by Glenn Muller
“Are we there yet?”
Fenn stopped to let Kim catch up. “Here’s the deal. If the police are not already at The Retreat, I expect they soon will be. I just want to be far enough away to prevent the bad guys from finding us, tonight. We’ll head back tomorrow morning and, hopefully, meet up with a platoon of cops.”
Kim gave a weary sigh. “Okay, but if we’re not at The Retreat when the cops arrive, won’t they just leave again?”
“I’m pretty sure they’ll find my car on the road which ought to tell them we’re in the vicinity. Besides, do you really think Eileen would let them report back empty-handed?”
“No. And she’s probably called my dad by now. He’d cut down this forest to find me.”
“Exactly. Let’s go on just a little farther, and if we don’t find a sheltered spot in the next five minutes we’ll head back up to where we can get away from this breeze.”
“Starting to get a little cool up the kilt, is it?”
“Something like that. My knees mostly.”
Fenn cranked the light vigorously to get the beam as bright as possible. He shone it to the side searching for a place to set up a temporary camp. A good start would be a couple of large rocks at an angle to each other. He could make a sub-floor of pine boughs to sit or lie on and they could wrap themselves in the blanket. He also had a large sheet of reflective Mylar for a top cover to retain their heat.
They were most of the way down the gorge and the valley had really opened up on their right. Atmospheric light, probably sky glow from the town of Port Severn, reflected off the clouds and illumined the river below. More than a stone’s throw wide its flow was turbulent in spots and of indeterminate depth in others. Fenn had just thought about replenishing their bottles when a solid wooden wall blocked his view. Actually, four walls and a roof.
“What is it?” Kim said.
Fenn shone the light about, looking for an entrance. “I think it’s a warming hut for snowmobilers and cross-country skiers. Here’s the door.”
Fenn cranked the light again. The interior was about three metres square and had built-in benches along two walls. There were a couple of pegs near the door for hanging coats, and a few initials carved in the wood. It was the Taj Mahal.
Kim dropped onto one of the benches with an audible sigh.
“I don’t care if there are spiders, I’m going to lie down right here.”
Fenn dug into the pack and pulled out a tin. “I hope there’s something left in this.” He pried off the lid.
“Don’t tell me you brought baked beans.”
“Something better.” He rattled a pack of matches, lit one, and dropped it into the tin. A moment later a blue flame began to grow. Kim sat up.
“A tin of fire. How cool.”
“It’s called gel fuel. You can burn it anywhere. This tin is three quarters full so it should burn for at least couple of hours. If we use it for twenty minutes at a time, though, it will last a lot longer.”
The little fuel source gave off decent heat and the flame did wonders for their morale. Kim settled in and Fenn made the decision to get water.
“I’m going to fill up our bottles. Will you be alright, here with the fire, while I take the flashlight to the river?”
Kim didn’t answer right away. “If you’re not back in ten minutes … just don’t make me come looking for you.”
“I won’t. You stay put.”
With the river in sight of the hut it only made sense that there would be a path to the water’s edge. Fenn located the start of one a few metres away. It was fairly steep and the shale crumbled underfoot as he descended. The path ended on a narrow rocky beach. Fenn turned right and walked upstream but soon had to stop for a cliff face. Here the gorge narrowed and the flow was swift and silent. He went downriver and the rushing sound they had heard earlier became more distinct. The banks were farther apart and the water shimmered and roiled as it passed over boulders and rocks.
Fenn filled the bottles and tasted it. Cold. And a bit gritty. Kim had a boot off and was massaging her ankle when he returned.
“How’s the water?”
“Full of minerals. Good for you.” The warmth inside the hut was perceptible. “I’m going to secure the door latch. Do you need a quick trip outside before I do?”
“I think I should.” While Kim put her boot back on, Fenn revved up the flashlight.
“Watch out for bears.”
“Oh, please. I’m probably safer with them than I am with you.” But her trip outside was indeed quick.
