by Craig McLay
Colin’s beer arrived. The bartender asked Seth if he wanted anything. Seth asked for a mineral water, which he jokingly suggested be added to Colin’s tab. The bartender looked uncertainly at Colin, who shook his head.
“You know, Seth,” Colin said after the bartender had gone. “You dress pretty well.”
Seth looked momentarily confused. “Huh?”
Colin took a sip of his beer. “You know, your Versace frames, Rolex watch, Gucci loafers. That three-thousand-dollar leather jacket you’re wearing.”
Seth looked down at his jacket like he just realized it was there. “My what? Oh. Uh, thanks, I guess.”
“Then there’s your Beemer,” Colin continued. “Not top end, but not exactly old, either. And let’s not forget your spacious loft in the trendy and historic old tannery building. Never live there myself, of course. A—because I couldn’t afford it and, B—because who knows what kinds of chemicals leached into the ground around there. Not to mention all those immigrant labourers who died and were probably just buried underneath what is now a parking lot.”
Seth shifted uncomfortably. “Colin, I don’t get—”
“And yet I still see you standing in line to pick up your student loan at the beginning of every semester,” Colin said. “Why is that?”
Seth forced a laugh to try to change the subject. “Right, but—”
“It’s not from your family,” Colin continued. “Your father was a welder in an auto plant before GM closed the place down and your mother works part-time in a dry cleaners. You don’t have any rich uncles or grandparents, so you didn’t inherit it. Could it be that your revenue stream is, as we euphemistically like to say, off the books?”
Colin turned his head to study Seth’s reaction. Seth was, as he assumed he would be, sitting with his mouth hanging open trying to figure out what to say next.
“Colin…how in the hell…”
Colin turned back to his food. “That’s just casual observation and a few phone calls, Seth. You know, basic reporting. Well, you wouldn’t know because you never really do any. Your notion of research doesn’t really extend beyond Google.”
“Look, Colin,” Seth said. “I know you’re pissed that Hal canned you and made me editor, but—”
“Actually, I fully expected him to do that,” Colin said. “I’m just surprised it took him as long as it did. What I’m trying to say here, Seth, is that I have so far completed only as much digging as I might do for a minor story. One, like yourself, that is of little significance. However, if you don’t remove yourself from that stool in the next 30 seconds and stop pestering me with questions that I have no intention of answering, I may decide to bump you up to the status of a full feature investigation. And I don’t think you would enjoy being the subject of one of those.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m always serious, Seth. By the way, I have no intention of writing about varsity sports, so you better find somebody else to cover that. Twenty-five seconds.”
“But what am I supposed to do for this murder story?”
“Good question, Seth. Perhaps you should try some research. Go interview a few primary sources. You know, reporting? That field of study you’ve been pursuing for the last three years? When you bother to show up to class, that is. Five seconds.”
“You said I had 25 seconds a second ago!”
“I arbitrarily decided to reduce your allotted time because you were annoying the piss out of me.”
Seth jumped down off his stool. “Fine! I’m going. I’ll leave you to work your way into another hangover.”
Seth stuffed his notebook awkwardly back into his pocket and stormed out. Colin looked back up at the TV, where the anchor was excitedly reporting a rumour that Kim Kardashian was pregnant.
“Oh good,” Colin muttered to himself. “News.”
-15-
Colin left the bar a few hours later. The fastest way back to his apartment was to cut around the back of the rec centre and use the forest path. He only made it about halfway before he realized that his need to pee had quickly shifted from vague inclination to critical status. He ducked into the shipping/receiving area, where he found a large skid of recalled newspapers set to be dumped in the giant recycling bins. Perfect.
Colin snuck in behind the newspapers and let fly. Why was it that once a seal was broken the capacity seemed to reduce? When he’d left the bar, he’d felt almost nothing, and now here he was, urinating all over yesterday’s news.
Colin was mulling the irony of his situation when he heard the noise and looked over to see that the receiving door was ajar. He zipped up and checked his watch. It was after 10 p.m. The receiving bay closed at 4. The noise had sounded like something metal being dropped on a concrete floor.
If he hadn’t just put away five large draughts, he probably wouldn’t have been quite as likely to stroll over to the open door, stick his head inside and say “Hellloooo?” But he had, so he did.
Inside was surprisingly bright. Colin noticed that the overhead maintenance lights had come on. Those lights were only activated when they detected movement. That meant somebody had passed one of the sensors in the last 15 minutes, because those lights automatically shut themselves off again after that much time.
Colin allowed his gaze to drift slowly down from the lights past the pipes, ducts and bundles of electrical cable to the floor.
Where he saw the trail of blood.
It led from the floor in front of him across the receiving area and down the hall into the main complex. It wasn’t a smooth, dribbling line. It looked slightly smeared in places, almost as if somebody had clumsily tried to clean it up as they went. Colin could see from the lights that it was still shiny, which meant that it hadn’t dried.
Which meant that it was fresh.
