with a forefinger.
The starter whined. The engine coughed, then caught. White smoked pooped from the exhaust pipe.
“I’ll follow you to the Islamic Centre.” Donna put her sunglasses on, straddled her bike, leaned it upright, and hit the starter.
×
Chris leaned forward. His hands were cuffed behind his back. He was in the rear seat of a police cruiser as it travelled east along Crowchild Trail toward the centre of the city.
The officer who sat next to the driver turned to Chris. “You doin’ okay back there?”
Chris nodded and smiled. His smile turned into a grin.
“Wanna share the joke?” the officer asked.
Chris thought for a moment. “I’m free.”
The officer laughed — a sharp, short bark — and said, “You’re kidding, right?”
Chris shook his head. “Nope.”
×
Lane closed the helicopter door, stepped away from the machine, waved at Lacey, then turned and walked downhill over the uneven ground of the vacant lot toward the Eagle’s Nest Christian Church, which looked down at John Laurie Boulevard and a daycare. It was in the final stages of being evacuated. Toddlers were being loaded onto a city bus.
He felt the blast of wind from the rotors as the helicopter lifted off. He put his hand over his eyes as dust whirled around him. I’ll need a shower after this, he thought, tasted grit on his tongue, and went to spit. Not yet! You’ll wear it!
The wind subsided, quickly replaced by a gusty thirty-kilometre-per-hour wind from the west.
He looked toward the church, turned his head, and spat. Keely waved from outside of the barricade. He walked toward her. Just keep your cool. His body shivered as he flashed back to the shock of the explosion and the image of Jones’s arm still attached to the steering wheel.
When he got closer, Keely asked, “How far away were you from the blast?”
“Maybe two hundred metres.” Lane looked at the van parked next to a retaining wall in the church parking lot. The church was a sand-coloured stucco structure. “What’s the news on the van?” Lane asked.
“We’ve got an ID for the owner. It’s Donna Laughton, the daughter of the woman I talked to about the glycerine,” Keely said.
“The bomb disposal unit is on its way.” Nigel looked west and shook his head as he watched the approaching dust cloud reaching five hundred metres into the sky, an ominous reminder of what Jones intended to do.
“The only person harmed so far was the driver of the truck. Let’s keep it that way.” Lane heard a noise and looked at the street running along the west side of the church.
×
Donna’s Harley idled at the lights at John Laurie Boulevard. She looked to her left and saw the cream-coloured stucco of Eagle’s Nest Church.
“How come we didn’t start up the van when we dropped it off?” Stacie wore her new helmet and red leather jacket. She perched on the rear seat with her arms wrapped around her daughter.
“It takes a few minutes for the mixture to settle. That’s why I had to get remote starters for both. And Mom?” Donna asked.
“What?”
“Can you get your hands off my boobs?”
“Oh, sorry.” Stacie lowered her hands, then held on tight to Donna’s waist when the light turned green and Donna opened the throttle.
“So, you think this will be easy?” Lisa, the dead sister voice in Donna’s head, asked.
Donna shifted into second, leaned left into the turn, and wondered why Lisa had decided to talk with her at this moment. “Where have you been?”
“Keeping an eye on you and Mom. Never thought I’d see Mom on the back of your motorcycle.”
“I think the red leather jacket fulfills one of her secret fantasies.” Donna looked up the hill.
“I hope you two aren’t doing this just because of me. That would be such a dramatic gesture. It’s not like you at all,” Lisa said.
“You know why I’m doing this.” Donna spotted a black-and-white police cruiser parked across the entrance to the church parking lot. Then she saw the yellow tape marking the perimeter. Shit, I have to stop to get the remote out of my pocket. She pulled over to the curb, squeezed the clutch, and stopped. She put her right foot on the curb to steady the bike. Her leg strained at the combined weight of the bike and her mother. “Mom, help me out here. Put your foot on the curb.”
“Why?” Stacie asked before doing as she was told.
