by Glenn Muller
“It sounds like he took the wrong path, though it won’t be long before he comes this way. However, there may be a chance we can turn this in our favour.”
He headed down the trail for fifty metres to where two trees flanked the path. He secured the rope to the trunk of one, about chest high, and then draped it across the path and over the lowermost branch of the opposite tree. From the echoes they could tell that the motorbike rider had abandoned the initial trail and was now coming their way.
“Right. Give me the hammer and stand beyond the rope. Wait until he spots you then start running down the trail.”
Kim took her place. Fenn wrapped the cord around his good arm and crouched behind the adjacent rock.
“Steady. Here he comes.”
Kim stood as if ready to receive the baton from a relay runner. A light flashed through the trees then the bike came into view. She held her position until the rider gunned the engine, then took off in a sprint. The bike accelerated quickly and shifted gear. Fenn tensed then took three rearward steps and braced himself.
The trees absorbed most of the shock but this was a real clothesline and a lot more effective than the other had been. The rider flew back and the bike raced on. Kim dove off the path to avoid the runaway machine, yet it still clipped her ankle before crashing into a gulley. Although the rider had been winded his helmet had saved him from serious head injury. He began to sit up but fell back when he saw a kilted terror descend with a hammer.
Fenn would take no prisoners and his blow broke two of the man’s ribs. For good measure he also whacked him across the knee. He lifted the visor, the man’s face was contorted in pain.
“Listen to me, Dipshit,” Fenn told him. “You guys are not going to win this.” He frisked the rider and was surprised to see he wasn’t armed.
“And you can tell Jenner that he’s next,” he added, and went to retrieve his rope.
Kim was coming toward him, limping.
“What happened to you?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Just something else for the list.”
Fenn grabbed his pack. “Well, if you can hobble a few more steps, we just might have our ticket out of here.”
CHAPTER 43
Jenner helped the Asian to his feet. The man sounded like he’d swallowed a rug.
“C’mon, Chico. If we don’t get that little bitch back there’ll be hell to pay.”
By hell, he meant Reis who probably wanted the Klaasen kid for herself. Wouldn’t surprise him at all after the way she’d bitten his head off over the phone. What did surprise him was the way Fenn kept showing up. That wouldn’t be so bad if he’d stop running off with the hostage. It was tough to coerce a guy who wouldn’t stay in one place.
Back at the house, Chico went to the kitchen for water and Jenner crossed the foyer to the main living area where he found the sentry by the phone.
“Who are you calling, Rowan?”
Rowan put down the receiver. “My wife. I didn’t exactly expect to be here.”
“You can talk to her later. Find Tad and tell him to take the dirt bike up the trail. Blondie just flew the coop with Fenn—again.”
Rowan took out his handgun and checked the magazine. Jenner gave a disparaging shake of his head.
“Make sure you plug him, and not her, Clint. Necrophilia is not my thing.”
Rowan holstered the gun. “Some backup would be good. When is the boss supposed to get here?”
“Anytime, soon. You and Chico take the ATV and follow Tad. I’m going to check along the road. Fenn certainly didn’t fly here so he must have a vehicle nearby.”
In a small room off the foyer was the security centre. On a desk two computer monitors displayed a live feed from the driveway gate cameras. Next to the desk was a locker for firearms from which Jenner selected a Remington double-barrelled shotgun. He broke it open and filled the chambers with a pair of shells. Handguns were fine for posers like Rowan but nothing meant business like the twin tubes of a 12-gauge.
He punched a code on the computer keyboard to open the gates and went outside. He felt a spit of rain and hoped it was going to pour. Fenn might have a knack for showing up where he wasn’t wanted but Jenner was ready to bet he hadn’t brought a tent.
The garage doors were open and Tad had the dirt bike warming up while he adjusted his helmet. Chico was in the ATV rubbing his neck and watching Rowan fumble with a set of keys. Jenner took the limo and drove through the gate. He turned right. Fenn would have come from the left, where the highway was, and had likely continued down the road and parked. Sure enough, the limo’s high beams soon reflected off a set of taillights on the shoulder.
