by Nic Saint
His father waved his hand dismissively. “You can talk before Coleen. She knows all about this sordid little affair.” He clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “So you did it, eh? That’s my boy! Coleen? You hear this? Gnat is out of the picture!”
“Good news,” said Coleen, impatiently tapping the table with a pencil. “So was that the reason you called this meeting, Chris?”
“No,” said Chris, expelling a deep breath and taking a seat next to Coleen. “Dad? There’s something I want you to see.”
Jacques’s expressive eyebrows, which had wiggled with joy one moment ago, now knitted together in a frown at these ominous words. He joined them, and sank into a chair like a man expecting heaven to cave in on his head. “Well? What is it? Out with it, son. Out with it.”
“May I?” Chris said, indicating the laptop, connected to a beamer.
Coleen nodded, and Chris quickly inserted Gnat’s stick, tapped a key, and brought up the pictures that had ruined his sleep last night.
On the big screen, the same type of pictures appeared that Kate had showed to Lauren: someone had painstakingly tracked Jacques Van Damme’s every move for the past couple of weeks, and had somehow managed to get a good look at his campaign timetable up until election day.
“Gnat had that?” said Coleen, taken aback.
Chris nodded. “Someone’s been following you, dad.”
He jumped when Jacques’s fist pounded the table. “It’s that bastard Peeters! The rat!”
“I don’t think so, dad,” said Chris, and he proceeded to explain that while burgling Gnat’s safe, he’d run into Piet Peeters’s daughter Kate, out on a similar mission. “So you see, Gnat’s been blackmailing the both of you. Whoever took these pictures must have been following Peeters as well.”
Jacques made a sound like an elephant pulling its foot out of a swamp, then grumbled, “I don’t believe a word of this. Only Peeters could sink so low.” Then something seemed to occur to him, and his scowl deepened. “Do you mean to tell me that Piet Peeters is involved with Jeanie? My Jeanie?”
“That’s what it looks like, dad,” Chris said, leaning back in his chair. “That Jeanie of yours turns out to be a real cheerleader for bipartisanship.”
There was a momentary silence as Jacques mulled this over. “I don’t believe it,” he muttered. “Jeanie would never fall for that idiot. She’s above dating petty politicians like Peeters.”
“Nevertheless,” interrupted Coleen, “I think Chris has a point. We clearly have a breach in our security if someone has managed to lay their hands upon our campaign script.” She turned to Chris. “Do you know if Gnat had the same intel on Peeters?”
“I, erm, no. I’m not sure. But I can find out if you want.”
“Do that,” she said. “We need to be sure we can exclude Peeters, though I’m inclined to do so.”
“Me, too,” Chris said. “I don’t think it’s Peeters you need to worry about here. I think there’s a third party involved. And whatever their intentions, they’re not good. There’s a definite threat here.”
“Indeed,” said Coleen, tapping her teeth with the pencil. She looked from Chris to Jacques and back to Chris. “Your father tells me you’re a security expert?”
“Well, yes,” said Chris. “I’ve just gone into business for myself.”
“Chris here is the genuine product,” said Jacques proudly. “He made a great cop, and now a fine PI.”
“Right,” said Coleen pensively. Then she seemed to make up her mind. “Chris, how would you feel if we hired you to shore up security during the campaign? Clearly there’s a need here for a professional. And judging both from your past experience and your family ties, I think you’re the best man for the job. Jacques?”
Jacques nodded. “As usual you’re right on the money, Coleen.”
“Chris?”
“I, erm… work for my dad, you mean?”
“You’ve got a problem with that?” said Coleen, cocking her head.
“No. No, of course not. It’s just that…”
“It’s just what?”
Two pairs of eyes stared at him critically, and since he couldn’t think of any objections apart from the obvious—working for his father might prove quite a challenge—he merely inclined his head. “Sure I’ll do it. Of course. Be glad to help.”
Jacques clapped his hands and Coleen pursed her lips. “Excellent,” she said. “Welcome to the team, Chris.”
“Glad to be here,” said Chris, though maybe not as exuberant as might be expected from a loving son. On the other hand, though perhaps not quite as enjoyable as he might have wished—even when sober, his dad was not an easy man to please—at least it was work.
Chapter Seventeen
While her father and his campaign manager Ryan Hock studied the pictures she’d obtained from Alfonso Gnat, Kate stared dreamily before her, thinking of Chris. He looked really cute. When she’d seen him last night, circumstances had prevented her to see the full picture, but just now, she’d definitely gotten an eyeful and he hadn’t disappointed.
A wistful smile hovered around her lips as she thought back to the day they’d met, now fully six months ago. Not knowing anyone at the symposium, she’d been slightly nervous upon arrival. Taking her place in the conference room, her pack and notebook in hand, she’d been both anxious and delighted when a handsome young man had appeared, taking the seat next to her.
Soon enough, they’d been engaged in pleasant banter, and had spent the first break getting to know each other a little better. She’d been surprised Chris hailed from Belgium, a country she knew very well indeed, and even more surprised when it turned out he was from Bruges, of all places.