Colin reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The battery still had a tiny bit of charge left, but the signal strength was zilch. Cell reception around the college was notoriously awful. He would probably have to walk 200 yards into the woods just to get a single bar, at which point his battery would probably die.
He stuffed the phone back in his pocket and cursed under his breath. The logical thing to do would be to run like hell and call the cops.
But then he thought of Shalene Nakogee. He had promised her that he would help and had failed her miserably. He thought of Terrence Devane and all the women he had used and would go on using. He thought about the fact that there was a decent chance Devane would get away with it again unless he was caught in the act.
He spotted a sledgehammer leaning against the main receiving desk. He stepped carefully over the blood and grabbed it. It weighed at least 25 pounds and he had to hold it in both hands to keep it steady. The weight was reassuring. If anything happened, though, he figured he was far more likely to drop it on his own foot than clobber an intruder.
What the hell am I doing? he wondered as he made his way down the hall. The first door he came to was labelled ‘Electrical Room #2’. He tried the handle. Locked. He looked down. The trail continued down to the end of the hall and around the corner to the left.
He tried to remember where he was in the building relative to everything else, but his brain was fogged and wasn’t coming up with any answers. There was a gym, an ice rink and a swimming pool in here somewhere. He had never used any of them, however, so he was at something of a loss geographically.
He peeked around the corner to make sure there was no one lurking with a hatchet, waiting to take his head off at the Adam’s apple. The lights in the main hallway weren’t on. Either they didn’t work on motion sensors or the sensors were broken.
Colin rounded the corner slowly. His foot slipped and he slammed his shoulder against the wall, but managed to avoid dropping the hammer. In the low light, it was hard to see the trail. He cursed silently and stood back up.
This is stupid, he thought. I need to get the hell out of here.
Then he saw the light coming from under the doo
r up ahead. Unable to stop himself, he tiptoed carefully forward. The sign on the door read ‘Women’s Change Room’. He pushed it open slowly.
Inside was a long wooden bench flanked on either side by a row of tall metal lockers. The only light was a faint blue glow coming from the other side of the lockers on his right. Colin strained to hear over the sound of the HVAC system. Was that a tinkling noise? And breathing. Yep. No doubt about it, somebody else was in the room with him.
He looked down. He could see the trail of blood move into the room and then right, banking behind the row of lockers.
Colin swallowed. His heart seemed to have relocated itself to his throat, which was causing his breath to come in short gasps. The sledgehammer suddenly felt like it weighed a tonne.
Okay, smartass. Now what?
-16-
The man didn’t look at all the way Devries had expected.
He had suggested they meet in the lobby of the Ramada hotel, just off the highway. Devries had expected they were going to meet in a bar or parking lot somewhere. When he commented on it, the man pointed out that men in suits exchanged briefcases in hotel lobbies every day. It wasn’t the kind of activity that was as common in cowboy bars or doughnut shops.
The man looked like an investment banker. He was tall and thin and looked to be in his middle fifties. Being something of a clothes horse himself, Devries recognized a Hugo Boss suit when he saw one, although he did raise an eyebrow at the platinum cufflinks and Chopard watch.
Devries had been instructed to enter the lobby, place the briefcase in the chair next to the courtesy phone, and then sit down in the chair opposite. Devries sat chewing his nails in the parking lot for 30 minutes before he went in. It was a good thing he was wearing his suit jacket or the guy would have seen the massive sweat stains under his arms. Devries had debated whether or not to bring the Glock in with him and in the end had decided against it.
Devries had been sitting in the chair for only about 30 seconds when the man emerged from the elevator and sat down opposite him. Externally, he appeared to be as relaxed as Devries was tense.
Of course, Devries reminded himself, this guy probably killed people for a living. Or knew people who did. As the special executive assistant to the justice minister, the guy was used to dealing with crooks.
The man glanced down at the briefcase, then looked up at Devries and smiled. Devries wondered how many people might have left the earth with that very same smile being the last thing they saw. He tried not to think about being one of them.
“How much?” the man asked quietly. His voice was soft. He might have been asking about the price of rolls in a bakery.
“Two fifty,” Devries grunted.
The man reached forward and poured them both a glass of water from a pitcher on the table. “Less than a third of what you owe us, Mr. Devries.”
Devries waved away the offered water. His hands were so sweaty that he was sure he’d drop it on the floor. “Yes, I know.”
The man looked around the room. “I don’t enjoy being sent to places like this,” he said. “It’s not what you might call my natural habitat.”
“I can get it,” Devries said. “But it’s a lot of money. You’ve gotta give me more time.”
The man didn’t appear to be listening. “You know, when I was watching the news earlier, they said there was a 40 per cent chance of rain this afternoon. I wondered: what does that even mean? Something either happens or it doesn’t. It’s not like I can bring 40 per cent of an umbrella with me, now is it?”
Devries shook his head. What in the hell was this guy talking about?
“I prefer certainty myself. Those are the only terms worth dealing in. The minister is quite nervous that recent developments may interfere with the noble work we are trying to accomplish.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Devries said. “That was just some Indian chick who pissed off her boyfriend. The cops are looking for him right now. We’ve got guys on the inside who’ll make sure nothing damaging leaks out.”
