Torque

by Glenn Muller

  “Why are we being attacked? Tell me!”

  Fenn worked to keep a calm tone. “I think the bathroom window will open. Can you manage to climb through it?”

  “Wrapped in a sheet?”

  “I’ll get your clothes. Just go.”

  He found one of his boots and gave it to her. “If the screen sticks knock it out with this. And stay low.”

  The gunfire appeared to have ceased but the smoke in the unit was quickly replacing the oxygen. Fenn thought he could hear an alarm and the sound of sirens.

  He crawled beside her to the bathroom door then, sucking air through a blanket, set about gathering any clothing he could find. Again, seconds seemed like hours and nearly blind with stinging tears he stumbled into the bathroom with lungs ready to burst. He slammed the door shut then stood on the toilet seat coughing and sucking in fresh air from the open window. He wiped his eyes with a pant leg before shoving the bundle of clothes through the torn screen.

  “About time!”

  Although he couldn’t see Kim, she sounded healthy enough. He draped a towel over the sill and worked on getting himself through the narrow gap.

  The clanging of bells was now very clear, as was the wail of sirens. This was the back of the building, where truck and bus parking was shared with the roadhouse. Awakened by the commotion a couple of drivers had dropped down from their rigs and were heading toward Kim. Crouched beneath the window she was attempting to wrap her bloody calf with the bottom of her improvised toga. At the sight of Fenn’s naked form dropping down the wall the truckers broke their stride. After a two-second conference they continued their approach.

  Kim grabbed her skirt from the pile while Fenn tried to separate her shirt from his pants. She snatched the blouse from his hand.

  “Where’s my underwear?”

  “Somewhere in the room—with mine.” He gave a weak smile and pulled up his jeans just as the truckers reached them.

  “Was this fellow bothering you, Miss?” said the shortest of the pair.

  “No,” Kim replied. “But he’s starting to.” There were lines where tears had cleaned the smoke from her face. A few more bathroom windows had lit up but none were emitting naked bodies. Fenn tried to decide which of his sleeves was inside out.

  “Nothing more than a flesh wound, Ma’am.” The taller guy, obviously from south of the border, had claimed the honour of examining Kim’s wound. “If you’ll allow, I’ve a bandage in the cab.” He set off at a trot for his truck.

  Kim finished buttoning her blouse. “Y’all are such Gentlemen.” Her voice sounded normal though her fingers struggled with their task.

  Fenn pulled his pant legs down over his boots.

  “I’m going to check around front.” He tried to sound casual but Kim gave him a startled look.

  “Do you think you should?”

  “I doubt those guys stuck around, and I think the fire trucks are here.” Which was a good thing since smoke was now pluming from the bathroom window above them.

  “Which guys?” The short one released his blood-staunching hold of Kim’s calf so his buddy could play doctor.

  “Kim will tell you. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Hey, don’t ask me. I’ve no idea what’s going on. Fenn, you asshole, get back here!”

  == == ==

  Another police car bounced into the lot and stopped near to where the fire brigade was doing its thing. Apart from soot stains on the outer wall, the other units didn’t appear to be affected. A couple of smoke eaters replete with axes and oxygen masks were heading toward the burning room. Fenn ran toward them waving his arms and dodging guests carrying hastily packed bags.

  Intercepted by a cop, he yelled to a fireman holding a walkie-talkie.

  “Tell them that no-one is in there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  The blistering door was still intact, and only a lunatic would have jumped through the curtains.

  “Yeah. That was my room. We both got out.”

  The fireman spoke into his radio and his buddies backed away.

  “Both? Where’s the other party?”

  “Around back. She may require medical attention.” Even if she didn’t, was there a woman alive who wouldn’t soak up a little firefighter attention. It was the least he could do.

  The next six hours were a drag.