He pulled into the lay-by and stopped behind the car; a Dodge Challenger R/T. It was in need of a paint job but the body and chrome were in good shape. With the shotgun crooked in his arm he circled the vehicle and admired the Hemi cowling protruding through the Shaker hood. Once he’d disposed of Fenn he would have to take this puppy for a spin.
The wind rustled through the trees and Jenner peered into the woods. The limo's headlights made the darkness opaque beyond the edge of the road. He turned his attention back to the car and tried the driver’s door. Locked. He shattered the small side window behind the driver’s seat with the rifle butt and snaked a long arm through to the lock release on the driver’s armrest.
On the passenger seat a cell phone with a dead battery lay on top of a page of handwritten directions to The Retreat. The glove box contained only a tire pressure gauge and a dog-eared map of Ontario and Quebec. Fenn kept a tidy car. Jenner popped the trunk with the interior release and went to the rear. He raised the lid.
“What have we here?”
Of the few items in the trunk the black leather attaché case got Jenner’s immediate attention. He propped the shotgun against the bumper and undid the snaps that held the top of the bag closed. Inside was a small box containing a column of vinyl patches. He knew what those were. As for the rest of it, he had to tilt the bag toward the light to be sure of what he was seeing.
== == ==
A thousand metres above the highway the helicopter pilot was making quicker time than the evening rush below. The sun had fallen from the horizon and the instruments were beginning to glow in the cockpit. Lareault sat beside him. Bloomfield was in the back. The pilot had been listening to a police dispatcher. He turned a dial and his voice came into the headphones of his passengers.
“I’m going to put you down at a truck stop outside of Port Severn. A cruiser will take you to where local units have set up roadblocks on Little Chute Road. The ETF truck has been delayed by an accident on the highway. They expect to arrive at the assembly point about 7 p.m.”
Lareault turned to look at Bloomfield. “Probably just as well. I’d like time to assess the situation before adding that element to the mix.”
The Emergency Task Force were very good at their brand of law enforcement, and Lareault was glad of their support, but whenever they were called out the media was never far behind. The big sergeant gave him the thumbs up. He hadn’t said much at all while they’d been airborne.
“Bet you can’t wait to tell Arlene about this. Eh, Frank?”
Another thumbs up.
“Sir.” It was the pilot again. “Dispatch wants you to know that a Lucien Harrowport has just been stopped at the roadblock.”
“Have the dispatcher relay that Harrowport is to be held on suspicion of kidnapping, unless the officers can find something more tangible.”
It might not stick but it would buy them some time.
“And, inform the task force they won’t need to tuck and roll when they arrive. I’ve arranged for some blueprints and aerial surveys to be sent out. We’re also hoping for some real-time intel—we’ve got a resource on the inside.”
At least Lareault hoped they did. There’d been no contact with the man since the informal raid, this morning.
== == ==
Fenn left Kim with the hammer and backpack and scramb
led into the gulley where the motorbike lay. He grabbed the seat and stood it up. The motor had stalled and he would need it running to get back onto the trail. The handlebars had been knocked askew but he could deal with that, as long as it ran. The key was in the ON position so he squeezed the clutch lever and twisted the gearshift to find Neutral.
“Right,” he muttered. “All I have to do is put my foot on the kick-start pedal, and …”
On the third kick the motor sputtered to life and Fenn feathered the throttle to keep it going. After a few seconds the engine began to run evenly and Fenn aligned the bike with the route he wanted to climb up to the trail.
Kim was watching from above when she heard, “Aww, crap!”
“What?”
“The front wheel is bent all to hell. The bloody thing is useless.” Fenn let the bike fall over and stood there looking at it.
“Well, I think you should get up here, anyway,” said Kim. “I see more lights coming down the trail.”
“How’s our friend doing?”
“Hard to see from here, but I think he’s still lying there.”