The man smiled and took a sip of his water. “Let us hope not. It would be a shame if we had to terminate this arrangement prematurely. Particularly if it jeopardized significant future developments. The minister asked me to put particular stress on that final point.”
“Don’t worry,” Devries whispered. He didn’t like having these conversations out in the open. He looked nervously over at the front desk, where a tall blonde woman with a red travel case was checking in. “We’ve got this thing under control.”
The man put down his water. His face was unreadable. Devries couldn’t tell if the guy believed him or not.
“This man the police are looking for,” he said. “He was part of the program?”
Devries nodded. “He was, but not anymore. There’s no way they’ll be able to trace him back to us, I guarantee it.”
The man picked up the briefcase and rose from his seat. “Just as I’m sure you will be able to guarantee delivery of the remainder of the funds owing by the end of the week. Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Devries.”
Devries watched the man stroll through the lobby and out the front door. He yanked his tie loose and gasped for air. His plans to take the rest of the week off were dead and buried. He desperately hoped he wasn’t going to follow suit.
-17-
Colin stood in the entryway for a moment, holding the door open with one hand and the hammer with the other. He heard a click as a locker door was closed somewhere on the other side of the room. He spotted a light switch on the wall and flicked it on. The room was suddenly bathed in blinding white from the overhead banks of fluorescents.
“Campus security!” he yelled. “We have you surrounded, so just come out quietly!”
Colin stood there, heart pounding, and waited.
Nothing happened.
Had he imagined the sound of the locker door closing? He stepped into the room and let the door swing shut behind him. Better that he could see someone coming than to have someone sneak up on him from behind, he thought. His mind was going a mile a minute.
We have the place surrounded? Did I really just say that? Who the hell do you think you are? John Wayne in Rio Bravo? You’re gonna get yourself killed, you stupid shit!
He heard a low metallic groan. He was so keyed up that he almost didn’t notice that it was coming from the row of lockers on his right. A row of lockers that were starting to tilt in his direction. By the time he did notice, it was too late to get out of the way.
Colin dropped the sledgehammer and threw himself to the floor. There was an ear-splitting crash as the lockers hit the wooden bench and knocked it over. The lockers continued their forward momentum and would have squashed Colin flat if the bench hadn’t acted as a fulcrum to prevent them from coming all the way down to the floor. Colin felt something whack his left ear as a combination lock on one of the lockers on the top row spun sideways and hit him in the side of the head.
Colin opened his eyes and saw a small triangle of light at the end of a black tunnel. Between the lockers over his head and the bench on his right, he suddenly found himself in an impromptu cave with less than an inch of clearance on top. He saw a pair of feet race past the opening and disappear through a door on the other side.
The fear that had gripped him was suddenly gone and replaced by something more motivating—rage.
You tried to kill me, you son of a bitch! Now allow me to return the favour.
Colin dragged himself forward in a commando crawl and pulled himself out from underneath the collapsed row of lockers. He pulled open the door on the opposite side of the change room and raced through it blindly.
As soon as he stepped through the door, he was hit with a gush of cold water from the left. He had entered the shower room. They were all on motion sensors and whoever had gone through before him had turned them all on. The water was freezing cold, but Colin barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on another door just up ahead—a door that had just swung shut as he came in.
Colin pulled open the door and raced through it. No sooner had he taken two steps than he felt something heavy connect with the back of his head and suddenly he was flying through space. He felt himself flying head over heels. He braced for impact and was surprised when he hit water instead of concrete.
Colin opened his mouth to yell and immediately swallowed a lungful of chlorinated water. His arms and legs flailed wildly as he tried to figure out which way was up. Colin had never learned how to swim and was now convinced he was about to die in the most ironic manner possible.
He opened his eyes, but everything was darkness. He clamped his mouth shut and tried to swing his arms and legs in every direction at once. His left foot connected with something solid. He pushed against it and was amazed to feel his head break the surface of the water. He was so surprised, in fact, that he immediately tipped sideways and slipped back under.
I’m in the shallow end! he thought. I am not going to die!
Colin managed to get his feet back under him again and stood up out of the water, coughing and spitting and trying to suck in huge swallows of air at the same time. He could see moonlight reflected on the surface of the pool from the massive overhead skylights. The edge of the pool was only six or seven feet away. He waded towards it and pulled himself out, scanning the deck for any sign of who might have knocked him in.
Lying on the deck only a few feet away was one of the large extendable aluminum poles used to fish objects out of the water. That must have been what whomever he had been chasing had used to knock him in. Colin felt the back of his head and could already feel a lump rising at the base of his skull. An inch or two lower and they would have hit vertebrae instead, so he figured he was lucky, in a way.
The door leading to the outdoor filtration unit was open. The unit had an eight-foot chain fence around it, but that thing wouldn’t be too hard to climb. On the other side of that was about 30 feet of forest and then the access road.