  == == ==

  Fenn’s account of the attack was corroborated by the Fire Marshall who found shards from a vodka bottle below the window frame and enough pellets from the walls to fill a shot glass. Kim went to the infirmary with a paramedic. It was not the first time Fenn had a date leave with someone else. For a change, he also left with a different escort. A Detective Haslett took him downtown, gave him a coffee and a civil, yet thorough, grilling.

  Fenn gave the answers of the innocent. It seemed the simplest route. Requesting a lawyer would have aroused suspicion when what he really needed was time to think. Haslett’s hints of drug deals gone wrong meant they hadn’t gotten anything from Kim. She had already left by the time Fenn was allowed to call a cab.

  Back at the motel, Dusty, who looked more like an Achmed and had a British East Indies accent, accosted him as he unlocked his car.

  “Sir. We must speak about these damages.”

  Fenn gave him a blank look.

  “What about them?”

  “I must be recompensed, sir. Who will pay for these damages?” He indicated the gutted unit. It stood out like a black eye amidst the modular neatness of the block.

  “Isn’t that why you pay insurance?” Fenn said.

  “Sir, when I put in a claim, my premiums go up. You know how this is.”

  Fenn did. “I’m sorry, friend. I’m afraid that’s the way of business.” He started the car.

  Dusty moved to grab the door handle. “No. This is not good enough! I can charge it to your card, I have the number.”

  “Wasn’t my card,” Fenn shot back, hitting the lock. It was Kim’s card. Hopefully, that route wouldn’t be taken.

  “I will call my lawyer. We will take you to court.” That route might be.

  Fenn rolled down the window an inch. “In that case, expect a counter-suit for the unit’s inoperative sprinklers. And I’ll be claiming a refund for the early check-out.”

  He left Dusty to stiff-leg back to his office. He did feel bad for the guy, though. He also felt bad for Kim. Hell, he ought to feel bad for himself. A week ago his life was purring along just fine. Now look at it.

  Pure crap.

  CHAPTER 25

  When Fenn got home there was a note stuck to his door that simply said, THIS WILL BE REPLACED ON MONDAY. He gave Mogg her breakfast, then shaved, showered, and crashed naked on top of his bed where his sleep was disturbed by dreams of disaster.

  He awoke mid-afternoon still feeling wrung out and staggered down the hall. There was a message on the answering machine but the female caller wasn’t Kim, as he had hoped, it was Reis. Her client was prepared to sweeten their offer for the disc. She’d left a number to call. Fenn jotted it down and then dialed Kim’s house.

  Her phone rang until the machine kicked in. The message was short and direct, “If your name is Fenn, hang up now and don’t call back.”

  “I’m so sorry, Kim. I’m not sure what I’m dealing with, here, and it really bothers me that you got caught up in it. I appreciate you keeping everything confidential and, well, I hope I get the chance to make it up to you.” He paused, could think of nothing to add, and hung up.

  In the bathroom he pulled Mogg’s litter box from under the sink. He raised the liners and retrieved the package with the CD jewel case inside. He opened it and held the disc up to the light. What made this inheritance from his father so valuable that he’d be firebombed for it? Whatever data it held, it was now putting his friends in danger and that was unacceptable. He went back to the phone and after a moment’s debate called Asha at home.

  “What’s happening, Chas?”

  “Asha, you once
told me your cousin was a computer whiz.”

  “Yeah—Carmen. He develops software for hospitals. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, you already know half of the story so here’s the rest of it.” He filled in the gaps for her and added the motel incident. When he finished the line was silent.

  “Asha, are you still there?”

  “I didn’t know you had a thing for Kim Klaasen.”

  “And I didn’t know you had a thing for Joe Posada.”

  “Posada! Oh. No. That was just a movie date with a co-worker.”

  “Well, mine was just a date, too.”

  Asha snickered. “Some date.”

  “Let’s just ignore that for the moment. Would your cousin be able to look at this disc and tell me what’s so damned special about it?”

  “Probably, though he does live in Vancouver. Give me a few minutes to phone him. I’ll just mention the bare essentials and see what he thinks.” She hung up and Fenn went to get dressed.

