Torque

by Glenn Muller

  “Have a drink and I’ll go refill the water bottles.”

  “I’ll come with you. I have to wash my face. Actually, let me go first, I have to, you know.”

  “Take this in case you need it later.” Fenn kept a couple of green garbage bags in the pack. They doubled as makeshift ponchos in cold or wet weather. He gave one to Kim and tucked the other into his pocket.

  Handfuls of icy water from the river’s edge rinsed the tiredness from their eyes. As the sky brightened they walked along the rocky beach until it met a path that skirted inland. Here the river dropped through turbulent rapids and the path was a portage point to the next stretch of beach lower down.

  They were heading back to the hut when Kim said, “Do you want these?” She pulled Fenn’s car keys from the pocket of his jeans. The jeans had been long on her so Kim had turned up the cuffs.

  “Okay.”

  “What about this?” She held up the little gold amulet.

  “That’s Guido.”

  “Guido? How’d you come up with that name?”

  “He told me.”

  “Uh-huh.

  “Perhaps you should hang on to him.”

  “What for?”

  “Luck. Guido will look after you.”

  “I don’t need a Guido. I’ve my own good luck charm, right here.” She held up her little gold cross as if to ward off tiny vampires.

  “I’ll pit Guido’s powers against that thing any day of the week,” said Fenn, taking the figurine.

  “And how’s Guido working for you so far?”

  “About the same as your hero, I reckon.”

  “Yes, but mine will see me on a cloud, roasting marshmallows in the afterlife, while you and your little pagan friend are roasting in the fires of Hell.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Guido, “ Fenn said, patting his breast pocket. “Some people just can’t be saved.”

  Kim was about to retort when Fenn said, “Did you hear that?”

  She had. Far off and muffled, it had been a definite boom. Then there was another, louder, followed by several pops. Gunfire.

  Kim put her hand on Fenn’s arm. “I don’t suppose that’s duck hunters.”

  “If it is, the ducks are shooting back.”

  “Do you think the police have arrived?”

  There was another possibility but Fenn decided not to mention it. “We should start heading back. The cops are going to be looking for us.”

  The gunfire had ceased and they soon got their first positive sign. Back on the path, they were a hundred metres past the initial rising curve of the switchback when a helicopter made a low pass overhead. It wouldn’t see them beneath the tree canopy but they waved their arms at it, anyway. If the sun came out they could flash something reflective at it. Like the CD.

  Fenn slipped off the pack and knelt down. That damned piece of plastic might be good for something, after all.

  CHAPTER 50

  Bailey followed protocol. Stand to one side. Smash the glass. Wait for the reaction.

  Boom! There it was.

  “Delta 1. Shot fired at officer. Responding with flash bang—now!” A lightning bolt cracked in the living room.

  Knock ‘em on their ass. Lead with the firearm.

  “Delta 1. Armed suspect exiting at the front.”

  “Delta 2. I have two suspects boarding an ATV. One target acquired.” Another boom. “This is Delta 2. I’ve been hit.”

  “Officer down. Requesting assistance.”

  “Sit tight, Delta 2. We’ll be right there.”

  His sniper rifle slung over his back and Glock 22 pistol gripped with both hands before him, Bailey checked each room on the first floor.

  “Delta 1. I’m moving up to the second floor.”

  “Right behind you, Delta 1.” And they were.

  By 6:06 a.m. the house, garage, and vehicles had been searched and the occupants that had been left behind, discovered. No resistance there. Bailey went to check on Shryer. The assailant had got off a lucky shot. Shryer had also been lucky. Just a few pellets had struck him in the hand and arm. Bailey gave his buddy a pat on the shoulder and went to find the team leader.

  Raised in Bancroft, Ontario, Bailey had cut his teeth hiking trails and tracking game in terrain like this. With clearance from the captain he would set out immediately after the two suspects in the woods. Frank Bloomfield overheard the request and butted in.

  “Officer Bailey is aware that the two suspects have a head start, on an ATV, isn’t he?”

  The team leader squared himself to the sergeant.