She hadn’t told him about Piet, of course. No sense in divulging her family secrets to a total stranger, even one as enchanting as Chris. Their acquaintance had deepened over lunch, and that night, he’d presented her with a rose and drinks at the bar, a romantic gesture that had set the seal on her growing infatuation.
She’d been pleasantly surprised to find Chris extremely courteous, intelligent and charming. A couple of the colleagues on the force whom she’d dated before had proven insufferable boors, and for a while she’d abstained from dating altogether. Chris had proven a welcome change, and she soon felt more at ease with him than she’d felt with any man before.
One thing led to another, and they’d ended up in bed together on the final night of the conference.
Making love to Chris had been the most wonderful experience of her life. Never before had she met a man who made her feel so relaxed, so loved, so… special. The way he looked at her, his eyes filled with love, had hers brimming with tears.
The morning after had been a bitter wake-up call for Kate. When she awoke, Chris was gone, and when she went in search of him, she found his room empty. No message, no indication of what had happened to him. He’d just up and left, leaving her feeling devastated and alone.
The thought of his callous behavior and the disappointment she’d felt sent a renewed anger coursing through her veins now, and Piet had to call out twice before she heard him.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” she said, waking from her reverie.
“What do you make of this, honey?” said her father, pointing at the computer screen where the images of his itinerary were on display.
“I think someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to find out everything they can about your whereabouts for the next couple of weeks,” she said. “Which could mean a lot of things, really.” She hesitated, the conversation with Lauren still fresh in her mind.
“But what do you think it means, honey?” said Piet.
“My first thought was that someone is out to harm you,” she said truthfully, going with her gut instinct.
It took both men an instant to respond. Hock was the first to recover. He was a well-built man of about forty, and judging from his crew cut, lean face and intense stare, Kate was pretty sure he was either a former cop or ex-military.
<
br /> “That’s nonsense,” he said curtly.
“It does seem rather far-fetched, honey,” agreed her dad.
“I could be wrong, obviously,” said Kate.
“There’s any number of explanations,” argued Hock, pointing at the laptop. “This photographer Gnat hired may have simply cast a wide net in the hope of catching something—anything—to use on us. When he finally caught the Geyser shots, he knew he had his money shots and ran straight to Gnat to get paid.”
“But why would a hired gun go to all this trouble to get a shot of Piet’s itinerary?” countered Kate. “If the only thing he was after were some scandal pictures, why would he spend so much time documenting the campaign?”
“Gnat’s just a two-bit blackmailer!” scoffed Hock. “What makes you think he wants to harm Piet? The idea is preposterous.”
“I think we should at least consider the threat,” said Kate, her face now flushed. Just the thought that there possibly was someone out there intent on hurting her father, made her sick to the stomach.
Piet, who’d been looking from Kate to Hock, rubbed his chin. “You know what? Why don’t we hire Kate as a security consultant? That way, she can make sure nothing bad happens to me.”
Hock shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “Why not?” But it was clear he wasn’t enamored with the idea.
Kate’s throat went dry. “Me? Work for you? But Piet, I’m only here on vacation.”
Piet laughed. “I beg to differ, honey. Yesterday I told you about Gnat, and even though I asked you not to get involved, you still went ahead and got the pictures back for me. I’d say you’re perfect for the job.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t know. I’m not really qualified for this sort of thing.”
“I think you’re perfectly qualified. Look, do you want to keep me safe or not?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, then.” He dismissed her with a wave of the hand. “You’ll keep an eye on me and that’s all there is to it. No more arguments. Besides, this may be the only way we can spend some quality time together. Considering my schedule for the next week, I’ll be up and doing the whole time.”
Kate stared at her father for a moment, wondering how she could dissuade him from this crazy notion. On the other hand, spending some time with Piet, keeping him out of harm’s way, might not be such a bad way to spend her holiday. Besides, if she was completely honest with herself, she had really missed the action. Ever since she left the force and started spending time at home, she’d become increasingly restless.
“All right,” she said finally. “I’ll do it.”
“Great,” said her father, beaming. “First order of business: the radio interview. Why don’t you go ahead and, um, scope out the place—is that the professional term?”
“Close enough,” said Kate with a smile. “Oh, and one other thing. Can I bring Lauren in on this as well? She—we’ve always worked as a team.”
“But of course, darling,” said her father expansively. “Lauren is most welcome to join the team. Isn’t she, Hock?”
Hock, who’d sat glowering, gave a half-hearted attempt at enthusiasm by grinning like a monkey. “The more the merrier,” he said, doing a bad job at concealing his disapproval of his employer’s nepotistic hiring practices.
“And perhaps you better square things with Van Damme’s security team as well,” said Piet. “Seeing as we’ll be working together more closely throughout the final stages of the campaign.” He rolled his eyes. “Bipartisanship, they call it. Bunch of baloney if you ask me. But if that’s what the people want, that’s what the people get.”
“Who’s my contact?” said Kate with a pang of apprehension.
Hock scratched his crew cut and grabbed his cell from the table. “Um, some new guy apparently. I just got a text from Coleen.”
“That’s Coleen Budget,” explained Piet. “Van Damme’s campaign manager and one tough cookie.”