== == ==
With a crackling blaze in the fireplace and tumblers of whisky in hand, The Retreat Four brought their first meeting to order. Chico was perched on a leather ottoman by the hearth while Jenner and Rowan occupied the easy chairs and Tad lay across the leather sofa. He wheezed when he breathed and there was a sickly pallor to his complexion. It was a concern. Bone chips from broken ribs could damage the lung tissue, or an infection might lead to pneumonia.
“The nearest hospital is in Orillia. A three hour round trip,” said Jenner. “That’s not counting the time you’ll have to wait to see a doctor, get x-rays, and talk to the doctor again. You could be gone all night.”
“I could drop him off and come right back,” said Rowan.
“We need you here. There has obviously been a change of plans, and we don’t know what it is. The cell phone coverage sucks and all I get on the land line is a busy signal.”
“Can’t depend on country service,” said Chico, poking at the fire.
“Let’s look at the worse case scenario,” said Rowan. “Suppose the whole operation is a bust, and that the law will be breaking down the door any minute.”
“So what do you suggest we do?” said Jenner.
“Lock up and leave. Find somewhere to lay low until things cool down.”
“And take the injured guy to see a doctor,” managed Tad.
“The way it looks to me,” said Jenner, “is that we’re already laying low. This is Harrowport’s place and he isn’t going to say anything to incriminate himself. The only uninvited person to this party is that jerk-off, Fenn.”
“But Fenn knows we’re here,” Rowan said.
“I don’t think that matters,” countered Jenner. “We’ve been doing the tango with that guy for a couple of weeks now—all kinds of shit—and he’s never once gone to the police. I don’t blame him for coming after his girlfriend but it seems like he has another agenda. I say we give it another day. We’ll head down the trail at first light, flush him out, and then that problem will be solved.”
Rowan stood and went to the sideboard where the whisky tumbler sat. “I’ll give it twenty-four hours and then I’m out of here. We should take turns keeping watch.”
“Fine,” Jenner said, holding out his glass for a refill. “If you and Chico can take the first shift, say until one a.m., I’ll help Tad up to a room and then get some shuteye for a few hours.”
“Fine,” said Rowan.
Chico just shrugged and poked at the burning wood.
CHAPTER 46
Bailey and Shryer picked their way cautiously through the trees. No amount of training could make night vision goggles a substitute for daylight. The darks were darker, the lights were lighter, and everything had a ghostly hue. In close quarters like dense woods they were particularly cumbersome. Vision span was reduced from 120 down to 45 degrees, and a quick turn of the head would often bang the unit against a nearby obstruction. The house and immediate grounds were well lit so the snipers reverted to natural sight as they approached the perimeter.
Not as secure as one might think, the bright lights made for deep shadows and excellent concealment for insurgents with black garb and non-reflective equipment. Since the blueprints had indicated there were no windows or doors on the left side of the house, Bailey stayed within the woods and centered himself at the rear of the building. Shryer motioned he would swing right, around the garage, and set up where he could cover the front
. Bailey acknowledged and peered through his telescopic rifle sight at the sliding glass doors that led out to the back deck.
Beyond the doors was a living area where two men in armchairs and one on a footstool were conversing. There was no sign of the hostage. A man rose from his chair and moved out of Bailey’s field of view. Although he returned with a tumbler and refilled the glass of the man in the other chair; the facade of friends enjoying a cozy evening was belied by the underlying tension in their body language. Tumbler man came to the sliding doors and seemed to stare right at Bailey. The sniper, confident he couldn’t be seen, held still until the man reached across and closed the blinds.
Bailey moved the rifle and scanned the windows. The one adjacent to the glass doors was of frosted glass—a bathroom. Next to that was a kitchen with oak cupboards on the back wall and the curved neck of a tall faucet above the sill. There were four sets of panes on the next level. One room had a light on but all he could see was the ceiling fan. No moving shadows or reflections. Unless Shryer had something to report, the team leader would have to send in the audio and imaging team. The number of bad guys was inconsequential but without a hostage there would be no rescue.