“A wounded soldier is a good way to slow down your enemy. His compatriots are more likely to stop and tend to him.” Fenn was now beside her.
“Spoken like a true guy.”
“Just saying.”
“Good to know. Now come on. We need to get farther up the path so they won’t be able to see us.”
It was now dark enough to obscure details at the side of the trail. Fenn had a hand-crank flashlight in his pack but preferred to wait until they absolutely needed to use it. He heard Kim stumble in front of him. That time would be fairly soon.
CHAPTER 44
With the dome light on and the attaché case beside him Jenner sat in the back seat of the limo and counted the bundles of cash. The notes were not all the same denomination but he knew a fuckload of money when he saw one. Fenn had obviously got it from Reis—but had he traded the disc for the cash, which didn’t seem likely, or had he simply stolen the bag? Either way, the dynamic had definitely changed.
Reis hadn’t made contact since their last conversation and if she showed up, now, she’d be empty-handed and of little value to anyone. Jenner put the bundles back in the bag. If this fortune disappeared then Fenn, as the last known possessor, would be on the hook for it. Of course, if he caught up with Fenn and retrieved the disc then he could deal himself into the meeting that Harrowport had arranged.
Which was the exact point that Reis had got to, and he understood her frustration over Fenn’s refusal to cooperate. He hadn’t liked the guy when they worked for the same company. Fenn was always favoured by that snug babe they had on reception, and the Lundsens thought the sun shone out his ass. If he got their golden boy in front of the Remington, the sun really would shine out Fenn’s ass.
That driving school gig had sucked, anyway. You weren’t allowed to date the girls and the women never showed proper appreciation for what he had to offer. Neither had Reis. Funny how things work out.
Jenner went back to the Challenger and popped the hood. He unclipped the distributor cap and removed the rotor to hobble Fenn’s ride. No sense irreversibly damaging something he intended to claim for his own. He returned to the limo and put the rotor in the attaché case.
At the house, he keyed in the command to close the gates and stashed the bag in the cavernous hall closet. The front door was open and he saw the ATV come out of the woods. Rowan was driving and Chico was in the back with Tad who seemed to have suffered an injury. Jenner went onto the granite steps to meet them.
“What happened?”
Rowan shook his head. “It’s going down the same as it did this morning. I don’t get it.”
Jenner raised his arms in exasperation. “There’s nothing to get! They were on foot. You fellas had wheels. How come you couldn’t bring them in?”
“Well, we had to bring Tad back, didn’t we. He’s hurt pretty bad. Might need a doctor. Besides, it got dark and we couldn’t see shit out there.”
Jenner’s instructor days had taught him the signs of anxiety. Rowan was spooked.
“Take Tad into the living room and we’ll have a look at him. After that, we’ll have a pow-wow. Try and figure out why we’re the only ones here.”
Rowan nodded. He entered the foyer like a weary cowpuncher would a saloon after a three-week cattle drive. Chico just shook his head and offered his shoulder to Tad. Jenner scanned the perimeter then followed them in.
== == ==
The Emergency Task Force arrived at the roadblock in a police-tuned Chevrolet Suburban and a Gurkha multi-purpose vehicle. The MPV was an armoured truck built on the chassis of a Ford F550. Normally, an ETF team was ten members strong but only eight had come on this trip. They retrieved shotguns, sniper rifles, flash-bangs, and teargas grenades from the MPV then stood off to the side of it in a loose group.
Twenty-one year old Simon Bailey had been on the squad for nine months and had been called out on assignment four times. He had yet to discharge his weapon in a hot situation, and that was good for it proved the effectiveness of their show of force. If intimidation persuaded a perp to surrender then the ETF had done their job. And there was a lot less paperwork.
Bailey played hockey on Friday nights with a bunch of guys he’d known forever. After the game they’d go for beers and chat up the local ladies. Each week there would be different girls and the same questions.
Have you ever shot a suspect?
No.
Would you really kill somebody?
Yes.