Hock tapped his phone, then frowned at the display. “Chris Van Damme,” he read, and a jolt of electricity hit Kate in the solar plexus. It was as she had feared.
“Who?” she asked feebly.
“That’s what I got,” said Hock. “Chris Van Damme. Isn’t he Jacques’s eldest?”
“That’s right. Chris,” said her father. “He’s a former cop, just like you. Now runs a private detective agency.” He grinned. “Seems we’re not the only ones concerned about tightening security. So you work together with Chris, Kate. You’ll like him. He’s a great kid.”
When Kate didn’t move, he said, “Are you all right, honey? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine,” lied Kate.
“You better get going, then,” said Piet, checking his watch. “Make sure the coast is clear, mh?”
A growing knot in Kate’s stomach seemed to weigh her down, but finally she managed to return life to her frozen limbs and stumble to the door. Dazed, she turned the handle and walked out of the office. A voice halted her progress.
“Wait! Do you have the address?”
“Where is it?”
“Early Bird FM. It’s on Jingle Street. We’ll be right along.”
“Right,” she said automatically. “Perfect.”
Working closely together with Chris Van Damme? How the hell did this happen?
Chapter Eighteen
Early Bird FM was the most popular radio station servicing the Bruges area, which was why, come election time, they could always expect a visit from the mayoral hopefuls. If you want to reach your constituents, you have to go where they go. And on any given day of the week, Early Bird was their number one choice for a cocktail of easy listening, the latest news broadcasts, and the odd little tidbits about life in ‘The Venice of the North’.
Her heart pounding, Kate arrived at the station. Upon reflection, she didn’t really want to see Chris again. Her life was fine without him, and she didn’t need the complication and aggravation, no matter how much she’d enjoyed meeting him that morning. And last night.
The recollection of his horrible behavior in New York was enough to dispel any notion she might have secretly harbored of getting involved with that man ever again. Even though seeing him made her pulse go gaga, the memory of his abuse was fixed firmly in her mind. Until now, she hadn’t had a chance to really address the topic, but since they’d be seeing a lot of each other over the course of the next week, she was dying to hear what he had to say for himself.
Before entering the station, located in an old firehouse that had grown too small for the department’s needs, she walked past it a couple of times, checking out the area; a quiet street in one of the lesser known areas of the ancient town. She didn’t notice anything suspicious. She was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that someone wanted to harm her dad. He was just a small-town mayor. Who could possibly hold such a grudge they’d go to these lengths?
She’d just been eyeing an elderly man with a baseball cap with some interest, when Chris arrived. Like her, he hovered around outside, scoping out the neighborhood. So he’d come to the same conclusion she had: someone was after his dad as well.
The moment he saw her, he waved. Resisting an automatic urge to wave back, she took a deep breath instead. Sooner or later she was going to have to confront him with what he’d done to her, and better to have it out now, before they had to focus on their respective tasks.
Walking up to her, he gave her a cheerful smile.
“Hey, you here? What happened? Your dad rope you into his campaign as well?”
“Look, Chris,” she said quickly, before she lost her nerve, “I know that I gave you the impression last night, and again this morning, that everything is just hunky-dory between us. Well, guess what, it isn’t. And what I would like to know—what I’ve been dying to know—is what made you think it was all right for you to dump me like that.”
“Huh?” he said, the smile freezing on his lips.
“You know what I’m talking about,” she said, bracing hers
elf. “November. The Royal Metropolitan in New York. We just spent the night together and all of a sudden you decided to up and leave without so much as a fare thee well or a kiss goodbye.”
“But I left you a note!” he exclaimed, eyes widening.
“You didn’t!” she hissed. “I woke up to find you gone. No note. No nothing. And all the while I thought you were different. I thought you were a gentleman. I thought you considerate, caring and kind. Little did I know!”
“But I did leave a note,” he sputtered, nostrils flaring.
Just watching him trying to wiggle himself out of it, made her even angrier. Lying through his teeth like that. The gall of the man.
“Really, Chris. I expected more of you.”
“No, but I did,” he insisted. “Dad called me in the middle of the night and—”
“You really make me sick,” she said.
“I had to leave and—”
“You are a lousy liar, Chris.”
“I’m telling you the truth,” he cried, exasperated.
“You wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you in the face!” she exclaimed.
Suddenly, he took her by the shoulders and shook her a little. “Listen to me, I’m—”
On an impulse, she raised her hand and struck him across the face with a resounding slap.
“That’s for taking advantage of me!” she spat.
Then she turned and stalked off with great strides toward the station.
It was only now that she became aware of a small crowd of spectators that had gathered. She recognized her father, Hock, Jacques Van Damme, some icy-looking woman and at least a dozen or so Brugeans who stood gaping at her with a great deal of interest.
“Is everything all right, honey?” said her father, a briefcase firmly clasped in the crook of his arm.
“Just a misunderstanding,” she said before setting foot for the entrance, anxious to get away from the sordid scene.
“Isn’t that…” she could hear her father say.
“That’s my son,” said a red-faced Jacques Van Damme. He glared at her. “What’s this all about, young lady?” He turned to the icy dame. “She’s the threat! She’s the one who’s out to get me!”