== == ==
Jenner got Tad off the couch and assisted him up the stairs. He’d teamed Chico with Rowan so that when their watch ended he’d have some solitude. He also didn’t trust Rowan. The boss had hired the guy but there was something about him that Jenner couldn’t put his finger on.
“Got any more painkillers, R. J.?” Tad lay on the bed still dressed. He’d removed his shoes but couldn’t face the agony of going further.
“I’ll see what I can find.”
The second floor was well-appointed in rustic chic. Antique nightstands sat on the hardwood floors, and the four-poster beds all had hand-made quilts. The main bathroom was outfitted with a spa tub, tiled shower, heat lamps, and a stack of thick white towels. No painkillers.
The master bedroom had a fireplace, king-sized bed, and two freestanding closets. Each side of the bed had its own night table. A fishing magazine and a mortician's trade paper were on the left one. A glossy tattle rag with a scowling starlet on the cover was on the other. Harrowport’s closet held a suit, a couple pairs of slacks, and a few shirts. His wife’s was a little more interesting.
Between the dressing gown and ladies casual wear hung a leather corset. On the same hanger were a feather mask and a length of chain. Not just a chain, a dog leash with a fur-lined collar. A pair of over the knee black vinyl boots with wicked heels lay on the closet floor. It was not a stretch to visualize Marjorie Dynes-Harrowport wearing this stuff. The woman was adept at defying her age.
The ensuite bathroom was beyond the bed and Jenner found a bottle of generic ibuprofen for Tad. On the way out he couldn’t resist opening Marjorie’s night table drawer.
Hello.
A pair of handcuffs—the real deal with a key—lay on top of several Polaroid pictures of Mrs. Dynes-Harrowport wearing the boots and the dog collar, and not much else.
She was on hands and knees in front of the downstairs fireplace. The guy holding the leash wasn’t Harrowport. Neither was the guy behind her. There were a few action shots but most were posed, including the one with another woman in dominatrix garb. Jenner put that one under Marjorie’s pillow then withdrew a couple of his favourites and put the rest back in the drawer. He gave the pills to Tad but kept the cuffs and photographs in his jacket pocket.
== == ==
The gel flame danced hypnotically around the rim of the tin and became the sole focus of attention. It took the place of what little conversation there had been since Fenn had fetched the water. Kim wouldn’t speak unless spoken to and Fenn, afraid to say the wrong thing, had lapsed into silence. With the fire between them they sat against the wall, Kim in the blanket and Fenn with the Mylar sheet wrapped around his legs. He placed the lid on the tin and the darkness was complete.
“I’ll light it again when it gets cold in here.”
No response.
Rain began to patter on the roof and Fenn closed his eyes. With nothing to distract him he had to acknowledge the damage to his body. The fractured ribs and torn ligaments in his shoulder hadn’t appreciated the exertion of neutralizing the biker, nor had his knees, bruised from the crash, taken kindly to the long trek through the damp woods. Fatigue turned it all into a general achiness. He hadn’t really been able to assess Kim’s condition though he could imagine she felt just as bad, if not worse. It had been a hell of a day yet at the end of it they were still in one piece, and ahead of those who would do them harm, albeit in a cabin in the middle of nowhere.
Kim sniffed. Was that a runny-nose sniff or a tearful sniff? She sniffed again then blew her nose.
“This reminds me of when the power would go out on the reservation, where my grandmother lives,” he began. “It happened quite often but she had a wood stove so it was no big deal. Anyway, Elsie would tell the best stories as we sat with mugs of coffee, or cocoa, watching the logs burn. Her favourite was the Lenape legend about the Rainbow Crow. Have you heard it?”
Sniff. “No.”