  Quick as her word, Asha called him back.

  “Carmen said that if we can put the disc in a computer connected to the Internet he may be able to read it remotely.”

  “I have an Internet connection but my computer got smashed. How’s your set-up?”

  “I’m on the ‘net but my computer is really slow. The one at the office is pretty quick, although Dieter will have a fit if he finds out. The whole Y2K Millennium Bug thing has got him paranoid about the security of the computer system. However, it is Sunday so he won’t be there. Meet me at DriveCheck in half an hour.”

  == == ==

  Fenn arrived just as Asha was unlocking the door. She disarmed the alarm but left the lights off. While the computer was booting up she got Carmen on the speakerphone. He had her download a program that would give him control of the office server.

  “Put the disc in the drive, Asha,” he said. Files started to scroll down the screen and a cursor, moved by an unseen hand, began to highlight text and make new information appear. Some files had flow charts, others had symbols that looked like atomic diagrams with notations. Most of the text referred to complex chemicals and there were several mathematical formulae.

  Carmen flicked back and forth for several minutes then said, “This is out my area of expertise. However, it looks like documentation for the development of new chemical agents. If you don’t mind, Chas, I’d like to copy these files and take them to a friend at the University of British Columbia.”

  Fenn looked at Asha who shrugged her shoulders.

  “That’s fine,” he said. “But I need you to keep the source confidential until I can get more information on their pedigree.”

  “Will do,” said Carmen, and on the screen a frame opened up with an animation of a file folder flying between two computers. COPY IN PROGRESS.

  Fenn and Asha sat at the desk and watched quietly. In the silence of the transfer they caught the sound of a key going into the front door lock. Eyes wide, they looked at each other.

  “That must be Dieter. He’ll go ballistic if he finds out Carmen has control of the server,” hissed Asha. “Carmen, we’ve got to go. You keep copying and shut down when you’re done. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Asha disconnected the call and turned off the computer monitor. She hoped the little flashing diode indicating activity on the server wouldn’t attract the attention of her boss.

  Finally gaining entry after first locking what had been an unlocked door, Dieter, very mod in his flared jeans, white polo shirt and Burberry car coat, walked up the hall. He kept the purple, John Lennon style, sunglasses perched on his long thin nose even though it was fairly dim in the office.

  Asha thrust a clipboard into Fenn’s hand then spun around and flashed a big smile. “Hey there, Dieter. What are you doing here on a Sunday?”

  Clearly surprised, Dieter stammered then said, “Just, er, forgot something. What are you two doing here?”

  “Oh, Chas lost his wallet so he’s got to replace his driver’s licence. Since we keep copies in the office, we’re just looking up the number.”

  “First your apartment. Now your wallet. You really are having a bad week, aren’t you, Chas.”

  Fenn nodded and swiveled so Dieter wouldn’t glimpse the back pocket of his jeans, where his wallet clearly was. Asha opened a cabinet and pulled out a folder.

  “Write this down, Chas.” She read off an alphanumeric string beginning with an F.

  Fenn dutifully copied it to the clipboard.

  “Since the computer is on, Asha,” said Dieter. “Can you look something up for me?”

  All three of them looked at the flashing green light on the server.

  “We can’t. Not right now. The server is backing up. It might take hours.”

  “Hours?” said Dieter.

  “Hours,” said Asha, and she and Fenn nodded in unison.

  Dieter shrugged his shoulders. “It wasn’t that important. Well, I just came to, ah, get something I left behind.” And with that he went into his office and closed the door. A second later the green light stopped flashing.

  “Carmen has logged off,” whispered Asha. Quickly she ejected the disc and gave it to Fenn who replaced it in the jewel case. “Let’s go.”

  Out in the parking lot, Fenn said, “Why did Dieter show up?”

  “He and Carole must have smoked all their joints. He keeps most of his stash at the office, in the rafters. Probably came by for refill.”

  “Do they know that you know this?”

  Asha shook her head and gave a devious smile. She pulled her car key from a pocket.