  “We do have an ATV coming, but Officer Bailey not only exceeds our rigorous training standards, he also runs marathons for fun.” He turned back to Bailey. “Find someone who’ll keep up, and stay in contact with us. The chopper reported movement a few kilometres east of here. We’ll keep you updated.”

  Bailey thanked his captain and went to locate Gil Sutton. Gil was no marathoner but he did have good endurance.

  == == ==

  It seemed like every time Rowan depressed the gas pedal to climb a small rise in the trail the motor would sputter and quit. And Jenner blamed him for it. He’d deflected Jenner’s last comment by showing some interest in the attaché case.

  “A little security,” was all the explanation Jenner would provide. The trail, in its snakelike way, had been angling toward a gorge. From what he could see, after this next rise, it would start to descend into the valley.

  Daring to add pressure to the pedal, Rowan built up speed to take the hill. The motor began to cough but kept going. Twenty metres to the crest. Ten. Five. The buggy gave a lurch and the motor quit just as they reached the top. He put it into neutral and the momentum kept it rolling. Jenner turned to look at him but didn’t say a word.

  The ATV picked up a little speed on the down slope. Without the rasping motor it was actually a nice way to travel, like one of those scenic rides at a theme park. The trail snaked into the gorge and as Rowan straightened from another tight bend Jenner pointed and said, “What have we got here?”

  Rowan braked to a stop and drew his pistol. Jenner stood on his seat, shotgun at his shoulder, and leaned on the crossbar of the roll cage as if on safari. Their game was crouched in the middle of the path.

  “I like the new look, Chas,” Jenner said, eyeing Fenn’s kilt. Then to Kim, “Always good to know who wears the pants in a relationship.”

  Rowan chuckled and stepped off the ATV. Both Fenn and Kim straightened up from bending over the pack. Fenn had the CD in his hand. Kim took a step toward the trees, panic clearly written on her face.

  “I wouldn’t,” said Jenner, aiming the Remington at her legs. “In fact, you guys get on your knees or I cripple you both. And hands high.”

  He stepped down from the seat and walked toward Fenn. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.” Jenner brought a set of handcuffs out of his pocket and turned back to Rowan. Rowan was doing something in the back of the buggy.

  “Rowan. Get out of there!”

  “What the hell is all this?” Rowan had a bundle of cash in his hand.

  “I told you. It’s security. Now put it back.”

  “What kind of security?”

  “I’ll explain later. Here.” Jenner tossed Rowan the cuffs. “Put these on Blondie.”

  “Her? Why not him?”

  “Because Fenn’s not coming with us.”

  Jenner moved behind Fenn and plucked the CD from his hand. “Though I must say that you’ve been quite generous lately, Chas. You’ve brought me money, a car, your girlfriend, and now the disc. If you’d been so cooperative at the start, there’d have been less trouble for all of us. And you have been trouble.”

  He emphasized the last word by driving the butt of the shotgun between Fenn’s shoulder blades. Fenn collapsed onto his elbows, his arms tingling and unresponsive.

  Jenner stepped to his side and delivered a hard kick to his torso, catching Fenn under the ribs and knocking him on his back. Win
ded, with fire in his chest, Fenn could only lie there while Jenner went though his jacket pockets until he found the keys to the Challenger. Jenner raised the shotgun butt for another blow.

  “Stop it! Leave him alone.”

  Jenner turned to see Rowan end the struggle to get Kim’s hands cuffed. He turned back to Fenn and brought the butt down anyway. He’d intended to smash his nose but Fenn turned his head and the blow glanced off his cheek instead. Jenner kicked him once more then clubbed the side of Fenn’s head with the gunstock. The eyes rolled upwards but didn’t close. Teeth clenched, Fenn made an effort to get up.

  “Oh, fuck this,” Jenner said, and brought the shotgun to his shoulder. He aligned the barrel sights with Fenn’s eyes.

  “Say goodbye, Fenn.”

  “No!”

  Kim managed to twist away from Rowan and threw herself at his partner. Jenner shoved her to the ground.

  “Get this bitch away from me.” He re-aimed at Fenn’s face.

  “Drop your weapon! Police.”

  Everyone froze.

  Jenner looked at Rowan who shrugged.

  “Wasn’t me.”