“Well, long before there were people, all the animals lived together in a village. One year there was a particularly hard winter. The snow kept falling and the cold turned even running water to ice. Eventually, the animals had nowhere to drink or anything to eat so they held a council to decide who would ask the Great Sky Spirit for help. Wolf could travel a great distance but could not fly to where the Great Sky Spirit lived. Owl could fly but could not see well in daylight and the journey could not be done in one night. So the Rainbow Crow volunteered to go.
“With his multi-coloured iridescent feathers and sweet singing voice Rainbow Crow was the most loved of all the birds. The animals were sure the Great Sky Spirit would be impressed with their ambassador and consent to help them. Rainbow Crow left immediately and flew above the trees and above the clouds. He passed the Moon and the Sun, and even went higher than the stars.
“Finally, he came to the home of the Great Sky Spirit but the Great Sky Spirit was too busy to notice even such a beautiful bird. So Rainbow Crow began to sing his sweetest song and this drew the Great Sky Spirit from his important thoughts. So pleasing was the entertainment that he asked Rainbow Crow what he would like for payment.
“The Rainbow Crow asked for the ice and snow to be banished from his land, but ice and snow also have spirits so that could not be done. Instead, the Great Sky Spirit thrust a stick into the blazing Sun and created fire. He gave the flaming wood to Rainbow Crow and told him to fly home quickly and use the stick to start other fires before it all burned up.
“Rainbow Crow flew back with all his speed. As he passed the stars the fire burned the stick almost to his beak. He passed the Sun and the long flame singed his tail and wings. By the time he reached the Moon the soot had turned his multi-coloured feathers a dull black, and when he plunged through the clouds the smoke got into his throat and destroyed forever the beautiful singing voice.
“But the animals could now survive the winter. They all rejoiced except for the Crow. He was saddened by his dull feathers and rasping song until the Great Sky Spirit appeared and announced that Crow would always be free. Your flesh tastes like smoke so humans will not hunt you, he said, and your voice will hurt their ears so they will not cage you. Then the Great Sky Spirit cleaned Crow’s feathers. They were still black but they shone once again with their old iridescence. Even now, when they catch the sunlight, every colour of the rainbow can still be seen.”
Fenn’s voice gave way to the sound of the rain. Its patter the only indication they weren’t floating through a void in a wooden box. A hard on the ass wooden box. The warming hut kept the dampness at bay yet, without the flame, the temperature quickly dropped.
“Perhaps Mr. Crow could light our fire,” Kim said, softly.
“And perhaps you could bring your blanket over here. Shared body heat is a good survival technique.”
; “Dream on, Braveheart,” she said. Then she giggled.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s just that you want to get into my pants—and yet I’m in yours. Poor Chas.” But she stood up and came over to him. Fenn had her sit between his knees, tandem-style, with the blanket over both of them.
“I think you’ll find this more comfortable,” he said.
“Okay,” Kim said, resignedly. “But don’t get any ideas. I’m already spoken for.”
CHAPTER 47
The matchbox was on the floor beside the gel fuel tin so it was a simple matter to remove the lid and relight the flame.
“You’re spoken for?” He felt Kim nod, her hair brushing his chin lightly. He was right, it was definitely warmer this way.
“Actually,” said Fenn, “I was surprised you didn’t already have a significant other when I asked you out.”
“Who did the asking out?” She twisted to get eye contact.
“Okay. But you know what I mean. You’re a catch. You’ve got looks and money. How come you didn’t have a guy?”
Kim took a deep breath. More of a sigh.
“Two reasons. One is I’m picky. The other is I don’t know how to pick ‘em.” She nudged him in the ribs.
Now was the time for his apology.
“May I explain?”
“Ooh. Two stories in one night. Your grandmother would be proud.”
“The people who kidnapped you murdered my father.” He felt her body tense but she didn’t move, or say anything. “My father sent me a disc that contains a formula for a street drug. They kidnapped you to force me to hand it over. I have it in my pack and would have gladly traded it for your life, if I’d got the chance, although I somehow doubt we’d be allowed to just walk away.”