Each squad member had a speciality: assault, bomb handling, negotiation, or sniper. Bailey spent several hours a week at the rifle range with his Remington 700 and could consistently take out a man’s eye at four hundred metres—providing the man stood still. If the target insisted on moving around, Bailey could still make a successful head shot at twice that distance.
His team leader was discussing the situation with the detective who appeared to be in charge of the scene. “Say the word, Inspector, and we’ll have that place lit up like a stadium.”
“We have to take this one slower than usual,” the detective replied. “We have a man inside, and under no circumstances can we allow the hostage to be harmed.”
“No worries, Mate. My team has yet to lose a hostage. Perfect record.”
The two men were studying an aerial photograph of the site, on the hood of a car.
“How will you set up?”
“A sniper team will approach through the woods and take positions that cover the windows and exits. If necessary, we’ll advance an officer close to the building with audio and imaging equipment. Once we are ready to assault we’ll disable the cameras at the front gate and move the rest of the team quickly down the driveway. Are we able to cut power to the house?”
“I have a technician standing by. We also have the phone company isolating the service. You can start your surveillance when ready.”
“Understood. I’ll mobilize the first team in five minutes.”
The squad’s focus centered on the team leader as he returned to the group.
“Bailey and Shryer; you are to be Delta 1 and 2 on this. Find a way to the property through the woods and take up positions with low exposure. The Inspector doesn’t want the targets alerted to our presence until we have more intel.” He lowered his voice. “He’s not completely certain we have the correct location.”
The squad exchanged glances but said nothing.
“Right. Delta team do a radio check then on your way. The rest of you can hang loose. It could be a long night.”
== == ==
Lareault found Bloomfield chatting with an officer.
“What have you got, Frank?”
“Harrowport is being held at the Port Severn OPP station. Also, I just had a call from the chief super, who just had a call from Jack Klaasen. J. K. is flying into Lake Simcoe Regional Airport and should be here in an hour or so.”
Lareau
lt nodded. “We know Harrowport and Klaasen have had previous business dealings. The thing that strikes me as odd about this whole thing, Frank, is that there hasn’t been a ransom demand. With Harrowport holding Klaasen’s daughter hostage it might be interesting to get those two together and see what shakes out.”
“Reserve me a ringside seat.” Bloomfield flipped through his notepad. “So what about this third party—Charleton Fenn? Is he a player? A vigilante?”
“At the moment, he’s just a loose cannon, and—” Lareault was interrupted by one of the uniforms.
“Sir, we had an unmarked car drive past the property as you requested. Up the road from the entrance the officers located a vehicle of the type owned by Mr. Fenn. We ran the plate and it’s a match.”
“—and now he’s somewhere out there with armed felons on one side and a team of trained marksmen on the other. Why do I think this isn’t going to end well, Frank?”
Bloomfield gave an empathetic smile. “I’ve heard the fishing can be pretty good around here, Evan. And farther north you can almost live on a policeman’s pension.”
“Almost may have to do. Send me a brochure.”
CHAPTER 45
Fenn wound the crank on the side of the housing and the flashlight grew brighter. He could wind it slowly for a continuous beam or quickly to build a charge for a few minutes of light. Slow or fast, the whine of the little generator was annoying in the quiet of the woods but it was safer than stumbling around blindly in the dark.
Kim didn’t seem to mind it. She followed a few paces behind gorging herself on the large bag of trail mix that Fenn had picked up in Barrie. The water bottle in her pocket was almost empty though Fenn wasn’t too concerned. Every few minutes they crossed some kind of runoff so, even if he had no iodine pills for purification, at least hydration would not be a problem.
They traveled the same path for about an hour without hearing any sounds of pursuit. The breeze and the noise of rushing water below indicated the trail now ran parallel to the rim of a gorge. It began to descend, via a switchback, taking them west for a couple of hundred metres until another steeply sloped u-turn had them going east once more. Each level was more exposed than the one above, and less ideal as a place to hunker down for the night.