  “Put your guns on the ground and your hands in the air.”

  The voice had come from up the trail. Straddling a mountain bike and holding a Glock firmly with both hands was the Asian.

  “Chico?” Jenner relaxed from his shooting stance.

  “Officer Joe Abes. RCMP; Windsor Division.”

  “No shit,” said Rowan. “Then you’ll know that I’m on the force, too.”

  “You were, Rowan. Your suspension is about to become a dishonourable discharge. And they don’t like cops where you’re going.”

  “Then I ain’t going.” Rowan dropped into a crouch and brought his gun to bear. Abes fired and caught him mid chest. Kim gave a stifled cry and tried to roll off the trail. Jenner’s instinct was also self-preservation and he turned on Abes and unloaded both barrels.

  Hindered by the bike, Abes was slow getting to cover and took the blast in the hip. He spun to the ground.

  Jenner ran to the ATV and chucked the disc and Fenn’s keys in the attaché case. He snapped it shut and jumped behind the wheel as Abes raised his arm for another shot.

  “Better fucking start.”

  It did. Jenner was shaking and fought to keep his foot steady on the accelerator. It didn’t need much gas to go downhill and the ATV picked up speed. There was a curve ahead, another link in the switchback.

  “Keep going you piece of crap.”

  The engine sputtered then smoothed out. It sputtered again, then died.

  == == ==

  Fenn was stirred from his stupor by the sound of Kim sobbing. He felt like he’d sparred three rounds with a heavyweight boxing champion. The left cheek was so swollen it practically closed that eye, and the act of sitting up sent pain lancing through his spine and ribs. Knees up to her chest, hands cuffed behind her, Kim lay on her side in a pile of decomposing leaves.

  “It’s okay, Kim. He’s gone.” He brushed the hair from her face and helped her to sit up. “You’re fine, and I’m fine.”

  He crawled over to where Rowan lay. A dark red stain covered the man’s shirt. His eyes were open but there was no movement, or pulse. There was also no sign of his gun. It must have landed somewhere in the brush. Fenn checked the jacket pockets and found a small key. He went back to Kim and released her from the cuffs. She was trembling. He had to prevent her from going into shock.

  “Come on, Kim. The other guy needs help.” Fenn got the blanket from the pack and started up the hill.

  Abes was lying behind a tree, both hands putting pressure on his wound. Fenn unrolled the fleece and had Kim staunch the blood flow with a corner of it. He draped the rest over the man’s legs.

  “Geez, man. I don’t know what to say. I clobber you then you come along and save our lives.”

  The officer shook his head. “You weren’t to know. I probably would have done the same thing.”

  “Don’t bring yourself down to Fenn’s level,” said Kim. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Backup is on its way. Take the radio from my pocket.”

  They heard Jenner restart the ATV.

  “That machine doesn’t seem to run very well,” said Abes.

  “Pissy gas.”

  Both men looked at Kim but she didn’t elaborate.

  Fenn got to his feet with a grimace and buttoned his denim jacket. “If you two can hang on until the troops arrive, I have unfinished business to deal with.”

  Abes raised a hand. “I can't let you go. Jenner is armed and dangerous.”

  Fenn picked up a fist-sized rock. “Yeah. Well. So am I. That bastard took something of mine—and I’m going to get it back.”

  CHAPTER 51

  The slope between the two sections of trail was littered with broken tree limbs, rotted stumps, and loose stone. Fenn grabbed at saplings to steady himself as he slithered, stumbled, and ran around the obstacles. His knees, inflamed from abuse, began to burn with the impact of each hard step, and with one eye almost closed missteps sent him tumbling to the ground. Each fall sent spasms of pain through his neck and torso but the sound of the ATV’s sputtering engine got him up and moving again.

  He zigzagged down the hill on what he gauged was an intercepting course, the engine noise getting louder as he leapt over logs and dodged around boulders. He was almost to the lower trail when he saw the buggy through the trees to his right. Branches whipping at his face, he ploughed through the brush and out onto the path just as the ATV came past.