Donna took a moment to look at the two men and one woman standing next to the car. She recognized one of the men as she reached into her pocket, pulled out the remote starter, pointed it at the van, and pressed the button.
Lane raised his arm to stop her. “Hey!”
Donna watched the van and saw a blue puff of exhaust billow from its tail pipe. She stuffed the remote back in her pocket, opened the throttle, eased out the clutch. The bike stalled. “Shit!” She realized too late that she’d left the bike in second gear. She pulled back the clutch, took the weight of the bike on her left leg, shifted into first with her right, and hit the starter.
She could see her neighbour — the detective — in her rearview mirror. He ran and pointed at her. “Stop!”
A younger cop reached for his weapon.
A young woman ran past Detective Lane.
The Harley’s engine roared. Donna opened the throttle a touch, eased out the clutch, and pulled away. Stacie almost squeezed the air out of her lungs.
Lane stopped, turned, and ran for the car. He pointed at Nigel, then at the unmarked car. “Start it up!” He looked at Keely and — with an apology implied, knowing he was choosing between two partners — asked, “Can you stay here?”
Keely frowned and nodded.
Lane pointed at the parked vehicles across the street. “Get behind one of those cars just in case.” Lane climbed into the passenger seat as Nigel started the engine.
The tires chirped, then Nigel accelerated up the hill. “I’ve called for black-and-whites to block the exits.”
Lane nodded as he did up his seat belt.
Ahead, the passenger wearing the red leather jacket on the back of the Harley looked over her shoulder.
Stacie said, “The police are following us. Their lights are flashing.”
“I know, Mom. We just have to get back down the hill to start up the other van. Then we’ll stop.” Donna down shifted and turned the corner.
“It looks like they’re not going to pull over.” Nigel closed on the Harley as he turned on the siren.
A police car approached from the east. The driver turned across two lanes.
Donna downshifted, turned right, travelled down a paved alley, bumped over a curb, and bounced over a stretch of grass running between two fences. “Hold on, Mom.”
Donna eased the bike over the crest of a hill and down onto the flat of a baseball diamond.
“Want me to follow?” Nigel asked.
Lane shook his head. “No, just take a r
ight up there by the gas station. She’ll probably end up back on the road.”
“You sure?” Nigel asked.
Lane nodded. “I sometimes walk the dogs up here.”
Nigel turned the corner and accelerated.
Donna pointed the bike down another hill, then along the flat, and headed for a gap in the trees near the sidewalk.
Lisa said, “Look, sis, you’ve proved you know how to ride a bike. Pull over before this gets out of hand.”
“I just need to start up the second van. Then I’ll stop and talk.” Donna reached the sidewalk, bumped over the curb, turned right down the hill, opened the throttle, shifted into a higher gear, and headed for John Laurie Boulevard.
“There’s nothing to prove,” Lisa said.
The Harley’s engine roared. Ahead, the light was red. Donna looked in her mirror. The unmarked police car was closing. She shifted down a gear, thinking she might need the acceleration. “Hold on tight, Mom.”
Lisa said, “Believe me, this little adventure of yours could turn deadly any second now.”
“Remember? You didn’t listen to me when I told you not to go to Afghanistan,” Donna said.
“So this is what it’s all about. You’re still mad at me?” Lisa asked.
Lane’s phone rang as Nigel closed to within ten metres of the motorcycle.
Lane looked at the face of his phone, recognized the number, and answered, “Lane.” He listened, then said, “You can’t be serious!”
Nigel said, “I think she’s going to run the red light.”
Lane pressed the phone’s end button. “Turn your siren off!”
“What?” Nigel asked.
“Do it!”
Nigel shut the siren off.
“Now pull up beside her so the traffic on John Laurie can see our lights if she decides to run the red,” Lane said.
“This is crazy!” Nigel pulled into the left-hand lane and accelerated, then braked to match the speed of the bike.
“That’s it! Perfect!” Lane looked to his right.
Donna looked down at him.
Lane smiled, raised his hands, turned them palms down, pushed them downward, and mouthed the words Slow it down.