  “Try and have a quiet evening, Chas. I’ll let you know if Carmen comes up with anything.” She stepped off the curb.

  “Asha.” She stopped and turned to look at him full on. There were those gorgeous dark eyes, always willing to lock onto his. He felt his emotions churn within but what he wanted to say wouldn’t come out.

  “So, um, thanks, eh. I really appreciate your help.”

  She held his gaze for one more second, as if searching for something, then said, “Okay. Talk to you later, Chas.”

  == == ==

  Stretched out on the floor of his living room he fed Mogg bits of fried chicken from his supper and tried to assimilate the facts into some sort of cohesive order.

  His estranged father had sent him a disc along with a little gold amulet, and then had not communicated further.

  The disc contained a chemical formula.

  So far the amulet just seemed to be a charm—Reis hadn’t shown any interest in it.

  There were two factions interested in the disc. One represented by a woman offering money, and the other represented by ruthless thugs.

  According to Kim, the thugs’ Grand Marquis was registered to Harrowport and Dynes Funeral home.

  Ron Jenner had left DriveCheck to work for that funeral home.

  The more Fenn thought back on the underground garage incident, the more he was convinced that the driver of the Grand Marquis had been Ron Jenner.

  Jenner and his buddy had busted up the apartment.

  Jenner was also the reason the cops came to visit Dieter, at the office.

  Fenn rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. The points swirled in his mind like a suspended mobile until his eyelids closed of their own accord.

  Then they flew open.

  Burlington! The common denominator was Burlington. He was in Burlington; the disc was in Burlington; the number Reis had given him was a Burlington exchange; the thugs were definitely in Burlington; and so was Harrowport and Dynes. To extrapolate that further, it then stood to reason that Burlington was also where his father was.

  So why the big silence?

  Fenn sat up. It didn’t make sense that his father would appear out of the blue, drop a bombshell, and then just disappear. Perhaps Stanislaw had been forced into hiding. Still, with all that had happened over the past week surely he’d have made some attempt at contact.

  Unless that was physic
ally impossible. Fenn recalled the scene he and Muriel had passed at the motel.

  “Mogg. I’ll be right back.” He left the apartment and made his way down to the laundry room in the building’s basement. The folding table always had a collection of newspapers for those who would rather read than watch their socks spin. The news was always a day old but that was exactly what Fenn wanted.

  He flipped through the Saturday edition of the local rag until he came across the heading, POLICE CHECKING OUT CLUES IN MOTEL MURDER. The report was brief, saying only that the victim was a male in his late fifties, name withheld until next of kin could be notified, and that circumstances appeared similar to the recent homicide of Martin Durrell, a security guard contracted by a pharmaceutical research facility.

  Fenn read the last part again then slowly folded the newspaper on the table.

  A woman wearing an old football jersey and trackpants pushed open the door and thumped a large hamper of clothes onto the table. Fenn nodded and smiled, eased the paper from beneath the basket, and took it upstairs. He opened a beer and for the next half hour paced about the apartment, occasionally reading the article over again. Mogg watched him placidly from the couch.

  Finally he sat down beside her.

  “If I go to the police with this, they’ll certainly take the disc, and that won’t get either Reis or the thugs off my back. The cops will soon realize that I held back information on the firebombing, and if the disc came from the pharmaceutical facility where Durrell worked there’s little doubt they’ll book me as an accessory to homicide, if not for the murder itself.

  “And, what if I’m the only suspect? I wouldn’t be the first innocent guy to rot in jail for a crime he didn’t commit.”

  Fenn leaned forward, elbows on knees, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

  “I need to offload this damned disc. This damned gift from my so called father!”

  Bleary-eyed, he looked around at the patched up state of his home. He’d been threatened. He’d been invaded. He’d almost been killed, and so had Kim. He’d lost work and he was going to lose his apartment. Out there, somewhere, somebody was trying awfully hard to make him a victim. That was one role he’d never played and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.