  Jenner saw him and floored the gas. The machine lurched ahead but Fenn caught the rear support of the roll cage with his left hand. The shock to that shoulder was immense but his grip held. Fenn had kept the rock and he threw it as the ATV pulled him off his feet. It may have struck Jenner behind the ear but he couldn’t be sure. There was no change in speed.

  Still being dragged, Fenn got his right hand above his left on the cage support and pulled. That got him closer. He moved his left hand above his right and pulled again. His ribs were in agony but now he was able to get one leg onto the back of the ATV, and then the other.

  Jenner glanced back and saw Fenn on the rear corner. He steered wildly to shake him off. When that didn’t work he tried running close to the trees. A couple of thick branches almost did the trick but Fenn held on. Now they were coming up to the warming hut, the river clearly visible at the bottom of the shale-covered slope on their right.

  Fenn worked himself into the back seat and Jenner tried using the empty shotgun to knock him away. Fenn caught it in the crook of the same arm he wrapped around Jenner’s neck. Twisting to the right, Jenner pulled the steering wheel with him and the ATV swerved off the trail.

  It narrowly missed the hut and dropped into a rut that ran down toward the river. Hitting slabs of shale, the buggy bounced violently and nearly tipped over. The two combatants lost their grip on the shotgun and it fell onto the beach. The ATV ran out of land and Fenn barely had time to take a breath before they were plunged into the swirling river.

  The sudden cold was a shock to the system. Even though it was Fenn’s second baptism of the day, the icy temperature had a paralyzing effect that took precious seconds to subside. The force of the river, swollen by recent rainfalls, rolled the ATV and threatened to pin the men beneath it.

  The strong current pushed it against a submerged boulder, blocking Fenn’s immediate escape. He pushed off the rock with his legs and once again used the roll cage bars to pull himself up. The boulder was slippery and his legs went sideways with the flow. Lungs ready to burst, he let some air out to ease the strain and with supreme effort forced his shoulders past the bar, and his head above the surface of the water.

  He was able to stay like that for three gasping breaths before the surging water swept him away, his cold hands too numb to hold on to the bar. He swam a few strokes to align himself on the surface then brought his feet up and kept them ahead of him. Many a tipped cano
eist has drowned from having a foot catch between rocks and the water force them under.

  Fenn was perhaps ten metres from shore. Not a great distance, but with this current he knew he couldn’t make the beach before the upcoming rapids. He opted to maintain his foot-forward position, hoping to ride them out and find calmer water before the cold made him incapable of moving. He looked around for Jenner but couldn’t see him.

  Swept on toward the rapids, a back curl of waves where the water was forced over boulders came rushing at him. The current swung him around the rock but then tumbled into a sinkhole and took him with it. Submerged once again, the fluid roar now had a chime-like quality to it. His hand hit the silt-covered bottom. A rock banged his knee. The turbulence held him down and pummeled the air from his lungs while the cold drained his strength. All other pain became superseded by a terrific headache.

  Another object caught in the flow bumped into him and he grabbed at it desperately before it had a chance to bob away. Holding on to the object, he kicked off the bottom and broke the surface. Coughing and sputtering, he managed to suck in a lungful of oxygen before he was rolled onto his back. He held onto his preserver and, with his face clear of the water, saw that it was the attaché case.

  Isn’t that swell, he thought. I could drown clutching enough money to buy a ferry.

  The current spun him around and movement on the far bank caught his eye. At first he thought it was a black bear, then he recognized Jenner, on all fours, crawling from the water. The sight galvanized Fenn. If that out of shape dufus could survive, then he sure as hell could.

  Holding the bag under his chest he kicked and swam with one arm toward the near shore. He made progress and finally the water was shallow enough for him to stand without being swept off his feet. Water ran down his legs as he stepped onto the beach, the sodden wool kilt clinging to his thighs. In his weakened state it felt like a lead blanket, and the bag that had seemed so light and buoyant in the water pulled on his arm like a load of bricks.

  He dropped the bag and sat, then fell back, on the narrow shore in exhaustion. He heard the beat of rotors come up the valley and a giant shadow passed over him. Opening his good eye he saw the helicopter flying toward the far bank where Jenner had disappeared into the woods. Fenn forced himself to sit up.